Delectations

Recently, I’ve been pleased with two restaurants which are as different from each other as can be, and which also stand for very different philosophies. One of them is the Promenade Cafe in Rockefeller Center, and the other Nicola Paone’s at 207 East 34th Street.

The Promenade Cafe is on and around the ice skating rink in the center of Rockefeller Plaza. It is a gay, outdoorsy place, immensely enhanced by the presence of a nine-man brass band at luncheon from 12:15 to 2:45 and a string quintet at tea and dinner, from 4:30 to 9:30 P.M. The tables, topped by large yellow sun umbrellas, stand on a green carpet by the big fountain that swooshes in a cooling manner. The brass band goes oompa-pa in a discreet, nostalgic way and it transported me, as I sat sipping a lovely Singapore Sling, into fields far more Elysian than the middle of New York City on a hot June day. I really can’t think of anything more fun, an opinion shared by all the people who could not get in and who had to listen to the band, smiling, I may add, from the streets above. At night—and the place stays open until after the theater—I think it would be a nice spot to do a little schmusing, seemly of course, since after all the place is open, but still, still.

NH

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Nika Hazelton

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Recently, I’ve been pleased with two restaurants which are as different from each other as can be, and which also stand for very different philosophies. One of them is the Promenade Cafe in Rockefeller Center, and the other Nicola Paone’s at 207 East 34th Street.

The Promenade Cafe is on and around the ice skating rink in the center of Rockefeller Plaza. It is a gay, outdoorsy place, immensely enhanced by the presence of a nine-man brass band at luncheon from 12:15 to 2:45 and a string quintet at tea and dinner, from 4:30 to 9:30 P.M. The tables, topped by large yellow sun umbrellas, stand on a green carpet by the big fountain that swooshes in a cooling manner. The brass band goes oompa-pa in a discreet, nostalgic way and it transported me, as I sat sipping a lovely Singapore Sling, into fields far more Elysian than the middle of New York City on a hot June day. I really can’t think of anything more fun, an opinion shared by all the people who could not get in and who had to listen to the band, smiling, I may add, from the streets above. At night—and the place stays open until after the theater—I think it would be a nice spot to do a little schmusing, seemly of course, since after all the place is open, but still, still.