Half Of What I Say Is Meaningless

Secret Shoe Confession

Today is the first official day of the summer holiday, and I’m taking wagers on the length of time until the words “I’m bored” are uttered by my children. Fortunately, a friend is slated to arrive this afternoon, so the betting could well extend all the way until tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, that day marks the much anticipated arrival of the world’s most famous couple to Canada’s illustrious shores. William and Kate or “Bill and Cathy Cambridge”, as the pair has been endearingly titled by my favourite fashion bloggers  Tom and Lorenzo, arrive here tomorrow for a nine day visit. Well, not “here” exactly, as I had to explain to the boys, Saskatchewan is not exactly the epicenter of Canadian culture or majestical landscapes. 

I don’t consider myself among the ranks of the monarchists, but I do enjoy myself a good royal visit. I look forward to viewing snippets of their travels from East to West. The highlight for me will be Kate’s estimated forty wardrobe changes spanning the nine day visit, a pace only rivaled by my daughter (as evidenced by the carnage on her bedroom floor). I am curious about the sartorial selections for disparate activities ranging from dragon boat racing,  to visiting the Anne of Green Gables cottage, to Canada Day on Parliament Hill and the Calgary Stampede. Kate has impeccable style, modern yet classic, and an ability to mix high and low seamlessly.  

Undoubtedly, this visit will solidify Kate’s status as a fashion icon, it appears that the expected media presence is unprecedented for a royal visit. Virtually everything she wears, sells out within minutes of the identification. Case in point, the Reiss bandage dress she wore when meeting the Obamas and the white Temperley dress she wore the other day at Wimbledon. I am still coveting an Issa dress (recall the blue engagement dress), but releases in many colours and styles seem to sell out rapidly. One day...

 

Now, on to the confession. Recall the shoes Kate wore the evening prior to the wedding, and more famously the morning after when the newlyweds crossed the lawn to the awaiting helicopter.  I spied them in the photo and immediately knew they were my shoe nirvana. Black patent (my number one shoe obsession) wedge heels in raffia, exactly what I had been searching for. The heel does not appear to be too high (the height of some wedges are just insane), and they sport a closed toe. I’m not a major lover of the sandal, I think because I hate the feeling of dirt or sand touching my bare feet, ugh.

 

So a major search ensued and I finally determined they were made by LK Bennett, a British brand. As expected, they were completely sold out on the website, and I consoled myself with the fact that shipping to Canada was too outrageous at £45. I did however add myself to the waiting list to be notified via email when they came back in stock. Fast forward several weeks. It’s well past midnight and I’m lying in bed reading in the dark on my iPhone. I check my email prior to turning in for the night and there pop up the elusive shoes, back in stock. Too exhausted to traipse downstairs to my computer, I make a deal with myself. If they are still in stock in the morning, I will place the order. Lo and behold, that morning, they are again sold out. So what do I do at times like these, I peruse Ebay. Searches for the LK Bennett Wedges in the past  had proven fruitless, yet now my shoes had magically appeared. Obviously the savvy buyer had scored all pairs the night before and was reselling them at a premium. Long story short, the shoes were purchased, over retail mind you, but I think I came out ahead due to the more reasonable shipping of £18. They have still not arrived, caught in the throes of the postal strike, but I’m hopeful I may see them as early as next week. I’m excited. Perhaps I am indeed a closet monarchist.

 

The Gym

This morning when I arose, my only wish was to curl myself in a tight ball and throw the covers back over my head. I am sick, with a wickedly sore throat and a body that is dragging. It is likely my reparation for a busy weekend which included a birthday party for a lovely little boy who is turning three and several hours of karate seminars and belt testing (mind you, that only involved me watching). I followed that up with two late nights, Friday was Macy Gray at the Jazz Festival and Saturday, drinks out with friends. 

Suffice it to say, my presence was required to drop the boys off at their second last day of school and to attend to my daughter who finished up at Montessori last week. So I forced myself from the comfortable confines of my bed and begrudgingly donned my exercise gear. For every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 9:30 am, I have a standing date in my gym which involves a solid hour of exercise. I usually attempt to fit another run in on the weekends as well, but that is variable. Even in my sickly state, I knew that I would feel rejuvenated after the fact. The during was another matter entirely, I felt kind of horrendous overall, despite a blisteringly slow pace on the treadmill, but now I’m glad I forced myself to do it. Exercise is my saving grace, probably the only thing keeping me sane, and most certainly what holds my sorry excuse for a back together. 

