Sunday, April 15, 2007
"O Oysters, come and walk with us!" The Walrus did beseech.
Now on view at the Mount Vernon Hotel Museum and Garden is an exhibit focusing on how oysters were served in the 1800s. Yes, it is an Oyster Dinner Installation.
I was there, originally, to hear a woman give a lecture on food inspired by operas from around the world. From this lecture I learned some very interesting things of note. One being, for example, that this is called a fiasco.
I also learned the sordid details about the Champagne Aria.
But, what I mostly did was get acquainted with the old house, of which, I have decided to become a member. Located on 61st street and York, Queensboro Bridge looming, this place houses the only Oyster Dinner exhibit worth seeing in town. I mean, it's how the table would have looked and everything, folks.
The Mount Vernon Hotel Museum and Garden was a day hotel and very few people actually ever stayed over. It used to be called the Abigail Smith Adams House, but they changed it, much to the chagrin of Rosalee, a woman who conducts the children's tours.
"I mean it doesn't matter whether it was the wife or the sister, at least the name was recognizable."
Well. There you go.
After hanging out with the Gray Hairs of the Upper East Side, I made my way down to the place that loves me best, and hit up a music venue called The Stone. The Stone is operated by the composer John Zorn, and since Tonic closed this week I decided to check out the future of Avant-Garde music.
Now, I hope the entire future of Avant-Garde music isn't a woman screeching songs in Yiddish. I mean, if it's part of the future, that's ok. I guess anything is better than a synth.
After Ghetto Tango stopped singing about Mashiach , I was on to Flux Factory, a must not miss in Queens, for the closing of Grizzly Proof. Although I have been there before, many times in fact, I have never gone dressed as a bear. Please visit their website to see why there was so much encouragement to arrive as a grizzly. My costume, sad, as only a furry brown coat, paled in the face of the bear-creating-genius of the kids of Flux. As always, the art was as good as the company.