I'm not sure which restaurant this was taken from but I think the fact printed on the salt shaker needs a citation.
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Eater's readers have voted and overwhelmingly chosen Mill Korean for having the worst seat in all of New York City. As if eating alone in a restaurant isn't lonely enough, Mill is determined to emphasize, underline, highlight this point with this table for one. Not only is the table just big enough for your plates with no room for a book or magazine, but you face the brick wall.
Dignified and trim at the age of 93, Claire Oesch reigns at the Café des Artistes bar, a place she has had a relationship with since the 1940s first as hostess and girlfriend of the bar owner, and later after the bar changed ownership as a guest.
By the time she immigrated to New York from Switzerland, she was already 30, having lost a husband (an Olympic bobsledder) and a baby girl (who drowned while in the care of her grandparents). She took a life out of an Ingmar Bergman plot and transplanted it into the Cole Porter songbook.
Although, she is the only patron of the bar to have a bronze plaque donated by her friends there that states simply "Claire Oesch's seat." Or to have every few years "a wealthy financier, one of the admiring throng, close down the restaurant and give a black-tie dinner in her honor..." She works full time as the hostess of the private dining room at Bank Julius Baer on Madison where she is "as much of an icon there as she is at the restaurant."
I want to age with the same quiet old dignity at Botanica passed out on one of dingy couches rescued from the Salvation Army for $45 buried underneath a pile of $2 PBRs.
Read more here.
With only 12 seats available each night and a decidedly egalitarian (except for those lacking access to a computer and an Internet connection) yet impossible reservation system, Frank Bruni of the New York Times finally landed a coveted seat at Monofuku Ko.
Mischievous, too, is the pastry chef Christina Tosi’s apple pie. It’s sculptured into individual-size rectangles and deep-fried, as if it came straight from McDonald’s, only McDonald’s wouldn’t accessorize it with sour cream ice cream and a swish of sweet, salty toasted miso.You’ll love it, provided you ever get access to it. The unpredictability of accomplishing that — I entered into groveling, Ko-dependent arrangements with tireless friends and readers — has soured some would-be patrons, but Ko can’t be faulted for generating a demand in excess of the supply. And Mr. Chang to his credit doesn’t seem to be holding any seats in reserve for V.I.P.’s.
Read rest here.