 

My workouts usually involve some combination of treadmill running, (rolling hills or sprints if I’m with my trainer), core exercises, weights and plyometrics. I’m not athletically inclined at all, my sister inherited all of those genes. My goal is to run a 10K sometime, which is likely very achievable, my only stumbling block is my complete disdain for running outside. I’m completely averse to heat, never mind all the other elements including wind, rain, bugs etc. And I tend to break out in hives whenever I exercise outdoors, lovely. So the gym it is, and I thought I would share  couple photos today.

 

The gym is located in the recesses of the basement, though with the nine foot ceilings it feels quite airy and unbasement-like. The front wall in mirrored which completely helps my uncoordinated self achieve some semblance of form. We use the treadmill most often, particularly my husband who is an avid runner. We bought the elliptical trainer after my back surgery and it was very useful during my rehab. I cross train on it occasionally and it provides an amazingly great workout. I keep meaning to add a weight bench and an adjustable set of weights but haven’t got around to it yet. In the corner not photographed is shelving where more equipment is stored (along with some lego spaceships) and a small fridge. In general, I’m not a ceiling fan enthusiast, and this is the only one in the house. I did some investigating and found a fan that is quite aesthetically pleasing by the Modern Fan Company. I actually love the fan as I overheat very easily, and my trainer rewards me for my hard work by increasing the speed from medium to fast. 

 

The question I’m most often asked about my house is actually in regard to the floors in my gym. They are tiles (kind of similar to cork flooring), made of a composite of recycled leather. I believe the leather is ground up, mixed with some sort of polymer and then stamped with a crocodile pattern. I have the black, glossy finish, there is also matte available, and they are perfect in the gym. They are not too hard, not at all slippery and water spills wipe right up. And of course, anything in crocodile looks fabulous.

The Living Room - Initial Plans

We moved into this house last September, so we are rapidly closing in on a full year. The first few months, I think we were shell shocked. First by the process we had just come through, the building portion of the house (not that we ourselves physically built it, but you understand what I mean). Second, everything that lay ahead of us to create the home I envisioned. It is an arduous process, one that I didn’t even embark for the first several months. We started with Elizabeth’s room, which for the most part is complete with the exception of curtains and perhaps a chair. I then turned my focus to the front entrance, which is still a work in process as I await a giant repair on the credenza which is the focal point of the entire area. Then the dining room which remained empty until a couple weeks ago, it too remains a work in progress. 

 

Now my sights are focused on the two areas I anticipate will be the most challenging in scope and scale, the living room and family room. These areas set the tone for the entire home, and with the exception of perhaps the kitchen, the areas our family will congregate the most. I will work on these two rooms concurrently (along with Atmosphere), as some of the furniture that presently resides in the family room is designated for the living room. I would have a minor revolt on my hands if the kids had no place to sit and watch TV. And, that would necessitate the relocation of the outdoor furniture to the actual outdoors. Since we moved in, our patio sectional has been planted squarely in the midst of the living room, along with nothing else. See Exhibit A, the before photo. 

 

My goal is to move most of the furniture in one fell swoop, but we shall see how that works out. As you can see, the living room is a blank canvas, though on the opposite wall which you cannot see, we have located the piano. The artwork precariously positioned on the ground will be moving to the entrance and dining room, respectively. Trevor and Curtis drew up some amazing furniture placement plans for each of these rooms and I have made my final decisions. I will try to scan and post them to my blog next week, along with some discussion of the chairs and other furniture we have in mind.

 

The sofa from the image on the header of my blog is the one that is designated for the living room. It is the wood frame sofa by Montauk in black leather, Canadian designed and built, I’ve had it for several years. You may recall the sofa from Carrie’s apartment in Sex and the City 2, same piece, yet covered in blue mohair. Along with the sofa will be two slipper chairs with walnut bases and chrome nailhead. We are currently contemplating the fabric choice. I’m trying to convince my husband that we need this amazing Kelly Wearstler Flair Noir, but the sensible man is wavering on price. Here is a photo of the fabric lying on the rug that will also be relocated from one room to the other. Perfect, no?

