Thalia, 828 8th Ave., Manhattan

We have my dear college roomie Becky and her husband Nate to thank for a great dinner last night at Thalia, in midtown. They provided a gift certificate as a wedding present. We greatly enjoyed our meals. It turns out it is actually still Restaurant Week (make that "Weeks") and Pat ordered pork tenderloin off that menu. He also got what was practically a vat of soup and dessert (chocolate/peanut profiteroles - very decadent). I got beef spareribs with asparagus, beets, and a parsnip puree. Does the puree sound kind of weird? Because it was. It was good, though. All of it was delicious and two thumbs up for the clever arrangement of the white asparagus under the meat, as if it were the bones. Cute!

I am compelled to note that New York (well, half the country, actually) has become an oven, and the subway has become that part of the oven from which the blue flames emanate to heat the whole thing. I am surprised there are not train breakdowns because of the heat, but bless those trains, they just keep humming along with nary a wait of more than a few sweaty minutes. I guess it is not strictly necessary for me to point out that Washington trains seemed to break down all the time in the heat and cause massive delays and backups, even though that system is actually air-conditioned, so let's just pretend I didn't point it out in a superior manner the way I just did.

George's, 89 Greenwich St., Manhattan

Today was actually the third time I have been to George's, in the Financial District. I think perhaps the reason I did not log it earlier was that it has been a mediocre experience every time! I have partaken of the pancakes, a mushroom omelet, and a tomato/basil/mozzarella wrap. All very ordinary. And they are always kind of slow with the bill. I have only been going there at the whim of others.

Portions are very large, diner-style; I'll give 'em that.

Caracas Arepa Bar, Beach 106th St., Queens

Pat and I have made a cool new friend, Erin. I was e-introduced to her by our mutual friend Shimon. She came to our party last weekend, and this weekend she invited us to join her and other friends for a day at Rockaway Beach in Queens. In June, the New York Times had an article on how the hipsters are all flocking to Rockaway, and I wondered whether we were cool enough, but when we got there it turned out you had to look hard for that sort of thing. Sure, a couple Manhattan hotspots have outposts on the boardwalk, and yes, a few bearded, fedora-wearing twenty-somethings were among the crowds on the sand. But other than that, we could have been at Virginia Beach or the Outer Banks, when we were down by the water. And once you are away from the water, Rockaway is downright ugly.

Being on the beach was really, really pleasant though. When I'm not at a beach, I find it hard to believe that I can really feel so relaxed as when I'm on the sand, taunting the sun with my sunscreen-slathered bright-white body, feeling the ocean breeze, hearing the waves, gazing at the dazzling blue of the sky. But it's real. Ahhhhhhh. Erin's friends were all fun and we spent a happy few hours. We also enjoyed really excellent arepas from Caracas Arepa Bar. Mine was beef. Pat's had avocado, queso, and plantains.

Last night I participated in Improv Everywhere's latest stunt. All I knew beforehand was that I had to wear a black t-shirt, bring various items that light up or glow, and be at a certain part of Battery Park City at 8:30 PM, with a downloaded recording of instructions, not to be played before precisely 8:30. I would say there were maybe a thousand participants. It turned out that the premise was that there were two tribes (black t-shirts and white t-shirts) and we were to meet and greet each other, then celebrate a festival of lights. It was a riot! For about 45 minutes, we performed silly bows and handshakes with strangers, danced with glowsticks and masks, had light-sabre battles, played freezetag, high-fived mystified onlookers, and took pictures on cue - all this and more according to the directions on our mp3 players. I loved it because of 1) the silliness, 2) the mystery, and 3) being part of a massive event. It was also a perfect summer night.

Bunrasa, 109 Washington St., Manhattan

We walked a couple blocks to Bunrasa, in the Financial District, to give it a whirl for takeout on Friday night. We were the only people there. It was sad. We were also sad to see that the pub a couple doors down, the one about which we had long said "we should check that place out," closed earlier this month. As Pat pointed out, it must be so much more of a struggle for businesses down there since the end of the twin towers, but then we also wondered how that pub survived these ten years only to close its doors now. Tough times.

