Cornichons

Prior to my complete and utter meltdown last night, D and I went to Artisinal for fondue, fondue, and more fondue. When we told the waiter that we wanted fondue for dinnner, he seemed perplexed. "It's usually an appetizer." He suggested we order two different ones, which seemed a good idea. After he left, D and I looked around the restaurant (which, incidentally, was obscenely loud) to see how big the fondue would be, and were surprised to see that not many people were eating fondue.

"How could you come here and not eat fondue?" we each wondered aloud.

We ordered the fondue with fingerling potatos, crudite, and apples. It is ordinarily served with a bread basket/person, which we, of course, didn't know when we ordered.

Our two fondues and multiple plates of dipping options did not fit on the table, but we did not care, because WOW! I preferred the Muenster special fondue while D preferred the Artisanal Blend.

The crudite was amazing - perfectly sized pieces of broccoil, red and yellow bell pepper chips, fancy carrots, and best of all, cornichons! Are cornichons not the best thing ever? I could eat 1000 of them in one sitting. We both ignored the cauliflower.

We then rushed to the 6 train to head downtown to see Measure for Pleasure, which was D's birthday gift to me, at The Public Theater. Of course the 6 didn't come forever, so we ended up running into the theater with about 30 seconds until showtime which explains why I think Philip Seymour Hoffman probably saw me. I didn't have time to gawk.

I knew little about the play aside from D's mentioning it offhandedly last week, when I responded with "That could be cool," and that one of the actors from The Pillowman had a prominent role.

It was, basically, a modern play written in the style of Shakespeare that takes place back then but is ripe with modern tendencies, such as "Talk to the fan." There were women dressed as men, men dressed as women, unknown parentage, etc. My only complaint was that it did not shy away from sentimentality.

Wayne Knight was in it. It was weird to be seated three feet away from Newman. His body is looking weird these days - he is no longer skinny (someone said he had gastric bypass surgery that did not take?) but his legs are.

Michael Stuhlbarg, the actor from The Pillowman , was amazing.

We rushed home to see the end of skating, just in time to see Sasha Cohen (not to be confused with Sasha Baron Cohen of Ali G) fall on her ass twice. I have to admit that I was perversely pleased as she is not my favorite. I was hopeful for the other American skaters, because they have better attitudes.

I spent the remainder of the night freaking out about being 30. Tears, angst, distress, and disgust prevented me from getting to sleep until 5:00 am. I even, gasped, wrote down thoughts with a pen! I haven't done that in three years or more. I am hoping to find some lyrics buried somewhere in the incoherent 4:00 am hysteria. I can barely function today. I am going to have to drink some Red Bull to make it through the party tonight. I will also have to nap, which I will do shortly, because I am 30 and am an old lady and need my sleep!

Until Monday...