 

Eight Things

The fact that this child today turns eight, completely confounds me. Born just on the precipice of the summer solstice during a spectacular thunderstorm, the memory could not be more clear in my mind. He is nothing if not entirely interesting and entertaining, occasionally challenging, and he has enriched our lives in innumerable ways. I will share this photo of him from our recent vacation as opposed to the one I will take today after school. That photo will bare the evidence of his recent injuries. One an impressive black eye that resulted from an ill advised trip of down the slide, head first. The other, a forehead gash eerily similar in shape to Harry Potter’s lightening bolt scar, acquired during a tickle fight. Coincidence, perhaps not.

 

I predict that eight will be a fabulous year for him, lucky number eight you know. In fact, it is my favourite number, always has been. In conversation, I often throw out an eight with any number of zeros, usually eight billion to serve as my random number of choice. I nearly bought the Alex Woo pendant in “8”, but after much deliberating my husband got me the “3” instead for Mother’s Day last year (to symbolize the three children). 

 

Truth be told, we are not great gift givers in this household, rarely do my husband and I exchange presents for birthdays or holidays, the above mentioned present was a bit of an anomaly.  We are both very pragmatic and not terribly fond of surprises, so my next “gift” is going to be my eight dining room chairs (keeping with the theme at hand). But it never hurts to have a wish list just in case. So today I present you with eight things that I would love, one for myself, one of the home, under $8, under $80, under $800, and under $8000.

 

At the eight dollar price point, shopping is a touch challenging,. However I will take this bottle of Essie “meet me at sunset” nail polish in a deep orange. I am generally orange averse, but I’ve been drawn it it more and more, lately.  Because I’m infatuated with all things clear, I selected this Acrylic pencil cup by the fascinating Japanese company Muji. My office is a sea of disorganization, most of you would gasp if I let you through the door. My obsession with stripes continues even though they fail to love me back. This $78 tank top by Splendid is perfect for summer and I particularly love the way the stripes meet at the bottom. My parents bought me these amazing Abyss towels for Christmas, so I would add to my collection, in white of course. Unfortunately one bath towel will set you back $79, but they are pure luxury.

 

Now we delve into the realm of “not happening any time soon”. For $800 (well for a mere $795 actually) I would choose these Christian Louboutin New Simples in black patent. I have the regular Simples without the platform in blue which are surprisingly comfortable, but it you know my obsession with patent, you will understand why I covet these. For the home, one of these three Eames for Herman Miller Walnut Stools (a touch over at $821), perhaps for the living room, or even as a pawn stool in the bathroom. Now for the ultimate splurges, I would love this stunning Paul Smith rug by the Rug Company in the classic swirl pattern. I’m not 100% sure on the price, but I do recall it is close to that range for a 9X12. Last but not least, is the Cartier Love bracelet with diamonds. I’m not really a jewelry girl, but this piece to me is the ultimate.

Yes I did just compile of gift list on the birthday of my own child, how like an "eight year old" of me. No worries, Thomas is very content with his much anticipated gift, a "long board", our first foray into the realm of skate boarding. I fear those aforementioned injuries may not be our last...

Dining Table Photo and Other Thoughts

Would you believe that we have been inflicted with a second gas leak in just about as many weeks. This time, outside fortunately, and things are nearly rectified. But we’ve been without hot water since yesterday, and I’m in desperate need of a shower after my workout this morning. So I will keep it brief today so I can rush to the ensuite as soon as the plumbers vacate.

 

 

I received many requests for a photo of the dining table and console in situ. I could not be more thrilled to finally have some semblance of a dining room. The photograph is a touch deceiving, the table is exceedingly large and could easily seat ten. I am awaiting my designers’ opinion as to the potential removal of the leaf to bring down the size a little, and to the necessary number of chairs. My initial inclination is eight chairs, running horizontally only, none at either end. Isn’t the table base amazing? I’m going to be sorry to have to block it with chairs.

