"Will Walk For Food...": My Kingdom For A Meal (Third Day, Fourth Leg)

Are we at 14th Street already? Well -- almost. The trail from Chelsea Piers down to 14th Street used to be nothing more than rotting piers and a small bike path strewn with broken bottles, cans and other human detritus.

Now, it's a fairly large path for bikers, hikers and strollers, like us.

Of course, there were a few strange sightings, like this guy who must have wandered a bit south from Ringling Brothers...

...Or, a bit north, from the Wild West Village's notorious leather bars. Oops, for a minute there, I thought it was the early 1980s again when I was "livin' the life" on West 10th Street, and Nature Girl was over on 22nd Street, in Chelsea. Ahh...to be that young and reckless again! Sights like this "leathery" tattooed fellow were the norm -- in fact, he's quite tame compared to some of the boys that were roaming around this part of town "back in the day." Not that we were actually part of the scene, more like fascinated observers. I remember tearing around on my two-wheeler (I believe it was a three-speed Schwinn) early Sunday mornings, dodging not traffic but discarded needles and bits of glass that surely meant a wild time was had out on what weather-worn, splintered, rickety piers were still standing, though listing slightly, on this part of the Hudson.

As much as I like the cleanliness and order of the area now, there is a part of me that's nostalgic for the grit and grime that used to be much more apparent then. Maybe it just felt more real, more like what New York City should feel like, especially on it's seedy and somewhat dangerous West Side. It certainly appealed more to my romantic 20-something self a good deal more than buff joggers pushing strollers and middle-aged strollers like us just truckin' along, enjoying the last vestiges of hot sun of a fast-fading summer.

My reverie is interrupted rather abruptly and rudely by a hideous, grumbling sound. No, not from my stomach this time, but from NG. So, we must now depart from the Hudson River road to repair to what we're hoping will be some yummy brunch nearby.

As we're walking down 15th Street towards 11th Avenue, we pass what I have to say is the one great thing about gentrification...a much better array of restaurants, cafes, bistros and other places to nosh than were ever in this part of town. Not that there was ever a lack of protein here. We're heading into the "meatpacking" district...so named because it was long the home to the many warehouses that were the repositories of massive sides of beef, pork, lamb and other animals that trains running along an elevated railroad spur called "the Highline" brought to be cut up and packaged and sent on their way to restaurants and grocery stores all over the area. I know this history because a very good Fordham buddy, Marc Sarrazin, was born into a family of French butchers that built a business called DeBragga and Spitial. You may have seen their white and red trucks racing through the city to make emergency meat deliveries to the city's top restaurants. Marc's dad, and now Marc, provide the steaks and chops and ribs that many of us New Yorkers devour...in restaurants and, now at home, through Marc's website that brings his extraordinary cuts to us all. In case you have a yen for some of the most fabulous meats you'll ever eat, the website is http://www.debragga.com/. DeBragga has been a fixture in this cobble-stoned area for many, many years (you can wave to Marc from the 12th Street entrance to new "Highline Park," which we'll stroll after lunch -- his offices and truck parking lot are clearly visible).

Had I known then what I know now, we would have walked right into the huge old warehouse building at the corner of 10th Avenue and 15th Street (right across the street from the back entrance of Chelsea Market -- another amazing repurposing of a building -- this time, an old waterworks turned into one of the coolest food and drink markets I've ever seen). It's so cool that the TV Food Network is headquartered there, and now this stretch of 10th Avenue is littered with huge restaurants like Mario Batali's Del Posto and Masimoto Matsuri's eponymous restaurant (and I'm not talking about Bob Pepi's amazing Eponymous wine -- a single-vineyard cult Napa Cab that would be dynamite with one of DeBraggia's steaks).

But, the restaurant I'm talking about is Craftsteak, Tom Collichio's soaring temple of unusual dishes (for a steakhouse) and ethereal steaks. Where I would have diverted us is to "Half-Steak," their bar area in the restaurant that is perfect for a lighter nosh. Alas, I only learned about it two weeks later, when the Old Guy and I celebrated our 22nd Wedding Anniversary in the main restaurant. Not the cheapest steakhouse on the block, but certainly the equal to any (and I include Peter Lugar in this assessment). I told the head sommelier Martin Flowers that I'd give the restaurant a "shout out" here...he and the entire waitstaff made our anniversary dinner incredibly memorable. I will be back...

But, where I was heading our triumvirate of famished walkers was to a new boite underneath the Highline called "The Standard Grill." It's actually in the basement of The Standard, a chic-chic "boutique" hotel (read very stylish and expensive) that actually is lacerated by The Highline itself.

This elevated train line, running from 12th Street all the way up to 34th Street, ran through many of the warehouse buildings that were in it's path (the easier to unload freight). You'll see what I mean in the next installment when we take our "bonus walk" in and on the City's newest park. But, right now our stomachs are screaming...and we're lucky that we've arrived just before the brunch crowd descends and we get a table immediately.

Given how chic The Standard is, I was quite pleased that the Grill had much more of a comfortable ambiance and reminded me of a smaller, cosier Oyster Bar at Grand Central Terminal -- or more like Buzzy O'Keefe's brasserie, Pershing Square, that is right across 42nd Street from the Terminal's Park Avenue entrance, actually tucked under the Park Avenue Extender Road that connects lower Park Avenue to Upper, winding around the upper level of the Terminal. Oh, you know where I mean. Anyhow, doesn't this look kinda cute and cosy...

I think the the style is even a little "kooky" in a Chelsea, London sort of way, from our waitressto the interesting tartan-style blazers and ties the waiters and busboys wore, to the table's salt and pepper shakers.NG has an extensive collection of shakers...I used to give her a set every Christmas, from my many travels, until she ran out of space on the painting guard that runs around the dining room of her Victorian home in NJ.

Even the bathrooms were unique, with communal sinks and a very "open" design...

not to mention the hallways. Despite the interesting touches, the brunch/lunch was quite good, though it pays to get there before 1:00 p.m. -- especially on a sunny, late summer day.

As the tradition of "Will Walk For Food" dictates, we start and end each section of "the walk" with a photo of our band of troopers. Therefore, courtesy of our waitress...