The birthday is past, but the celebration continues! The lovely Miriam treated me to luncheon at The John Dory yesterday, both of us braving snowdrifts and delayed trains, serendipitously arriving on the very day Sam Sifton’s rave review appeared in the Times. (Just missed scooping him by one day!) Like The Breslin, the restaurant is adjacent to—and part of the same building as—the Ace Hotel; upon inquiring, we were informed that the frigid indoor temperature was a result of the entire shebang losing its heat. I ate with gloves on and the cold endowed the whole venture with a sort of pioneer quality. Things began shaping up from the moment our hot toddies arrived. Cocktails, you gasp, in the middle of a workday?! Yes, I must say, it was rather Mad Men of us, and ushered in a mood of general excess.

It was my birthday on Saturday and I had the great fortune of celebrating with friends at Blue Hill, the restaurant at Stone Barns in Pocantico Hills. You may remember I wrote about another delectable meal I enjoyed there back in May. In a perfect world, I would eat there four times a year. The menu is linked to the seasons and what is grown on the farm—beef, pork and lamb included—and sourced locally. Stone Barns is a beautiful and fascinating place, an educational center as well as a non-profit working farm and a fine dining restaurant; please visit their websites (here and here) to learn more about the many things that go on there.

Home sweet home. Stuffed. And officially back in the saddle. But before I dispense with the vacation entirely, let me just wrap up the litany of LA dining. There was lunch at Terroni on Beverly Boulevard, an outpost of an Italian restaurant from Toronto that hits all the basics—salume, antipasti, pizza, pasta—but does them surprisingly well. That pizza above had a super-thin crust with molten pools of fresh mozzarella, and salty hits of caper and anchovy. It was delicious but gave me heartburn, a rare occurrence that for me signals the end (of over-indulgence) is nigh.
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