This is a story that could be sad, but it is not. It is more of a silver-lining story. No, make that a platinum lining.
Twenty-five years ago I got a divorce. My ex and I fought over various things but after 17 years together, we pretty much agreed on the big issues, as in what was best for our son, Adrian. By the time he had remarried and had a daughter and our son was into his 20s, we had established a cordial relationship. At the age of 59, Clem got pancreatic cancer and died.
I didn’t know his wife, Hilary, but I did not want our son to lose contact with his sister, Lila. It took about a year, but I convinced Hilary and Lila to come and visit us in Sag Harbor. Being the ex and the widow of someone who is no longer there is a delicate dance for sure. We bonded over a stiff drink and shared stories of our childhoods, and even eventually stories of our lives with Clem.
Our son, Adrian, had gone to McGill University in Montreal and now his sister, Lila, goes there. We have taken several trips together to Montreal and they now visit us in Sag Harbor every summer. Hilary established a journalism scholarship fund in Montclair, N.J., in Clem’s name (he was an eight-time Emmy Award-winning producer at CBS’s “60 Minutes”) and I am included each year at their auction/fund-raiser.
Which brings us to family and food and the holidays. Although I had seen Clem’s family on a few occasions, this year I was invited to join them all for an early Christmas lunch in Doylestown, Pa. It was so wonderful to see everyone, this time for a joyful occasion. The old nicknames were hurled about and I took some ancient photographs. The lunch theme was Italian so Deirdre, Clem’s sister, made mozzarella topped with a sun-dried tomato and pesto tapenade, I made Caesar salad, Hilary made arugula with lemon and Parmesan salad, and Chris made meatballs and tomato sauce.
Mary Lou is the baker and brought a big variety of Christmas cookies, lemon bars, and brownies. The afternoon ended with us whirling around in several cars trying to find Nonesuch Farms Market to buy the iconic Conti’s Restaurant cheese and horseradish spread that we all remembered fondly. The restaurant closed years ago, but its spicy cheese lives on.
Then the prospect of Christmas Day was looming over us and my son did not really want to come home. We agreed that we would meet in New York City, Brooklyn to be exact, and go out for Chinese food. I had visions of Shun Lee Palace for Peking duck, but it seems every New Yorker had the same idea. The restaurant was fully booked. We decided on Mission Chinese, which had just opened a new branch in Bushwick. Hilary and Lila agreed to join us, so here we were, together again, four days later.
There is something interesting about being in a hotel away from home on a holiday. Everyone seems to bond in a way similar to being in a blizzard or hurricane. There is more eye contact, smiles, a kind of weird “hey, we’re all in this together” mentality. The hotel valet was hugging everyone, the restaurant manager bought us drinks, a lone hipster with his dog sat at the bar and had a slice of roast beef and mashed potatoes.
On Christmas Eve, Adrian and his high school friend Asher and I ate in the Wythe Hotel’s new restaurant, Le Crocodile. When we spotted Michael Louis Diamond dining next to us with his son, much excitement ensued. That’s Mike D. of the Beastie Boys for those who don’t know. He also happens to have designed the Brooklyn toile wallpaper used in the hotel bedrooms. Coolness squared.
Le Crocodile’s menu is as classic French bistro as it gets: head cheese, leeks in vinaigrette, eggs with mayonnaise, many pâtés, pickled mussels, escargots, omelettes, and 12 dessert choices. The food was exceptionally good, and best of all, the portions were not huge.
On Christmas Day we simply walked around admiring graffiti, talking to various other family members on the phone, and checking out the fancy rooftops of other hotels. Hilary was intent on finding a menorah and we found one on the roof of the William Vale hotel, surrounded by a big wreath, kind of covering all of the religious bases, as it were. She sang a bit and then we moved on. Back at our hotel we shared jokey gifts and meaningful gifts. It was relaxing and different.
Christmas dinner was at the dimly lit, crazy good Mission Chinese restaurant. There were three menus to choose from, from vegetarian up to one that included some of the restaurant’s famous dishes, thrice-cooked bacon and the iconic chicken wings with “xxx spice.” I can handle spicy food, but I quit my one wing halfway through. The combination of Szechuan peppercorns and cayenne was too hot and numbing!
Everywhere you looked there were red neon light tubes, and the staff was dressed in the craziest outfits, not exactly costumes, but close to it. The downstairs restroom area was blasting some kind of action movie music and the mirrors were reminiscent of the liquid mirror in “The Matrix.” Dessert was hibiscus panna cotta with black tapioca pearls, dragon fruit, and Pop Rocks sprinkled over all. It worked.
So our Christmas was different and weird and great all at the same time. Hilary and I are now trying to come up with names for ourselves to explain our history and relationship. The mesdames Taylor? Sister wives? It doesn’t matter, we are close, our children are close, we are family, and we love each other.
If there is a heaven, Clem is looking down and probably rolling his eyes, laughing, and perhaps even thinking “I married two cool women.”
We haven’t just made lemonade out of lemons, we have made Billecart-Salmon Brut Rosé out of Sabrett dirty water dog water!
