You are currently reading from the Trials and Tribulations of a Crazy Asian Series.
“You remembered Montes?” I asked as we turned onto MacDougal Street.
“Of course,” he smiled, “after all, when a New Yorker says someplace has the best Italian in the city – one tends to listen.”
Robert ran around and opened the car door and escorted me onto the sidewalk.
“Thanks, Bob,” Cole said, rubbing his hands together, “be sure to get something warm to eat once you’ve found a place to park.”
“Will do, sir.” Rob agreed, tipping his hat, making his way back into the town car.
“After you.” Cole gestured.
For those of you who don’t know, Montes is an old Italian restaurant located on MacDougal Street, between West 3rd and Bleecker. It’s been there forever and has the best homemade pasta you’ll ever have the pleasure of eating. Everything from the gnocchi to the bread is made fresh daily – including the vanilla bean ice cream containing real vanilla bean pearls that literally dissolve in your mouth. It’s my favorite place in the whole world.
Once you go downstairs from the sidewalk, and through the entrance, there is a first floor dining area with a full bar located on the right hand side. Towards the back you will see a tiny staircase that leads upstairs where they host private parties and other gatherings.
Cole made his way to the hostess and gave his name. I saw her look over at me, smile and say, “We’re still preparing the upstairs, Mr. Englander. Please, have a seat at the bar and have a drink – compliments of the house.”
Cole placed his hand gently on my lower waist and said, “Champagne?”
“Nah dude,” I said, making my way to the bar, taking a seat. “I’m sticking with…
“Two glasses of 1800.” Cole told the bartender, “Neat.”
“Touche.” I smiled.
The bartender placed the high balls on the bar, winked at me and said, “Careful, miss, te-qeeela is tends to do funny things to strong women.”
“I’ll take my chances.”