It’s about New York, hanging out with friends and of course, drinking.

Some people call me stupid and unhealthy when I tell them about my trips to New York. Some call me business savvy. One of my friends actually called me a fiasco this last visit. Me, I call myself awesome. There are very few businesses in which you are encouraged to demolish the inner workings of your body with mass amounts of food, wine, and liquor; and when an opportunity to go to New York to do this arises, I chomp down with my jaws and take as big a bite as possible.

I’m not actually sure anyone condones my spectacular mistreatment of self, but screw it. I am 24. I am a young professional, mildly confident in my abilities, and I have an enormous ego that feels the need to sacrifice myself in order to let you in on the secrets of the growing food and libation universe, should you happen to care.

Just so you get an idea of this gorge in the city, by morning three I was actually experiencing a mild form of paralysis; although that could have been my friend’s uncomfortable futon. I had a mission this trip. I know that New York is at the forefront of trends taking place in the restaurant and bar business, and I needed to see what is happening in the form of cocktails in the city. The equation: less food and more alcohol, equals Daniel in a world of delirium, pleasure, and pain. Over the course of my four days, I saw thirty-five restaurants, ate an estimated thirty-two separate plates of food, and drank around forty-five cocktails; although most nights I lost count…to say the least.

The futon I slept on this trip belonged to my friend Pearce. He was my former roommate from NYU and likes the drink as much as I do. The minute I set my bag down at my old friend’s apartment, I went off on my journey. Arielle, another good friend, was my companion for the first night. We began the excursion at a newly opened restaurant called Bar Milano, from the owners of Lupa. Eager to get the party rolling, I ordered a Corpse Reviver #2, a famous cocktail from the turn of the century in which one of the main ingredients is absinthe. Eight minutes in, New York is my friend. This was followed by a famous drink from the Old Waldorf Astoria Bar Book: a bourbon base, mixed with Fernet Branca and sweet vermouth. Mixing alcohols already, good call Dan. Now twenty minutes in, my vision is already starting to blur. Then the food: a beautiful charred octopus followed by a twist on a Spanish patatas dish; a fried egg set in the center of a cornucopia of fried potatoes, and topped with a little caviar. A small part of me just died. Another drink, something with gin and flowers. Tonight, I will eventually hit the floor. Then a tagliatelle Bolognese and an agnologti of shrimp which tasted like a Chinese dumpling. Didn’t much matter at this point. I love Arielle, I’m in New York, and I’m drunk. Time to keep moving. After some beignets and Prosecco at A Voce, Arielle took me to one of the coolest bars I’ve ever seen.

PDT, or Please Don’t Tell is a neat little speakeasy in the East Village. Because you will be confused by this part, I will break down how you should approach PDT. You walk into a hot dog place called Criff Dogs in which they sell fried hot dogs. No joke, fried hot dogs. When I attended NYU, I used to love one of these after a ravenous drunken stupor with friends. A phone booth is located on your left. Enter said phone booth and ring the phone. A woman answers, and says that the hostess will be with you shortly. Suddenly the wall you are leaning against opens and you are taken inside to a very dark, very elegant, and very sexy little bar. You know the old saying, “Trust the chef,” well in this case, “Trust your bartender.” Much like asking the chef to put together a tasting menu for your table, ask these bartenders to put together a few drinks for you…but more on that later. After moving onto Pegu Club, a solid lounge on Houston, my friend Steve joined us for a few more bites and more drinks. Steve can be over zealous when it comes to getting the night charged and at this point whoever leads, I follow. Too many drinks in, I am sinking into the big leather chair I am seated, and ask the cocktail waitress to throw me something together with bourbon or gin, her call. Whatever the tender bar says, just make sure it’s strong. Three of these down I am ready to roll home. Wait a tick…I am home…and it’s morning. How did that happen?

And that was just day one.

The next day was recovery. No breakfast, no lunch, just ice and some walking. After about six hours of walking and a Bordeaux tasting somewhere along the way, I end up at Bar Boulud, the new wine bar from mega-chef Daniel Boulud. Good space, nice ambiance, didn’t eat, no big deal. My friend joined me, and told me of her exciting rising career in the New York restaurant scene, so at least the conversation and company were compelling. She is a fellow young punch up in the restaurant industry who recently became a wine director at a well known New York eatery. After a few glasses of some clean French Bourgogne, I moved on to Elettaria, just recently opened in my old stopping grounds, West 8th Street. I sat at the bar and immediately ordered a Zombie. Now, a Zombie is something to be careful of. Originally created by Don the Beachcomber in 1939, this drink involves four rums, a lot of homemade juice, and a bib for when you’ve had too many. I need food.

