Our love for the webcomic Achewood is well documented, as is our love (or, okay, my love, but perhaps MP’s general appreciation) for New York Times restaurant critic Frank Bruni. Never, thought we, the twain shall meet.
Hello, I’m open, but you can’t come. Guess what our signature sandwich of the day is? Fatty toro belly with Spaniel milts on lightly humbucked Delta rye. Served open-face, omakase style, next to a fulcrum of lemon and a lever of grissini, so you can look under the sandwich. It’s not for regular people. It’s barely for anyone. I’ve got Bob De Niro coming next month. He’s bringing his hair salesman and their guitarist. $450 per person. This includes a free glass of sparkling water—a fine grace note—and for alcoholic beverages I’ll pair the sandwich with my special Froska, which is equal parts decanted vodka and Fresca, poured tableside, from a third decanter. “Frickin’ A,” De Niro is likely to chuckle, “No frickin’ carbs!” (Fresca is a diet grapefruit soda.)
Plus! Taunting emails to Bruni from De Niro, Thomas Keller, and Masa Takayama. Also, all of this is a joke (obvs), but as long as we’re on the topic of The New Yorker, this week’s issue contains an overly-explained joke whose explanation is preceded by — and this is a direct transcripted quote from the August 4th issue that is sitting immediately to our right — “Let us note, in the currently fashionable spirit of joke-explaining…” so we feel like we are keeping in the convoluted spirit of things to have done that right there, as sanctioned by Hendrik Hertzberg. That explaining bit right there. Oh thank god it’s Friday.
The Duel, Part 1 [The Cartoon Lounge]
[Image via The Cartoon Lounge]