If you haven’t read Bones. Blood and Butter you should. Better yet listen to it. It is narrated by the writer Gabrielle Hamilton and is wonderfully lovely in every way. And if you haven’t eaten at Prune, no biggie. I say, read the book, eat in Chinatown.
Not that it was bad. It was pretty good but not as good as the hype. It was nice when Gabrielle Hamilton herself drifted through. I hadn’t expected to see her but I was engaged in a conversation with our waitress and unable to waylay Gabrielle and force her into a conversation about her book and perhaps our, you know, common experience as restaurant owners.
In any event, the appetizer, a vaguely asianish celery salad with a lot of sliced green onions accompanied by a piece to toast with a slab of Cambozola on it was good. The veal breast…meh.
But at least I can say I ate there. Then I was up most of the night trying to get the taste of the onions out of my mouth. Short of eating a tube of toothpaste there appears to be nothing to be done about it.
