I'm sure you're expecting me to post about some wonderfully comforting restaurant in the West Village with a fireplace and a stellar mixologist. That scenario sounds delightful, but considering I had the whole day off, due to Good Friday, I was up for something even more decadent - the spa - Oasis Day Spa to be specific.
Over the last few months I've been up to my eyeballs in stress, stress and more stress. (Note how I haven't been posting to this blog as often as I used to...) My shoulders have lately been residing somewhere above my ears. Not attractive to say the least. Something had to be done - and Friday offered up a welcome opportunity.
Ended up that my pal Christine had been in similarly stressful straits as of late, had the day off as well - and bizarrely enough for an urbane gal-about-town, had never enjoyed the pleasures of a day spa. I insisted she join. She accepted on the proviso that we don't stop at just the spa - glam cocktails and dinner and more glam cocktails would be in order after our relaxation retreat.
Christine is a brilliant woman.
We both arrived at Oasis early enough before our appointments to shake off some of the outside world in advance of our treatments. After a long hot shower and sit in the sauna, I was beginning to feel like a new woman already.
And then there was mud. Lots of it - painted all over my body to detoxify, tone and soften my skin. Wrapped up tight, mummy-like, in metallic cellophane and warm towels, one would have thought I would be screaming for my life. But the magic of the natural clay from the Dead Sea took hold. I could feel the anxiety draining from my pores. I drifted off into blissful sleep, only to be awoken by the gentle technician, who unwrapped me, so I could appreciate the refreshing six-head Vichy shower that followed.
I was a wet noodle. Two more treatments to go.
A mini-facial was surprisingly calming as well - Thank goodness for none of that nasty "extraction" business.
And, landing the afternoon most definitely in "heavenly" territory, was the grand finale of a 90-minute aromatherapy message.
Mmmmmmm.....
Why don't I do this more often?
With my shoulders squarely below my ears (Yay!) and a big smile on my face, Christine and I hailed a cab. The gourmet part of the evening was about to get underway...
I was nervous about making a reservation at The Biltmore Room (pictured above), after reporting on some dreadful and moderately upsetting hospitality issues at the hot spot. But, I'd long heard about Chef Gary Robbins amazing food - and I'm a sucker for amazing food.
Arriving a little early for our reservation, we grabbed a couple of stools at the restaurant bar and were quickly put at ease, jabbering away with cutie-pie bartender Scott and other sundry staff members.
But, how were the cocktails? Fantastic. Christine started off with a Way of the Dragon - Hangar One Mandarin, Kalamansi Lime Juice, Honey and Mint, finished off with some chili heat. I was immediately enamored with the simpler Gin Blossom, comprised of Basil Infused Gin, Elderflower and Tonic.
They slid down quickly. Did we have time for another round before our table was ready? Of course!
This time, I took Scott's advice and enjoyed a whisper light Tokyo Blonde, oddly concocted with Lillet Blonde, the Japanese liquor Soju, and chamomile tea. And, Christine swooned after one sip of the Melon Musei which also included a bizarre assortment of ingredients - in this case, Kaori Sake, Fresh Cucumber, a splash of Midori, and a fresh cream float.
We were both floating on air (and maybe a wee bit of alcohol) by the time we sat at our table. We took stock of the menu. Everything sounded divine. Divine and inordinately expensive.
But, it was our day to relax and indulge. And, lemme just say that indulging in Robbin's Crisp Squash Blossom stuffed with Maryland crab, served with a mango chili dipping sauce and sweet corn avocado salad is one glorious gourmet indulgence. Same can be said for my entree of Algerian Spiced Roast Rack of Lamb with dried fig cous-cous, ginger glazed carrots, braised butter beans, and tomato eggplant chutney.
Mmmmmmm.....
Why don't I do this more often?
I will say in terms of hospitality that our waitress seemed like she was having "issues" being a waitress that night. (Christine has worked in the restaurant industry for years, waitressing herself at times, and could spot it from across the room.) Still, the service was fine - and the busboy who kept refilling my water with a shy smile was kind of endearing.
We took a pass on desert and hailed another cab - This time to Battery Park City, where a magnificent view of New York Harbor and Lady Liberty awaited at the Rise Bar at the Ritz-Carlton. The wine and Chocolate Fondue wasn't half bad either.
Mmmmmmm.....
Why don't I do this more often?
The next morning, I woke up on cloud nine with all the energy in the world. I immediately took to straightening my apartment, organizing my closet, fixing those earrings I've been meaning to repair...and promptly spilled Crazy Glue all over my fingers. It took about two hours to get the stuff off.
Where was that Vichy Shower now?!? Where was the Tokyo Blonde that I needed so sorely?!?
Mmmmmmm.....
Maybe this is why I don't do this more often. A day visiting an oasis makes it all that much harder to come home to the real world. (But at least my shoulders are still below my ears.)
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