The Perfect Burger
While I was in New York, I went to visit my agent, to discuss the Super Secret Project. He had already read the first few chapters, and he's as excited about this one as I am. Our meeting was designed to be strategy, strategy, strategy - no true *writing* substance, per se.
I arrived at his office late - other meetings ran long, alas. He buzzed me upstairs, because the staff had already left for the day. We used his office computer for the necessary reviews of deadlines, incoming checks, etc.
And then we went out to eat.
What better place to dine on a cold February night than a tiny neighborhood restaurant - dark and narrow and crowded, with regulars at the bar and that certain sort of New York aggressiveness in the greeter that makes you remember that you're not in Kansas anymore. ("Yeah, yeah, 'll seat you in a minute. Can I write down the name that guy just gave me, before I forget?")
In the end, I had a mug of Stella in one hand, a juicy burger in the other, and medallions of crisp cottage fries (round, ruffle cut French fries) between us. Fresh Heinz ketchup was poured, and then we both sat back to talk about the market. The market and me. The market and the Super Secret Project.
Some people get really excited by high-end, glamorous restaurants, with synchronized footmen unveiling silver chargers bearing a single bite of food.
Me? I'm a cheap date :-)
Mindy, distracting herself by asking - what goes on your burger (or mushroom or chicken breast or similar grilled sandwich) to make it perfect?
I arrived at his office late - other meetings ran long, alas. He buzzed me upstairs, because the staff had already left for the day. We used his office computer for the necessary reviews of deadlines, incoming checks, etc.
And then we went out to eat.
What better place to dine on a cold February night than a tiny neighborhood restaurant - dark and narrow and crowded, with regulars at the bar and that certain sort of New York aggressiveness in the greeter that makes you remember that you're not in Kansas anymore. ("Yeah, yeah, 'll seat you in a minute. Can I write down the name that guy just gave me, before I forget?")
In the end, I had a mug of Stella in one hand, a juicy burger in the other, and medallions of crisp cottage fries (round, ruffle cut French fries) between us. Fresh Heinz ketchup was poured, and then we both sat back to talk about the market. The market and me. The market and the Super Secret Project.
Some people get really excited by high-end, glamorous restaurants, with synchronized footmen unveiling silver chargers bearing a single bite of food.
Me? I'm a cheap date :-)
Mindy, distracting herself by asking - what goes on your burger (or mushroom or chicken breast or similar grilled sandwich) to make it perfect?