It was so cold this past weekend in New York that pickpockets were sticking their hands in strangers' pockets just to keep them warm. Luckily I'm safe from being "dipped," thanks to sister Doun's personal instruction in defeating the Two-Handed Street Grab™ often employed by Manhattan's criminal element. Where she learned such a maneuver, I couldn't say.
Lexington Avenue may be known for its theaters and pastry shops, but this girl's a sucker for fresh cut flowers, so I stopped to smell the roses. Burger Heaven beckoned me from across the street. I pondered visions of a place where ground beef goes when it dies, or at least aspires to go. Perhaps there is even a Burger Hell somewhere. Hell, why not a Burger Purgatory! I couldn't decide. All this thinking about food was making me hungry.
The only place to be was the
Fairway Cafe. A jealously guarded secret heretofore known only to seasoned boulevardieres like me, this little gem of a restaurant is perched atop a busy premium supermarket of the same name situated on Broadway at 74th. Encouraged by my well-traveled and generous Mummy, I happily tucked into a meal of sumptuous crab cakes and a platter of onion rings the size of a small ranch house. "
Like No Other Market®" proclaims the Fairway's slogan, and I heartily agree.
It was so cold this past weekend in New York that pickpockets were sticking their hands in strangers' pockets just to keep them warm. Luckily I'm safe from being "dipped," thanks to sister Doun's personal instruction in defeating the Two-Handed Street Grab™ often employed by Manhattan's criminal element. Where she learned such a maneuver, I couldn't say.
Lexington Avenue may be known for its theaters and pastry shops, but this girl's a sucker for fresh cut flowers, so I stopped to smell the roses. Burger Heaven beckoned me from across the street. I pondered visions of a place where ground beef goes when it dies, or at least aspires to go. Perhaps there is even a Burger Hell somewhere. Hell, why not a Burger Purgatory! I couldn't decide. All this thinking about food was making me hungry.
The only place to be was the Fairway Cafe. A jealously guarded secret heretofore known only to seasoned boulevardieres like me, this little gem of a restaurant is perched atop a busy premium supermarket of the same name situated on Broadway at 74th. Encouraged by my well-traveled and generous Mummy, I happily tucked into a meal of sumptuous crab cakes and a platter of onion rings the size of a small ranch house. "Like No Other Market®" proclaims the Fairway's slogan, and I heartily agree.
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