Chuck's Big City Eats Almost on Restaurant Row

Traditional Italian Restaurant on Ninth Avenue

        As you have probably guessed by now, Chuck is no ordinary cat.  

What cat would caterwaul while watching a Broadway play in a Broadway theatre in the heart of the Big Apple just because he liked the music?

Especially since he knew he was expected to be on his best behavior.

The New York crowd expects sophistication!  So as we sauntered (rather quickly) out of Evita, I had my doubts as to whether we could put the next phase of our plan into operation--stop at one of the fabulous eateries on Restaurant Row in New York City--especially since I couldn’t guarantee that said cat would behave himself.

But I was starving, and on our way to the theatre, we’d passed a gauntlet of fabulous eating places.

No matter what you were in the mood for . . .

if you liked French cuisine, then the Marseille Restaurant was for you . . .

French Restaurant

           if you were in the mood for exotic Thai food with a vietnamese influence, then Yum Yum on the corner of 46th Street would be perfect . . .

           the Hour Glass Tavern with their famed Bettibar and their cute menu serving snacklettes and sliders and snackages and stuffed puffs was a particular favorite of Chuck’s . . .

Thai Food or American fare at the Bettibar?

            I spied Becco and remembered when we’d gone there the year before and simply loved the food and the wine and the waiter and the entire experience.  Lydia’s son Joe (yes, that Lydia, the famous chef who has the show on the Food Network) owns the restaurant and offers good Italian food at fair prices and all wine under $25.00) . . .

One of my favorites--Lydia's son Joe owns and operates

And what about an open MIC piano bar that has been a landmark for over 25 years?  I loved the name, although I have to admit I’d never heard of the place before now--Don’t Tell Mama.  And there’s a singing wait staff.  We were tempted, but then fearful that Chuck might begin to caterwaul again . . .

Open MIC piano bar and singing waiters

What about Irish food -- O’Flaherty’s popped into view . . .

I love Irish fare

And we couldn’t miss the brightly colored Via Brasil Restaurant--the eye-popping yellow and the green facade which offered traditional Brazilian dishes of meat and fish including Churrasco, a grilled meat dish . . .

The colors alone drew my eye

Was Bob (or Chuck, for that matter) in the mood for a steak?  Broadway Joe Steak House beckoned us to drop in and become part of the magic that has surrounded this restaurant since 1949.  It has been featured in several Hollywood movies and was the restaurant where Joe Namath, the famed football player, chose to hang with his buddies when his career was in full swing . . .

This place has a really interesting history . . .

But, no, we passed these restaurants by and chose instead a lesser known restaurant on Ninth Avenue called Cara Mia, a traditional Italian Restaurant with a cozy setting and great food.  The wait staff appeared to be friendly and the service appeared to be prompt.  

Our choice for dinner . . .

Things were calm.

We sat in the back and figured nothing could go wrong now, and, therefore, we became what we later realized to be “too comfortable.”

We loved the interior . . .

Chuck, who normally--at least in a restaurant setting, especially in New York (sophistication expected) remained hidden in my smart bag, but stuck his head out to look around AT EXACTLY THE WRONG MOMENT.

Our waiter, who was amazingly friendly and congenial up that point, spotted him.  He raced over to our table with a surprised look on his face. Let me rephrase that.  He raced over with a SURPRISED look on his face.

“Is that a cat?” he whispered.

Now, I recognize that he was in a difficult position.  We’d already placed our order, a very generous order -- appetizer--in fact two appetizers (we are hearty eaters), the main course -- a rather expensive entry that I’d convinced myself I just had to have--something I don’t often see offered on a menu so I jumped at the chance to have it “osso bucco.”  And he probably also figured we were going to go for the gusto and order dessert.  So, did he really want to KICK US OUT OF THE RESTAURANT IF WE ADMITTED TO HAVING A CAT? 

All of this, of course, remained unsaid.  

I smiled at his question.  “Is that a problem?” I asked.  

He narrowed his gaze at me.  “This is New York.”

I cleared my throat.  “One of my favorite cities.
“This is a sophisticated restaurant.”

“I can tell by the decor,” I said, smiling again.  “This restaurant is bellisimo.” I threw in some Italian, hoping it would help.

“We do not allow cats.”

Of course I knew that. But I remembered traveling in France where the French people were allowed to bring their dogs just about anywhere.  There never was a problem.  Why couldn’t we be more like them?  I wanted to say something like that, but I didn’t dare.  I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.  I figured--keep quiet and say nothing.  The ball was in his court.

But he didn’t say anything.

“Would you like us to leave before we’ve eaten?”

“I’m thinking,” he finally admitted.

“He is a very well behaved cat,” I lied.

At this moment anything could have happened.  I half expected Chuck, the rascal, to begin caterwauling again and expose my lie.  But he didn’t.  

Our waiter swiveled on his heel, like the way you see the professional waiters do in the movies, and he left our table.  

When he returned, moments later, he’d brought our appetizer.  

Not another word was said about Chuck.

