Tradisionele resepte

Wat drink die bekendste mense ter wêreld elke naggalery?

Wat drink die bekendste mense ter wêreld elke naggalery?

Wenk: Dit is nie Sleepy Time -tee nie

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Wat drink die bekendste mense ter wêreld elke naggalery?

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Dit is nie altyd Champagne en vodka -frisdrank vir hierdie sterre nie (behalwe die paar vir wie dit wel is). Baie van die beroemdste mense ter wêreld kom die aand af met 'n groot glas water of ontgiftende groen tee.

Baie beroemdes gee nie toe dat hulle na 'n lang dag 'n glas of drie wyn gedrink het nie (hulle moet die ongerepte fasade byhou!), Maar gelukkig is daar 'n paar maats, akteurs en sangers wat graag wil weet hul nagverhouding met volwasse druiwesap. Na tonne deeglike navorsing, Instagram -trolling en Twitter -agtervolging, het ons 'n lys saamgestel van wat die bekendste mense ter wêreld elke aand drink.

Alhoewel sommige beroemdes beslis die tipe lyk om water voor die bed te gooi, sal u dalk verbaas wees om te sien wie smul aan whiskysuur, wie laatnag dieet Cokes drink, en wat wyn nie meer kan hanteer nie en na iets meer moet oorskakel. kalmerend, soos tequila.

Koningin Elizabeth II

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Soos voorheen berig deur The Daily Meal, drink haar majesteit koningin Elizabeth II elke aand voor die bed 'n glas sjampanje. Getrou aan vorm, sy kies vir gerespekteerde outydse, borrelende handelsmerke soos Bollinger, Krug, Lanson en Pol Roger. Tydens middagete geniet sy 'n gin en Dubonnet ('n soet aperitief op wyn) met 'n skyfie suurlemoen op die rotse.

Jennifer Aniston

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Jennifer Aniston het aan Shape onthul dat sy 100 gram water per dag drink. 'Ek dra 'n [waterbottel] die hele dag by my, en snags drink ek 'n lang glas,' het sy gesê.

Oprah

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Die woordvoerder van Weight Watchers laat hul puntestelsel nie in die pad staan ​​om 'n daaglikse glas wyn te drink nie - of drie. 'Luister, ek het 12 punte wyn [drie glase] en een garnale [plus groente] vir aandete geëet. Dit was 'n baie goeie aandete, 'het sy aan People gesê.

Gwyneth Paltrow

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Die koningin van alle dinge beperk Goop haarself nie as dit kom by 'n daaglikse glas wyn nie. Tydens 'n Instagram -reeks met die InStyle -tydskrif waarin hoofredakteur Laura Brown probeer om Gwyneth te wees, erken Paltrow dat sy net 'n glas rooiwyn kan drink. 'Dit is eintlik presies hoe om Gwyneth Paltrow te wees: pinot noir,' sê sy terwyl sy vir Brown 'n glas skink.

Ina Garten

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Ina Garten smul aan nagtelike whiskysuur saam met haar man, Jeffrey. 'Ons het whiskysuur om te drink, gemaak met Knob Creek-bourbon en baie vars uitgedrukte suurlemoene en lemmetjies-nie 'n suur mengsel nie,' het sy aan The Kitchn gesê.

Donald Trump

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Kris Jenner

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Ons werk almal dalk hard, maar Kris Jenner werk harder. Die ma van ses het al haar volwasse kinders na 'n megafame gemaak, en daarom ontspan sy elke aand met 'n glas (of verskeie) wyn. "My ma drink elke aand 'n drankie met aandete. Dit is haar ding, en dit is wat sy graag wil doen," het dogter Khloe aan Us Weekly gemors. Kan u haar die skuld gee na 'n dag van blusbriewe, swangerskapnuus en binne-egtelike dramas?

Tyra Banks

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Diane Keaton

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Blykbaar maak Diane Keaton rooiwyn op ys 'n ding. Nadat sy haar eie reeks rooiwyn genaamd "The Keaton" bekend gestel het, het die Annie Hall -ikoon vir almal gesê dat sy daarvan hou om haar rooiwyn oor ys te geniet. 'Dit is waar dat ek my wyn net oor ys drink,' het sy aan People gesê. "Ek was op die balkon om af te koel, aangesien my woonstel nie AC gehad het nie, en ek het eendag daaraan gedink om dit op ys te probeer. Dit het sedertdien vasgesteek."

Nigella Lawson

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Die Britse kombuygodin Nigella Lawson drink heeldag tee, selfs snags. Good Housekeeping UK het berig dat die skrywer van die kookboek 12 koppies warm tee per dag drink. 'Ek hou baie sterk daarvan, met melk daarin, en ek moet dit by die optimale temperatuur hê, net nadat dit te warm is, maar voordat dit naby kamertemperatuur kom,' het sy gesê.

Meghan Markle

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Asof ons nog 'n rede nodig het om Meghan Markle te aanbid. Sy is 'n totale wynma! Die koninklike wat binnekort koninklik was, het aan The New Potato gesê dat haar aanddrank 'n glas wyn is. 'God, hou ek van wyn - 'n pragtige volrooi of helder wit,' het sy gesê.

Cindy Crawford

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Helen Mirren

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'Ek drink wyn, en soms drink ek te veel,' onthul Dame Helen Mirren aan die pers. Mirren beperk haarself ook nie wat gebraaide kos betref nie. 'Ek eet patat. Die lewe is te kort en te kosbaar. ”

Barack Obama

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Beyoncé

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RIP Sammy's Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Onthou die partytjies wat met wodka en smalta gevuur is by die legendariese Joodse steakhouse in New York.

Daar is 'n reeks foto's wat my verhinder om vir 'n openbare amp te wees. In hulle is ek in 'n kelder op Long Island, omstreeks 1972, met my ouma en aposs bontjas en kostuumjuwele. Ek hou 'n stroophouer schmaltz in die een hand en 'n bottel vodka in 'n blok ys in die ander. 'N Arm sonder liggaam waai 'n stapel $ 20 biljette in my gesig, wat ek met dronk vreugde bewonder.  

Ek onthou vaagweg hoe hierdie foto's geneem is, hoewel baie ander besonderhede van die nag my ontgaan. Sulke tonele speel 47 jaar lank in Sammy & aposs Roumanian, 'n Joodse steakhouse in New York en aposs Lower East Side, wat die sluiting verlede week bevestig het. Hoewel eienaar David Zimmerman hoop om op 'n ander plek weer oop te maak, laat die verlies van die oorspronklike ruimte 'n vuil, vetterige gat in die stad en die eetarea.

Sammy & aposs het 'n kelderruimte in Chrystiestraat beset wat vandag beslis nie 'n gesondheidsondersoek sou slaag nie. Deur sy trappe af te kom, het u by 'n fluorescerende, plafonlose kuil gelê wat hoendervet en knoffel was. Die mure is in 'n onvleiende bruin skakering geverf en beklee met geel foto's van saggies bekende Jode. Vir meer as 20 jaar het 'n ywerige Israeliese klawerbordspeler met die naam Dani Luv onbedekte voorblaaie van Broadway -klassieke opgevoer en diners op hul gesig beledig, voordat hy geëis het dat almal hande vat en die Hora dans. Die kos was baie duur en nie baie goed nie (behalwe vir die uitstekende gekapte lewer en karnatzlach -worsies), en die personeel het die wodka altyd verkoop.  