Obviously the room requires much in the way of decorating to realize the potential. The lamps sitting on the console now are vintage Paul Evans in chrome and black slate. I am on the hunt for shades, debating between black or white, round or square. The pair will likely relocate to the living room at some point, but I get panicky when a surface is empty (I fear that it entices children to leave things like popsicle wrappers on top). Above the console, either a mirror or a piece of art, I have one candidate of each which hopefully will fit, currently in my possession. The small Allen Sapp painting in the photo will also relocate to make way for a more substantial piece. So I need pretty much everything else, the chairs, the rug, accessories for the table and console. This project will take some time.

Before we can focus on any of that though, we need to make it through tonight. As my son eagerly anticipates game seven of the Stanley Cup Final, I am preparing my uplifting discussion about remaining positive and sportsmanlike in either victory or defeat. As a transplanted British Columbian, I understand the yearning for this moment, I vividly remember both 1982 and 1994. I have always considered the Vancouver Canucks to be my second favourite team behind the Montreal Canadiens (though can one who is not particularly a hockey fan designate two favourite teams?  Probably not). But I am admittedly excited for tonight, and it my lovely seven year old child who has made it so. For he is so intensely passionate about any cause he believes in. You should have seen the amount of money he raised following the earthquake in Haiti, and how eloquently he speaks about saving dolphins after viewing the documentary, The Cove. He has channelled that same intensity into the Vancouver Canucks, and I am so hopeful it goes our way.

 

 

Trapped In A Sea Of Packing Material

The path to furniture acquisition rarely proceeds according to plan. Last I left you, I was fervently preparing for the arrival of my Bond Collection Jonathan Adler dining room furniture. I smiled gleefully as the large truck pulled into my driveway until the inevitable words poured from the delivery person’s mouth “You’d better come up on the truck and take a look at this”. I’ve become accustomed to this procedure, as everything that arrives on my doorstep appears to have been sent through the ringer, at least twice. The box containing the table top was nearly decimated and I was envisioning the damaged contents inside. JA Headquarters had assured me that the pieces would be packaged securely and double boxed, so I retained a glimmer of hope. Despite significant damage to the packaging the visible portions of the table appeared intact. I proceeded to refuse the shipment with the request that it be unpackaged at the terminal, so I could inspect more thoroughly. This is a fairly standard practice and I encourage you to employ it should you encounter a similar predicament.

So the following day, Elizabeth and I proceed to the industrial area in the far reaches of the north end of the city to a gigantic trucking depot. We continue to the loading dock and encounter several exceedingly helpful people, who bestowed me with the title of “furniture lady”. They kindly provided Elizabeth with a chair and a bag of Skittles (much to her delight) to prevent her being impaled by a forklift. They drove up the skid of furniture and unwrapped several layers of packaging, in a process somewhat akin to peeling an onion. To my great relief the table and console appeared to be unscathed. I scheduled a second delivery for the following day.

By Friday afternoon, amidst a sea of packing material the furniture was ensconced in the area designated as the dining room. I am attempting to banish the memory of the console being dropped (fortunately only a couple inches) on entry into the house. The pieces are exceptionally heavy. This morning it remained in a state of partial unwrap, as we have determined that it will require three people to flip the table once the base has been secured. Packing material is my husband’s nemesis, particularly styrofoam. In the photo I took this morning you can see what remains. He already removed an SUV full on Friday evening.

Despite the chaos, both the console and table are more lovely that I imagined. The chrome and brass base of the table (you can see it in the corner of the image) is what initially sold me on the table. The burled wood works surprisingly well with our lapacho (Brazilian walnut) floors, though I had previously been concerned that it could read too light. And the lucite sides of the console, attached with metal standoffs, make the piece. I am a lucite aficionado (tomorrow I will share some of my favourite lucite pieces) particularly when it is combined with other materials. My next adventure is selecting a rug for the space, and somehow acquiring the chairs.

I did have one little surprise as we delved into the boxes. I had forgotten that I had ordered this chevron alpaca blanket in navy and white. A replacement for the itchiest blanket ever in the family room and all three children have already attempted to lay claim.

