Acclaimed Artisanal – NYC

Dear Artisanal,

I’ve admired you from the moment I met you. You have found yourself in a city where everyone is lost.  And sometimes, in the vast expanse of a simultaneous social hub and social wasteland, two New Yorkers like us, who have found themselves, also find each other.

I found you by accident five years ago, though now I know there are no accidents. A clueless Carolina girl (the state, Go to Hell Tarheels!) looking for a brunch I could boast about, I stumbled upon you at the advice of a friend. It’s ok to let friends set you up sometimes. You became my brunch buddy after a mere meeting. And why not? Why deny myself a spacious dining room that never runs out of seats with classic, quiet décor that shelters me from the city’s constant storm?

I left for a long time, but then I came back. And I never thought that after five years you could still surprise me, but you still know how to keep it fresh. In a city where everything has been done, your Yogurt Panna Cotta still shakes things up. The panna cotta part is creamy, the yogurt twist keeps it the right amount of sweet, and fruit and granola top a glass that redefines the French parfait.

Sure, you throw in a twist once in a while, but you won’t do trends just because everyone’s doing it. In a city where you try trends to survive, I admire you more when I can count on your classics.

A luxurious river of poached egg runs through a moist and juicy Pork Belly Hash. The tiniest hint of chipotle in the Hollandaise keeps this thick combination fresh, and there’s no better place in New York for this decadence than Park Avenue.

The Farm Egg Omelette squeaks when you bite into the wild mushrooms tempered by a mouthful of cheddar and parmesan. Sides are usually underrated, and this mound of home fries get my love.

I admire you, Artisanal because despite what you were up against, you lasted longer in New York than I did. The people who loved me never replaced me, but most who loved you moved up or moved on. Or like me, they simple moved. But you’ve endured in a city where pop-up restaurants barely raise an eyebrow, and establishments flicker like the fireflies. You stood staunchly as the banks fell, you didn’t even flinch at Lehman’s crumble. You bore silent witness to the dynamic changes of the years, just like you now bear witness to the newest crossroads of my life.

I’m sorry old friend, I don’t know when or if I’ll see you again. You watched me live, you watched me learn, and you watched me grow. But now I’m grown, and I see that my fate no longer lies with you. There will be a new brunch waiting for me in a new place. It may be a place I’ve been to and it may be a place I’ve gone back to, but this place won’t be with you. My time with you has been short, but my time with you has been sweet too. Like all things in a New York minute, my time with you is done. But I’ll be back to see you, because some things are just worth going back for.