Everything I ate in New York

and how it made me feel

Tuesday

I arrived late on Monday and after a bath I went straight to bed, I didn’t eat. In the morning I was ravenous. I ordered room service as soon as the breakfast menu was available: scrambled eggs, bacon, and ‘pommes matin’. I liked the idea of morning potatoes. The tray came 45 minutes later, and the food was cold. But it tasted good! There were two small corners of seeded toasted bread and I shovelled the eggs onto them. The potatoes were crisp and fudgy at the same time, they’d been roasted (I think) with chilli and garlic and were surprising spicy. It was satisfying and the seasoning compensated for the temperature. Whenever I splash out on something unnecessary, like a room service breakfast, I feel anxious about whether the experience will be one that feels ‘worth it’. I mentally took the delay and the imperfection of this meal as a kind of admonishment for spending the money.

Around 9am I went for a walk around the Lower East Side, Soho, and the West Village. It was a hot day and by 11am I was hungry and thirsty again. I went to a café and ordered an iced coffee with oat milk, it needed some sweetness, so I added sugar syrup which I was glad to find in the station with the straws, cup lids, sachets of sweetener. I also bought a blueberry muffin which had been baked in a rectangular case like a miniature loaf of bread and it had crisp, caramelised edges where the batter thinned as it cooked. I ate this on the street outside of the Strand bookstore where I took a photo of a book called Swish – My Mission to Become The Gayest Person Ever which was in one of the second-hand racks. I was glad the muffin gave me the chance to pause and spot this book, I sent the photo to my pal Bryony as I knew she’d enjoy it and she did!

For lunch I had a bagel from Russ and Daughters: scallion cream cheese, smoked salmon, and salmon roe on toasted sesame. I took it back to my hotel; I’d done 16k steps by the time I ate this, and my feet were sore.

In the evening, I met my editor, publicist, and agent for dinner at China Café. We shared sesame noodles, cucumber salad, aubergine and green beans, vegetable pot stickers, shrimp dumplings, mapo tofu and deep-fried softshell crab. We each had a side of steamed white rice. Everything I ate was so exciting (the Sichuan pepper was like sherbet exploding in my mouth, its intensity was 10x of the ones in my own kitchen cupboard) and I struggled not to be greedy. There was a degree of formality that comes from eating with people for the first time and this was also the first time I’ve met my editor and publicist in person, so I felt a self-imposed pressure to read as more restrained than I am. After, I had a glass of Riesling in my hotel bar with my agent Alison and then went to bed.

Wednesday

To guard against the impulse to order an expensive room service breakfast I snacked on some dried mango and crackers I’d bought from Trader Joes the previous day, when I popped in to buy treats for the US publishing team (lemon flower cookies, fizzy gummies, a bunch of other things I can’t now remember). I arrived in NYC with a cold and felt pretty ropey, so I tried to do some writing in bed and then I went for an earlyish lunch at Wu’s Wonton King in Chinatown. I ordered pan-fried prawn and chive dumplings and wonton noodle soup. Elixir!!! As I ate, I visualised my cells growing plump and green with wellness, like a lovely sweet dough rising.

For dinner I went to my friend Jessica’s in Harlem. She was hosting me and our mutual poet friends Matthea and Brenda. I was in the area early, so I went to a bar and ordered a lychee martini and then another lychee martini – I wasn’t sure what’s polite over here – to turn up on time or slightly late. I choose slightly late – 10 mins – and just the wrong side of sober, and then was embarrassed to realise I was the last guest to arrive. Jessica is an artist and we spent time in her studio before dinner looking at the work she’s created for a show coming up in Hong Kong. I felt so lucky to be seeing her paintings in the quiet of her house, able to get up close to them and feel I was in the presence of them, rather than looking at them. Jessica cooked us spice roasted chicken, served with turmeric rice and salad. I realised it was the first meal I’ve ever had in a private home in NYC. It was comforting and delicious and easy.

Thursday

The martinis I had before heading to Jessica’s really announced themselves. My head pounded. I got up and went to the coffee shop next to my hotel and bought an almond croissant and a coffee to go and then got into bed to eat and take some painkillers. I’d booked myself a table at Balthazar for lunch – I’d gone here for lunch on my 30^th birthday too – and I was worried I’d feel too hungover to enjoy it. A glass bottle of coke sorted me out. I went to the MoMA design store before lunch and almost bought an Issey Miyake bag. Instead, I bought some Japanese Miffy-branded white enamel nesting bowls with lids for storing food. Several people had told me that if you dine alone at Balthazar, they give you a free glass of champagne. I was worried I’d somehow be undeserving of this tradition. As though they’d take a look at me and think oh no, she’s not the kind of solo diner we want to reward! It was packed and there was a big queue of people waiting for walk-in tables. I was seated between two tables of white men. On my left there was a large table of what seemed like colleagues, they were all suited up. On my right, a father and son having a birthday meal. I ordered a French martini and shortly after it arrived my complimentary champagne arrived too. I beamed. The older guy to my right was on his own – I guess his son had gone to the bathroom – you’re doing this right! he said cheerfully. I agreed. To start I had crab mayonnaise salad. The crab came piled into two large round radicchio leaves that formed a kind of cup to hold it and the radicchio cup was nestled in a deep dish of ice. There was a feather of avocado and a pot of Marie Rose sauce on the side. The table next to me had cleared and a woman sat down, waiting for her friend to join her. Is that good? she asked, I can’t decide whether to have that or steak frites. It’s great, I said, and I’m having both. My cocktail went with neither the crab mayonnaise nor the steak frites, so the champagne was even more of a welcome intervention: champagne goes with everything, like how pillar box red nail polish does. I did consider ordering a glass of red wine for the steak, but I felt it might be giving my constitution too much work to do. The fries were wildly good: spindly and crisp like a glorious haystack. The steak was excellent too. I felt so fucking smug. I felt like a queen!

