We figured out the perfect way to have a nice Valentine's dinner in New York without having a reservation in advance. Just go to a restaurant that's not romantic at all. Joe and I headed down to Chinatown to Funky Broome--which, despite it's name and the review in the Time Out New York restaurant guide, is no more "funky" than any other restaurant in Chinatown. Well, I guess there were those neon pink wall light effects and the zebra-patterned chairs. But that only counts as "funky" if you're in an 80's-era music video. Come to think of it, the word "funky" is kind of 80's-style too, unless you're talking about weird smells--which we also experienced during our dinner, since we were seated next to the fish and lobster tank. While we were waiting for our food to come, the waiter came to net one of the unfortunate victims (I guess someone had just ordered fish), and we got a little splashed with scum water during their epic life-and-death struggle to the kitchen. The waiter won.
I was worried that it might be crowded because of Valentines Day and whatnot, but this fear was unfounded, since apparently the Chinese don't believe in love. So we had a tasty dinner out for a non-Valentine's-inflated price, and plenty of leftovers for tomorrow. It's win-win. But now I have to go lie down, because I can feel my LAD clotting off after eating all that Peking Duck.
Currently reading: Us Weekly. That's right, I love Us Weekly. I'm the lowest common denominator.