From
Tre Sorrelle to Amaluna
By
Steve Herte
Tre
Sorrelle
61
Reade Street, New York
When
you have an eight o’clock curtain in Flushing and you work in
downtown Manhattan it’s a good idea to have dinner first.
Fortunately for me there is a restaurant a half a block away from my
office where I have not previously dined. Right next door to
Maxwell’s (which was once Spaghetti Western) is Tre Sorrelle (Three
Sisters – correctly spelled with only one “r” - Sorelle).
On
the large glass windows the stencils read Wood Fired Pizza, Bar and
Restaurant. You can see the simple tables lining the walls on either
side of the bar with the imposing brick pizza oven front and center.
On entering you notice the four-foot walnut wood paneling next to the
tables as the open brick walls rise 20 feet to the tin ceiling.
At
4:45 on a Wednesday I had my choice of tables and I found a cozy one
near the pizza oven but not near enough to feel the heat and I sat in
the chair facing the windows. A recording of a live Bee Gees concert
was playing through the speakers as Miguel brought a glass of water
and the menu. I ordered a martini and Miguel set off to make it.
The
menu is impressive in its selection of 16 appetizers, 18 pastas, 19
Entrees, 8 salads, 2 soups, 6 sides and 11 pizzas and 4 preparations
of Panini. There are also wraps, burgers and sandwiches. When three
young women arrived later with around five or six children, I
understood why these items were on the menu.
My
martini was well chilled and made exactly as I requested. Since it
was not my usual dinner hour I was not as hungry and I asked Miguel
if they do half orders on the pasta, to which he shrugged and
indicated probably not. No matter. I told him I love pasta and he
suggested making the side dish with my main course pasta rather than
vegetables. Great idea! I ordered a bowl of the Minestrone Soup, the
daily special and the Vitello Gorgonzola with pasta. “Same sauce,
or tomato?” “Same sauce.”
Miguel
was off on his errand.
Another
server brought the breadbasket with a tall, slender carafe of olive
oil and a small dish of pre-packaged butter. The fresh baguette
didn’t need either the oil or the butter and tasted fabulous alone.
But I gilded the lily anyway and it was wonderful either way. I had
to ask where they got it. Miguel wrote down Parisi Bakery’s address
at 198 Mott Street for me.
The
Bee Gees music was causing nostalgic thoughts while the bread was
bringing back memories of Italy when the soup arrived smelling
buttery and filled with potato, string beans, carrots and escarole.
It was steaming hot and lovely. I can’t recall Minestrone I’ve
enjoyed more. A shaker of grated cheese was already on the table and
I used it to good advantage on the soup. The pepper-shaker was filled
with large black pepper flakes and a few shakes of that and my soup
increased my nostalgic mood.
Miguel
waited for me to finish the soup before bring out the main course and
it was a real treat for the eyes. The veal filet was pounded flat,
breaded and fried and the crumbles of Gorgonzola cheese in its light
cream sauce made it look almost like an early snow scene. The penne
pasta stacked next it was also coated with the bewitching sauce and
the roasted walnuts were sprinkled over all. It was heavenly. Now I
really missed Italy and had to wipe my eyes. It’s funny how good
food prepared well can make you hungry even when you’re not. I
finished it all.
I
needed a “thinking” wine to consider dessert and I ordered a
glass of cabernet while Miguel presented the dessert list. Two sips
later and a look at the sandwich card standing on my table and I knew
what I wanted. The special dessert of the day was a chocolate fudge
cake with a “molten” chocolate center. I managed to keep from
laughing as I ordered it because it was exactly the same dessert that
the critic in the movie Chef ordered when he panned
the restaurant on Twitter. I had visions of Jon Favreau ranting at
him, putting his fingers into the cake to prove the center was
“molten.”
The
cake arrived in a pool of dark chocolate sauce and sided by a ball of
beautiful vanilla gelato. It was delicious. The center was not molten
(chocolate did not ooze from it when I opened it) but I didn’t
care. Trying hard not to giggle, I finished it as well. Then a double
espresso and a snifter of black Sambucca later and my pre-show dinner
was completed.