Ek, ek was mal oor die snik. Daar was 'n tydperk waarin ek elke Valentine & aposs Day 'n Lonely Heart & aposs Club -ete by Sammy & aposs aangebied het, wat ten minste een suksesvolle matchmaking -situasie tot gevolg gehad het. Ek het ook 'n verjaardagpartytjie daar gehou wat die mees afwykende kater van my lewe tot gevolg gehad het. Die keuse om geleenthede daar aan te bied, was 'n fantasie -vervulling vir 'n beeld wat ek van myself het as 'n hedoniese leier van belaglike New York -aande. Niemand het per ongeluk by Sammy & aposs beland nie, en ek het my verlustig in die ordening van die chaos.  

Om Sammy & aposs te waardeer, dink ek, moes jy jou daartoe verbind. U moes aanvaar dat u op die punt was om baie geld te spandeer in die diens van lae -wynvermaak. U het nie te veel gegaan of gehoor gegee aan die advies van u kardioloog nie, of u het intieme gesprekke gevoer met u metgeselle. U het ongebreidelde oormaat gestreef en u bevry van die beperkings van 'n beleefde samelewing wat eenmaal veilig in die grimmige kelderbeperkings vasgelê is.  

& quot; Dit is waar dat 'n sekere nihilistiese oorgawe daar oorneem, nie die minste nie, omdat jy soveel geld inwin, & quot; het die skrywer Sadie Stein, 'n jarelange Sammy & aposs -aanhanger, gesê. Sy erken die donkerder rande van sulke plesier, maar sê dat dit alles deel van die appèl is. Ek weet nie of ek die woord moet gebruik nie feestelik—, dit is ook die kenmerk van die feestelikheid deur 'n byna [David] Lynchian -lens, & quot; onthou sy.  

Dit is ook moontlik om Sammy & aposs te waardeer as 'n terugslag na 'n era van aandete en 'n show-styl naglewe wat baie tydgenote nog nooit uit eie krag beleef het nie. "Dit was nie die Stork Club, of die Copa, of El Marokko nie," het die veteraan Sammy & aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, 'n prokureur, gesê. Daar was musiek terwyl jy geëet het en musiek om na te dans, en tussen die gesnyde lewer aan die begin, die eiers aan die einde aan die kant en die hele blokke wodka, was daar die hele nag geleenthede om te floreer. & quot  

En daar was ook oomblikke van onverwagte soetheid: vreemdelinge wat bymekaar kom om 'n verjaardagseun in sy stoel te hys, toeriste in bar mitzvah-styl wat meng met kronkelende middestad. Kretchmar herinner aan 'n aand waarin 'n opgeleide operasanger Dani Luv oortuig het om haar die mikrofoon te laat neem en haar vriendin te laat serenadeer met 'Sunrise, Sunset' van Vioolspeler op die dak. & quotDani het haar op sy klawerbord gerugsteun, en nie net het hy alles eerbiedig en reguit gespeel nie, geen zingers nie, maar hy het ook in perfekte harmonie by elke koor aangesluit. Dit was pragtig, en om eerlik te wees, werklik ontroerend, & quot, het hy gesê.

Wat die toekoms betref, moet nog baie gesien word. Alhoewel Zimmerman belowe het om terug te keer, is besonderhede oor waar en wanneer onduidelik. Op die oomblik is ons grootste bekommernis dat ons werknemers en kliënte veilig bly. Dit was 'n moeilike jaar, maar ons bly optimisties dat ons weer kan oopmaak en weer kan vier, 'het hy gesê. Na verneem word, weet Dani Luv van die sluiting op dieselfde tyd as almal, maar beplan om terug te kom wanneer dit tyd is. Die eerste twee, drie weke was wonderlik. Dit was 'n bietjie vakansie, 'het Luv gesê New York tydskrif. & quot Na 'n maand begin ek Sammy en Aposs baie mis. Ek is mal oor daardie kakgat. & Quot

In 'n jaar waarin soveel restaurante permanent gesluit is, is dit miskien verkeerd om die verlies van een wat moontlik nie vir altyd dood is nie, te treur. Ek hoop van harte dat Sammy & aposs nuut gebore word. Maar ek sal die walglike kelder en alles wat dit verteenwoordig, mis, vir New York sowel as 'n vorige weergawe van myself. Ek is ook mal oor die kakgat, selfs al kan ek my nagte daar amper nie onthou nie.  


RIP Sammy's Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Onthou die partytjies wat met wodka en smalta gevuur is by die legendariese Joodse steakhouse in New York.

Daar is 'n reeks foto's wat my verhinder om vir 'n openbare amp te wees. In hulle is ek in 'n kelder op Long Island, omstreeks 1972, met my ouma en aposs bontjas en kostuumjuwele. Ek hou 'n stroophouer schmaltz in die een hand en 'n bottel vodka in 'n blok ys in die ander. 'N Arm sonder liggaam waai 'n stapel $ 20 biljette in my gesig, wat ek met dronk vreugde bewonder.  

Ek onthou vaagweg hoe hierdie foto's geneem is, hoewel baie ander besonderhede van die nag my ontgaan. Sulke tonele speel 47 jaar lank in Sammy & aposs Roumanian, 'n Joodse steakhouse in New York en aposs Lower East Side, wat die sluiting verlede week bevestig het. Hoewel eienaar David Zimmerman hoop om op 'n ander plek weer oop te maak, laat die verlies van die oorspronklike ruimte 'n vuil, vetterige gat in die stad en die eetarea.

Sammy & aposs het 'n kelderruimte in Chrystiestraat beset wat vandag byna beslis nie 'n gesondheidsondersoek sou slaag nie. Deur sy trappe af te kom, het u by 'n fluorescerende, plafonlose kuil gelê wat hoendervet en knoffel was. Die mure is in 'n onvleiende bruin skakering geverf en beklee met geel foto's van saggies bekende Jode. Vir meer as twintig jaar het 'n ywerige Israeliese klawerbordspeler met die naam Dani Luv growwe voorblaaie van Broadway -klassieke gesing en diners op hul gesig beledig, voordat hy geëis het dat almal hande vat en die Hora dans. Die kos was te duur en nie baie goed nie (behalwe vir die uitstekende gekapte lewer en karnatzlach -worsies), en die personeel het die wodka altyd verkoop.  

Ek, ek was mal oor die snik. Daar was 'n tydperk waarin ek elke Valentine & aposs Day 'n Lonely Heart & aposs Club -ete by Sammy & aposs aangebied het, wat ten minste een suksesvolle matchmaking -situasie tot gevolg gehad het. Ek het ook 'n verjaardagpartytjie daar gehou, wat die mees afwykende kater van my lewe tot gevolg gehad het. Die keuse om geleenthede daar aan te bied, was 'n fantasie -vervulling vir 'n beeld wat ek van myself het as 'n hedoniese leier van belaglike New York -aande. Niemand het per ongeluk by Sammy & aposs beland nie, en ek het my verlustig in die orkes van die chaos.  

Om Sammy & aposs te waardeer, dink ek, moes jy jou daartoe verbind. U moes aanvaar dat u op die punt was om baie geld te spandeer in die diens van lae -wynvermaak. U het nie te veel gegaan of gehoor gegee aan die advies van u kardioloog nie, of u het intieme gesprekke gevoer met u metgeselle. U het 'n ongebreidelde oormaat gestreef en u bevry van die beperkings van 'n beleefde samelewing wat eenmaal veilig in die grimmige kelderbeperkings vasgelê is.  