Anyway, we gave Bunrasa our business on Friday. We were going to order panang curry and green curry, but the lady behind the counter was a little distressed that we didn't want her pad thai, which she informed us was "five stars." So we went with green curry and pad thai. The curry was very spicy in a "hurts so good," take-a-bite-blow-your-nose kind of way. Good flavor, juicy shrimp, healthy vegetables. It was enough for two meals for me. The pad thai was really not five stars, in our humble opinions. Its flavor was not terribly compelling and Pat thought the chicken was a little dry.

I would go back to this place and try a few more options, especially given the proximity to our apartment and the pluckiness of the woman behind the counter.

Park Avenue Summer, 100 E. 63rd St., Manhattan

Park Avenue Summer was our Restaurant Week finale. It is on the Upper East Side and apparently every season it changes decor, menu, and even name ("Park Avenue Winter," etc.).

This was the best of our three Restaurant Week experiences. The food was a delight before we even got what we'd ordered - we were treated to cheddar rolls and sweet corn rolls, plus cubes of yellow watermelon sitting sweetly atop skewers in a little container of fake grass. I had a very pretty little beet salad to start and Pat got decadent gnocchi. He then paid extra for the filet mignon which he thought was great, and I had scallops. That dish had a couple little missteps - the scallops were a little on the chewy side, and there were these unfortunate seeds that would sneak up on you with a disturbing crunch just as you were enjoying a bite. The desserts were great. Pat had a pistacchio cake thing and I had peach panna cotta that had a very potent basil foam (who knew foam could pack so much punch?) and a layer of light gelatin and a very pure-tasting creamy base. It also came with lovely lemon cake fingers, which it didn't need.

Unrelatedly, I had a New York rite of passage today when I spent an hour and forty-five minutes at the DMV, trading in my Washington license for a New York one. I'm now not only a real New Yorker in the eyes of the state, but also one step closer to leaving my maiden name behind, which is cool.

Cipriani, 55 Wall St., Manhattan

One of my favorite movies is "The Thomas Crown Affair" (the remake), and when Pat booked us at Cipriani for our second Restaurant Week outing, I flashed back to the detectives being caught by surprise when Pierce Brosnan took Renee Russo to Cipriani after their first date at the Met, "and with no reservation." I am pretty sure they were not in the Financial District location that we went to, but still. We're living like we're in a movie. I should take this opportunity to point out that I was wearing very fabulous new shoes, like a movie star.

We sat on the balcony, and even got a little damp when there was a quick hard rain, but it was refreshing. The service was a little slow, but the food was very good. Pat's entree was a veal loaf wrapped in cabbage, and mine (not on the restaurant week menu) was grilled chilean sea bass, which was just wonderful. I also ordered a side of grilled veggies that was surprisingly delicious (I had only ordered them to be healthy!). Pat's dessert was a mocha cake that was, as he noted, reminiscent of tiramisu, only with more coffee flavor (coffee-er?).

Mr. Chow, 121 Hudson St., Manhattan

It is Restaurant Week in New York! When we learned this, Pat dropped everything and immediately made three reservations. The first was Monday, at Mr. Chow, in Tribeca. The decor is cool (although WHAT is with the odd series of huge close-ups of what appears to be Tarzan on one wall?), but it was a little loud - really the opposite of intimate. Also I felt a little too waited on. Lots of different guys coming around all the time, then scurrying ever so fleetly away.

Our 2 appetizers (we had a choice among four) were okay - a chicken satay with an unexpectedly rich sauce, and Mr. Chow's noodles, which were a little bland. Then we got one entree of Beijing chicken and one of green shrimp (again out of a choice of four), both of which were delicious, and accompanied by great fried rice. Both the entrees were slightly spicy. We did not get a choice on vegetables, but were happy with the green beans that showed up. Dessert was kind of a bust though - we had assumed we'd get a choice among ice cream and sorbet, but instead one (one!!) plate with a scoop of each and two spoons was deposited like lightning on our table by a waiter who then zoomed away, literally before I had even gotten my mouth open to question him. That was not cool. The flavors were nothing interesting, either.

