Au Hasard Balthazar

On Monday, April 24, Kim and I were joined for dinner at Balthazar by our two NYC friends who both happen to be named Lauren and work in publicity. I'm afraid that's where their similarities end. Lauren C. is the most charming, well-read, well-connected sweetheart ever. She immediately puts one at ease with her wit, sly sarcasm, and ability to pepper her phrases with small profanities in the most endearing manner. My old acquaintance Lauren S. is a marathon name-dropper, foodie, groupie VP. She has tickets to see Madonna and dates older men for sport. Lauren S. amuses me. She makes me laugh with her intensity and perversion. I ordered steak au poivre (glutton!) followed by a trio of desserts. Our conversation started so lovingly about poetry (an impassioned speech from Lauren C. on how kids are taught to hate poetry from such a young age yet poets such as Billy Collins still emerge from the fray. I read his Nostalgia at my sister's wedding.) then turned heated about the Oscars. Lauren C. astutely observed foreign films nominated for an Oscar are almost always depressing because the Academy doesn't want anyone to realize how much better foreign films actually are. Ha!

As the witching hour approached, I was ready to hop on our yellow cab carriage back to midtown before I turned into a charentais. The drunken couple celebrating their second wedding anniversary sprayed crab juice on Kim from their gigantic two-tiered behemoth of seafood. They were almost unbearably cute. On Spring Street, Lauren C. mentioned her bloody fascination with the SoHo spots where women have been attacked and murdered and then pointed longingly toward her Tribeca home. From her gorgeous Egyptian necklace (a gift from Mom) to her tendency to point out what should be an obvious promotional op for me by now ( lovely drunken girl from LA needs a friend. Give her your card!). Love this girl! Conversation could have been more pleasant. Only if... C'est dommage!