Regional
2607 Broadway
New York, NY 10025
(212) 666-1915
regionalnyc.com
Mint passed by Regional's wide open windows a week or so back and immediately dubbed it as her birthday brunch spot. The menu seemed reasonable, but Mint knew it would take more than pancakes and nice prices to draw even a few friends to the Upper West Side. Unlimited mimosa refills? Yup, that'll do it.
Joined by Ms. Reeves, Ms. Fader and Sir Hitchcock, things got off to a shaky start--ordering took forever, the mimosas were apparently stuck in weekend traffic at the bar, and the first plate to emerge from the kitchen (less than a minute after ordering, mind you) was a five-inch plate with six pieces of bacon lumped together in a hilariously disgusting log of lukewarm pork. At this point, fearing how things might possibly go worse, we called over a manager who, mimosas in hand, scowled at our bacon log, apologized, and disappeared with it into the kitchen for we assume was a little pep talk. It must have been a good one. From that point on everything was top notch.
After strolling around Central Park for a few hours (pictures above by Ms. Reeves), a squealing Mint was presented with tickets to Young Frankenstein. With curtains going up in less than two hours, it seemed like a good time to grab a light dinner. Bello Giardino more than sufficed.
The show, a Mel Brooks adaptation of his classic film starring Gene Wilder, was faithful to its silver screen forbearer (or so I'm told) and charged with plenty of tongue-in-cheek asides and sexual escapades. This is Mel Brooks, after all. The elaborate sets were changed up frequently and disappeared entirely for a rousing rendition of "Putting On the Ritz," which showcased the comically ernest vocals of a muttering, stuttering Frankenstein and a chorus of boot-clad, Franken-faced tap dancers.
The evening was capped with an obligatory candlelit cupcake, chocolate, with Entenmann's Halloween-orange frosting and candy corn. And in case you were wondering, zero trans fat.
MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Any place that sets a pitcher of mimosa on your table free of charge is okay in my book.
The show, a Mel Brooks adaptation of his classic film starring Gene Wilder, was faithful to its silver screen forbearer (or so I'm told) and charged with plenty of tongue-in-cheek asides and sexual escapades. This is Mel Brooks, after all. The elaborate sets were changed up frequently and disappeared entirely for a rousing rendition of "Putting On the Ritz," which showcased the comically ernest vocals of a muttering, stuttering Frankenstein and a chorus of boot-clad, Franken-faced tap dancers.
The evening was capped with an obligatory candlelit cupcake, chocolate, with Entenmann's Halloween-orange frosting and candy corn. And in case you were wondering, zero trans fat.
MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Any place that sets a pitcher of mimosa on your table free of charge is okay in my book.
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