Alcoholic Saints and Wine Bars
By Steve Herte
All
my work this week was done in anticipation of Thursday and Friday. I
moved my dinner and movie night to Thursday because, after about six
and a half months apart, my quartet, The Majestics, had scheduled a
reunion in White Plains. Once again, it was held in the atrium just
outside the Cheesecake Factory. I don't like to limit this talented
singing group by calling them a "Barbershop" quartet,
although we formed from a barbershop chorus and that was our original
style. But we also perform Doo-Wop songs, Jazz, Broadway and Pop
songs. It always amazes me how much of our repertoire we all remember
(we had over 100 songs on our list at one time). But I kept tabs and
we sang 33 of them before, during and after our dinner at The
Cheesecake Factory. It's fun to see the reactions of the shoppers as
they pass by or stay to listen, or even are moved to tears, as was
one woman when we sang "This Is The Moment" from the
Broadway show Jekyll and Hyde. We also performed songs
made popular by The Mills Brothers and Edith Piaf, among others, as
well as a few songs in anticipation of the holidays.
Our
current goal is to meet with a coach in December and get his
opinion on our chances in the Senior Quartet contest (yes, we're old
enough) held by the Barbershop Harmony Society. Who knows what may
come of it? I think we're pretty good, awesome in moments. Meanwhile,
you get to see the results of this momentous reunion in an early
Dinner and a Movie. Enjoy!
St.
Vincent (The Weinstein Company, 2014) -
Director: Theodore Melfi. Writer: Theodore Melfi (s/p). Cast: Bill
Murray, Melissa McCarthy, Naomi Watts, Chris O’Dowd, Terrence
Howard, Jaeden Lieberher, Kimberly Quinn, Lenny Venito, Nate Corddry,
Donna Mitchell, & Dario Barosso. Color, 102 minutes.
Vincent
McKenna (Murray) is a hard-drinking, quick-witted, wise-cracking
reprobate who is over-drawn on his bank account, in deep with loan
sharks, and drives a broken-down 30-year-old woody K-car convertible.
His only companion is a white Persian cat named Felix and a
pole-dancing Russian “lady of the night” named Daka (Watts), that
is, until moving day next door. The previous night he drunkenly backs
into his driveway, breaking off his mailbox and destroying his own
picket fence. In the morning, the movers back their truck into the
tree in front of his property breaking off a large limb, which comes
crashing down on his car, partially shattering his windshield and
seriously denting the hood.
The
shouting of the two movers wakes him from his stupor on the kitchen
floor, where he fell that night after slipping on the ice he was
breaking apart with a claw hammer (injuring his hand in the process)
and slamming his head into a cabinet on the way down. Of course,
being broke and clever, he blames the shattered fence on the movers
as well and confronts his new neighbor, Maggie (McCarthy). Needless
to say their first meeting isn’t pleasant, and he insists she pay
for the damages.
Maggie
is currently going through a painful divorce and trying to raise her
son Oliver (Lieberher) as well as keep a job at the hospital, where
she’s continually kept late because of short staffing. Oliver is a
puny little guy whose first day at school is traumatic to say the
least. His teacher, Father Geraghty (O’Dowd) has him say a morning
prayer before the class even after Oliver tells him that he’s
Jewish (actually he says, “I think I’m Jewish”). Then, in gym
class, the bigger boys swipe his wallet, keys, phone and clothes, and
he has to come home in his gym uniform. Now, with no way to contact
his mother, he sits on the front stoop until Vincent comes out and he
reluctantly asks to use the phone. Unfortunately, Maggie has to work
late again and Oliver is treated to the limited hospitality of the
curmudgeonly Vincent. Vincent, on the other hand sees it as a
moneymaking opportunity as a babysitter.
As
the days go by, Oliver and Vincent not only become pals, but also
learn from each other. Vincent teaches him a self-defense move that
he uses to great effect in the gymnasium, breaking a kid’s nose,
and Oliver uses his uncanny logic to win a trifecta at Belmont for
Vincent. All this is kept secret from Maggie, along with trips
to bars, the strip joint where Daka dances, and the nursing home
where Vincent’s Altzheimer’s-stricken wife Sandy (Mitchell)
resides, and where he gets his laundry done for free, thanks to the
lovely Nurse Ana (Quinn). The secret is kept until Maggie’s husband
has a detective follow Vincent and Oliver around taking photos and
sues her for custody, winning his son back 50 percent of the time.
The
loan sharks visit Vincent intending to get paid or to beat him up,
and Vincent has a stroke. Oliver finds him on the floor and calls
911. Everyone helps him through the recovery, re-learning to speak
and walk. Daka loses her pole-dancing job due to her pregnancy and
cleans up Vincent’s home (for a fee). The only thing Vincent can
say is, “Where did you put all my dirt?”
Back
in school, Father Geraghty is teaching his class about saints and
gives them an assignment to find someone they know who exhibits the
qualities of sainthood for a stage presentation before their parents
and relatives. Oliver sees through Vincent’s crusty exterior in
their escapades and interviews everyone he’s met along the way.
On
the day of the school presentation, Daka fakes her labor pains to get
Vincent to the school where he hears the wonderful way Oliver has
transformed him into a saint. (Bring a handkerchief for this scene.)
St.
Vincent is a well-constructed, well-written slice of life.