I turned to Bob.  He shook his head.  “Entirely too much stress.”

But, still, we ate our delicious meal and left.  

        TO READ MORE ABOUT CHUCK AND HIS ADVENTURES, YOU CAN LOG ONTO WWW.KATELUTTER.COM

        MY PARANORMAL ROMANCE, WILD POINT ISLAND, IS NOW AVAILABLE AT AMAZON.COM AND BARNESANDNOBLE.COM  IN PAPERBACK AND EBOOK.

 

Chuck "Sings" With Evita

The Evita Poster announcing our arrival at the Marquis Theatre in NYC

               

               I make no secret that I’m a Jersey girl, born and bred.  And, I suppose, that Chuck, my rascal cat can be considered a Jersey boy, too.

One of the advantages of living in New Jersey--the so-called Garden State--is its proximity to New York.  Once Chuck and I returned from our trip to China, we decided to quickly undertake another perilous journey.

Where? To the BIG APPLE. The city that never sleeps.

I wanted to see the musical that everyone was talking about: Evita.  Because I’d heard that Ricky Martin was playing the part of Che, one of the main characters, and Bob and I had seen said pop singer years ago in concert in of all places--the Lisbon Zoo.  

Peron and Eva

Well, not exactly in the zoo.  The Lisbon Zoo had a kind of amphitheatre attached to it where performances were given, and it was just our luck to wander in at the exact moment one day when Ricky Martin was on stage performing one of his greatest hits--La Vida Loca.

It was an electrifying moment.  And maybe it was nostalgia, I’m not sure, but Ricky Martin was partly the draw that pulled us into the city to see Evita.  

Chuck--who is not a big fan of musicals--wanted to see Restaurant Row.

Because--you guessed it--when you saunter down Restaurant Row, you are accosted by some of the most delicous smells in all of New York City. In those few square blocks you pass a wide variety of eateries, and he’d heard stories of how fabulous the cuisine was in New York.

So . . . we compromised.  We’d see Evita and then have dinner in one of the fave restaurants.  

Walking through Restaurant Row on the way to the theatre

We rarely drive into the city.  We either take the train or the bus.  This time we caught the bus from Bloomfield and drove into the Port Authority in plenty of time for the Wednesday matinee at 2 p.m. 

It’s a short walk to the theatre, and it was quite exciting to see the large posters advertising Evita coming into view when you arrive at the theatre.  Posters used to be the best way to advertise in the theatre a hundred years ago--before television and radio and the internet.  In fact, the great Czech artists, Alphonse Mucha, launched his own career and that of stage actress Sarah Bernhardt in Paris at the turn of the century by creating posters for her in the Art Nouveau style, advertising her performance in various plays. 

Chuck hardly noticed the Evita posters, but he went bonkers for the large escalator that we rode to reach the theatre.  

EVITA .

Now I can imagine what you’re thinking. Are you crazy to bring a cat into a sophisticated place like a Broadway theatre?  But luckily we didn’t have the best of seats.  We were sitting towards the back of the theatre, and I was very careful to keep Chuck well hidden in my bag until the lights went down.   And for cat as jumpy as Chuck usually is, he was remarkably well-behaved.

For the first act.

Evita is all about the music.  

Don’t cry for me, Argentina.  

     I kept my promise.  Don’t keep your distance.

I can only explain what happened next--Chuck’s partial breakdown in the second act--by suggesting that, perhaps, the music got to him.  

Imagine the stage beautifully lit up, dancers twirling around, the music blaring through the theatre . . . and my rascal cat--I think this is what happened--must have gotten so excited--he began to “caterwaul” with the music. 

At first, you couldn’t hear him because the music resounded through the rather intimate setting of the theatre, but then you could . . . hear him.

“Shsh,” I said.  “No singing.  You’re not on stage.  You’re not the star.”

Immediately, he quieted down because for the moment the music stopped.  

But in Evita, one song leads into the next.  The entire play is a story set to music. So another song started and, of course, the “caterwauling” started.

The sets, the staging, the singing, the costumes--fabulous

“Chuck, did you hear me?  No singing.”

But he seemed to be a cat possessed.  

“Chuck, stop singing.”

But he couldn’t seem to keep himself from making noise.

Bob tapped me on the shoulder.  “Is that Chuck?”

“I can’t get him to stop singing.”

“I wouldn’t call that singing,” he said.

“What are we going to do?”

There were two ladies in front of us who were beginning to shift in their seat.  They were beginning to notice something.

“Snacks,” Bob said.

The magic antidote to all Chuck’s problems.

I reached into the outer pocket of my bag.  Thank God.  Temptations.  Half a bag remained.  Just in case of an emergency.  

I stuck my head into my smart bag.  “Chuck. Snacks.”

In mid note, all “caterwauling” ceased.  We were saved.

The lesson learned was: 

A CAT CANNOT CATERWAUL AND EAT SNACKS AT THE SAME TIME.    

To read more adventures about Chuck, log onto www.katelutter. com.

Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is now available in ebook and paperbook formats from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.