"Dit is waar dat 'n sekere nihilistiese oorgawe daar oorneem, nie die minste nie, omdat jy soveel geld wil hê," het die skrywer Sadie Stein, 'n jarelange Sammy & aposs -aanhanger, gesê. Sy erken die donkerder rande van sulke plesier, maar sê dat dit alles deel van die appèl is. Ek weet nie of ek die woord moet gebruik nie feestelik—, dit is ook die kenmerk van die feestelikheid deur 'n byna [David] Lynchian -lens, & quot; onthou sy.  

Dit is ook moontlik om Sammy & aposs te waardeer as 'n terugslag na 'n era van aandete en 'n show-styl naglewe wat baie tydgenote nog nooit uit die eerste hand beleef het nie. "Dit was nie die Stork Club, of die Copa, of El Marokko nie," het die veteraan Sammy & aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, 'n prokureur, gesê. Daar was musiek terwyl jy geëet het en musiek om na te dans, en tussen die gesnyde lewer aan die begin, die eiers aan die einde van die tafel en die hele blokke wodka, was daar die hele nag geleenthede om te floreer. & quot  

En daar was ook oomblikke van onverwagte soetheid: vreemdelinge wat bymekaar kom om 'n verjaardagseun in sy stoel te hys, toeriste in bar mitzvah-styl wat meng met kronkelende middestad. Kretchmar herinner aan 'n aand waarin 'n opgeleide operasanger Dani Luv oortuig het om haar die mikrofoon te laat neem en haar vriendin te laat serenadeer met 'Sunrise, Sunset' van Vioolspeler op die dak. & quotDani het haar op sy klawerbord gerugsteun, en nie net het hy alles eerbiedig en reguit gespeel nie, geen zingers nie, maar hy het ook in perfekte harmonie by elke koor aangesluit. Dit was pragtig, en om eerlik te wees, werklik roerend, & quot, het hy gesê.

Wat die toekoms betref, moet nog baie gesien word. Alhoewel Zimmerman belowe het om terug te keer, is besonderhede oor waar en wanneer onduidelik. Op die oomblik is ons grootste bekommernis dat ons werknemers en kliënte veilig bly. Dit was 'n moeilike jaar, maar ons bly optimisties dat ons weer kan oopmaak en weer kan vier, 'het hy gesê. Na verneem word, weet Dani Luv van die sluiting op dieselfde tyd as almal, maar beplan om terug te kom wanneer dit tyd is. Die eerste twee, drie weke was wonderlik. Dit was 'n bietjie vakansie, 'het Luv gesê New York tydskrif. & quot Na 'n maand begin ek Sammy en Aposs baie mis. Ek is mal oor daardie kakgat. & Quot

In 'n jaar waarin soveel restaurante permanent gesluit is, is dit miskien verkeerd om die verlies van een wat moontlik nie vir altyd dood is nie, te treur. Ek hoop van harte dat Sammy & aposs nuut gebore word. Maar ek sal die walglike kelder en alles wat dit verteenwoordig, mis, vir New York sowel as 'n vorige weergawe van myself. Ek is ook mal oor die kakgat, selfs al kan ek my nagte daar amper nie onthou nie.  


RIP Sammy's Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Onthou die partytjies wat met wodka en smalta gevuur is by die legendariese Joodse steakhouse in New York.

Daar is 'n reeks foto's wat my verhinder om vir 'n openbare amp te wees. In hulle is ek in 'n kelder op Long Island, omstreeks 1972, met my ouma en aposs -bontjas en kostuumjuwele. Ek hou 'n stroophouer schmaltz in die een hand en 'n bottel vodka in 'n blok ys in die ander. 'N Armlose liggaam waai 'n stapel $ 20 biljette in my gesig, wat ek met dronk vreugde bewonder.  

Ek onthou vaagweg hoe hierdie foto's geneem is, hoewel baie ander besonderhede van die nag my ontgaan. Sulke tonele speel 47 jaar lank in Sammy & aposs Roumanian, 'n Joodse steakhouse in New York en aposs Lower East Side, wat die sluiting verlede week bevestig het. Hoewel eienaar David Zimmerman hoop om op 'n ander plek weer oop te maak, laat die verlies van die oorspronklike ruimte 'n vuil, vetterige gat in die stad en die eetarea.

Sammy & aposs het 'n kelderruimte in Chrystiestraat beset wat vandag beslis nie 'n gesondheidsondersoek sou slaag nie. Deur sy trappe af te kom, het u by 'n fluorescerende, plafonlose kuil gelê wat hoendervet en knoffel was. Die mure is in 'n onvleiende bruin skakering geverf en beklee met geel foto's van saggies bekende Jode. Vir meer as 20 jaar het 'n ywerige Israeliese klawerbordspeler met die naam Dani Luv onbedekte voorblaaie van Broadway -klassieke opgevoer en diners op hul gesig beledig, voordat hy geëis het dat almal hande vat en die Hora dans. Die kos was te duur en nie baie goed nie (behalwe vir die uitstekende gekapte lewer en karnatzlach -worsies), en die personeel het die wodka altyd verkoop.  

Ek, ek was mal oor die snik. Daar was 'n tydperk waarin ek elke Valentine & aposs Day 'n Lonely Heart & aposs Club -ete by Sammy & aposs aangebied het, wat ten minste een suksesvolle matchmaking -situasie tot gevolg gehad het. Ek het ook 'n verjaardagpartytjie daar gehou, wat die mees afwykende kater van my lewe tot gevolg gehad het. Die keuse om geleenthede daar aan te bied, was fantasie -vervulling vir 'n beeld wat ek van myself as hedoniese leier van belaglike New York -aande gehad het. Niemand het per ongeluk by Sammy & aposs beland nie, en ek het my verlustig in die orkes van die chaos.  

Om Sammy & aposs te waardeer, dink ek, moes jy jou daartoe verbind. U moes aanvaar dat u op die punt was om baie geld te spandeer in die diens van lae -wynvermaak. U het nie te veel gegaan of gehoor gegee aan die advies van u kardioloog nie, of u het intieme gesprekke gevoer met u metgeselle. U het 'n ongebreidelde oormaat gestreef en u bevry van die beperkings van 'n beleefde samelewing wat eenmaal veilig in die grimmige kelderbeperkings vasgelê is.  

"Dit is waar dat 'n sekere nihilistiese oorgawe daar oorneem, nie die minste nie, omdat jy soveel geld wil hê," het die skrywer Sadie Stein, 'n jarelange Sammy & aposs -aanhanger, gesê. Sy erken die donkerder rande van sulke plesier, maar sê dat dit alles deel van die appèl is. Ek weet nie of ek die woord moet gebruik nie feestelik—, dit is ook die kenmerk van die feestelikheid deur 'n byna [David] Lynchian -lens, & quot; onthou sy.  

