Crossed the street to Einstein’s tonight, where we snagged a seat on Midtown’s most popular patio and ordered the Springer Mountain chicken and the trout, both with sides of the edamame succotash.
On this autumn evening, things were pleasant — a gentle breeze, a shady spot, two glasses of ice water, good conversation. But once the food came, everything went downhill immediately … because as soon as the plates were on the table, we were lost in a cloud of buzzing, aggressive black flies.
I have a penchant for exaggeration, but I am only reporting the facts. If I stopped fanning the table with my hand for even one second, between four and five flies would descend onto our plates. Even when I was fanning, the air around us was thrumming with them: landing on my head, on my arm, on my shirt. At one point, there were a dozen (!) patient flies lined up on the back of the empty chair opposite mine, waiting for an opening.
We ate as best we could … and then were forced to put our plates aside. The minute we did, the flies mobbed the chicken bones and leftover side items, turing our dishes into a buzzing, crawling horror show.
Our waiter watched all this with detached amusement. He made no move to intervene or apologize until he saw me shooting iPhone photos of our fly-ridden plates … and then he moved pretty quickly to whisk them away.
I started to post a picture with this, but couldn’t bear to do it. Instead, just trust me on this: if you’re dining at Einstein’s in the cool of the evening … avoid the patio seats.
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