 

 

Wednesday Randoms

This afternoon I am not so patiently awaiting a much anticipated delivery. I just sprang up out of my office chair thinking I heard a large truck in the distance. I was correct about the truck, as I peered through my front window a large dump truck was spilling dirt in the street in front of my house. Still waiting. The shipment is none other than my dining room table and matching console from Jonathan Adler (will share photos next week, it apparently requires a touch of assembly, eek). I had seen the table online and wasn’t sold, but when I saw it at the Jonathan Adler Store in NYC, I fell in love. I had angsted  over this selection for ages, you see I needed the perfect complement to the chairs I still do not own. I’m backwards that way. I’ve known for at least five years, the chairs I must possess and I fully intend to keep you in suspense until I procure them. I’m attempting to find them vintage, a complete set of eight, but that is a difficult proposition up here in Canada. Even without chairs, the table will serve as a lovely defensive zone around my Bocci Pendant Light.

Speaking of defensive zones, both boys are playing in a soccer tournament this weekend, for a total of six games. That is going to be a lot of soccer in addition to the three games already this week. I’m kind of outdoor challenged between the allergies, bugs and sun. Elizabeth scored her first soccer goal last night (I missed it as I was dispatching the boys to piano lessons). She is adorable in her little cleats and oversized bright yellow uniform that wears more like a dress than a jersey. And her team name is the Caterpillars, love that...

My next two Fornasetti Julia plates arrived in the mail today (oh how I’m going to sink into a depression when Canada Post strikes) #addictedtoonlineshopping. In case you were curious, joining the collection we have #154 Hands and #191 Coffee. Now I just need two more before we begin the arduous process of hanging. I believe that we will try a random grouping, but I will break out the compass and create some sample masks to play with first.

Speaking of domestic pursuits, I made these cookies Chocolate Diablo Cookies that were featured on the Food Network Canada show, Eat St. Very tasty, and this is coming from someone who doesn’t care for chocolate (I’m a true anomaly, I know). Both my husband and middle son are fanatical for anything spicy. Truth be told, even Elizabeth enjoys some heat, given that she refuses to eat her eggs without Tabasco. The cookies contain half a teaspoon of cayenne  and they were plenty spicy. Though Thomas did ask if I could incorporate a little bit of chopped habanero next time.

Speaking of this most unusual child, Thomas is now obsessed with hockey, particularly the Vancouver Canucks. He himself does not play hockey, much to his dismay, and it is probably too bad as he is a giant, standing a head above the rest of the kids in his class, and size 7.5 men’s shoes at age seven. Hopefully he will not dissolve into tears tonight, as he did on Monday during the trouncing in Boston. I’m not sure how we ended up with such a sports mad child, as neither my husband nor I are avid sports spectators. We were however in Vancouver during the Chicago series, and he is also enabled by my father who is a great fan. This weekend, Thomas even went so far as to mail a thoughtfully composed letter of encouragement to Henrik Sedin.  

But the funniest was last week in the opening game of the series when Raffi Torres scored the winning goal. My husband and I were discussing Torres’ nationality (he mistakenly assumed that all people with a first name ending in "i" must be Finnish, so not a sports fan). I disagreed as I knew he was a Canadian, and quickly wikipediaed (did I just use wikipedia as a verb?) it on my iPhone. I commented that he was Canadian of Mexican and Peruivan descent. Next thing I know, Thomas blurts out, “So Torres is Perexican”. I considered lecturing him about the inappropriateness of a term based on ethnicity, but I couldn’t stop laughing. After months of that inane Bank of Montreal commercial where they flip the coin and decide to go for Chexican, I figured we had it coming. A look into the mind of my seven year old. 

My furniture has yet to arrive, and I’ve commented on all the randomness that sprang to mind. I congratulate you for making it this far. In anticipation of the beginnings of my dining room, I leave you with one my all time favourite dining room inspiration images. The dining room of the unmistakable Betsey Johnson with the yellow Platner chairs.

