Lowell Takes on the Big Apple

Last week I visited New York and then went to my sister’s house in Bucks County, PA, north of Philly. This trip is an annual which I do alone. I want to tell you about one night in particular.

On my sister’s advice I bought a ticket to a Broadway musical called Maybe Happy Ending. I am not in love with musicals, but this play was more of a drama than a musical – call it a drama with music. I won’t tell you much about it because I don’t want to ruin it for you. I loved it. The play made me deeply emotional because it is about loss, but it is also funny – if you can keep those competing thoughts in your mind.

I grew up going to the New York theater and I realized once again how utterly unique and exciting New York is. FYI, one day I took the B train to Brooklyn and visited my old neighborhood, even rang the outside bell for the apartment I grew up in. I was nervous and shy, but no one answered. I guess the person was at work, but I wanted to experience our old apartment one more time.

I want to get back to the night I saw Maybe Happy Ending. After the play I was feeling euphoric and walked over to Restaurant Row on W. 46^th Street looking for Joe Allen. In a book I just read the author said Joe Allen is the restaurant to go to after a play. When I entered a nice young man said hello and asked if I had a reservation. I said no. He said the wait was two hours. I said I could be dead in two hours. He laughed. I asked if there was room at the bar. He said the bar was worse.

I walked across the street to Becco, an Italian place I had dined at many times. I like Becco – at least I had liked it. It’s owned by Lidia Bastianich who has, or used to have a TV cooking show. My wife loved the way Lidia cooked Italian.

When I entered, I asked for a seat at the bar. The person at the door motioned around a corner and said go find a seat. I asked if he would show me to the bar. He said he wouldn’t.

I sat at the bar. The bartender barely spoke English. I found this strange. I ordered my food and asked for a glass of red wine to go with my meal. He had no idea what I was talking about. He spoke in Spanish to some guy. Soon a bottle of red appeared at my spot. No one explained what it was or why it was appropriate. It was good and it should have been at 22 bucks a glass. The food also was good.

The whole time I was there no one on staff spoke to me. Four employees had a long conversation in Spanish at the bar and I felt I was intruding. In California I get treated better. At Joe Allen I think I would have been treated better. When I left no one said thank you or good night or I hope you enjoyed your meal or come again.

It is sad when a really good restaurant gets lazy.