More walking, I later found myself at dell’ anima, the new restaurant from chef Gabe Thomspon and front man Joe Campanale that opened just a few months ago in the heart of the west village. This was recommended to me by my friend from Bar Boulud. As soon as I stepped in, I felt at home. Dell’ anima, meaning “of the Soul” is old school charm, but with a youthful eye. Co-owner Joe is a young guy, who I immediately related to, doing what he loves, pouring only Italian wines and dishing out deliciously rustic fare. I ate a roast chicken with paprika and other spices. Totally awesome, I did not want to leave. Somehow I managed and took in two more restaurants and another night at PDT with my old highschool friend Richie.

Richie is getting married in a few months, so as a good friend, it was time to getting him completely #@*$faced. As I said before, “Trust your bartender.” Don, our master cocktailarian asked what we cared to drink. Sazeracs for two, please. A Sazerac is rye whiskey with Peychaud bitters and simple syrup in an absinthe coated glass. Round one, here we go. The drinks were ok. Time to let Don work his magic. I explained our situation and what we were looking for. Don obliged and asked if we were ready. We let him take control and away we went. I will simply say that these were some of the more esoteric drinks I have ever seen, from Flips, to Juleps, to Slings, and a few Rum Punches, by the end of this walk down alcohol lane, all Richie and I could think about were fried carbohydrate explosions in our stomachs. Fortunately for us, we were connected to a fried hot dog restaurant, joyous day. So to accompany our current drink: a glass of Oatmeal Stout and Cabernet Franc shaken with the white of an egg, we snacked on the Chang Dog. There is one true God, and it is called the Chang Dog. A fried hot dog with hot sauce and housemade kim-chee, made by David Chang of the Momofuku empire. I am pretty sure my heart seized at least three times during the night (especially since we ate five of them), but catching up with Richie, it was completely worth it.

The quintessential meal of the trip, however, took place at a surprising restaurant called The Monday Room. Known as the wine bar without a bar, chef Brad Farmerie opened the Monday Room next to his exciting restaurant Public, in NoLita. Farmerie is a real talent, having earned his wings at Le Manoir Aux Quat’ Saisons in Oxfordshire. Accompanied by Arielle once again, we set off. You can really see Farmerie’s cooking roots in his food. Having met chef Brad before, I asked if he would do a couple of plates for us. What followed was one of the most flavorful and intense meals I have ever engaged in. First course: a beautiful presentation of sea trout sashimi with buttered bread and caperberries. Both parts were delicious separately, but put together I was falling into Arielle’s lap from the sheer pleasure. Next, pig’s head terrine and a deviled egg. Normally I do not jump to pig’s head nor terrine, but I did not want to be rude, so I thought I better find a way. Oh dear god, the flavors were incredible. Final course, a femur bone, cut in half, roasted, and filled with marrow. Straight up – marrow, jam, and bread. This delight could be sold in a little stand on St. Mark’s, it was so damn good. Go eat one. Enough said.

It was a great trip, saw my friends, met some great people, drank interesting cocktails, and ate ridiculous amounts of amazing food. I do not recommend a trip of this nature for anyone faint of heart, but if you feel like a journey, cheer’s to you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though. Because I will punch you in the face. Legitimately.

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Daniel Franks is a food, wine, & travel writer and restaurant consultant. Daniel comes from a long bloodline of food experts beginning with his great grandfather who was royal butcher to Buckingham Palace. Growing up, he worked in varying capacities at several of his family’s twelve restaurants in Los Angeles, including the legendary Chez Mélange and Bouzy Gastropub in Redondo Beach.  Daniel has worked under and been mentored by some of the top restaurateurs and sommeliers in the business: Rich Melman of Lettuce Entertain You Enterprises, Danny Meyer of Union Square Hospitality Group, and Brad Farmerie of Public and Double Crown restaurants in New York to name a few.  Daniel started writing about his experiences with food and travel while keeping a journal on food tours in major U.S. cities as well as Europe. He has been a guest on various radio shows, most recently with L.A. food critic Merrill Schindler. Daniel is a graduate of NYU with a degree in acting and production. Currently he is writing a memoir based on his experience growing up in the restaurant business. Contact djfranks@gmail.com.

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