Letterman and Manhattan Chili Co
Today Bree and I went to see if we could get put on standby for the Late Show with David Letterman. As we emerged from the metro station, a man in a jacket said to us, "Do you guys want free tickets to the Late Show?" Yes! After answering a simple trivia question and acting enthusiastically we were given tickets. That was easy. We had a couple of hours to kill - enough for me to get in one thing from my list of things to do in New York - go to the Manhattan Chili Co.
Most readers of this would be familiar with my Famous Chili. I am one of the few people in Australia who are into the very American dish of chili, and I learned my chops from what I consider the best cookbook I have ever owned - an early nineties recipe book from the Manhattan Chili Co, which describes in loving, technically revealing detail the elements of a truly great chili.
It was in the dining concourse of Grand Central Station; it was a tiny food outlet like any other in the middle of a food court. It wasn't what I had expected; I think the Manhattan Chili Co has come downmarket over the years. The various chili recipes were, however, the same as in my recipe book. I knew what I wanted: Numero Uno, which formed the basis for my own beef chili recipe.
The verdict: it was OK, tasted quite like mine. Probably not as good as my best, as certainly less attention had been paid to the details and balance of spices. I thought it was way heavy on the cinammon, and the meat could have been more coarsely ground. Dissapointed? No - liberated. I now feel more confident to strike out for farther chili shores on my own, without having in my head the impossible standards of the Manhattan Chili Co.
Anyway it gave Bree lots of opportunities to crack wise about how I was probably the only person to ever visit New York to see a food outlet in Grand Central Station, and how I should have told the cashiers about it as it would probably have made their year. Back to line up for Letterman. By this point it was freezing - even the New Yorkers were looking cold - and we had to line up for half an hour while an insanely peppy and preppy staffer got us in the mood with lots of leading moronic questions designed to provoke a reponding "Yeah!" from a crowd. We were asked repeatedly if we were pumped and I was under instructions from Bree to look enthusiastic so we were not assigned to the back rows.
So I was not in the mood by the time we got in the theatre, but the show was a lot of fun. The set looks quite extraordinary in real life, and Dave was in very witty and sharp form, although I didn't know any of the guests. Letterman is quite amazing in his wit and professionalism - there was not a bum note, and he works from only the very briefest of cue cards, extemporizing spontaneously in a flawless manner. The slightly intimidating sense one gets, though, that one has to laugh and applaud or risk spontaneous ejection adds a somewhat crazed hysteria to the whole thing. Perhaps that's the point. I sure laughed a lot - whether because I was amused, or brain-rattled, I couldn't tell you.
Most readers of this would be familiar with my Famous Chili. I am one of the few people in Australia who are into the very American dish of chili, and I learned my chops from what I consider the best cookbook I have ever owned - an early nineties recipe book from the Manhattan Chili Co, which describes in loving, technically revealing detail the elements of a truly great chili.
It was in the dining concourse of Grand Central Station; it was a tiny food outlet like any other in the middle of a food court. It wasn't what I had expected; I think the Manhattan Chili Co has come downmarket over the years. The various chili recipes were, however, the same as in my recipe book. I knew what I wanted: Numero Uno, which formed the basis for my own beef chili recipe.
The verdict: it was OK, tasted quite like mine. Probably not as good as my best, as certainly less attention had been paid to the details and balance of spices. I thought it was way heavy on the cinammon, and the meat could have been more coarsely ground. Dissapointed? No - liberated. I now feel more confident to strike out for farther chili shores on my own, without having in my head the impossible standards of the Manhattan Chili Co.
Anyway it gave Bree lots of opportunities to crack wise about how I was probably the only person to ever visit New York to see a food outlet in Grand Central Station, and how I should have told the cashiers about it as it would probably have made their year. Back to line up for Letterman. By this point it was freezing - even the New Yorkers were looking cold - and we had to line up for half an hour while an insanely peppy and preppy staffer got us in the mood with lots of leading moronic questions designed to provoke a reponding "Yeah!" from a crowd. We were asked repeatedly if we were pumped and I was under instructions from Bree to look enthusiastic so we were not assigned to the back rows.
So I was not in the mood by the time we got in the theatre, but the show was a lot of fun. The set looks quite extraordinary in real life, and Dave was in very witty and sharp form, although I didn't know any of the guests. Letterman is quite amazing in his wit and professionalism - there was not a bum note, and he works from only the very briefest of cue cards, extemporizing spontaneously in a flawless manner. The slightly intimidating sense one gets, though, that one has to laugh and applaud or risk spontaneous ejection adds a somewhat crazed hysteria to the whole thing. Perhaps that's the point. I sure laughed a lot - whether because I was amused, or brain-rattled, I couldn't tell you.
posted by Nicholas at
10:18 PM
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