But that could all change.
Red Bamboo, a home for culinary miracles and gastronomic alchemy, has been plying its brand of delicious dark magic in the village for years now. I always marveled at its dedication to providing a fantastic substitute to meats and cheeses so, when Glamazon suggested a Friday night out, I leapt at the chance to reward my palate and build up my karma in the same breath.
Now Glamazon is a curious figure because she's an Aussie vegetarian. Australia is one of the leading producers of Kobe beef in the world, so a herbivore from down under is about as tragic as a Ferrari owner who can't drive stick. But she does know a good time when she sees it and wrangled together a group for some gluten goodness.
Olivia was decked out and ravishing in her finest of course. We were early at Bamboo, so we headed to North Square, which is a below ground cocktail bar by Washington Square Park. This place has great drinks, swanky decor and all the overhead lighting, low ceiling and charm of an NSA situation room. It's kind of like a queer bomb shelter. But the drinks were inventive and Olivia has lots of history with the place, so we got chatty with Glamazon and her extremely long distance boyfriend.
But Red Bamboo was the "situation". Until such time as technology makes it possible for me to directly jam my thoughts and feeling into your brain, it will be impossible for me to communicate exactly what these culinary wizards do. The somehow engineer gluten into meat, except it isn't meat. In all honesty, you can tell the difference; you can tell it isn't chicken in the Buffalo Chicken Wings, but you don't care. They've simply replaced your ravenous carnivores need for wings with something different, but equally satisfying. It is rapture.
We had crab rangoon, said wings & chicken nuggets. The latter was ordered by Glamazon , whose sudden meat rage would have likely caused her to leap from the wagon onto the first manhattan poodle she spied had we not been sealed in a meat-free zone. All were marvels of science and, when paired with a fine shiraz, made for a brilliant meal in themselves.
We were joined by Vicious Pixie and her unending entourage of young ladies, Westside (hard working accountant/coworker at The Company) and finally the perfect storm of sound and fury that is Arshavin (yet another coworker and a bro besides). Now we were legion, and set about devouring the food/sorcery, gossiping about The Company and ruining every adjacent tables' night. We were wholly successful, save for one briefest of pet peeves.
We ordered entrees.
This diatribe was gona come sooner or later, so here it is. Never order entrees. Man was not meant for individual meals to be eaten in his solitude. The more I eat, the more I savor the dinning experience, the more I realize that all food should be communal. Get 10 appetizers and spread the love. Try, try, try and never confine yourself to a single dish. Pass the many plates around. Compare, discuss, argue. Bring your meal to life. But don't order entrees. There's enough monogamy in life without forcing it upon your meal.
So, maybe I won't go out and picket the beef industry tomorrow, and perhaps I'll eat an adorable chinchilla for lunch, just to cross it off my list. But, what I won't tell you is that vegans have got it wrong. They may preach and whine about something which has been happening since the first amoebas got hungry. I've always held a secret pride in confounding they're ridiculous arguments, but Red Bamboo has finally made a case for the vegan which cannot be lampooned or refuted. While not the finest restaurant I've ever eaten at, Bamboo is certainly the most amazing. Its nothing less than a miracle, which you own it to yourself and the cute, cuddly creatures to check out.