Nam, 110 Reade St., Manhattan

Last night was the 6th rendition of my annual birthday party for Kevin Bacon. This year's theme, reflecting our recent move, was "Bacon in the Big Apple." Bacon parties in previous years have been attended by as many as 60 people but we just have not amassed legions of friends yet in New York, so we had about 15 people, who compensated in quality for what they lacked in quantity. Pat made his debut as a mixer of traditional cocktails and became an instant victim of his own success, spending the first half of the party in the kitchen with shakers and bitters and the like, until Matt P. took pity and relieved him as bartender. I had made bacon-chocolate cupcakes that were truly magnificent, but so rich that even I had trouble finishing one, plus the frosting contained enough butter and bacon fat (yes, you read that right) to kill a weak-hearted person at a single lick. Is that so wrong? Yet another highlight was the dance party that erupted late in the evening. The bacon-fueled joy could not be contained.

The day following a Bacon party is inevitably marked by sloth and half-hearted clean-up, so Pat and I didn't get out of the apartment until dinnertime. It was a lovely summer day (we have had so very many lovely summer days, incidentally; it has been a blissful couple of months) so we took a leisurely walk to Tribeca and had dinner at Nam. Pat had seafood dumplings in soup and shrimp rolls, and found them good. I was very happy with my lemongrass beef vermicelli with onions, carrot shavings, and lettuce. Well, I wasn't happy about the lettuce, but I picked it out. There were only 2 other pairs of people in the place while we were there, leading me to hope they do better business outside of Sundays. The decor is pleasing.

Just a little note to myself: the choice of Nam was the outcome of some research into walking-distance, highly-rated places, and other such options that we may explore in the future are Gigino Trattoria (323 Greenwich St) and Taj Tribeca (18 Murray St).

More restaurant & bar suggestions from Daily Candy

Daily Candy has offered some more potentially appealing suggestions.

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Although we like to party all the time, a proper workweek sendoff is best accomplished without a cab or subway ride. Since it’s Friday, we asked five more of our editors to divulge the neighborhood haunts they hold near and dear.

Bowery
Jillian K., editorial assistant
Warm Up: Beer. Option one, Swift (unpretentious, literary-themed bar with long benches in back) and two, McSorley’s (the only place guys get bumped from their chairs for girls).
Main Course: Ippudo doesn’t have a sign. Simply look for the ramen-crazed crowd, put your name in, and hop around the corner to Black & White to drink while you wait (86 East 10th Street, between Third and Fourth Avenues; 212-253-0246).
Next Level: Madam Geneva’s secret, Clue-like entrance and gin with homemade preserves make you feel cool. The late-night DJ at teensy, subterranean Kings Cross is always on point — and Hecho en Dumbo is right above when you need a dance break/snack.

Greenpoint
Holley S., editor, DailyCandy Deals
Warm Up: Berry Park on the Williamsburg border. Make a beeline for the rooftop on sunny days. If it’s raining (or when a game is on), there’s a massive TV inside.
Main Course: Five Leaves. You can order off the menu with your eyes closed, and it’ll be exactly what you’re in the mood for. Bonus: The cocktails-only lounge recently opened across the street.
Next Level: Join an impromptu pickup card game and perhaps do a magic trick or two (watch this craft beer disappear) at Spritzenhaus’s outdoor picnic tables (33 Nassau Avenue, between Dobbin and Guernsey Streets; 347-987-4632).

Lincoln SquareDeAnna J., copy editor
Warm Up: Eat Jalapeño’s addictive avocado fries. Debate movie options over a fully loaded DBGB dog at Epicerie Boulud, then fill pockets with from-scratch salty caramels before moving on.
Main Course: Head underground to indie Lincoln Plaza Cinema for a bucket of popcorn and the best muffin case in town (yes, muffin case).
Next Level: Nightcap with a gingery El Diablo and a festival short film at XVI’s baroque living room in the sky, complete with fancy big screen.

LES/Alphabet City
Danielle B., market director
Warm Up: Never wait in line for a crummy cocktail. Skip the crowds of faux-speakeasy posers and head to Elsa’s for a Sazerac or old-fashioned.
Main Course: Share plates of high-spice Northern Thai at Zabb Elee. Informed diners know to order the larb kai, som tum kortmuar, and kana moo korb.
Next Level: Make a pit stop at Edi & the Wolf’s outdoor patio, and resist rubbing the moose head at Bedlam.


Williamsburg (East)Janelle J., photo editor
Warm up: Pretend to be rich (without being poor afterward) at Le Barricou, where you’ll feel fancy with great French wine and garlicky escargot.
Main Course: Order cavatelli with broccoli rabe and sausage at the large yet charming Fiore, or anything — really, anything — from the grill at Qoo Robata.
Next Level: Hit The Commodore (366 Metropolitan Avenue, at Havemeyer Street; 718-218-7632) for frozen mojitos, crunchy fried chicken, and hours of dancing to music piped from an old re-rigged jukebox.

