You turn 30-something only a few times in your life

So we went to Per Se last night and dropped an obscene amount of money, but less obscene than I thought when at the start of the orgy, someone in our party summoned the sommelier and ordered him to choose for us "interesting wines" to pair with our 9 course meal. I was certain he'd sneak a legendary vintage (pre-war!) or a wine produced only from the vines that nurtured Mozart or Marie Antoinette or Bono. In the end, the wine bill turned out to be too reasonable, for a line of wines deep and delicious and nicely varied. However, for the price, the food was only so so. The Nova Scotia lobster was strangely chewy, but the oysters and caviar embodied the essences of oyster and caviar perfectly. The striped bass was salty, but the familiar duck foie gras a rich revelation nonetheless. The sweetbreads was nothing more than good, but the lamb was the best I've ever had. Consistent with the theme of the evening, the service was attentive but amateur, the young servers oddly nervous as they announced the ingredients of every course.

And so Jean-Georges remains safe on top of my list of upscale New York restaurants, with seafood-centric Le Bernardin a very close second. (Opera-related sidebar: on one occasion at Jean-Georges a few years back, I spotted from across the dining room the pretty Juan Diego Florez, who was then just wrapping up a successful run of La Cenerentola at the Met. After dinner, I introduced myself as a fan, and he was shocked speechless that someone actually recognized him. Fast forward, many high C's later: if he ever chooses to dine there again, I'm certain that Chef Vongerichten himself would come out of his kitchen to pay homage.)

As if I need to commit more sins to go to hell

One of the great wonders of major cities is one's ability to eat more than the gross annual income per capita of a few dozen developing countries. Which is *gasp* what I'm doing tonight. I just looked it up: I'm expecting the bill for three at Per Se to be greater than the per capita annual income of at least 62 countries. Depending on the number of half-bottles of wine we end up consuming (plus a cocktail, plus a digestif!), it could be more. It's just wrong, and on so many levels. I'll let you know how it all went tomorrow, including if my liver is still functional.

We're no longer bitter, can't you tell

Instead of reloading Parterre for the nth time today, might I suggest spending the rest of the afternoon reading this instead, and be so edified. I have complicated feelings about this whole thing, but some people find it easier to write about it than I do.

Who needs real food, when you have JC in your life

Jeez, not Jesus Christ. Jose "wide thighs" Cura. Let me call your attention to a Norweigan blogger and certified JC stalker who has a riveting post about fastfood meat before a JC opera in Torino.

The opera starts at 2000 so I had some time. But I thought I could collect my ticket early. But I could have waited till 1 hour before the opera starts to collect it. So I wasted some time at that. I was hungry and saw many opportunities to eat but somehow went past them. But then I went to Teatro Regio di Torino at 1900 and collected my ticket, met a lot of JCx members, and went to the McDonalds close by to eat. I chose McChicken and Cola Zero. Not a good choice it was a very dry burger but I could drink. Then I went back to the theatre.

The opera EDGAR by Giacomo Puccini was a much longer opera then I had thought ...

Someone please e-mail the girl and tell her that her burger was dry because it was chicken. Anyway, mine's the Burger King behind the Met on Amsterdam Avenue. I remember having a double whopper right before a Butterfly with Diana Soviero. Those were genuinely happy days.

(Oh, in case you're curious, JCx is indeed a cult.)