Un Deux Trois

It's As Easy As 123

Spending the weekend before Christmas in New York City has become a fun tradition with us.  The pretty lights and decorations, the green and red illuminated Empire State Building, the smell of chestnuts roasting on a greasy grill, hookers in Santa outfits with fishnet stockings...these are all sensory images that make holiday magic for me.

We usually see a Broadway show, usually a Saturday matinee, and we like to brunch beforehand.  (Gosh I sound so urbane and sophisticated when I use "brunch" as a verb like that. Watch out, next I'll be "summering" in the Hamptons.) Last year we stood in line at the Shake Shack Times Square for an hour and a half for an over-priced hamburger with really fresh lettuce before laughing our heads off at the Book of Mormon.

This year's outing was Kinky Boots, Tony award winner of 2013 for best musical and lucky for us, still with the original cast intact.  In case you don't know, it's about a gentleman who saves his failing shoe factory by partnering up with a drag queen named Lola to market flashy footwear for men who are in touch with their inner RuPaul. It's all about a steel reinforced heel that won't break under the weight of a fully grown man in a great big wig and tons of facial spackle.

We'll Always Have Paris

Our friend K, the famous food snatcher and native New Yorker, suggested we meet at Un Deux Trois at 44th and 7th. While walking there I checked Google Maps to see the street number and felt rather foolish when I saw that it was 123 West 44th. The place feels very Parisian with cozy butterscotch walls, high ceilings, big windows and fancy chandeliers but you know you're not in France because the servers there are actually nice.

New York is even more crowded than usual at Christmas time, and we watched hordes of tourists scurrying past our beautiful table in the window, glancing up into the lush interior and thinking to themselves it was too expensive as they shoved their way into Ruby Tuesday across the street. (Okay, I know that sounded a little uppity, get over it.)  But it is not really expensive at all: The $22 prix fixe  gets you brunch plus a mimosa, bloody mary, or screwdriver.

I had the smoked salmon eggs benedict, which was delicious if a little heavy on the Hollandaise.  Other selections included a generous burger and a passel of pommes frites, and a delicious quiche (a long time ago when I was a restaurant server in Kansas City I had a customer order one but she pronounced it "quick-ee").  Un Deux Trois has been there a long time and it deserves to be.  It looked like a lot of local families who were honoring their own holiday or pre-theater traditions, and there was tinkling background music, great aromas, and not a single person twerked or made a selfie. Sometimes I like being a grown up.

Happy Hollandaise To You

Arm and arm, the five of us wound our way to the Al Hirschfeld theater (coincidentally walking past Sardi's on the way, where his notable caricatures of faded Broadway stars nobly hang) and soon discovered why Billy Porter won his Tony for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role (although to be truthful it probably should have been in the actress category--that guy can rock some stilettos!)  It was Broadway at its best and Cyndi Lauper's score was hilarious, moving, and awesome.  (I'm buying the cd because I like singing along to show tunes at the gym, and people usually leave a wide berth around me for some weird reason.)

We ended our traditional Saturday at the usual place, the Fairy Tale lounge with its armless centaurs and purple unicorns.  We got a New York pizza pie from Sal's down the street.  The bar is in Hell's Kitchen, which used to be the scariest place in the city to go to besides Bergdorf Goodman's, but is so gentrified now the panhandlers wear ascots.

Ah New York...just like I pictured it.  Skyscrapers, and everything.

Destination Dining: Stampede 66

Like most people who live and dine out often in Dallas, I'm a pretty big Stephan Pyles fan.  When I first moved here in 1997 I think it was the last year of his mega-successful Star Canyon run and regrettably, I ate there only once but I remember that experience quite fondly even though my waistline has never recovered.  He opened another couple of restaurants afterwards (AquaKnox was way ahead of its time, when Texans had yet to discover that fish didn't necessarily have to be battered and fried to be edible.) Then he blasted into the big time again with the eponymous Stephan Pyles restaurant which has resolutely stood the test of time and taste buds.  It's darned expensive, however, so it's kind of a once-a-year place for us. He opened Samar on the ground floor of the building I work in a few years ago and it is a fun place to share Indian, Spanish and Mediterranean dishes with odd sounding names and unfamiliar spices.  I usually have minor gastric distress afterwards but it's worth it, kind of like soreness after a strenuous workout.  He used to have hookahs outside on the patio under little cabanas but they kept blowing over in the windy canyons of downtown Dallas so he gave them to some hookers.  J/K.

This Little Piggy Stayed Home

About a year ago the unstoppable Chef Pyles opened Stampede 66 as what I can only think of as his unapologetic bromance with Texas.  I mean you walk into the place and it is so western and snazzy and cocky it takes every bit of your will power to not start dancing the Cotton Eyed Joe. The decor is Pure-D awesome with metal horse heads, a big old lit up snake, mounted longhorns and a gigantic hog sculpture made out of pork rinds, which is kind of Silence of the Lambs-esque, like creating an outfit for someone using human skin.

Lunch is a blast.  Last time I went there I met a female friend who happens to be one of the brightest stars in the firmament of Dallas society (she is one of the nicest people you will ever meet plus she laughs at my feeble attempts at humor so don't judge) and we both seriously discussed healthy options like the Gazpacho and the Venison Taco Salad and then promptly ordered the BBQ Brisket Reuben with French Fries and Potato Salad.  It was $12 which is pretty much like free in a Stephan Pyles restaurant.  My friend and I always like to case the bathrooms in restaurants and Stampede 66 does not disappoint.  Instead of Dudes and Dudettes or Guys and Gals, they have name plates of famous Texans nailed to the front to indicate where to go. If you are a male and you option for door number two with Janis Joplin, Ebby Halliday and Farrah Fawcett among others you really need to start paying more attention to something other than your smart phone.

Dinner is a little less casual but not very much and the prices are again, insanely cheap for S/P food.  This man is a world famous chef and one of the founding fathers of Southwestern Cuisine and you can sink your teeth into his Chicken Fried Buffalo Steak and Mashed Potatoes with Potlicker Greens for 21 bucks, or fork over 16 smackers for Shrimp and Grits. My most devoted readers (I think I am up to almost ten now) know that I always usually skip dessert but I cannot resist his mason jar of Butterscotch Pudding with Salted Caramel and I have heard from trusted sources that his Chocolate Custard, Snickers, Dr. Pepper Float is every bit as ridiculously delicious as it sounds.  I know my fingers just plumped up a little while I was typing that so it must also be incredibly fattening.

The place is crazy busy and deserves to be.  The service is all Southern grace, the food is outstanding, the decor is at once deluxe and amusing, and it is not much more expensive than a Saturday Date Night at Denny's.  I really wanted to use the expressions "All Hat No Cattle" and "That Dog Don't Hunt" in this post because they are so truly Texan but they just don't apply here at all.  Nope, when I am at Stampede 66 I am Happier than a Big Tick on a Fat Dog.

Now do yerself a favor and git on over yonder pronto.

*****