Adrienne's Pizzabar, 54 Stone St., Manhattan

It is important to me to see fireworks on the 4th of July, but apparently not THAT important, since I have not gone 2 years in a row (and 3 years ago we tried but failed, because NPR gave us the wrong start time, about which I am still bitter, it seems). This year we were daunted by hints that finding a good spot along the Hudson would be a hassle, plus my breadwinning husband had to get up extra early the next morning.

Rather than battling crowds, we went out for dinner at Adrienne's Pizzabar in the Financial District, sitting outside on Stone Street, which was very pleasant. Pat had manicotti which he found to be a great bargain, and I had a quattro formaggi pizza that was delicious, and I only made it through half of it, providing my beloved leftovers. This place is very close to us; it is well worth returning.

Then we moseyed home and watched the fireworks on TV, which plain sucked. The station had this large "lit fireworks" graphic on the top right of the screen that drew your eye away from anything they were showing, plus the fireworks looked so lackluster on the screen, plus some of the music was nauseating. I rather loathe myself for settling for this and pledge to see them in person next year, although odds are good I pledged the same thing last year (I think we thought it would rain last year, which is why we stayed home). But this year it is in writing. Someone hold me to it, please!

Il Corallo Trattoria, 172-176 Prince St., Manhattan

Pat said to me this morning, "remember when we used to do nothing all day?" He was referring to the first six or so months of our relationship. We really did live suspended in time for a while, luxuriating in languor, accomplishing nothing productive (at least on weekends!). Ah, it was good.

So today I placed aside any ambitions I had harbored (my resume, my name-change paperwork, the thank-you notes) and relived it. We did motivate ourselves to leave the house around 4:00 - we did some shopping in NoHo and SoHo, fully in line with self-indulgence. I wanted to check out a shoe store I had walked past in a hurry a few days prior, called United Nude. The shoes are mesmerizing. I covet them. Then while Pat was in the Apple store, I cruelly led on the salespeople in the Glory Chen shoe store, trying on $525 pairs of shoes and acting as if I might seriously purchase them. I am sure I do not need to explain that they were strictly fabulous, but it may come as a surprise (it surprised me) that they were also very comfortable.

We wandered at random in search of dinner, and landed on Il Corallo Trattoria, in SoHo. It has an enormous menu of pastas and some pizzas too. Scarcely had we placed our pasta orders (black seafood ravioli for me, with a tomato cream sauce) when they appeared before us all steaming and hearty. And it was plenty good for the very cheap prices.

Dessert was a bust, however. We spied delicious-looking cookies in the window of a bakery called Birdbath (160 Prince St.). I got a coconut one which turned out to be way too fibrous, and Pat's chocolate chip cookie had a weird taste. How could such great-looking cookies be so disappointing when consumed? Ugh.

Izzy & Nat's, 311 S. End Ave., Manhattan

I wrote about this Battery Park City place before, but then it was called Dizzy Izzy's. The name change combined with the fact that I had a splendid bagel today prompted me to give it a new entry.

I have noted before that I am no bagel connoisseur. Today, however, my toasted sesame bagel with cheddar-jalapeno cream cheese seemed way above and beyond your standard bagel. The divine textures, the flavors (not spicy, BTW)....could it be that New York is making a bagelophile out of me?

And afterward I went back to another scene of previous culinary enjoyment, the Shake Shack, for a chocolate shake. The caramel shake of a previous visit was better, in my judgment. But I LOVED being the only person, at lunchtime, to take the C-Line (cold foods only) option, thereby bypassing a line around the block, and absconding with my shake in a mere few minutes. Well, in truth, I felt guilty about it. Probably there were people in the long line who would have assaulted me if I'd lingered long enough to catch their eye. But that is why the C-Line was set up. I was merely following the game plan. I need to get over the guilt.

I learned some very sad news today. The wife of a former co-worker of mine died, at age 39. I did not know her well but spent time with her while watching company softball games and at other social events, and I am weighed down by the consciousness that the world lost someone who truly improved it. It is a smothering sadness.