Dit is ook moontlik om Sammy & aposs te waardeer as 'n terugslag na 'n era van aandete en 'n show-styl naglewe wat baie tydgenote nog nooit uit eie krag beleef het nie. "Dit was nie die Stork Club, of die Copa, of El Marokko nie," het die veteraan Sammy & aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, 'n prokureur, gesê. Daar was musiek terwyl jy geëet het en musiek om na te dans, en tussen die gesnyde lewer aan die begin, die eiers aan die einde van die tafel en die hele blokke wodka, was daar die hele nag geleenthede om te floreer. & quot  

En daar was ook oomblikke van onverwagte soetheid: vreemdelinge wat bymekaar kom om 'n verjaardagseun in sy stoel te hys, toeriste in bar mitzvah-styl wat meng met kronkelende middestad. Kretchmar herinner aan 'n aand waarin 'n opgeleide operasanger Dani Luv oortuig het om haar die mikrofoon te laat neem en haar vriendin te laat serenadeer met 'Sunrise, Sunset' van Vioolspeler op die dak. & quotDani het haar op sy klawerbord gerugsteun, en nie net het hy alles eerbiedig en reguit gespeel nie, geen zingers nie, maar hy het ook in perfekte harmonie by elke koor aangesluit. Dit was pragtig, en om eerlik te wees, werklik ontroerend, & quot, het hy gesê.

Wat die toekoms betref, moet nog baie gesien word. Alhoewel Zimmerman belowe het om terug te keer, is besonderhede oor waar en wanneer onduidelik. Op die oomblik is ons grootste bekommernis dat ons werknemers en kliënte veilig bly. Dit was 'n moeilike jaar, maar ons bly optimisties dat ons weer kan oopmaak en weer kan vier, 'het hy gesê. Na verneem word, weet Dani Luv van die sluiting op dieselfde tyd as almal, maar beplan om terug te kom wanneer dit tyd is. Die eerste twee, drie weke was wonderlik. Dit was 'n bietjie vakansie, 'het Luv gesê New York tydskrif. & quot Na 'n maand begin ek Sammy en Aposs baie mis. Ek is mal oor daardie kakgat. & Quot

In 'n jaar waarin soveel restaurante permanent gesluit is, is dit miskien verkeerd om die verlies van een wat moontlik nie vir altyd dood is nie, te treur. Ek hoop van harte dat Sammy & aposs nuut gebore word. Maar ek sal die walglike kelder en alles wat dit verteenwoordig, mis, vir New York sowel as 'n vorige weergawe van myself. Ek is ook mal oor die kakgat, al kan ek my nagte daar amper nie onthou nie.  


RIP Sammy's Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Onthou die partytjies wat met wodka en smalta gevuur is by die legendariese Joodse steakhouse in New York.

Daar is 'n reeks foto's wat my verhinder om vir 'n openbare amp te wees. In hulle is ek in 'n kelder op Long Island, omstreeks 1972, met my ouma en aposs bontjas en kostuumjuwele. Ek hou 'n stroophouer schmaltz in die een hand en 'n bottel vodka in 'n blok ys in die ander. 'N Armlose liggaam waai 'n stapel $ 20 biljette in my gesig, wat ek met dronk vreugde bewonder.  

Ek onthou vaagweg hoe hierdie foto's geneem is, hoewel baie ander besonderhede van die nag my ontgaan. Sulke tonele het 47 jaar lank in Sammy & aposs Roumanian, 'n Joodse steakhouse in New York en Lower East Side, elke aand gespeel, wat die sluiting verlede week bevestig het. Hoewel eienaar David Zimmerman hoop om op 'n ander plek weer oop te maak, laat die verlies van die oorspronklike ruimte 'n vuil, vetterige gat in die stad en die eetarea.

Sammy & aposs het 'n kelderruimte in Chrystiestraat beset wat vandag byna beslis nie 'n gesondheidsondersoek sou slaag nie. Deur sy trappe af te kom, het u by 'n fluorescerende, plafonlose kuil gelê wat hoendervet en knoffel was. Die mure is in 'n onvleiende bruin skakering geverf en beklee met geel foto's van saggies bekende Jode. Vir meer as twintig jaar het 'n ywerige Israeliese klawerbordspeler met die naam Dani Luv growwe voorblaaie van Broadway -klassieke gesing en diners op hul gesig beledig, voordat hy geëis het dat almal hande vat en die Hora dans. Die kos was te duur en nie baie goed nie (behalwe vir die uitstekende gekapte lewer en karnatzlach -worsies), en die personeel het die wodka altyd verkoop.  

Ek, ek was mal oor die snik. Daar was 'n tydperk waarin ek elke Valentine & aposs Day 'n Lonely Heart & aposs Club -ete by Sammy & aposs aangebied het, wat ten minste een suksesvolle matchmaking -situasie tot gevolg gehad het. Ek het ook 'n verjaardagpartytjie daar gehou, wat die mees afwykende kater van my lewe tot gevolg gehad het. Die keuse om geleenthede daar aan te bied, was fantasie -vervulling vir 'n beeld wat ek van myself as hedoniese leier van belaglike New York -aande gehad het. Niemand het per ongeluk by Sammy & aposs beland nie, en ek het my verlustig in die orkes van die chaos.  

Om Sammy & aposs te waardeer, dink ek, moes jy jou daartoe verbind. U moes aanvaar dat u op die punt was om baie geld te spandeer in die diens van lae -wynvermaak. U het nie te veel gegaan of gehoor gegee aan die advies van u kardioloog nie, of u het intieme gesprekke gevoer met u metgeselle. U het 'n ongebreidelde oormaat gestreef en u bevry van die beperkings van 'n beleefde samelewing wat eenmaal veilig in die grimmige kelderbeperkings vasgelê is.  

"Dit is waar dat 'n sekere nihilistiese oorgawe daar oorneem, nie die minste nie, omdat jy soveel geld wil hê," het die skrywer Sadie Stein, 'n jarelange Sammy & aposs -aanhanger, gesê. Sy erken die donkerder rande van sulke plesier, maar sê dat dit alles deel van die appèl is. Ek weet nie of ek die woord moet gebruik nie feestelik—, dit is die kenmerk van feestelikheid deur 'n byna [David] Lynchiaanse lens, & quot; onthou sy.  

Dit is ook moontlik om Sammy & aposs te waardeer as 'n terugslag na 'n era van aandete en 'n show-styl naglewe wat baie tydgenote nog nooit uit eie krag beleef het nie. "Dit was nie die Stork Club, of die Copa, of El Marokko nie," het die veteraan Sammy & aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, 'n prokureur, gesê. Daar was musiek terwyl jy geëet het en musiek om na te dans, en tussen die gesnyde lewer aan die begin, die eiers aan die einde van die tafel en die hele blokke wodka, was daar die hele nag geleenthede om te floreer. & quot xA0

En daar was ook oomblikke van onverwagte soetheid: vreemdelinge wat bymekaar kom om 'n verjaardagseun in sy stoel te hys, toeriste in bar mitzvah-styl wat meng met kronkelende middestad. Kretchmar herinner aan 'n aand waarin 'n opgeleide operasanger Dani Luv oortuig het om haar die mikrofoon te laat neem en haar vriendin te laat serenadeer met 'Sunrise, Sunset' van Vioolspeler op die dak. & quotDani het haar op sy klawerbord gerugsteun, en nie net het hy alles eerbiedig en reguit gespeel nie, geen zingers nie, maar hy het ook in perfekte harmonie by elke koor aangesluit. Dit was pragtig, en om eerlik te wees, werklik ontroerend, & quot, het hy gesê.