Source

The Emeco Hudson Chair - Photo Series #2

Elizabeth emerged from her bedroom this morning in this colourful ensemble and I knew a photograph was in order. Thus, a quick post today with part two of my chair series. These are my bar stools, three of which stand at the island in my kitchen. The Hudson Stool, designed by Philippe Starck for Emeco, the purveyor of the famous navy chair. Though they are amazingly light, apparently the stools are three times stronger than steel, in fact they arrive with a 150 year warranty. The stools are a brushed aluminum, a fitting tribute to the four summers I spent working at Alcan, an aluminum smelter during my university days. Though I longed for the stunning chrome version (in which most Emeco chairs are available), I could not stomach the additional $1000 per stool cost. Nor could I remove the vision of the rivets of the kids’ jeans scratching and gouging an immaculate (for two seconds) chrome surface. Aluminum it is.

 

Unquestionably, the design process is impacted, and occasionally heavily influenced by the younger inhabitants of the household. If left to my own devices I would wrap my furniture in swathes of white linen, litter the floor with silk rugs and any hard surface would be replete with chrome, glass or marble. Impractical with three children, completely. I’m still recovering from the critical error in judgement that was the purchase of two white couches (RIP) when I had toddlers. After three years they were a lovely shade of fluorescent pink cough medicine + sippy cup spills + ground in chocolate chips + the occasional vomit. Lovely. People did question the practicality of some of the selections in our house ie. glass stairs, leather floors in the gym, and wallpaper, among other things. I believe it is about finding a balance, teaching the children a modicum of respect, and resisting the urge to fly into a frenzy when objects receive the proverbial first scratch.

The stools arrived in boxes emblazoned with the loveliest packing tape with a quote from Phillipe Starck. I snapped a quick photo on my iPhone last year. The sentiment is very cool, and I like to think of all the objects I own in the same way.

Momofuku Ko

I’m going to veer slightly off course today, given it’s a Friday and all. I’ve wanted to document this memory for ages, and now is as good a time as any. Or perhaps, I’m just hungry. I love food, I love to cook. I’ve shown you my stove, it actually gets a fair amount of use. But there is nothing more wonderful than eating food someone else has prepared, particularly when it is the best meal of your life. And that is where this story begins.

Last fall, a friend and I travelled to New York City to celebrate one of those significant birthdays (hers).  The trip had been arranged fairly last minute, and we would be connecting with a couple other people on day two of the itinerary. I knew that this momentous occasioned warranted at least one outstanding meal, and my first thought was to schedule it for the evening of our arrival (though as to not burden people I did not yet know with an ambitious culinary experience). Initially I was determined to dine at Le Bernadin, as I have a minor obsession with Eric Ripert. I scoured Open Table for reservations and the best I could achieve was 10:20 pm for that date. After not an insignificant amount of lamenting I nixed that plan, and researched the New York Times restaurant reviews for further inspiration. I was spoiled for choice, and my normally decisive self stalled. A couple weeks out, I was running out of time.

In a stroke of brilliance, I somehow remembered a restaurant that necessitated a last minute reservation. Or more specifically, a reservation exactly six days prior to your preferred evening. I will elaborate, and trust me, it gets better. I had been reading about David Chang he of Momofuku fame for the last couple of years, seen him as a guest judge on Top Chef. A somewhat unlikely success story, the darling of the New York food scene, entirely intense, utterly creative. I was intrigued, I had even prepared his recipe for brussel sprouts with mint and fish sauce, I had come across in Food and Wine Magazine. Anthony Bourdain dedicated a chapter in his latest book, Medium Raw, to the legend surrounding Chang, and it is that, that compelled me to investigate further.

Momofuku Ko is Chang’s fourth restaurant In New York’s East Village, the most ambitious and high end endeavour to date. It is regarded as the most difficult reservation in New York to procure, given the meager twelve seats, with only two seatings each evening. Apparently, there is no preferential treatment given, reservations open six days prior at 10:00 am, and it must be booked exclusively online. Rumour has it that Chang’s parents could not eat in the restaurant for the first year of its existence as the same rules apply to everyone. I gleaned from the internets that securing a reservation was going to require a significant amount of manual dexterity and a fast internet connection. I read tales of people attempting for weeks to acquire the elusive confirmation.

