A very suitable ending, or, Something food related, or, the Last Supper, or, The whole trip epitomized in four hours

De(bbie).

Hi(ro).

Jo(e).

Ro(se).

Vi(nce).

This night was the last time we would all go out together in New York. It was a trip of many extremes; when the first day ended it seemed like we had seen so much, and this night it felt like we had seen nothing. This night was also important for another reason: we were going to eat Korean fried chicken at Bon Chon. This dish had been built up the duration of our trip until it acquired the mythical status it held prior to our meal. The first night we hung out with Jen when we were at Hi-Fi, she expounded the dish. This arose while I was in the process of praising Gray's Papaya as the perfect late night food, when Jen interrupted and in a low voice explained a heavenly meat morsel that was deep fried to a light crisp, with a salty and spicy kick to it. This modest explanation does not do justice what her words did to our stomachs. Her explanation caused pools of saliva to form at our feet...after which, she said that her praises should be taken with a degree of skepticism because she had been craving fried chicken for weeks, and she herself had only heard of this chicken from her roommate.

The damage had been done. We were destined to go.

Joe and I attempted to go night after night but never had the motivation to overcome obstacles like crossing town, tiredness, or acceptance of places which were deemed "good enough". However, with the combined motivation of six individuals (the five plus Jen), we came together like Voltron and headed for Koreatown.

The restaurant had an upscale lounge feel to it. Three cute waitresses wore clothing completely unsuitable for their tasks of serving patrons on low tables (short skirts and low cut tops), walking around the restaurant (high heels), or even standing for long periods of time (heels again). In other words, the males could not stop looking at them. We were seated at one of those low tables, and then proceeded to debate the intricacies of splitting a large order of chicken among six people, two of whom were not particularly hungry. Joe and I wanted a few drinks, so we ordered a large lychee soju and a medium plain soju. Both came in funny sake carafes which were embedded in a bowl of shaved ice.

Stylish.

The chicken arrived on a platter accompanied with pickled radishes and salad. That was moderately surprising. Some chicken pieces were typical buffalo wing size while others were full size chicken pieces. That was as confusing as it was impressive. However, the most amazing yet predictable thing came at first bite: the Korean spicy chicken, which had been talked about onto a high pedestal with seemingly unrealistic expectations of greatness, was then immediately thrust onto a much higher pedestal, one which was very real and fathomable.

Mouthgasm.

We all toasted several times to the end of this trip. As a group, we were separating the next day. Alcohol, while sometimes a great tormentor, is also the greatest of uniters. When was the last time you had a group hug? And the last time you raised you glass with friends? I thought so. With glasses clinking in unison, the mindset changed from here to home.

Thanks for reading - DeHiJoRoVi.

Day 4: Some R&R from some R&R

My feet hurt. It had been a long trip, filled with a lot of walking, and my Vans were killing me. From then on, I swore that I would have a comfortable, heavily padded pair of shoes when I travel...bunny slippers maybe? Pillows on my feet? I guess sneakers would do. In the meantime, I would use my loafers. Yes, the same loafers I wear when I go out and to work. They're comfortable, dammit! Luckily, I wouldn't have to make a fool out of myself the whole day since we planned to go to Central Park today. The guys, anticipating a day of physical activity, dressed in gym shorts and running shoes. The girls wore...jeans and flip flops.

What?

Prior to heading to the park, we stopped by a seller of cheap goods in Chinatown and were able to purchase a wiffle ball set for three dollars. THREE DOLLARS! We had a quick bite at Katz Deli, where they had the best sandwich meat ever. Pastrami was coated with pepper, thick cut, yet still melted in your mouth. Their corned beef and beef tongue were equally delicious. And the only ingredients the sandwiches were comprimised of was the meat, mustard, between two slices of rye.

Fun? Check.

Food porn.

We took the subway into the park, found a empty sport on the Great Lawn, and settled down. An empty baseball diamond was next to us, so we set up some rubber bases which were left out. Then we attempted to play a game of baseball with four people, quite unsuccessfully. Joe opted out becuase he decided to take pictures instead. The four of us: Rose, Debbie, Hiro, and I, modified our baseball game into a crazy game where there were no teams and we would switch between offense and defense as required. After about half an hour of that, the girls sat down. Joe then decided to join me and Hiro, and we switched to playing three flies up. This was accomplished by having one person hitting fly balls to the other two, who would then attempt to catch the ball by any means possible. It basically became a bumping match. The use of a wiffle ball presented many challenges, as the wind would often carry it a significant difference. Overall, the wiffle set led to fun that lasted well over three hours, all for three dollars! It was the cheapest fun we had in New York.

Notice what the girls are wearing versus the guys.

Joe missed.

The intensity was nothing short of astounding.

Rose's family friend came by and witnessed some of our stupidity. The girls then decided that they wanted to bike around Central Park, so Debbie, Rose, and Rose's friend went off to do that. Hiro and I decided to run around Onassis Reservoir, and Joe wanted to watch. I'd make some kind of joke about that, but mostly he wanted to protect his camera from biking.

So Hiro and I proceeded to run around the 1.57 mile distance. It was a really great day for the run...not too hot, a little hazy, but still clear enough to see the view.

So why did I feel like shit?

