Ed's Lobster Bar

There has been some recent excitement in my family. My father, who is semi-retired, has taken on geneology with gusto. In his research he found his mother's maternal grandmother, it appears, came from Russia and was a physician (and had a surname of Melowitz). In remarkable powers of extrapolation, we concluded she must have been a Jewess. Which confirms what I have always known deep down in my heart, that I am a Jewish! This is great news to me. No matter that I'm like 1/116 Jewish, I am still claiming it.

"I always knew it," said Ben (nee Axel). "Welcome! We're the best!"

Rebecca said, "it explains everything."

So in the spirit of my newly-discovered bi-furcated multi-religious heritage, I did what anyone would do. I went to see a holocaust movie with Ben. We saw The Counterfeiters (excellent) at the Angelika. However, lest I forget my goy-ish roots, we promptly skuttled ourselves over to Ed's Lobster Bar on Layfayette Street afterwards for a decidely non-Hebrew dinner of lobster rolls and raw oysters. The decor is a Martha Stewart fantasy: Hampton's white picket fence with sea-faring and preppy accents,; it has a long counter for dining and a hand full of tables in the back. We didn't imbibe, but the bar looked substantial and full of goodies, including fresh muddled (virgin) limeade. I went for the lobster pot pie ($18) that was something of a diet buster with full cream, sherry and nuggets of the sea beast with potatoes and carrots. Ben chomped down on what looked to be a supreme lobster roll (and his fries were excellent.) We slurped down a few raw oysters to top it all off.