The characters are ordinary people and completely believable. Murray
should definitely get a Best Actor nomination out of this. He really
worked the part, especially the frightening fall scene and the entire
recovery from the stroke scenes. Lieberher has moments when you think
he’s way older than his years and then he easily slips back into
innocent childhood. Maggie: “Do you know what ‘Lady of the Night’
means?” Oliver: “She works at night?” Young children might get
bored with this film because it is geared to adults, but baby-boomers
will wax nostalgic with the soundtrack. In a bar scene, Murray dances
to Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love.” In another, we hear
Brewer and Shipley’s “One Toke Over The Line,” and during the
credits he’s watering his dirt patch (you can’t call it a lawn)
and dead potted plants while singing along (almost) with Dylan on
“Shelter From the Storm.”
Notable
Quote: “Me, I’m Catholic, which is the best of all
religions because we have the most rules.” (Father Geraghty)
Rating:
4 ½ out of 5 Martini glasses.
NIOS
130
West 46th Street (6th /7th), New
York
When
I arrived at NIOS I had a terrible feeling of déja vu. It didn’t
look as if it were open. Nothing was lit, no doors open, no signs.
All was dark, black and glass. Maybe, I thought, the entrance is
through the Muse Hotel next door. There was one, and in it was a
stand with a sign saying that they were “partially closed for a
private party, see the custodian.” The awful feeling came back. It
was Aspen Social Club all over again. I strolled over to the front
desk of the hotel and mentioned that I had a reservation at NIOS. The
young man assured me that NIOS was indeed seating customers in the
back. The party was mainly in the bar. He made a phone call and the
lovely custodian appeared to lead me to the back dining area.
Inside,
it was a cozy, intimate, 12-table room with gray-on-gray patterned
wallpaper, comfortable armless chairs, and soft lighting emanating
from the black sconces on the walls and occasional spots in the
ceiling. The custodian led me to a table and then thought better
about a different one in the corner. It had more light, and I agreed.
Only two other tables were occupied, which was fine with me.
Shortly
thereafter, my waiter, Victor, arrived with a glass of water and the
single page Theater Menu. He asked if I would like a cocktail and,
once he confirmed that they had Beefeaters gin, I ordered my martini.
The prix-fixe dinner menu is three courses, appetizer, entrée and
dessert for $48, or one can pick and choose from it in an a la carte
fashion. I thought it was apropos that they called the courses Acts
One, Two and Three since the restaurant is easy walking distance to
several theaters.
The
prices were reasonable and I decided that two of the appetizers would
make a great start, then a main course and dessert. I chose the corn
bisque with lobster and “pee wee” potatoes, and the smoked duck
with frisé, wild mushrooms, Manchego cheese, black fig compote, and
truffle oil.
Victor
apologized for being out of the Rack of Lamb but proposed that the
Sirloin Strip was just as good. It was truffled with potato purée,
baby spinach, miso, and grilled trumpet mushrooms. I took his advice
and added it to my order.
Surprisingly
the wine I chose, the Shinn Red Blend from a vineyard on Long Island
was (like the lamb) not in stock, but equally surprising was when
Victor produced a bottle of 2012 Penfold’s Bin 8 Cabernet/Shiraz
blend from Southern Australia for the same price. It was delicious
with the meal, not too assertive, a rich red color and a fruity,
slightly tannic flavor.
Having
told Victor that I had all the time in the world it was a little
unnerving to see the soup and the duck arrive together, but Victor’s
charming apology and promise not to “rush” my dinner after that
was completely acceptable. The duck was indeed smoky in flavor,
tender and easy to slice. But when combined with the fig compote, it
was heavenly. The little potatoes in the corn bisque were like coals,
keeping the soup hot until I was ready for it. It was a tasty
combination of textures with the bits of lobster meat, the potatoes,
and the creamy corn purée.
The
main course was everything Victor said it would be, juicy, tender and
perfectly browned, with earthy overtones from truffles. It was the
best sirloin strip steak I’ve ever had. The baby spinach was not
over-cooked and retained its crispness and the mushrooms and potato
purée (and did I detect onions as well?) made the dish sheer
delight. Oh, and did I forget the bread basket? How could I? Pretzel
bread sticks with a tapenade dip. They didn’t last long.
Cueing
in from his knowledge of steak (and his accent) I asked Victor if he
was from Argentina. “Close,” he said, “Ecuador.” Of course I
had to mention my charming Ecuadorian lady-friend who was not able to
dine with me that evening. He noted that Ecuadorian women had high
standards and I had to concur.
When
I first looked at the menu I considered having dessert first, the
choices were so enticing. But on advice from Victor I chose the warm
chocolate cake with French vanilla ice cream, candied cherries, fresh
strawberries, and blueberries, accented with a rich, dark chocolate
sauce. Wonderful! And you might think I had espresso, but this time
you would be wrong. Victor turned my head to Earl Grey tea with honey
(in its own little pitcher). I loved it. The only after dinner drink
that could possibly top this was the glass of Lustau Manzanilla
sherry.
On
my way out I asked about the name of the restaurant and was told it
was a Grecian Island. That makes sense with the adjoining Muse Hotel
but none of the restaurant staff is Greek and the food certainly is
not. They feature wines “around the world” but not from Greece. I
looked up Nios and all indications are that it is a small island in
the Cyclades off the coast from Athens (usually not marked on a map).
A mystery, but a good restaurant.
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