Different day, different park. On the map, our apartment was almost directly across from the Frick Collection, a lovely museum that reminds me of the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum in Boston. So we set off to walk straight across the park. Which, it appears, is just about impossible. But never mind, it was a pretty walk. We wandered by the former Tavern on the Green and found it populated by food trucks. (Mmmmm, food trucks.) Including this one: I’d heard of this place. It was ranked #1 on the Zagat food truck list. And since it was basically lunchtime and since they had shrimp and corn chowder . . .It was a lovely spot to dine in and the view was not at all impaired by the pack of Navy guys who were milling about part of the time. Eventually we did make it to the Frick, which was quite fascinating and had its own lovely garden spots. Since we couldn’t take photos inside, that’s all you’ll get to see of it here.
After several hours of appreciating art, our little band needed a little restorative, so one of the gift shop staff directed us to cafe at the Asia Society. What a find! It was beautiful–the floors were blue marble, the ceiling was glass, the decor was big trees and this beautiful vine–and the menu delightful. One entire side was nothing but different flavors of tea. Mine had chocolate, rooibos, and several other fabulous flavors. We opted for edamame with pink Hawaiian sea salt: then went straight to dessert. I opted for chocolate banana bread pudding with ice cream (oh my), and my companions chose creme brulee and this lovely little tart, whose flavor escapes my memory. My brain cells were in a state of euphoria over the bread pudding, they couldn’t be bothered to remember someone else’s dessert. We were entertained by the table next to us, just being New Yorkers, and once we’d licked our plates clean we popped into the gift shop. Fabulous! This place is definitely worth a visit. I gather there’s a museum there, too. Maybe next time.
Then we walked straight back across the park to our . . . oh, if only. We walked. And we walked. We even sang the little “I was walking in the park one day in the merry, merry month of May” song. And we walked some more. “I know this is a big park,” I mused, “but shouldn’t we be on the other side by now?”
“What’s that building?” Rosemary asked. “It says ‘Metropolitan Museum of Art.'”
“No way,” I replied. “That’s miles north of where we’re going. It’s way up on the wrong side of the park. It’s . . . it’s . . . what’s it doing here?” Instead of heading due west, as I fondly imagined, we’d been going due north.
We got a cab back.