Noche
My mom's lying on the couch and I'm curled on the loveseat. I'd been under the weather, but thought I could manage getting out to some galleries and then to dinner. But she says, "Let's go to Petite Sophisticate." "No!" She threatens to call the elder-abuse hotline. We continue to lounge and talk and she says I should move in with her. I tell her if I had a house and she moved in with me, that would be fine, but I can't move in with her.
"That's because you want to put me in a corner. In the dark." I wouldn't begrudge the women a lightbulb, but the corner would probably be for the best.
She takes out her cellphone, "...we don't even have the tv on. We're really not doing anything." We talk about how it would be nice to have some coffee. "I'm sorry I didn't bring some from Dunkin' Donuts." (She usually brings coffee for us, but can never remember how I take my coffee; how long has she known me?) "Well, I could go all the way to the kitchen and make us some." "No no no." She always brings me something and today it was stickers from 7-Eleven. They're Korean with teeny pink unidentifiable animals saying things like "GoOd bAi" and "YouR vEry CUte." She knows what I like.
While I've been spending August on the couch, my friends have been climbing Kilimanjaro and training for a bike ride from Ground Zero to the Pentagon. I show my stamp-collector-mom Diane's postcard with gorgeous Tanzanian wildlife stamps. Although I don't see Di so much since she moved, when I'd read her words "...we made it to the top..." my heart had leapt. My mom says, "She has the same handwriting as you. Do all your friends have the same handwriting?" Actually, yeah. (Except the ones who went to Catholic school; they have good handwriting.) It must be a programmer thing. At Angelina's big fancy wedding, my date whispered the freakishness to me that "Everyone at that table is a programmer." "Edward, everyone in this room is a programmer."
She wants to watch the news. "I want to see 2." I get up and put on 2. "I want 4." I get up and put on 4. "I want 2. Don't you have a clicker?" I dig out the dusty clicker for her. There is much clicking. "I want to give the kids vocabulary the first day. What should I give them?" "How about 'busman's holiday'?" "Ooh! That's good." She starts planning a whole lesson around it. We talk about how we thought there was supposed to be a 7-Eleven opening in Times Square, but we haven't seen it. They're supposed to have a cup that holds both soda and slushy separately. Revolutionary. And they supposedly have sugar-free slurpies now. For three hours, none of the sights to be seen of New York City have been able to move us off the couches, but the quest of finding a Times Square 7-Eleven gets us on our feet.
It's a failed mission. We don't find the phantom 7-Eleven, but we do find a soon-to-open McDonald's hard by Lion King and the Disney Store. Its many white-bulbed marquee awning is so bright, we can feel the heat from the lights. Inside, it's glitzy and the menus are displayed on always-changing video screens. They will be manufacturing McDonuts in the window. Good luck getting a child past it. "It's so crowded out here." "Yeah, almost like Times Square." On walking around looking at all the lights, she comments, "This is fun." I have to agree that it is.
On Broadway, lustrous burnt-orange sconces mark Noche's front, which is open to reveal a bar and small tables, perfect for a tourist break. So why is everyone here in business casual? Decor is festive with primary-colored glass rectangles hung on the walls and amber lighting. Their big blue sign is almost cartoonish. The place puts me in mind of Hawaii Kai. Oh. Maybe it used to be Hawaii Kai. We ascend a spiral staircase, passing a flat screen displaying swooping shots of diners (remember to smile). There's also a big old elevator with a brushed aluminum interior for the high of heeled. Here on the second level, past the dark-suited maitre d', the tourists may be found at big tables. A sprinkling of dates, but mostly young sunny groups. I've never witnessed so many flashbulbs going off in one restaurant; the serving staff has achieved expertise in all manner of photographic equipment.
