what’s in a name

How could any spring morning that begins with seeing your name on the awning be less than perfect?

Okay, maybe it’s not in lights on Broadway, but if you grew up with an unusual name in a smallish city in Arkansas, this experience is nothing short of miraculous.   After years of being called Sarah or Mary Beth, I can still recall the first time I heard someone call my name and turned to find they were talking to someone else.  It was a complete shock.  So just give me a moment to gloat in the splendor of having an entire restaurant named after me.  Or at least with my name stamped all over it.  Especially a restaurant that serves a breakfast like this.

Those, my friends, are Lemon Ricotta Pancakes with Fresh Blackberries. My mysterious, handsomely dressed breakfast partner (I tried to take a picture.  Several times.  He wasn’t having any of it.) enjoyed the Spinach and Goat Cheese Frittata, and of course we had to have a side of Applewood Bacon.  And yes, I like to capitalize because it makes me feel fancy.

And while I’m feeling fancy, did I mention that this breakfast was eaten while sitting in the sunshine directly across the street from Central Park?

Not too long after this, I stole every napkin within reach, and took leave of my husband to meet up with an old friend.  So tune in next time for Chinatown, Soho, Greenwich Village, and Chelsea…