Wat die toekoms betref, moet nog baie gesien word. Alhoewel Zimmerman belowe het om terug te keer, is besonderhede oor waar en wanneer onduidelik. Op die oomblik is ons grootste bekommernis dat ons werknemers en kliënte veilig bly. Dit was 'n moeilike jaar, maar ons bly optimisties dat ons weer kan oopmaak en weer kan vier, 'het hy gesê. Na verneem word, weet Dani Luv van die sluiting op dieselfde tyd as almal, maar beplan om terug te kom wanneer dit tyd is. Die eerste twee, drie weke was wonderlik. Dit was 'n bietjie vakansie, 'het Luv gesê New York tydskrif. & quot Na 'n maand begin ek Sammy en Aposs baie mis. Ek is mal oor daardie kakgat. & Quot

In 'n jaar waarin soveel restaurante permanent gesluit is, is dit miskien verkeerd om die verlies van een wat moontlik nie vir altyd dood is nie, te treur. Ek hoop van harte dat Sammy & aposs nuut gebore word. Maar ek sal die walglike kelder en alles wat dit verteenwoordig, mis, vir New York sowel as 'n vorige weergawe van myself. Ek is ook mal oor die kakgat, selfs al kan ek my nagte daar amper nie onthou nie.  


RIP Sammy's Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Onthou die partytjies wat met wodka en smalta gevuur is by die legendariese Joodse steakhouse in New York.

Daar is 'n reeks foto's wat my verhinder om vir 'n openbare amp te wees. In hulle is ek in 'n kelder op Long Island, omstreeks 1972, met my ouma en aposs bontjas en kostuumjuwele. Ek hou 'n stroophouer schmaltz in die een hand en 'n bottel vodka in 'n blok ys in die ander. 'N Arm sonder liggaam waai 'n stapel $ 20 biljette in my gesig, wat ek met dronk vreugde bewonder.  

Ek onthou vaagweg hoe hierdie foto's geneem is, hoewel baie ander besonderhede van die nag my ontgaan. Sulke tonele speel 47 jaar lank in Sammy & aposs Roumanian, 'n Joodse steakhouse in New York en aposs Lower East Side, wat die sluiting verlede week bevestig het. Hoewel eienaar David Zimmerman hoop om op 'n ander plek weer oop te maak, laat die verlies van die oorspronklike ruimte 'n vuil, vetterige gat in die stad en die eetarea.

Sammy & aposs het 'n kelderruimte in Chrystiestraat beset wat vandag byna beslis nie 'n gesondheidsondersoek sou slaag nie. Deur sy trappe af te kom, het u by 'n fluorescerende, plafonlose kuil gelê wat hoendervet en knoffel was. Die mure is in 'n onvleiende bruin skakering geverf en beklee met geel foto's van saggies bekende Jode. Vir meer as twintig jaar het 'n ywerige Israeliese klawerbordspeler met die naam Dani Luv growwe voorblaaie van Broadway -klassieke gesing en diners op hul gesig beledig, voordat hy geëis het dat almal hande vat en die Hora dans. Die kos was baie duur en nie baie goed nie (behalwe vir die uitstekende gekapte lewer en karnatzlach -worsies), en die personeel het die wodka altyd verkoop.  

Ek, ek was mal oor die snik. Daar was 'n tydperk waarin ek elke Valentine & aposs Day 'n Lonely Heart & aposs Club -ete by Sammy & aposs aangebied het, wat ten minste een suksesvolle matchmaking -situasie tot gevolg gehad het. Ek het ook 'n verjaardagpartytjie daar gehou, wat die mees afwykende kater van my lewe tot gevolg gehad het. Die keuse om geleenthede daar aan te bied, was 'n fantasie -vervulling vir 'n beeld wat ek van myself het as 'n hedoniese leier van belaglike New York -aande. Niemand het per ongeluk by Sammy & aposs beland nie, en ek het my verlustig in die ordening van die chaos.  

Om Sammy & aposs te waardeer, dink ek, moes jy jou daartoe verbind. U moes aanvaar dat u op die punt was om baie geld te spandeer in die diens van lae -wynvermaak. U het nie te veel gegaan of gehoor gegee aan die advies van u kardioloog nie, of u het intieme gesprekke gevoer met u metgeselle. U het 'n ongebreidelde oormaat gestreef en u bevry van die beperkings van 'n beleefde samelewing wat eenmaal veilig in die grimmige kelderbeperkings vasgelê is.  

& quot; Dit is waar dat 'n sekere nihilistiese oorgawe daar oorneem, nie die minste nie, omdat jy soveel geld inwin, & quot; het die skrywer Sadie Stein, 'n jarelange Sammy & aposs -aanhanger, gesê. Sy erken die donkerder rande van sulke plesier, maar sê dat dit alles deel van die appèl is. Ek weet nie of ek die woord moet gebruik nie feestelik—, dit is die kenmerk van feestelikheid deur 'n byna [David] Lynchiaanse lens, & quot; onthou sy.  

Dit is ook moontlik om Sammy & aposs te waardeer as 'n terugslag na 'n era van aandete en 'n show-styl naglewe wat baie tydgenote nog nooit uit eie krag beleef het nie. "Dit was nie die Stork Club, of die Copa, of El Marokko nie," het die veteraan Sammy & aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, 'n prokureur, gesê. Daar was musiek terwyl jy geëet het en musiek om na te dans, en tussen die gesnyde lewer aan die begin, die eiers aan die einde aan die kant en die hele blokke wodka, was daar die hele nag geleenthede om te floreer. & quot  

And there were moments of unexpected sweetness, too: strangers joining together to hoist a birthday boy in his chair, bar mitzvah-style tourists mingling with crotchety downtown fixtures. Kretchmar recalled a night in which a trained opera singer convinced Dani Luv to let her take the mic and serenade her friend with "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. "Dani backed her up on his keyboard, and not only did he play the whole thing respectfully and straight—no gags, no zingers𠅋ut he also joined in at each chorus in perfect harmony. It was beautiful, and to be honest, genuinely moving," he said.

As for the future, much remains to be seen. Although Zimmerman has vowed to return, details about where and when are unclear. "Right now our biggest concern is for our employees and customers to stay safe. It&aposs been a tough year, but we are staying optimistic that we can reopen and we can celebrate again," he said. Dani Luv reportedly learned of the closure at the same time as everyone else, but plans to come back when the time comes. "The first two, three weeks were great. It was a little vacation," Luv told New York tydskrif. "After a month, I start to miss Sammy&aposs very much. I love that shithole."

In a year that&aposs seen so many restaurants close permanently, perhaps it&aposs misguided to mourn the loss of one that may not be dead forever. I sincerely hope that Sammy&aposs is born anew. But I will miss that disgusting basement and all that it represented, for both New York and a past version of myself. I, too, love that shithole, even if I can barely remember my nights there. 


RIP Sammy’s Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Remembering the vodka- and schmaltz-fueled parties at New York’s legendary Jewish steakhouse.

There is a series of photos that precludes me from running for public office. In them, I am in what appears to be a Long Island basement circa 1972, wearing my grandmother&aposs fur coat and costume jewelry. I&aposm holding a syrup container of schmaltz in one hand and a bottle of vodka encased in a block of ice in the other. A disembodied arm is waving a stack of $20 bills in my face, which I admire with drunken glee. 

