We decided to take advantage of the long Presidents’ Day weekend and hop a train to New York City last week. Though Julian had traveled to Boston with me a few weeks before I returned to work, this was his first *real* trip, and for the most part it was as smooth and easy as could be.
Our time was pretty limited, and since we only had a few days our goals were fairly simple: see a few friends, check out the High Line, and hit a few of our favorite spots around town (including our favorite restaurant).
There were so many fun and memorable moments this trip that I can’t even begin to recount them all… but watching Julian’s face as he took in all the sights, smells, and sounds of the city was a joy, and we were tickled to see more than one straphanger break into a grin as our little guy broke that unspoken rule about not looking people in the eye on the subway.
But I don’t think I’ll ever forget walking into Marlow & Sons last Friday night – the site of so many of our most memorable and important meals – carrying our little boy. It was hard to hold back the tears as we sat in that dining room with Julian, looking over at the corner booth where we sat after we got engaged, the big farmhouse table where we sat, freshly wed, and celebrated with our friends, the two-top where we had both the first of so many dinners (I can still taste that pork belly), and our last before moving away.
We had hoped to stop at Russ and Daughters on our way out of town, but by the time Saturday rolled around and we were making our way to Penn Station, we weren’t convinced we’d make it. We were tired, running a bit late, laden down with baggage, and we were already feeling the effects of the nasty cold bug we brought home with us. We were stuck underground at 2nd Avenue for what seemed like an eternity, and Julian just wasn’t having it. He fussed and cried, so we decided to go above ground for a bit to get some air. Once he had calmed down, we looked over and realized we were just across the way from the shop. We were so close, it seemed silly not to go, so we made our way over.
While I waited in line for my smoked fish and bialys, Julian looked around with wide eyes, and tired as he was, he smiled as I chatted with fellow shoppers. As Niki finished getting our order together, she smiled and said, “next time Julian comes in, he’ll get a taste of schmaltz herring.”
Next time can’t come soon enough.