The proverbial no. 2 hit Wall St.'s fan this weekend. We ventured down to brunch in the Financial District, at The Libertine, to try out the soon to open restaurant (September 17th is the official opening) and offer Secretary Paulson and the financial titans a piece of banking wisdom passed to us by our mother.
The Libertine was empty when we strolled in at 2:30 pm. Our kindly waiter assured us that the place was full to the brim an hour ago. Apparently other people aren't out until 5 am. Dancing until the wee hours had not done much to diminish the conveyor belt of martinis we'd plucked from last night.
We imagined Hank and friends sitting in one of the restaurant's many corner tables, side by side on the black leather banquettes, frantically trying to rescue Lehman, as their lawyers stood on their tip toes, trying to get a peek at what the big guys were writing. The square-patterned, wood walls, distressed wood floors, and classic rock completed the gentleman's club aura. We could easily imagine ourselves sitting at one of the tables everyday for lunch, holding forth from our roost, while our sycophants looked to us for never-ending wisdom. Jeeves would come over with our martini, without us having to saying a word.
We ordered the "NY Bene," a grilled pastrami and swiss on rye, topped with two eggs over medium, smothered in a mustard crème fraiche sauce, and a side of everything spice fries. "Skinnies or fatties," our waiter asked us. We raised one eyebrow. Was this a GENTLEMAN'S club in every sense of the word? "The fries. Skinnies or fatties?" Ah, skinnies.
We ordered a glass of Pinto Final. Our waiter informed us the name means, "to be born again." The heat from the alcohol in the wine was at first like a bitter medicine. Perhaps Lehman should have swallowed some of this in it’s quest to be reborn.
Our meal arrived. The menu description did not do it justice. A plate of gluttony sat in front of us. Each gooey bite of meat, cheese, bread, egg, and cream sauce barely fit on the tines of our fork. The dish was a comforting mess, all of the flavors blending together. Our only criticism is that the eggs should be cooked over easy, rather than over medium, so the yolk runs down the tines and drips in golden pools onto the plate. Only a wine like the full-bodied Pinto Final could stand up to this concoction. We couldn't stop our hand from grabbing peppery fry after peppery fry. We were unrestrained – much like the broker’s who led us into this financial mess.
It’s sad the rescue didn’t work out for Lehman, Paulson should take some of his private sector Goldman money and treat every employee to this decadence a final hurrah before it’s off to the unemployment line. Let them drown their sorrows in food – the American way. Sadly we were not able to pass on our mother's maxim – Grandfather is a piggy bank; write his name as a guarantee for all of your purchases. Poor Lehman, Uncle Sam refused to be its granddaddy. Wall St.'s uncontrolled money lust is coming to an end. Luckily Todd English's food lust continues. We suspect the binging will continue, at least in this corner of downtown.
Review – The Libertine – 15 Gold Street
Excess in tough times – 4 olives – The Fed might not have cured Wall Street’s woes, but that NY Bene did wonders to balance our hangover.
Crowd – 3 olives – We expect it will be busier after the official opening, but we had to wonder. Were all the seats empty because the suits were at home, busy practicing their recipe for rice and beans?
Ominous economic outlook – 2 olives – It looks grim folks. Luckily, we’re pleased that there is one more Gentleman’s Club where we can have a martini and plot our climb back to the top. Regardless of how skinny the pocket book may be, we will be back to try those fatties.
“You wish ~” My American friends love this sentence! They use it to tease and taunt each other constantly!
Posted by: coach suitcase | July 23, 2010 at 11:31 PM