I didn’t think I’d want to eat anything else but later that day I went to a place close to the hotel called Saigon Social and had a bowl of garlic noodles with soft shell crab. It was tasty but I wasn’t hungry enough to finish it. I’m pretty sure I would have wolfed it down otherwise and I probably would have ordered a side too. I should have eaten an hour later but I couldn’t get a table then. That night I got into a bubbly bath and finished reading Miranda July’s new book All Fours. I felt very moved by the ending, and the whole experience of reading – I loved it so much but can’t quite gather myself to share why. I know it’s something to do with how the narrator is a woman in mid-life, a 45-year-old about to turn 46, i.e. exactly the same age as me. But it’s certainly more than that. After I finished the book, I sipped a cold glass of Sauvignon Blanc and opened the window above the tub. I love a hot-cold feeling.

Friday

I woke up early and hungrier than expected so popped out to buy a pain au chocolat from the coffee shop which I then ate in bed. I got crumbs everywhere and was reminded why I never eat in my own bed. I then got the subway to Prospect Heights to have lunch with my friends Matthea and Rob. They got sandwiches from a café near their house. Matthea recommended the smoked turkey and bacon sandwich, that sounds great I said, I’ll have it on multigrain. Are you sure? she said, this bread is a real mission, you’ll have to chew. I felt up to the task: the alternative was brioche, and I don’t like a sweet bread for a savoury meal (the primacy of the brioche burger bun causes me consternation!). It took me a good 10 minutes longer than Matthea and Rob to get through my sandwich. They weren’t kidding. I felt glad to have a full set of teeth. I also felt wholesome and like I could set off on a long hike, confident in my nutritional preparation. Matthea is an artist as well as a poet and I had so much fun looking at her work (she makes art from trash and miniature ceramic sculptures, among other things).

After lunch I went to sign some books at Books are Magic and then went to some thrift and vintage stores. I got tired and a bit grumpy because I walked in the rain to several shops that must have closed since they last updated apple maps. I know everyone will tell me this is my fault for using apple maps. I agree. I was meeting my pal Megan for dinner and because I am pathologically early, I went to a wine bar for a drink and to read my book before our reservation. I had a lovely glass of Riesling and began reading Tabitha Lasley’s Sea State, which I felt immediately excited about because the writing is so good. I met Megan at the restaurant she’d chosen – Bamontes. She’d given me three options, but it had to be Bamontes because she’d told me it was ‘a very fun old school Italian place which is always a real treat’. We were seated at a table for two right at the back of the dining room. I faced into the dining room; Megan faced into the kitchen. I felt kind of bad I’d scored the best seat, but Megan assured me her viewpoint had a lot going for it. A waiter came to take our drinks order and then second waiter came to take our food order. The first waiter came back and was incensed his colleague had stolen his table, I’ma gonna punch him in the face he said, cinematically. We howled. I felt like Cher in Moonstruck. We split a shrimp cocktail and arancini in red sauce to start. The arancini had peas and cheese and ham in the centre. I then had spaghetti with white clam sauce and Megan had pasta in a bright red sauce. We shared Italian cheesecake for dessert which felt like the only mistake we made – the New York cheesecake would have been better. After we had a couple of wines at Night of Joy, the wine was served in the sort of glasses tweens drink their dilutey squash from. I love a big portion of wine.

Saturday

I planned to do a bit of shopping, so I bought breakfast on the way from Whole Foods. I chose a cinnamon raison bagel and a cherry immune shot thing. I queued to pay and when a checkout was free, I walked towards it, then paused because I wasn’t sure if it was my turn (there were two queues). Evidentially it wasn’t, an irate man in gym gear stormed past me with his basket, shaking his head. How was I to know? It made me flustered, so much so that after I’d paid, just seconds later, I picked up the bag containing the bagel from the wrong end and the bagel fell out and wheeled around the floor for what felt like a long time. I briefly considered picking it up and eating it, but I didn’t. I picked it up and put it in the bin and drank my cherry immune shot. I felt very daft and very hungry.

For lunch I’d booked myself a table at Odeon, which my pal Faye had recommended as a place that made her feel ‘like a King’. On a nearby table a small child repeatedly clanged their fork against a piece of tableware as though calling the dining room to attention. I ordered a cucumber martini, salmon tartare and a lobster roll. It was a genial, buzzy kind of meal and I enjoyed it all. The fries that came with the lobster roll weren’t as crisp and delightful as the ones at Balthazar, but the lobster was generous and sweet. One martini was enough!

I walked around for the rest of the afternoon, picking up a couple of gifts. I was going to be seeing a musician play in Brooklyn in the evening, but my plan fell through, and I was happy to stay in, so in the early evening, after doing a bit of packing I walked around the streets near my hotel looking for somewhere I could get some takeaway. I ended up buying a lamb shish kebab from Ankara, which I didn’t especially enjoy, and I left most of it. By the time I’d got it back to my room, the juice from the salad had soaked through the wrap and it had lost its structural integrity. The sauces came on the side and there wasn’t a good way to get them properly involved in the experience. It would have been better to eat in. I watched a film and ate some cheddar and sour cream ruffles and a few squares of dark chocolate with almonds and drank a very silky Zinfandel that I bought from the wine shop on the corner of Ludlow Street.

Sunday

It’s my last day and so I’ve just treated myself to room service again. I ordered the same breakfast as my first day, but this time asked them to give me some ketchup on the side. It arrived quickly and I pulled off the silver hat over the dish and touched the scrambled eggs with the tip of my finger. It was hot.