As I've documented time and time again on this site, I am a sucker for a fantastic cocktail. Throw in a luxe enviroment I'll be grinning from ear to ear. Add a gentleman companion and I'm practically in heaven.
But, it wasn't until I ventured forth to the ever-swanky Flatiron Lounge with a particular gent, that I discovered that all it takes to gild my lilly is a particular topic of conversation: leather.
Over a Juniper Breeze (for me) and a Gibson (for him), I stumbled upon my companion's deep-seated knowledge of and love for leather goods. (No, not leatherwear or leather whips - we're talking luggage, handbags and briefcases! Mind you , I wouldn't have had an issue if a penchant for leather shoes was in the mix. But, alas, a girl can't have it all...)
There was something sublimely seductive about discussing top grain and tough hide with a bonafide straight man, while slowly sipping a cocktail.
Clearly, the evening couldn't end now. Food seemed to be the next logical step. And, as my companion was a foodie, we were debating the merits of several options, until the gentleman was suddenly possessed with a singularly brilliant idea: Veritas.
We immediately set off down the street, the three blocks to a rather non-descript restaurant entrance on East 20th (pictured above) - known to foodies as the domain of lauded chef Scott Bryan and known to oenephiles as one of the holy grails of vino. As we entered the serene scene, we were greeted with smiles and, as it was a Monday night, were immediately shown a table - even without a reservation.
The table was in fine form - but it was the chairs that made me feel like Veritas has been our dinner destiny: They were composed of woven strips of leather.
We settled in quickly with a couple of glasses of white as the gentleman perused the mammoth wine list for a potential bottle selection. Pages and pages later it seemed to be fruitless exercise. Th llist was too overwhelming. So, we turned our attention to the dinner menu and figured that our main course selections would help us determine the right bottle for the night. An amuse bouche of delicately smoked salmon atop cold, rich creme fraiche and slivers of cucumber set us off in the right direction and we quickly agreed to focus on the sea with our appetizers.
Tucking into Hamachi Tartare with Chilis, Cucumber, Avocado and Shiso, it was clear we hadn't made a wrong turn. Our other app, Maya Shrimp Ravioli with a Ginger, Red Curry and Basil Cilantro Emulsion, was even more intensely flavored, allowing for a burst of sweet ocean and spicy earth in each bite.
Just in the nick of time, my companion finally gave up on navigating the wine list on his own and solicited the help of the sommelier. We ordered up a bottle of Languedoc red and revelled in its blackberry, tobacco notes, as we relished our entrees of tender Braised Veal with Parsnip Puree, Porcini Mushrooms, Glazed Carrots and Barolo, and a rich, toothsome Roast Saddle of Lamb with Chevre Potato Puree, Byaldi of Vegetables, served with a Rosemary and Garlic Confit.
We had no need for dessert at this point, but it was part of Veritas' prix fixe regimen. Who were we to say "no" to a fragrant Apricot Tart Tartin with Apricot Coulis and Lavender Honey Ice Cream and a gorgeously decadent Callison composed of an Almond Orange Tart, Melon Coulis and Crisp Meringue.
Between dinner, the wine, the conversation and the leather, we had arrived at a giddy state of Nirvana. It was dizzying and delightful.
Needless to say, I was too blissed out to notice the grain or texture of the backseat in the cab that drove me away, into the night. For all I know it was vinyl - but, frankly, I could've cared less.
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