I went on a date the other night (yes, a date–woohoo!) and we went to Diner 22 (I think that’s what it’s called—I’m trying to google it, but nothing’s coming up. Maybe it wasn’t called that. I think it’s owned by Jean-Georges and I know it’s on 8th Ave.) Anyway, this place has diner food made with surprising gourmet flair. For example my meatloaf is made of duck legs:
“Duck legs? Eww,” said my date.
My date is very judgmental when it comes to duck legs in your meatloaf.
But the duck leg meatloaf was delicious*, if a bit too rich. I ate 3/4s of it and felt full. We went on to see “The Phantom of the Opera” which was outrageously bad, but in a fun way. And please, if you know what’s good for you, read Anthony Lane’s review of it in The New Yorker. It’s hysterical.
* I need to stop using the word delicious. It’s too easy—and doesn’t really tell you anything. FROM THIS DAY FORTH I SHALL NEVER USE THE WORD DELICIOUS AGAIN. Except where appropriate. Like in reviewing meatloaf.
