The Superfecta***

Three meals, three well-established (historic, even) neighborhood joints. I really need to cook at home more often. In my new house (with my new mortgage) I have a feeling this will happen more often. My poor mixing bowls have missed me lately.

Breakfast at Junior's. Such a good spot. Service is always unobtrusive, cheery, a little bit punk rock, hot coffee in the mug before you have to ask. The decor reminds me of sitting in a happy, nutty little granny's parlor. The tunes are sublime. And the scrambles don't miss. Today - the Texas scramble for me, Spicy Spudz for Mr B. Mine was better (for once). Sweet corn kernels, red onion, spinach, cheddar, salsa and three eggs. The toast is soaked in sweet, warm butter. The homefries always have crispy, oily exteriors giving way to steamy, mealy middles. Mmm, mmm. We scrawled ideas for a dream kitchen remodel on a napkin, and fought only mildly about whether an entire staircase could be rerouted.

Lunch at Grand Central. Consistent, walking distance, the ponderous happiness of eating near giant ovens and fresh breads. Big bowls of White Bean & Bacon soup with thick slabs of a crusty wheat loaf. It was raining hard. A little kid came skip-running in, waving his hands around,dodging through the line of people, dressed in a head-to-toe ladybug outfit. Wings, tight-fitting hood with little red pom pom antennas. And black cowboy boots. Fabulous.

Dinner at Rose & Raindrop, where I helped Miss J and Chef B work on their CVs for jobs in New Zealand. They leave in March for a whole year of interning at wineries, ski lodges, etc. I am so jealous. I missed the window of opportunity and am about to enter an inescapable love affair with four walls and a roof. Won't be leaving the country any time soon. I'll sit in the backyard and drink Sauvignon Blanc and think of Miss J shearing sheep and traipsing off to Indonesia. Oh - I had the Mediterranean Sampler - hummus, tsatziki, cukes, olives, pickled red onion, warm pita bread. Good solid pub food at the R&R and they always have a booth. They were out of the steamers (poor Miss J), the Hale's cask conditioned (poor Mr. B), and the bread pudding (poor me). Vaguely annoying, but we recovered.

Sans bread pudding, we had dessert and tea at Rimsky Korsakoffee. That place is so fantastically creepy. Big, old Victorian with tiny framed photographs hanging from the ceiling, flowery cloth napkins, poetry vending machine. The lifesized stuffed doll in the kayak in the bathroom ... well. The lady at the piano played loudly and we tried to read our tea leaves. I had the very unseasonal-unregional Lemon Panna Cotta with Lavender Infused White Nectarines. Delicious, but too summery. Chef B's triple chocolate espresso thing was much better for a windy, wet night in Portland.

This week, I am vowing to make at least 4 dinners at home.

***Thanks to Hungry Thom, who pointed out that my original title on this post was "The Trifecta" when, actually, I list four dining spots. Thus, it's been changed to superfecta (definition: a racing wager that chooses the top four finishers in the order of their finish).