I vaguely recall these photos being taken, though many other details of that night escape me. Scenes like this played nightly for 47 years at Sammy&aposs Roumanian, a Jewish steakhouse in New York&aposs Lower East Side, which confirmed its closure last week. Although owner David Zimmerman hopes to reopen in another location, the loss of the original space leaves a dank, greasy hole in the city&aposs dining landscape.

Sammy&aposs occupied a basement space on Chrystie Street that almost certainly wouldn&apost pass a health inspection today. Descending its stairs delivered you to a fluorescent lit, low-ceilinged den that reeked of chicken fat and garlic. The walls were painted an unflattering shade of brown and lined with yellowing photographs of mildly famous Jews. For over 20 years years, a surly Israeli keyboardist named Dani Luv performed crude covers of Broadway classics and insulted diners to their faces, before demanding that everyone join hands and dance the Hora. The food was wildly overpriced and not very good (except for the excellent chopped liver and garlicky karnatzlach sausages), and the staff always upsold the vodka. 

Me, I loved the schtick. There was a period in which I hosted a Lonely Heart&aposs Club dinner at Sammy&aposs every Valentine&aposs Day, which resulted in at least one successful matchmaking situation. I also had a birthday party there which resulted in the most debilitating hangover of my life. Choosing to host events there was fantasy fulfillment for an image I had of myself as hedonic ringleader of ridiculous New York nights. No one ended up at Sammy&aposs by accident, and I reveled in orchestrating the chaos. 

To appreciate Sammy&aposs, I think, you had to commit to the bit. You had to accept that you were about to spend a lot of money in the service of lowbrow entertainment. You didn&apost go to teetotal or heed the advice of your cardiologist or engage in intimate conversations with your companions. You went in the pursuit of unbridled excess, and you freed yourself from the constraints of polite society once safely ensconced in the dingy basement confines. 

"It&aposs true that a certain nihilistic abandon takes over there, not the least because you&aposre in for so much money," said writer Sadie Stein, a longtime Sammy&aposs fan. She acknowledged the darker edges to such pleasures, but said that&aposs all part of the appeal. "I don&apost know whether to use the word festive—it&aposs more the trappings of festivity, through an almost [David] Lynchian lens," she recalled. 

It&aposs also possible to appreciate Sammy&aposs as a throwback to an era of dinner-and-a show-style nightlife that many contemporaries have never experienced firsthand. "It wasn&apost the Stork Club, or the Copa, or El Morocco," said veteran Sammy&aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, a lawyer. "It was far more haimish and Borscht Belt than any of that. There was music while you ate and music to dance to, and, between the tableside chopped liver at the beginning, the tableside egg creams at the end, and rolling blocks of vodka all the way through, there were opportunities for flourish all night long." 

And there were moments of unexpected sweetness, too: strangers joining together to hoist a birthday boy in his chair, bar mitzvah-style tourists mingling with crotchety downtown fixtures. Kretchmar recalled a night in which a trained opera singer convinced Dani Luv to let her take the mic and serenade her friend with "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. "Dani backed her up on his keyboard, and not only did he play the whole thing respectfully and straight—no gags, no zingers𠅋ut he also joined in at each chorus in perfect harmony. It was beautiful, and to be honest, genuinely moving," he said.

As for the future, much remains to be seen. Although Zimmerman has vowed to return, details about where and when are unclear. "Right now our biggest concern is for our employees and customers to stay safe. It&aposs been a tough year, but we are staying optimistic that we can reopen and we can celebrate again," he said. Dani Luv reportedly learned of the closure at the same time as everyone else, but plans to come back when the time comes. "The first two, three weeks were great. It was a little vacation," Luv told New York tydskrif. "After a month, I start to miss Sammy&aposs very much. I love that shithole."

In a year that&aposs seen so many restaurants close permanently, perhaps it&aposs misguided to mourn the loss of one that may not be dead forever. I sincerely hope that Sammy&aposs is born anew. But I will miss that disgusting basement and all that it represented, for both New York and a past version of myself. I, too, love that shithole, even if I can barely remember my nights there. 


RIP Sammy’s Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Remembering the vodka- and schmaltz-fueled parties at New York’s legendary Jewish steakhouse.

There is a series of photos that precludes me from running for public office. In them, I am in what appears to be a Long Island basement circa 1972, wearing my grandmother&aposs fur coat and costume jewelry. I&aposm holding a syrup container of schmaltz in one hand and a bottle of vodka encased in a block of ice in the other. A disembodied arm is waving a stack of $20 bills in my face, which I admire with drunken glee. 

I vaguely recall these photos being taken, though many other details of that night escape me. Scenes like this played nightly for 47 years at Sammy&aposs Roumanian, a Jewish steakhouse in New York&aposs Lower East Side, which confirmed its closure last week. Although owner David Zimmerman hopes to reopen in another location, the loss of the original space leaves a dank, greasy hole in the city&aposs dining landscape.

Sammy&aposs occupied a basement space on Chrystie Street that almost certainly wouldn&apost pass a health inspection today. Descending its stairs delivered you to a fluorescent lit, low-ceilinged den that reeked of chicken fat and garlic. The walls were painted an unflattering shade of brown and lined with yellowing photographs of mildly famous Jews. For over 20 years years, a surly Israeli keyboardist named Dani Luv performed crude covers of Broadway classics and insulted diners to their faces, before demanding that everyone join hands and dance the Hora. The food was wildly overpriced and not very good (except for the excellent chopped liver and garlicky karnatzlach sausages), and the staff always upsold the vodka. 

Me, I loved the schtick. There was a period in which I hosted a Lonely Heart&aposs Club dinner at Sammy&aposs every Valentine&aposs Day, which resulted in at least one successful matchmaking situation. I also had a birthday party there which resulted in the most debilitating hangover of my life. Choosing to host events there was fantasy fulfillment for an image I had of myself as hedonic ringleader of ridiculous New York nights. No one ended up at Sammy&aposs by accident, and I reveled in orchestrating the chaos. 

To appreciate Sammy&aposs, I think, you had to commit to the bit. You had to accept that you were about to spend a lot of money in the service of lowbrow entertainment. You didn&apost go to teetotal or heed the advice of your cardiologist or engage in intimate conversations with your companions. You went in the pursuit of unbridled excess, and you freed yourself from the constraints of polite society once safely ensconced in the dingy basement confines. 

"It&aposs true that a certain nihilistic abandon takes over there, not the least because you&aposre in for so much money," said writer Sadie Stein, a longtime Sammy&aposs fan. She acknowledged the darker edges to such pleasures, but said that&aposs all part of the appeal. "I don&apost know whether to use the word festive—it&aposs more the trappings of festivity, through an almost [David] Lynchian lens," she recalled. 

It&aposs also possible to appreciate Sammy&aposs as a throwback to an era of dinner-and-a show-style nightlife that many contemporaries have never experienced firsthand. "It wasn&apost the Stork Club, or the Copa, or El Morocco," said veteran Sammy&aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, a lawyer. "It was far more haimish and Borscht Belt than any of that. There was music while you ate and music to dance to, and, between the tableside chopped liver at the beginning, the tableside egg creams at the end, and rolling blocks of vodka all the way through, there were opportunities for flourish all night long." 