There're Midwestern accents next to us. Attire ranges from little black dresses to polo shirts. We're seated near a second bar, sparsely populated by the nondescript, which is lit by luminescent trios of glass globes of coral, chartreuse and bright yellow hung at different levels. Across from us, there's a dramatic double-storied royal blue curtain hiding a stage, and an arc of low starkly contrasting white banquettes beneath it. Dining chairs are generously upholstered in bold shades. The room is saturated with big-sound Latin music. Later, the DJ in his booth selects from electro-danceable discs. I spy chair-dancing breaking out here and there. "Do you think it's quieter upstairs?" There is balcony dining. "No."
Fist-sized crusty rolls are portioned out to be spread with mild white-bean puree. A small pitcher of bubbly Cava Sangria ($12) sporting a long-handled spoon, soaks peaches, citrus and a bit of strawberry. It's sweet grapefruity fizz and goes down way too easy. Red and white varieties are also available and the larger pitcher is seen at many tables. On the list, a number of wines for most budgets, the priciest a Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame at $195. There are also a few sherries. Some are light and dry enough to sip as an aperitif. Champagnes are served in exaggerated so-tall flutes. The bartender diligently ices a surfeit of martini glasses.
Brightly colored dishware and first-class airplane salt and pepper shakers liven the brown tables. Helpfully, easily shareable appetizers and entrees are starred on the menu. One such, guacamole ($8), comes with big standard yellow tortilla chips. The plentiful dip is chunky and fresh and has bits of tomato, lots of shreds of fresh cilantro and crumbles of pungent queso fresco on top. The starter is as fun and vibrant as the surroundings. Other enticing appetizer possibilities include platters of assorted and intriguingly filled empanadas or tamales.
"How about the 'roast suckling pig'?" "No." "What if it was 'roast pork'?" "Maybe then." We overhear a red flamenco-skirted hostess raving to one of her tables about the "fabulous" scallops ($20). Our waiter suggests ordering a side to go with my plain plate of pig. There're a few options including rice and beans, tostones and arepas. There are loads of entrees to choose from; some spicy, some not so. I'd called for an 8 p.m. reservation, thinking the theater crowd would have cleared out by then, but was told they only had 6:30, 7:30 and 9:00. Still, there are a number of empty tables at 8.
Garnished with confetti of diced yellow, orange and red peppers, the pig entree ($19) is a huge hill of tender succulent meat with piquant sprinklings of cilantro and garlic. It almost melts in the mouth; I want to kiss our waiter for recommending it. The meat is warm and the big white plate it's piled on has been heated, but I'd prefer it served at a higher temperature and with more of the sweet sticky barbecue sauce that tops its tent of ribs. The high-standing firm-fleshed fresh-tasting scallops are oddly but successfully paired with Thanksgiving flavors. The sizable shellfish are served over a stellar wine sauce and many deeply caramelized strings of onion with mushrooms. Sounds weird, but it works?a bite of the cream-colored mollusk in its reduced sauce makes me think maybe there is a god. In the center of the large plate is a buttery dome of velvety corn pudding that has softened kernels within. The taste and texture is heavenly, yet it is so rich it can't be polished off. Our side dish of four big browned arepas ($6) looks lovely and the fried patties offer a delightful tender crumb. But inside the corn batter is tacky old cheese that tastes like glue?as disappointing as the Mets.
Service here is startlingly excellent for a big touristy-themed spot. Your napkin is folded if you leave the table. Glasses are kept full. The unobtrusive, yet here, there and everywhere manager notices a salt shaker that is less than brimming and sends it back to the kitchen for topping off. And "Nice" is apparently a required attribute for employment here.
Coffee ($3) is dark as can be and full-bodied. Looking at the long dessert list, "I'm thinking the coffee custard." Our sweet busser weighs in and tells us it's really good and comes with cookies. Sold. This "Cuban cafe con leche" ($8) is stuck with an anisette wafer "spoon" and is topped with pistachio whipped cream. The little nut cookies to the side are simple and delicate; the custard is silky smooth. Our dinner portions were big and although it is luscious, we can't finish the one dessert between us. On our next visit, we may try cinnamon-sugared churros or the raspberry-chile-sauced chocolate cake that we were too wimpy to order this time.