New York cheesecake

Damn it!

After the girls and I finished our RCMH tour, and purchased the obligatory ornaments and souvenir program, we headed to Times Square to eat lunch at my favorite deli, the Roxy Deli. The girls were about to lose it by the time we got there; they were hungry and exhausted.

Just as the waiter was coming to take our order (we were 3 of 5 people in their 2nd story dining room), B said she had to use the restroom. I told the waiter we'd be back in a few minutes and we headed to the restroom on the 3rd floor. As luck would have it, one room was out of order and someone was in the other. The man, a Roxy worker, was trying to get the toilet tank to fill and flush. Once he got it working we were able to go in. Everything worked fine, so we headed back to our seats once we were done. Then we had to wait for a while for our waiter to return. We gave him our order and it came out pretty quickly. The girls had chocolate milk, and I swear they were gone practically before the meals arrived. I had seltzer. For lunch I had cherry blintzes with fruit salad on the side; B was jonesing for scrambled eggs (3 eggs any style) with a side of fries, and S had the foot long hot dog and fries. I finished my lunch, B ate 2/3 of her eggs, and S had about 2 bites of her lunch. Once again we had to traipse up to the restroom for the girls, this time in the middle of our meal. This time, however, the toiled refused to flush. Damn. I hate leaving an unflushed toilet, esp when it is as unpleasant as what we were leaving in this one. However, I did try to see what was going on in the tank, and couldn't figure it out. I really did try before we gave up and left it for all to admire. Once our hands were all washed and dried, we went back downstairs. Much to my chagrin, the one lady behind us then went up to use the restroom. I was MORTIFIED. I knew that she knew full well that we were the last ones in there; that it was our mess in the toilet. From my vantage point, I watched at least 5 other people go upstairs, all presumably to use the john. (After all, at this point there were only 11 people eating on our floor, and it was practically deserted.)

When our waiter finally returned, I asked him to bring me two slices of their NY style cheesecake to go, along with the check. I was going to split one with my parents, and bring the other home to DH. We LOVE their cheesecake. It is tall, and light, and creamy and oh so delicious. Mmmmmm. Of course, a pleasant lunch like this costs money, eighty dollars to be exact (tax and tip included).

I carried that cheesecake back to Penn Station, made sure it survived the train ride home, and remembered to put it in the fridge when I got to my parents' house. And halfway through the flight home, I realized that I had forgotten DH's piece. Damn.