I
never had the chance to dine at the Heng Shing Chinese restaurant
before it became Tre Sorrelle, but I’m glad it changed. Likewise
I’m glad that the restaurant right next door changed from Spaghetti
Western to Maxwell’s so that there wouldn’t be two Italians in
one location (even though Maxwell’s does serve some Italian
specialties). For my needs that evening Tre Sorrelle was perfect and
I hope to return and have a proper Italian dinner there.
Amaluna
– Cirque du Soleil
Citi
Field Parking Lot C
In
2012 there was a movie entitled Worlds Away starring
Cirque du Soleil, and even though I’ve managed to see every live
performance with maybe the exception of three shows, I avoided the
movie. Why? I couldn’t imagine that a movie could hope to compare
with the experience under the Grand Chapiteau (the great tent). I am
continually drawn to Cirque du Soleil for the “Wow Factor” –
that sensation of awe you feel when you see people doing amazing
things you could never hope to do, and doing them with ease.
So
when the Cirque Club notified me via email that the next extravaganza
was happening in my back yard of Flushing, I leapt at the chance to
get a ringside seat. Actually, no seat is a bad one, but I like to be
as close to the stage as possible.
Founded
by Guy Laliberté in 1984, during Quebec’s 450th anniversary
celebration of Jacques Cartier’s discovery of Canada the first
troupe’s Cirque du Soleil was a huge success and, as it was
announced at this performance, this is their 30th anniversary
as an entertainment tour de force.
Every
Cirque du Soleil show has a story and Amaluna takes the audience to a
remote island of Amazons and Sirens, beautiful women, and strange
animals. A shipload of sailors is wrecked on the shore of this
strange island and the Amazons take the men prisoner. That is, except
for the Captain, who is a woman dressed as a man and who falls in
love with the German-accented woman clown wearing a bright yellow
dirndl. Together they comprise the comic side of the show.
The
stage is circular and the audience seating is arranged around it for
about 60 degrees of that circle. The imposing prop in the center of
the stage is a giant crystal chalice filled with water, a focal point
for two acts. A young girl swims in and out of the cup while doing
solo acrobatics on pedestals attached to the rim. She enraptures a
handsome young sailor, and this generates the subplot of the story.
But
halfway through the show the Moon goddess, Amaluna whisks her up to
the top of the tent and out of sight of the young man and he performs
his own amazing act on a single pole, trying to climb up to where she
was taken. As this story is taking shape, the cast is performing
various acts to a rock music background (also live).
We
see a group twirling what appears to be large bolas while doing
acrobatics on and under their fellow performers. Later the lights dim
and the bolas light up for a more spectacular effect. There is a
group of slim young girls in bright red costumes performing on what
could only be called uneven parallel bars. Another group in Avatar
blue costumes swing onto the stage on straps looped to their hands
and soar over the audience. A young man wearing an alligator-like
costume with a long tail snatches a big box of popcorn from an
audience member and climbs one of the support structures of the tent
raining popcorn on the audience to howls of laughter. Later, he has
his own act. Standing on a covering over the chalice he juggles while
the balls descend on him from the top of the tent. He surprises
everyone by setting one on fire and juggles it with the others. Even
the sailors have an act bouncing each other up and down on a seesaw,
hurling and catching each other over the stage.
At
a moment that could be termed “ceremonial,” a girl in a gold lame
skirt picks up “bones” and arranges them balanced on each other
until she is the hub of a large mobile swaying and turning and always
threatening to fall apart. The audience was breathless during this
scene.
Nothing
on a movie screen could dare to be as visceral a sensation as the
excitement of a live troupe. I love the costumes. Two performers had
enormous peacock tails dragging behind them that they could fan open
at will. Even the singers were fantastically garbed. (Oh, by the way,
I have added something to my “bucket list.” I want to be one of
the singers in a Cirque du Soleil show.) I’ve seen shows in
Orlando, Las Vegas, Boston, Philadelphia, New Jersey as well as
Manhattan and every time I’ve left the tent almost exhausted from
applauding. If you’ve never been to a Cirque du Soleil performance
you’ve cheated yourself out of a major moment in your life.
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