And there were moments of unexpected sweetness, too: strangers joining together to hoist a birthday boy in his chair, bar mitzvah-style tourists mingling with crotchety downtown fixtures. Kretchmar recalled a night in which a trained opera singer convinced Dani Luv to let her take the mic and serenade her friend with "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. "Dani backed her up on his keyboard, and not only did he play the whole thing respectfully and straight—no gags, no zingers𠅋ut he also joined in at each chorus in perfect harmony. It was beautiful, and to be honest, genuinely moving," he said.

As for the future, much remains to be seen. Although Zimmerman has vowed to return, details about where and when are unclear. "Right now our biggest concern is for our employees and customers to stay safe. It&aposs been a tough year, but we are staying optimistic that we can reopen and we can celebrate again," he said. Dani Luv reportedly learned of the closure at the same time as everyone else, but plans to come back when the time comes. "The first two, three weeks were great. It was a little vacation," Luv told New York tydskrif. "After a month, I start to miss Sammy&aposs very much. I love that shithole."

In a year that&aposs seen so many restaurants close permanently, perhaps it&aposs misguided to mourn the loss of one that may not be dead forever. I sincerely hope that Sammy&aposs is born anew. But I will miss that disgusting basement and all that it represented, for both New York and a past version of myself. I, too, love that shithole, even if I can barely remember my nights there. 


RIP Sammy’s Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Remembering the vodka- and schmaltz-fueled parties at New York’s legendary Jewish steakhouse.

There is a series of photos that precludes me from running for public office. In them, I am in what appears to be a Long Island basement circa 1972, wearing my grandmother&aposs fur coat and costume jewelry. I&aposm holding a syrup container of schmaltz in one hand and a bottle of vodka encased in a block of ice in the other. A disembodied arm is waving a stack of $20 bills in my face, which I admire with drunken glee. 

I vaguely recall these photos being taken, though many other details of that night escape me. Scenes like this played nightly for 47 years at Sammy&aposs Roumanian, a Jewish steakhouse in New York&aposs Lower East Side, which confirmed its closure last week. Although owner David Zimmerman hopes to reopen in another location, the loss of the original space leaves a dank, greasy hole in the city&aposs dining landscape.

Sammy&aposs occupied a basement space on Chrystie Street that almost certainly wouldn&apost pass a health inspection today. Descending its stairs delivered you to a fluorescent lit, low-ceilinged den that reeked of chicken fat and garlic. The walls were painted an unflattering shade of brown and lined with yellowing photographs of mildly famous Jews. For over 20 years years, a surly Israeli keyboardist named Dani Luv performed crude covers of Broadway classics and insulted diners to their faces, before demanding that everyone join hands and dance the Hora. The food was wildly overpriced and not very good (except for the excellent chopped liver and garlicky karnatzlach sausages), and the staff always upsold the vodka. 

Me, I loved the schtick. There was a period in which I hosted a Lonely Heart&aposs Club dinner at Sammy&aposs every Valentine&aposs Day, which resulted in at least one successful matchmaking situation. I also had a birthday party there which resulted in the most debilitating hangover of my life. Choosing to host events there was fantasy fulfillment for an image I had of myself as hedonic ringleader of ridiculous New York nights. No one ended up at Sammy&aposs by accident, and I reveled in orchestrating the chaos. 

To appreciate Sammy&aposs, I think, you had to commit to the bit. You had to accept that you were about to spend a lot of money in the service of lowbrow entertainment. You didn&apost go to teetotal or heed the advice of your cardiologist or engage in intimate conversations with your companions. You went in the pursuit of unbridled excess, and you freed yourself from the constraints of polite society once safely ensconced in the dingy basement confines. 

"It&aposs true that a certain nihilistic abandon takes over there, not the least because you&aposre in for so much money," said writer Sadie Stein, a longtime Sammy&aposs fan. She acknowledged the darker edges to such pleasures, but said that&aposs all part of the appeal. "I don&apost know whether to use the word festive—it&aposs more the trappings of festivity, through an almost [David] Lynchian lens," she recalled. 

It&aposs also possible to appreciate Sammy&aposs as a throwback to an era of dinner-and-a show-style nightlife that many contemporaries have never experienced firsthand. "It wasn&apost the Stork Club, or the Copa, or El Morocco," said veteran Sammy&aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, a lawyer. "It was far more haimish and Borscht Belt than any of that. There was music while you ate and music to dance to, and, between the tableside chopped liver at the beginning, the tableside egg creams at the end, and rolling blocks of vodka all the way through, there were opportunities for flourish all night long." 

And there were moments of unexpected sweetness, too: strangers joining together to hoist a birthday boy in his chair, bar mitzvah-style tourists mingling with crotchety downtown fixtures. Kretchmar recalled a night in which a trained opera singer convinced Dani Luv to let her take the mic and serenade her friend with "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. "Dani backed her up on his keyboard, and not only did he play the whole thing respectfully and straight—no gags, no zingers𠅋ut he also joined in at each chorus in perfect harmony. It was beautiful, and to be honest, genuinely moving," he said.

As for the future, much remains to be seen. Although Zimmerman has vowed to return, details about where and when are unclear. "Right now our biggest concern is for our employees and customers to stay safe. It&aposs been a tough year, but we are staying optimistic that we can reopen and we can celebrate again," he said. Dani Luv reportedly learned of the closure at the same time as everyone else, but plans to come back when the time comes. "The first two, three weeks were great. It was a little vacation," Luv told New York tydskrif. "After a month, I start to miss Sammy&aposs very much. I love that shithole."

In a year that&aposs seen so many restaurants close permanently, perhaps it&aposs misguided to mourn the loss of one that may not be dead forever. I sincerely hope that Sammy&aposs is born anew. But I will miss that disgusting basement and all that it represented, for both New York and a past version of myself. I, too, love that shithole, even if I can barely remember my nights there. 


RIP Sammy’s Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Remembering the vodka- and schmaltz-fueled parties at New York’s legendary Jewish steakhouse.

There is a series of photos that precludes me from running for public office. In them, I am in what appears to be a Long Island basement circa 1972, wearing my grandmother&aposs fur coat and costume jewelry. I&aposm holding a syrup container of schmaltz in one hand and a bottle of vodka encased in a block of ice in the other. A disembodied arm is waving a stack of $20 bills in my face, which I admire with drunken glee. 

I vaguely recall these photos being taken, though many other details of that night escape me. Scenes like this played nightly for 47 years at Sammy&aposs Roumanian, a Jewish steakhouse in New York&aposs Lower East Side, which confirmed its closure last week. Although owner David Zimmerman hopes to reopen in another location, the loss of the original space leaves a dank, greasy hole in the city&aposs dining landscape.

Sammy&aposs occupied a basement space on Chrystie Street that almost certainly wouldn&apost pass a health inspection today. Descending its stairs delivered you to a fluorescent lit, low-ceilinged den that reeked of chicken fat and garlic. The walls were painted an unflattering shade of brown and lined with yellowing photographs of mildly famous Jews. For over 20 years years, a surly Israeli keyboardist named Dani Luv performed crude covers of Broadway classics and insulted diners to their faces, before demanding that everyone join hands and dance the Hora. The food was wildly overpriced and not very good (except for the excellent chopped liver and garlicky karnatzlach sausages), and the staff always upsold the vodka. 

Me, I loved the schtick. There was a period in which I hosted a Lonely Heart&aposs Club dinner at Sammy&aposs every Valentine&aposs Day, which resulted in at least one successful matchmaking situation. I also had a birthday party there which resulted in the most debilitating hangover of my life. Choosing to host events there was fantasy fulfillment for an image I had of myself as hedonic ringleader of ridiculous New York nights. No one ended up at Sammy&aposs by accident, and I reveled in orchestrating the chaos. 

