I had dinner tonight at what is probably my favorite restaurant in New York, York Grill. As always, I went by myself, sat at the very comfy bar and read the Daily News while stuffing my face. (The NY Post would give me heartburn, the Times is too wide and awkward). It's just one of those little relaxing, wind down, treat-myself-good moments I try to enjoy at least once each week. The food is very good and the bartenders are great on the buy-back, which is always key, but, sadly, a disappearing art these days. Anyway, I was talking to the bartender and he mentioned he had recently taken his girlfriend to a nice Italian restaurant on E. 85th Street, said he loves it, goes there just about every week, and laughingly added, "It's like my York Grill," Not to get all Cheers, but I guess we do all have a place where we feel comfortable and people sorta know your name.
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