Like Butter

Friday night. Sitter booked. Tickets purchased. We were going to see the comedian July Gold in the city. A friend of Gabriella’s whose husband’s sister’s friend who knows...I don’t know. I lost track. But somehow, there was a very distant connection to someone who sleeps with or has slept with Judy Gold, and when we got the email promoting the show, we decided to make a night of it.

All gussied up in our summer linens, moderately high-heeled sandals, lipstick and our white, Right to Marry ribbons fastened neatly to our tops. We were the poster children for Bridge & Tunnel Gay Moms. Traffic was awful, but we had given ourselves ample time to drive in and park. Gabriella has fantastic parking karma. Not an easy feat to find street parking in New York City-especially for the mini-van. We walked the half a block from the car to City Winery arm in arm and ready for a good gay laugh.

“May I help you?” asked the hostess.

“We’re here for the Judy Blume show,” answered my sweet Gabriella.

“You mean Judy Gold?” the hostess asked before I had a chance to explain to my lady friend that we had bought tickets to see a comedian rather than attend a reading about a girl’s first menses from Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret.

“Oh yes, Judy Gold.”

“Judy Gold was last night. Tonight is our Michael Jackson tribute.”

“What? That couldn’t be!” Gabriella does not like to be corrected. She immediately whipped out the phone to check the dates in her email confirmation in an effort to somehow change reality.

“We’ll just have a drink.” I said guiding Gabriella to a table so that she could continue her efforts to prove that the Judy Gold show was that night, and everyone else there grooving to the Michael Jackson video medley on the monitors was sorely misguided.

Gabriella was understandably irritated. Money down the drain. No Judy Gold. Failure to pay attention to details. Gabriella was on to her next project-making dinner reservations online via her Blackberry. She was determined to salvage the evening and refused to raise her head from her 2 inch monitor until dinner was booked. Occasionally, she’d move to the beat of whatever Michael Jackson song was playing. The girl cannot resist a good tune. “Woo hoo!” she sang out while scrolling through the online booking screen.

“Done! We have an 8PM dinner reservation at Butter.” Michael strikes again, "Ben, the two of us need look no more. We both found what we were looking for...”

“What song is that?”

“Remember when the Jackson 5 had a cartoon show?”

“Yes.”

“Michael had a pet mouse named Ben and he sang that song to him. I hated that song as a kid. Too slow and sappy...I'm sure they'd think again if they had a friend like Ben..”



“Wait a minute, you got a reservation at Butter on a Friday night? That’s fantastic. We’ve got to go now! Drink up!!”

“Mmmm, this wine is good. Musty.”

“Like your...never mind. Let’s go!” And away we went. Gabriella is a big foodie. She could watch TV Food 24/7, well at least when she’s not watching public television. She knows all the TV Food chefs and their restaurants, and Butter has been on her list especially having found out that I went to college with the executive chef, Alex Guarnaschelli.

As soon as we walked in, Gabriella asked if the chef was in. “Deborah is a friend of hers from college.” “No.” I interrupted. “Well, she might remember me through our mutual friend from school.” Gabriella was impatient. “Can you please tell her that Deborah is here? We’d love to say hello.” Chefs are like rock stars to Gabriella, so she had to try to meet Alex even if it meant pushing me to exploit my college connection. “She’s in and out,” said the hostess, “but we’ll tell her if we see her.” Dubious.

Sitting down to eat, we took it all in. Funky space. Perhaps because of the local, seasonal dishes on the menu, the designers saw fit to create kind of a rustic, natural environment. The back wall is a mural of birch trees, and there are enormous planters throughout sprouting branches touching the tall, vaulted ceilings. Our two-top table was separated by the two-top next to ours by a waist-high wall of cut logs. We appreciated the authenticity as a piece of log bark came off of in Gabriella’s hand. We quickly stuffed the bark into my bag as a souvenir. “Gabriella…got wood?”

I spotted Alex peeking out of the kitchen handing a server a plate. “She’s here!” I announced to Gabriella. “Go get her, Deborah! Go tell her you’re here.”
“She’s working, Gabriella, and the restaurant is packed. Let’s just eat our dinner and wait until things slow down. She’ll come out again.” Gabriella was not happy with my response, but she took a sip of wine and turned her attention to our meal. The food was fantastic. Each course was flavorful and highly satisfying. Mid-way through the main course, Gabriella excused herself. “Don’t go! What if she comes out of the kitchen?” I said. “What, I can’t go to the bathroom? I won’t take a long time, and if she comes out, tell her to wait.” And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as Gabriella was out of sight; Alex appeared from the kitchen, walked purposefully over to me with an extended hand. “Hey. I’m really sorry it took so long, but I’m down 2 of my best chefs, and the kitchen is nuts.” Shit! Shit! Shit! Please hurry, Gabriella. “That’s ok! Thank you so much for coming out. Can you stay a minute? Gabriella ... my partner ... is a huge foodie and has seen you in every TV Food show, and ... I can’t believe she’s not here. Oh, by the way, the food is amazing, Alex.”

“Thank you. Thanks. Listen, I’ll come back later, ok? I can’t really stay just now.” And she hurried back into the kitchen where she was clearly needed. Our server (and up and coming actress, Rachel Rusch), stopped at the table to check in. “Alex was here! And she missed her. I can’t believe it.” Gabriella returned, and I had to deliver the news. “But she said she’d come back. We’ll just hang out until she does.” Gabriella turned to Rachel. “You have to remind her to come back. In the meantime, we’ll check out the dessert menu.”

We ate some more. Chatted with the British couple on the other side of the wall-o-logs who was in town for a birthday. The newly 23 year old young lady had taken her boyfriend on a 3 hour Sex and the City tour followed by dinner here at Butter because that’s where the Gossip Girls ate. Who knew? Obviously not the New Jersey moms over here. We finished our wine and worked on a delicious piece of carrot cake with cinnamon sauce. And all the while, we kept an eye on the kitchen. Eventually Rachel returned with the final blow of the evening. “I’m so sorry. Alex went home.” Gabriella sat there stunned. “She wanted to come back out, and she told me to remind her, but I missed her. I’m really sorry.” Gabriella was still speechless. “We’ll come back, Gabriella,” I promised. “She was really frazzled because they were short in the kitchen. We’ll come back when she has a chance to really chat. Ok?”

Poor Gabriella. She was only gone for a minute, but you got to know when to hold it. We went to see Judy Gold, and all we got was some matches and a piece of bark...and a pretty phenomenal meal at Butter. We’ll be back. We’re coming for you, Alex! Oh, and we can glue the bark back on if you'd like.