Heights, Burgers and Ninjas
After a light breakfast, for once, at an arbitrary 58th St. cafe, we decided that today's most important task was to get to the top of the Empire State Building. We walked towards it. I had to rein in Debbie's instincts to shop, but I nonetheless we popped into a few shops to get a feel for the prices, and to add to her mental list of places to check out later in the week.
On our way, we passed the Rockerfeller Centre, and watched ice skaters until one fell over.
Continuing down 5th Avenue, we found a congregation of emergency vehicles, presumably dealing with a fire within one of the shops.
We were lured off 5th avenue by the sight of a huge plume of steam a block away. Apparently the steam is actually provided to New York buildings as a utility, like gas or electricity. It's common to find it escaping through cracked pipes or pressure vents, but here it was shooting out at some pressure, controlled by a chimney placed over the vent.
A few blocks on, and we were at the Empire State Building. Inside, the art-deco surroundings overwhelm you. A man dressed as King Kong welcomed visitors.
We were lucky to have come off-season, because all the evidence suggested that at peak times the queueing for the Empire State Building observation decks is horrendous. it probably only took us 20 minutes or so to traverse the ticket queue, the lift queue, the compulsory photograph on the 80th floor, and the second lift queue to the 86th floor.
The temptation at the top is to take lots of photographs of the view. I succumbed to this temptation, but I'll try to only show you a few of the better ones.
These are the kind of picture everyone takes, of course. By holding the camera outside the fence, you get an uninterrupted view of the city below. In fact when you're actually there, the fence is more intrusive.
We took the stairs back to the 80th floor, and were grateful not to have to do the same for the remainder of the journey. Back on the street, we decided it was lunchtime. We had a craving. We'd seen it in the movies, and we wanted to see if it was true: White Castle.
Debbie was certain of White Castle's location, on 8th and 34th, which was close by. We couldn't see it there. We decided that the 34th bit was more definite than the 8th bit, and continued West. By the time we got to 11th Avenue, we'd decided it couldn't be where we thought. It was interesting to see how quickly the height of the buildings dropped as we moved away from the centre, though. There were plenty of sights along the way.
We walked back along 33rd, where we noticed that the promise of snow had closed down a club. Perhaps we were being a bit blase about this snow.
We gave up on White Castle. It wasn't there. We decided to eat elsewhere, and had all but settled on a diner, when Debbie said "I can see a blue and white sign over there. Maybe we should just check… and sure enough, there was White Castle.
It was nearer 36th than 34th, and we learned a bit about how accurate such addresses are.
When your unique sales proposition is a 49 cent burger, you don't expect the classiest customers, and indeed White Castle prominently displayed a sign forbidding sleeping or loitering in the restaurant. The toilets were for customers only and you had to ask to get buzzed into them.
We ordered the ten burger meal. Before you judge us, know that it was to share (ten burgers, two portions of fries, two drinks: $10), and know that the burgers are quite small. Not that small, though. In fact, they're tasty, in the same way as Kraft cheese slices are tasty if you try and forget that they're meant to have anything to do with cheese.
Leaving White Castle, we found that it had begun to snow.
We had run out of plans, but we had some time to kill. We decided to get on the train, go further than required, the walk back to the hotel. We entered Penn Station subway station, and rode to 72nd St. In fact we overshot then changed and came back to 72nd, but the net result is the same.
West 72nd St. proved to be a nice street, with plenty of shops, bars and restaurants suggesting that the Upper West Side might need some investigation. We reached Central Park at the Dakota Building, where John Lennon was shot, and went into the park at Strawberry Fields, an area reserved for "quiet recreation".
We ambled through Central Park, emerged at its South end, and bought coffee to take back to the hotel. When we got to the hotel, Phoenix was there waiting for us, having made it to New York before the snow closed down the airports.
I needed a rest.
I couldn't rest for too long though, because Debbie had made exciting dinner plans. We had reservations at Ninja New York. We had planned half an hour to travel to Tribeca, but as the snow got heavier, we revised the time upwards, just in case. Fortunately, we were able to dash straight into the subway system, and stay indoors for most of the way, but we emerged in a genuine blizzard, with a few blocks to walk.
We had some trouble finding the restaurant, because it had a very small and unpreposessing frontage. Indeed, we went into a convenience store to ask directions — and the directions were "next door".
We were greeted by a receptionist, who took us into a lift. I don't know whether the lift went up or down, but as it travelled, the lights dimmed. As the doors opened, a man in full ninja costume silently cartwheeled into the doorway, and bade us follow him to the coat check. Rid of our coats, he bade us follow him once more, through a labyrinth of papier mache caves, pausing to say things like "The path of the ninja is complex!", "Stay close, there is danger here." and "Please mind your head" (here pointing at a 'please mind your head' sign above). Finally we escaped from the cave system and were seated in a little booth.
This may sound extremely kitch, but in fact, um… I can't think of a way to finish that sentence, especially since the menus were presented on parchment scrolls.
The food, however, was extraordinarily good. Debbie and I chose a tasting menu from the "secret winter menu", while Phoenix had tempura followed by lobster.
Our tasting menu started with shaved sashimi on a bed of tomato salad. Debbie has not previously gone for raw fish — but I think she enjoyed it as much as I did. If you're going to try something scary for the first time, it's good to have a high quality first try.
The next course was shabu shabu — described as a Japanese fondue. A gas ring was brought to the table, with a bowl of boiling water set upon it. The water was flavoured with some seaweed. We also had individual bowls of soy sauce and pulped sesame seeds, and a tray containing salt, pureed daikon radish and parsley. Most importantly, we each got a plateful of thinly sliced raw beef, to cook by dipping into the water.
The beef, boiled for just a couple of seconds, then dipped in the sesame with a little bit of daikon mixed in, was beautiful.
Next came a nigiri course; five lovely pieces, which Debbie once again enjoyed almost as much as I did: one piece of fish had some skin on which she wasn't too keen on: all the more delicions sushi for me. A new experience for me was to have the wasabi freshly grated for us. It smelled gorgeous, and tasted just as good — but a little goes a long way.
Debbie and Phoenix had pudding. They were incredible creations: Phoenix's a bonsai tree made of spun sugar and chocolate sauce, and Debbie's a night scene in chocolate, cake and gold leaf.
Before we left, we were treated to some impressive "ninja" table magic (i.e. some card tricks).
We stepped out into the blizzard, and struggled back to the subway station, only to find it was locked up. Phoenix was pessimistic about getting a cab in the badlands South of the numbered streets, but I stuck my arm in the air just in case, and to everyone's surprise, a taxi skidded to a halt. The driver asked where we were going, before letting us in — they're not allowed to do that — but he took us, so it all worked out.
The drive in the snow was slightly hair-raising, and I felt that I'd experienced the real New York, just like in the films, when the driver wound down his window to shout "So fockin' walk, you fat fock!" at a pedestrian.
We worked out Phoenix's sofabed, had a last look at the heavy snow outside, and went to bed.