The Most Whimsical Restaurant in Hudson
RECS #39: Lorrie Moore; Good Hang; and a heartwarming start to 26.
Dear friends,
There’s so much to catch up on, but let me start by saying that, earlier this month, I turned 26. Until last year, I’d been on a streak of keeping it very low key for my birthday—dinner with family or with Conor, maybe a drink with friends if they were in town. I spend so much of my life planning things, and this was one day a year where I could choose to just not.
This year, I decided to invite people from all the different corners of my life to gather in Central Park for pizza, cake, beers, wine, and chit chat. I’ve foolishly decided to run the New York City Marathon this fall, so I asked everyone to forgo gifts in favor of donating to my marathon fundraiser for Every Mother Counts. My fundraising experience is limited to childhood lemonade stands and my college-era Instagram activist phase, so when I realized I had to raise four thousand dollars, I figured a birthday party might be a good place to start. And I was, miraculously, right. My generous and kind friends all pitched in to help me out, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
I felt that way again this week after spending a weekend in Playa del Carmen with some of my college friends for Ilana and Ethan’s wedding. Tears were shed, games were played, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face until the man sitting next to me on the flight back to New York started eating buffalo wings. More to say on that later (the fun, not the wings).
READING: Earlier this summer, on a day trip to Beacon, Conor and I stopped into Binnacle Books, a used book store on Main Street. Conor, naturally, bought Plato’s “Republic,” while I treated myself to a funky edition of “Self-Help,” by Lorrie Moore and “Fates and Furies,” by Lauren Groff. When I realized I’d left “How to do Nothing” in Boston, I picked up “Self-Help,” thinking that it’d be easy to pause once I got Odell’s book back. But, as it always goes with Moore, each story was strange, spiky, and often laugh-out-loud funny. Towards the end of the book is “How to be a Writer” and it begins: “First, try to be something, anything, else.” It was my favorite piece in the whole book. Before my trip to Mexico, I cracked open “Fates and Furies,” expecting that, between wedding festivities, I’d have plenty of time to sit around and read at the pool. I was so wrong, but I’m enjoying it nonetheless. What seems, on its surface, to be a fairly straightforward novel about marriage is weirder and more atmospheric than I was expecting.
EATING: Before my birthday party, Conor generously planned a brief trip upstate for the weekend. And, without a doubt, the best meal I’ve had all month was at Lil’ Deb’s Oasis in Hudson. After a sweaty walk from the train station and very little food since our late breakfast, I eagerly sat down at the bar while Conor checked into the hotel. Our lovely waiter sensed my desperation and supplied us with ice cold water and cocktails quickly. We started our meal with their special sweet pea nam prik—a paste-like spread made of ginger, jalapeño, and other spices and served with prawn crackers. I cannot even begin to describe how ravenously I scooped the spicy, tangy nam prik into salty crackers and then, into my mouth. We continued our meal with the shrimp cocktail, spring salad, and two empanadas de verde. Before we left, we indulged in their spruce tip ice cream with rhubarb compote as the staff, who’d kindly talked me down from a hunger-induced craze, poured a shot of their house amaro for us. The ice cream was so surprising and so unlike the desserts I usually opt for (I’m a candy gal personally). It was a meal that was whimsical and fresh, and it left me so full I felt like I might not eat for the rest of the trip. And yet, of course, the next morning, after a sticky run through town, I picked up sweets from Mel the Bakery—including a jalapeño cheddar croissant and a cherry pistachio scone. The weekend filled me with so much gratitude, for Conor who planned every moment and for my friends who spent the afternoon with me. I’m especially grateful for Ella and Grace who kindly and generously supplied cakes for the occasion, lemon, of course. They were beautiful and tasty, and I’m so lucky.
CONSUMING: Early in June, I met up with a group of friends in Central Park to listen to the New York Philharmonic. We ate snacks and drank wine, and after everyone else left, Conor and I stood in the center of softball field #1 to watch fireworks and revel in the beauty of our neighborhood. Beyond that, I recently started Benito Skinner’s Amazon Prime comedy, “Overcompensating.” which is tender and sweet. And it’s funny in all the particular, tension-filled ways Skinner’s online persona is. On my way back from dropping Tara off at the airport a couple weeks ago, I started Amy Poehler’s podcast, “Good Hang.” The Tina Fey and Martin Short episodes were just delightful. However, if you were to pull my headphones off any time in the few days since I got back from Mexico, odds are you’d hear me listening to “Mayonesa,” a 2000 Spanish pop song by Uruguayan band Chocolate. It was the last song they played at Ilana and Ethan’s wedding, and, even though I cannot understand basically any of the lyrics, it kept us dancing at five in the morning.
SAVORING: Speaking of the wedding, I’m going to savor that trip for a long time. Aside from being full of love and beauty and care, it was also the first time I attended the wedding of someone I’m not related to. I arrived on Thursday afternoon and immediately was surrounded by my friends—we nibbled on Ilana and Ethan-branded treats while laughing about how surreal it felt for us all to be in Mexico together. Later, we got ready together while Haim and Charli XCX played on the speaker. Lydia and I gabbed until we fell asleep. We played pool games with other wedding guests, and danced so hard our feet swelled. At three a.m. on the night of the wedding, Genevieve and I snuck away to the bathroom, and I’m not sure what was said, and there’s a good chance our giggles were a byproduct of weary delusion, but I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. Despite feeling on the cusp of that next stage of adulthood, so much of the weekend abounded with childlike joy and giddiness—like that first sleepover, when you just start to feel you’re in charge of your own life.
Until next time,
Erin