La Pecora Bianca
Essay #4: Kleptomania, spontaneity, and a new format.
Last weekend, I had the realization that I want to write about my solo meals instead of meals with friends. Of course, if I'm dining with a friend and the meaningful conversation lends itself to a reflective composition, then so be it; but summer is flying by, and I’ll wait for no one!
If you don’t often dine alone in New York City, or any other city for that matter, you’re missing out. I have friends who find themselves concerned about how others will perceive them, worried that these spectators might think they are lonely. Far from loneliness, dining alone is an opportunity for introspection and self-discovery. Some of my favorite meals have been shared with my own thoughts—like the time I dined solo at the ten-seat counter at Sushi Nakazawa, a one-Michelin-starred traditional omakase restaurant in the West Village. The two couples sitting on either side of me did not think I was lonely, but rather, they were impressed by me. I know this because each time the sushi chef served me the next course, the couples would slightly turn their gaze to me, eager to hear my thoughts. I am 100% confident they thought I was either an omakase connoisseur or a food critic. I am both of these things. Fake it till you make it.
Allora. (I didn’t know how to transition here in English. If you’re not familiar with conversational Italian, I’m sorry.)
After a long night out last Friday, I had a late start to my day on Saturday, rising around 10:30 AM to find that the contents of my bag from the night before consisted of the following:
wallet
keys
AirPods with my name print-labeled on the case, which Jack told me is nerdy
Fujifilm disposable camera with pink heart stickers on it
4 hair ties
coconut lip balm
my black socks that I was wearing with my sandals until I wasn’t
a flyer from the gallery opening
a caricature portrait of Emily and me from the first party we stopped by
the caricature artist’s business card so I can hire him for one of my own parties
a matchbox from Beyond the Pale, the bar we went to after the second party
a shot glass from Beyond the Pale because Anne asked if it would fit in my purse
the small, circular gold metal tray that the shot glass came on
a masquerade mask that I took from a table at the club we went to
Oh, to be young and fun and also a klepto.
After assorting the contents of my bag into their various respective homes, I began my Saturday morning ritual of listening to jazz and deep-cleaning my apartment. This tradition derives from my grandfather’s own Saturday morning tradition of blasting jazz music in his Cadillac and driving to Catalano’s in Scranton for a hoagie. Whenever I’m in Pennsylvania, I’ll do the same thing, but in New York, deep-cleaning my apartment feels like a better use of my time.
Eventually, it was time to head to my 2:30 PM workout class. I made the conscious decision to sign up for a heated Pilates class during the heatwave as a punishment for the number of useless objects I had brought home in my bag the night before. The class was very fulfilling, aside from the fact that many of the men in the class were ostentatiously groaning at the completion of each exercise. Khaleah our instructor eventually started calling them out, and her yelling, “Stop being so dramatic, Andrew!” is ultimately what got me through the class.
Upon finishing the class, I went back out into the 95-degree heat, which was not at all a relief. I showered at home and got ready to start my day, now 4:00 PM. I put on a somewhat sporty, somewhat preppy outfit consisting of a black With Jéan tank, a tan Tommy Jeans mini skirt that I got secondhand from Funny Pretty Nice, white crew socks, and brown and tan signature jacquard Coach loafers. I put my hair in pigtails and threw my wallet, AirPods, and keys into a black denim shoulder bag, leaving the caricature art and shot glass and masquerade mask at home.
What I came to realize upon my departure back into the downtown heat was that many restaurants are closed between 4 and 5 PM in preparation for dinner. Don’t they know that’s my Saturday lunchtime? Since I had to wait a bit to eat, I decided to venture to Chinatown to get myself a bamboo fan like the one Samantha has in Season 6, Episode 10. Just because it’s hot out doesn’t mean I can’t be chic.
By the time I had completed this errand, it was finally 5:00 PM—time for lunch. I decided to walk into La Pecora Bianca, a casual Italian eatery on the corner of Prince and Lafayette, which many consider Basic, but their Toscano Salad was a need not a want. I was seated outside on the north-facing side of the restaurant, and the hostess complimented the hand-painted bamboo fans I was holding in a clear plastic bag. A red one for Elise, a tan one for Emily, and a black one for me.
It felt good to sit down after walking at least two miles in loafers that I usually only wear around the office. I glanced at the menu and ordered the Toscano Salad (Tuscan kale, roasted baby carrots, ricotta, parmesan breadcrumbs, lemon vinaigrette) and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Over my glass of white wine, I sat back and observed the passersby on Prince Street, noticing two friends who had just run into each other on the sidewalk. They, being two males, ‘dapped each other up.’ (I don’t know how else to phrase that. I wish I did.) “How’s your summer going?” They had run into each other purely by coincidence, yet they possessed a nonchalance that made the encounter feel routine, the conversation effortlessly flowing with ease and warmth. In essence, it was simply a reminder that nothing can surprise a New Yorker. I enjoyed watching them converse, and felt as though this solitary 5 PM lunch allowed me to be fully present, appreciating my own company and the richness of life’s simple pleasures. SoHo’s bustling streets seemed to slow down on this stretch of sidewalk. An Australian couple sat down at the table next to me, slowly and thoughtfully deciding what to order together. They talked to each other with such respect and regard for each other that I assumed they must have been best friends before they became a couple. A joyful family of European tourists walked by me, and it wasn’t until I saw the 6-year-old daughter carrying a baby doll and a Prada bag that I was zapped back into reality.
When my salad arrived, I had already felt nourished by the jovial pulses of life around me, but I needed to eat. I took my time knowing that my only real plan for the day was Elise coming over for martinis at eight. After I was finished, I sat for about 20 more minutes, enjoying the rest of my wine and logging this restaurant on Beli, a new app I’ve downloaded that took me days to figure out because, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m a Zillennial-going-on-Boomer.
I went home to prepare for the evening and face the reality that it was time to go out all over again. Emptying my bag of its contents, I made room for whatever was to come.
10 more delicious things I’ve consumed this week
the mushroom wrap from Banter, with Springs Fireplace Tesuque Hot Sauce on the side (I have my own promo code for this hot sauce—it’s AngiesLunch and you should use it) (I still don’t like the name Angie, but they gave me a promo code and I’m not asking questions)
the Barbie movie
Emily’s most recent post on angel cake
the heirloom tomato & eggplant pie with tomato butter from Lord’s
my Italian Pop Mix on Spotify
the Moody Goose x Outside Lands video, creative-directed by my best friend Valerie
all of Season 3 of Seinfeld
the inspired, creative, and eclectic art from the staff show at Pace Gallery
Morganstern’s guava cheesecake ice cream — this could pull someone out of a coma
Danya’s interview with @SubwaySessions in The Cut