5/15/19 (Monday)  After a morning of exercise and meetings, Tigger, Little Bear, and I left Virginia in our Expedition at 11 AM for another adventure in the “Big Town.”  It was an easy trip and we made good time, bringing us to the front door of the 1845 Samuel Tildon Mansion 5 hours later.  The weather is beautiful and everyone seems to be gliding down the sidewalks in celebration of Mother Nature’s good humor.  We gave Little Bear a short walk around the park and were soon inside for a hasty unpacking as we debated our first destination with excitement.

Then a trip across town to our garage where we are always treated so warmly, “Welcome back!  How is the family?”  We thanked our host and returned to our neighborhood on foot, looking in and out of many new restaurants along 3rd Avenue, but making no “finds.”  Still not able to agree on the perfect first stop, we retreated to our favorite bay window overlooking Gramercy Park for a proper libation. 

After an hour of tranquility, we were back on the warm spring streets for an uptown cab to the Monkey Bar (1929) for a second cocktail.  This hip refuge is usually too crowded for our liking, but good fortune left us the last two bar stools.  Our bartender was surprisingly cordial and I had a manhattan – small, expensive, and unnecessarily fancy – and Tigger enjoyed a vodka creation from their drink manual.  The decade+ old renovation is not an unpleasant one and the monkey murals remain, but I still miss the natural vibe of its previous incarnation, especially the wonderful veteran piano player – he played the same gig there for over 50 years and always remembered us.  This bar is an important string in the fabric of this great city and it’s always a good perch to watch yuppies contend for attention and relevance.

Out again for more walking, this time a few blocks north to our favorite French hideaway, Le Veau d’Or (1937) for a more old fashioned and relaxing experience.  We were warmly received by name and our drinks arrived without request, as we settled in with the familiar menu. The dim lighting, red banquettes, white linen, and coat & tie crowd create a comforting swath of genteel safety, where the old guard can nurse their 21-century wounds.  We were pleased that the restaurant was almost full and were quickly ensconced without a care in the world.  The proprietress made her rounds about the room, paying us plenty of attention as she provided updates on all the city’s happenings.  We dined on artichoke and vichyssoise starters before moving on to excellent lamb chops – carved table side – and generous portions of mussels with fries; all of which we washed down with an elegant bottle of St. Emilion.  Finally a pair of delicious desserts, a pot of coffee, and two warm glasses of calvados – we could ask for nothing more! 

We settled our bill just after 10 PM, expressing our thanks for yet another treasured evening and promising to return soon.  On the street I placed an unsuccessful vote for bed, but Tigger would have none of it!  So, into a cab to “Tuttles,” to hear our old friend from “Bill’s Gay 90’s” play his invigorating piano.  We entered the second floor barroom to a sea of hugs and cheers as he struck up our favorite song!  The rest of the evening was spent gathered around the piano, singing along with the other regulars while he energetically produced all his standards to the crowd’s delight.  This timeless entertainment can bring joy to any atmosphere, which we toasted more than once with our Maker’s over ice and red wine.  The last song ended at 1 AM and we happily retired for a cab home, feeling completely sated – body & soul alike.  A brief chat with our longtime friend at the door, and then a quick walk for Little Bear before crawling into bed at 1:30.