Springtime for Spätzle

by; Wolf

Edi and the Wolf is to NY dining what Jerry Lewis is to French culture: a national treasure! Hidden in a forlorn corner of NYC called Alphabet city, which is not to be confused with Coop City despite what your nincompoop cabbie says, Edi and the Wolf is not the easiest spot to find so bring a fold out map – but keep it low because you don’t want the locals to think you are a tourist and rob you blind.

As I was seated at a bustling communal table inside what looked like an abandoned WWII bunker, I  experienced a flashback. Grabbing the bloke seated next to me, I put a butter knife to his throat and demanded to see his superior officer. I was brought back to reality by the sound of my date – none other than the Actress – clapping and yelling bravo.  Sheepishly, I offered the POW a bread roll as a peace offering,  he asked the waiter to be reseated. Not for nothing, it gave me and the dame some privacy.


Once we were alone,  I sensed her discomfort. She leaned in and complained about the strange decor; why were the flowers dead and  arranged in a Victorian military boot; why was the furniture hanging upside down from the ceiling; how come the lights were hidden under the rafters; and, why were we dining inside a Baba Yaga hut? A Baba what? A witch’s hut you boob!   Were we planning on eating children? She was becoming hysterical, so I waved down a waiter and ordered a martini for the lady and double gin and tonic for old Wolfy. The waiter informed us that they did not have a liquor license but did serve beer and wine.

No spirits?! Perhaps she  wasn’t having a senile moment after all, and we were dining in a bunker full of satanists!  Upon hearing there would be no schnapps, the actress crawled under the table  and placed  one hand on each of my knees. I thought to myself, oh yeah, looks like old Wolfy’s gonna get an A P-59 jet propelled Airacomet in public!  But she reappeared almost as quickly as she disappeared  and declared  “No chicken legs. We are safe.”  She then grabbed the menu and ordered  two glasses of BLAUFRÄNKISCH, SPÄTZLE, and DUCK TWO WAYS in flawless German.

The Spättzle arrived under a bed of spring lettuce leaves.  I took a bite and it was the most delicious, cheesy, goodness. It had the right spring -not over boiled or soppy or hard. Springtime for spätzle, I declared between mouthfuls.  It was so good that I forgot to share with my date who had disappeared to the ladies room and  returned  twenty minutes later when the duck- two-ways arrived. That duck was divine and brought a tear to my eye.. Unfortunately, I had to share. With a menacing forkful of dark meat, I questioned the young lady about her disappearance during the spätzle course. Apparently there is a confessional bench in the bathroom, and she had a lot to confess. Well, hotcakes, I have something to confess too: Edi and the Wolf  is delicious!

http://www.ediandthewolf.com/

102 Avenue C, New York, NY (212) 598-1040 ‎

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7 thoughts on “Springtime for Spätzle

  1. T says:

    Wolfy, fair or fowl, you quack me up. I’m hooked!

  2. Andrea says:

    Your talent for writing is clearly evident. You could make a mud pie tantalizing. Well done.

  3. Cheryl Kessler says:

    The spatzzle sounds delicious and what “two ways” was the duck served?

  4. Bartholomew 'Tick Tock' says:

    Reblogged this on CityLitter and commented:
    I’ve decided to shed my anonymity and, like the Great and Powerful Oz, reveal to my braided-pig-tailed readers and their little dogs too, that I, along with my writing partner J__, who may not want to emerge from behind the blogger curtain, am the co-author of “Last Meals.” Here’s a little something we reviewed last spring for your reading enjoyment. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, we write in character 🙂

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