I knew it was risky, but that morning six days prior I positioned myself at my computer, ready to pounce at exactly 8:00 am (given the two hour time difference). I had a couple of clocks synchronized and to my best estimation I arrived at the time selection screen at 8:00 am + 1 second. All reservations save for two had been booked. I nearly broke my mouse as I clicked on the 7:30 pm for two option, and it was mine. In my exuberance I was almost able to disregard the slightly sick feeling given the cancellation policy of 24 hour notice or a charge of $125 per person. If our plane was significantly delayed, we could have an issue.

We departed Saskatoon at some ungodly hour in the morning, barely awake, I looking marginally presentable, heading for our connection in Toronto. If you have ever cleared customs in Toronto airport you can imagine the scene that unfolded before us. We had approximately fifty minutes to make it through that monumental queue. The pace was surprisingly brisk, and I surmised that we would achieve clearance and arrival at our gate with a couple of minutes to spare. Suddenly an announcement overhead indicated that the airport would be observing a moment of silence for Remembrance Day. It was amazing to watch how everything ground to a halt, and to witness complete silence in a veritable sea of people. Unfortunately for us, that moment was approximately eight minutes long, and despite an impressive sprint we arrived at the gate just as our plane was taxi-ing away. Visions of my much awaited meal evaporated, replaced instead with the not insignificant cancellation fee.

Long story short, we were rebooked on the next flight and arrived in NYC with plenty of time to spare. Unfortunately, our luggage did not. We were going to dinner in the outfits that we had donned at 4:30 am, and in my case sans makeup. At that moment I breathed a sigh of relief that we were not going to the very fancy Le Bernadin. Momofuku Ko is notably casual. We set out via the subway to the East Village, and figured that we would do some shopping prior to our reservation.

We were fairly exhausted after such an early morning that we decided to relax and grab a drink prior to dinner. We randomly chose from a multitude of establishments and found ourselves in Veselka. The irony of the situation donned on us immediately, two girls from Saskatchewan are drawn directly into a Ukrainian restaurant (though neither of us is of Ukrainian descent, every second person who lives here just might be), we might have been in Babba’s Perogies. Turns out Veselka is itself quite famous, and I spotted it in a movie a couple months ago when we watched Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist.

Though I had the exact address, we spent ages actually locating Momofuku Ko. All I knew was that the door to the restaurant sported only the image of a small peach. Hidden in plain view, we somehow walked past it several times. Upon arrival, we marveled at the small size of the restaurant and perched ourselves on our designated stools at the end of the bar like communal dining space. Seated next to us, was a lovely couple from Halifax in town to see Dave Matthews Band and more importantly, to eat at Ko. It is an experience.

Dinner is comprised of a ten course tasting menu, subject to change based on seasonality, ingredient availability, and the evolving nature of David Chang and Peter Serpico’s (head chef at Ko) vision. There is no printed menu, and no photography allowed. There is no waitstaff with the exception of the sommelier, you are served by a chef. Through memory and a little bit of internet browsing I believe that the following is a close approximation of what we ate.

Chicharron with togarashi salt

British Columbia and Kumamoto oysters in a sweet potato vinegar

Brioche with bone marrow, lemon confit, and sorrel in a gruyere and comte broth 

Smoked, soft boiled egg, paddlefish caviar, fingerling potato chips, onion confit and herbs of chevril

Hard torn pasta, with chicken and snail sausage

Shaved fois gras with lychee, riesling gelee and pine nut brittle

Sashimi of fluke with pickled peppers

48 hour braised and then deep fried lamb rib (cannot remember the accompaniments)

Apple cake with burnt apple sauce, oatmel ice cream, apple cubes, apple gelee, and golden raisin puree

Dome of buttermilk with a mint centre sprinkled with freeze dried corn

I know that there were was an additional sashimi course, and a couple of amuse bouche I missed documenting. Given that I have been awake since 4:30 am I knew i would be completely liquored if I attempted the wine/alcohol pairing. The sommelier devised for me a partial pairing which involved wine, beer and sake. The meal was was exceptional, beyond creative, so refined, yet completely unpretentious. Momofuku Ko is about the food, an understated celebration of what is possible. I’m not a food reviewer, so I will not try as I could not do the meal justice. But it was unforgettable.

The Door We Could Not Find

Momofuku Ko Interior

We sat at these last two seats