[Cue the Jeopardy music] The American Sailing Assoc. 106 (Advanced Coastal Crusinig), a Women’s Sailing Seminar, and NY all have this in common. While my smart-ass friends will definitely send me any number of technically correct responses, the correct question is, “What is Wild Rumpus!”
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Finally, Wild Rumpus is out of the Bahamas and working its way up the east coast of the U.S. on its way to New York City. In honor of Wild Rumpus heading to the city that spawned me, taught me how to parallel park, fight, and evade the police on foot all in one incident, that smells of a mix of aging pee and sumptuous hot dogs cooked in water older than its purveyor, where America’s pizza craze kicked off, and the last bastion of big fat eggrolls that smell of burnt oil and taste like the best parts of my childhood, the title picture for this post is the kids’ table at my Bar Mitzvah from 1981. You’re welcome — you deserve it if you made it through the last sentence!
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Since 1995 I have been passing around a memo to friends about NY Food. It all started as a young lawyer in Atlanta after the fourth request for assistance from my new colleagues. Apparently, I was the only NYer they knew (other than John Gotti- who they were all afraid they might meet on the subway -as if he rode the subway). So, to save time in future interactions with my new found southern friends, I dictated a memo (a lost art by the way) and gave it to the very same word processor who was the fourth person to ask for help. Since then, the memo has been edited a bit every five to ten years. The very nature of the recommendations is that they should not require much updating because the places I recommend withstood the test of time -until a couple of them closed.
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