To appreciate Sammy&aposs, I think, you had to commit to the bit. You had to accept that you were about to spend a lot of money in the service of lowbrow entertainment. You didn&apost go to teetotal or heed the advice of your cardiologist or engage in intimate conversations with your companions. You went in the pursuit of unbridled excess, and you freed yourself from the constraints of polite society once safely ensconced in the dingy basement confines. 

"It&aposs true that a certain nihilistic abandon takes over there, not the least because you&aposre in for so much money," said writer Sadie Stein, a longtime Sammy&aposs fan. She acknowledged the darker edges to such pleasures, but said that&aposs all part of the appeal. "I don&apost know whether to use the word festive—it&aposs more the trappings of festivity, through an almost [David] Lynchian lens," she recalled. 

It&aposs also possible to appreciate Sammy&aposs as a throwback to an era of dinner-and-a show-style nightlife that many contemporaries have never experienced firsthand. "It wasn&apost the Stork Club, or the Copa, or El Morocco," said veteran Sammy&aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, a lawyer. "It was far more haimish and Borscht Belt than any of that. There was music while you ate and music to dance to, and, between the tableside chopped liver at the beginning, the tableside egg creams at the end, and rolling blocks of vodka all the way through, there were opportunities for flourish all night long." 

And there were moments of unexpected sweetness, too: strangers joining together to hoist a birthday boy in his chair, bar mitzvah-style tourists mingling with crotchety downtown fixtures. Kretchmar recalled a night in which a trained opera singer convinced Dani Luv to let her take the mic and serenade her friend with "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. "Dani backed her up on his keyboard, and not only did he play the whole thing respectfully and straight—no gags, no zingers𠅋ut he also joined in at each chorus in perfect harmony. It was beautiful, and to be honest, genuinely moving," he said.

As for the future, much remains to be seen. Although Zimmerman has vowed to return, details about where and when are unclear. "Right now our biggest concern is for our employees and customers to stay safe. It&aposs been a tough year, but we are staying optimistic that we can reopen and we can celebrate again," he said. Dani Luv reportedly learned of the closure at the same time as everyone else, but plans to come back when the time comes. "The first two, three weeks were great. It was a little vacation," Luv told New York tydskrif. "After a month, I start to miss Sammy&aposs very much. I love that shithole."

In a year that&aposs seen so many restaurants close permanently, perhaps it&aposs misguided to mourn the loss of one that may not be dead forever. I sincerely hope that Sammy&aposs is born anew. But I will miss that disgusting basement and all that it represented, for both New York and a past version of myself. I, too, love that shithole, even if I can barely remember my nights there. 


RIP Sammy’s Roumanian, Where Every Night Was a Bar Mitzvah

Remembering the vodka- and schmaltz-fueled parties at New York’s legendary Jewish steakhouse.

There is a series of photos that precludes me from running for public office. In them, I am in what appears to be a Long Island basement circa 1972, wearing my grandmother&aposs fur coat and costume jewelry. I&aposm holding a syrup container of schmaltz in one hand and a bottle of vodka encased in a block of ice in the other. A disembodied arm is waving a stack of $20 bills in my face, which I admire with drunken glee. 

I vaguely recall these photos being taken, though many other details of that night escape me. Scenes like this played nightly for 47 years at Sammy&aposs Roumanian, a Jewish steakhouse in New York&aposs Lower East Side, which confirmed its closure last week. Although owner David Zimmerman hopes to reopen in another location, the loss of the original space leaves a dank, greasy hole in the city&aposs dining landscape.

Sammy&aposs occupied a basement space on Chrystie Street that almost certainly wouldn&apost pass a health inspection today. Descending its stairs delivered you to a fluorescent lit, low-ceilinged den that reeked of chicken fat and garlic. The walls were painted an unflattering shade of brown and lined with yellowing photographs of mildly famous Jews. For over 20 years years, a surly Israeli keyboardist named Dani Luv performed crude covers of Broadway classics and insulted diners to their faces, before demanding that everyone join hands and dance the Hora. The food was wildly overpriced and not very good (except for the excellent chopped liver and garlicky karnatzlach sausages), and the staff always upsold the vodka. 

Me, I loved the schtick. There was a period in which I hosted a Lonely Heart&aposs Club dinner at Sammy&aposs every Valentine&aposs Day, which resulted in at least one successful matchmaking situation. I also had a birthday party there which resulted in the most debilitating hangover of my life. Choosing to host events there was fantasy fulfillment for an image I had of myself as hedonic ringleader of ridiculous New York nights. No one ended up at Sammy&aposs by accident, and I reveled in orchestrating the chaos. 

To appreciate Sammy&aposs, I think, you had to commit to the bit. You had to accept that you were about to spend a lot of money in the service of lowbrow entertainment. You didn&apost go to teetotal or heed the advice of your cardiologist or engage in intimate conversations with your companions. You went in the pursuit of unbridled excess, and you freed yourself from the constraints of polite society once safely ensconced in the dingy basement confines. 

"It&aposs true that a certain nihilistic abandon takes over there, not the least because you&aposre in for so much money," said writer Sadie Stein, a longtime Sammy&aposs fan. She acknowledged the darker edges to such pleasures, but said that&aposs all part of the appeal. "I don&apost know whether to use the word festive—it&aposs more the trappings of festivity, through an almost [David] Lynchian lens," she recalled. 

It&aposs also possible to appreciate Sammy&aposs as a throwback to an era of dinner-and-a show-style nightlife that many contemporaries have never experienced firsthand. "It wasn&apost the Stork Club, or the Copa, or El Morocco," said veteran Sammy&aposs diner Tom Kretchmar, a lawyer. "It was far more haimish and Borscht Belt than any of that. There was music while you ate and music to dance to, and, between the tableside chopped liver at the beginning, the tableside egg creams at the end, and rolling blocks of vodka all the way through, there were opportunities for flourish all night long." 

And there were moments of unexpected sweetness, too: strangers joining together to hoist a birthday boy in his chair, bar mitzvah-style tourists mingling with crotchety downtown fixtures. Kretchmar recalled a night in which a trained opera singer convinced Dani Luv to let her take the mic and serenade her friend with "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. "Dani backed her up on his keyboard, and not only did he play the whole thing respectfully and straight—no gags, no zingers𠅋ut he also joined in at each chorus in perfect harmony. It was beautiful, and to be honest, genuinely moving," he said.

As for the future, much remains to be seen. Although Zimmerman has vowed to return, details about where and when are unclear. "Right now our biggest concern is for our employees and customers to stay safe. It&aposs been a tough year, but we are staying optimistic that we can reopen and we can celebrate again," he said. Dani Luv reportedly learned of the closure at the same time as everyone else, but plans to come back when the time comes. "The first two, three weeks were great. It was a little vacation," Luv told New York tydskrif. "After a month, I start to miss Sammy&aposs very much. I love that shithole."

In a year that&aposs seen so many restaurants close permanently, perhaps it&aposs misguided to mourn the loss of one that may not be dead forever. I sincerely hope that Sammy&aposs is born anew. But I will miss that disgusting basement and all that it represented, for both New York and a past version of myself. I, too, love that shithole, even if I can barely remember my nights there.