I'm not one to for excuses (okay, maybe I am) but my allergies had been horrible ever since the third day. It was so hard to breathe, which felt like with every breath I had five bricks anchored to my lungs. Hito completed the distance in 12:30 while it took me 14:30. It was refreshing to do something athletic, aside from the walking.

Hiro celebrates. I'm not in the frame because I'm...way behind.

After the run we all met up, only to again split up because Rose and I had dinner plans with family friends in Flushing.

Note: One more post to go!

The guys: PDT and Sake Bar Decibel

Both these places were recommended to us by friends. A coworker of mine at my summer internship brought PDT up immediately after I mentioned that I was going to NY. Sake Bar Decibel was recommended by a San Diego friend, who simply said that we had to go. Their recommendations were enough for us; none of us pressed them for details. My experience was probably better because of it.

We arrived at the address for PDT and wandered around where a secret entrance was supposed to be. Allow me to clarify. The model that PDT is based on is a prohibition-era speakeasy. As such, there is a secret entrance which requires you to buzz in and the person on the other side will let you through if you qualify. No, you don't need to be part of a secret society to get in; a simple reservation will do. Eventually after some aimless wandering, we saw what appeared to be the entrance. We picked up the buzzer, and after some hesitation, a false wall opened. An attractive doorwomen curtly asked, "Vince? Let me lead you to your table." Rules on the door explained that no photography or videotaping was allowed, so please forgive me as I attempt to explain the atmosphere.

The room was narrow, with sets of booths and tables pressed against the length of the wall. The result was a narrow space in between the seating with just enough room for a person to walk in between. A long bar was also anchored against the wall, with two bartenders managing alcohol distribution. Both wore outfits suitable for a Bogart film, and worked in silence and with fast hands. The strict crowd control policy ensured that everyone had a seat, and every seat was filled. Your voice never needed to be above a normal conversational tone. The drinks were extremely intricate and used rare ingredients - while this combination is often an oxymoron, the result in this case was quite delicious. Theis atmosphere did not happen by chance...a visit to the bathroom had a detailed list of rules which served to explain how such an ambiance could be achieved.

The three of us sat at a small table next to the bar. We mulled over a list of drinks we never heard of, with descriptions more suited for a whimsical fiction novel than a bar menu...explanations included stories of departed friends, inspiration from travels, and tales of refinement that took years. I settled for a drink partially composed of absinthe and egg whites, Joe ordered ______ (I don't remember because it was quite exotic), and Hiro ordered a special beer by Brooklyn Brewery. We had a side of waffle-cut fries topped with cheese and jalapenos which caused Hiro to insanely state "I don't even want carne asada fries anymore! I always want this!" We also split a bacon-wrapped hotdog topped with David Chang kimchee. Both were perfect accompiments to our drinks.

During the course of our consumption, we spent our time refining our system, talking about our trip, and discussing how great it would be to live in NY. A place like this will do that for you.

After a second round of drinks, we bid PDT adeiu and walked to Sake Bar Decibel. We almost passed the bar entirely; the place was marked by a small sign maybe one square foot in size, with a bottle of sae taking up 90% of it and the words invisible if further than three feet away. Surely only locals would know of such a place (or educated yelpers), since no passerby would make the effort to climb down the narrow steps resembling the entrance to a basement rather than a restaurant.

Menu shot.

The only necessary explanation of this place is that a quick glance at the menu caused Hiro to say "this place has the best sake selection I've seen outside of Japan."

We then left and called it a night.

Chillin.

Awesome walls.

The day continued...MOMA and more food.

Hi Joe!

Another classic Hiro pose.

Camoflauged.

Rose's better camoflauge.

Stomachs full, we headed to the MOMA. Unlike many, if not all, museums I have been to, everything stood out. The surprise of the visit was seeing Van Gogh's "Starry Night" in person, among many of his works. Other highlights were Picasso's structures, Andy Warhol's paintings, and a furniture exhibition.

Picasso's monkey.

Cool chair.

Rose's friend departed after the Van Gogh exhibit, so the five of us went to Ramen Ippudo for dinner, another place on our list. The wait was long - 90 minutes - but there was a bar so Hiro, Joe, and I had a beer and Calpico Hi while we waited. The girls relaxed on white square padded boxes which doubled as seating.

A sidenote: Hiro, Joe, and I developed a convention in order to rate girls in secret. It is as brilliant as it is dumb; brilliant because it allows one to discuss a rating even if there is a girl listening in the conversation, and dumb because it makes those involved sound like complete idiots.

Not that the latter is anything new for us.

We were finally seated. The restaurant's decor could have been a stand-in for a 4-star restaurant, even though it was a "simple" ramen house. The prices somewhat reflected this, as we proceeded to order the most expensive ramen, by far, any of us had ever eaten. It came out to around $14 for most of us, primarily due to the addition of pork belly, which I would argue is a necessity. The food was delicious, and worth experiencing.

This was the bar top...if you look closely the awesomeness will hit you.

The girls needed a rest, so they decided to stay in the hotel that night and watch TV. The guys, however, wanted to go out to once again experience NY nightlife, so we decided to go to two more places on our list: Please Don't Tell and Sake Bar Decibel.

Random pictures without captions