Twelfth Night and Rye House

"Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better."

The Globe production of Twelfth Night: or What You Will has men playing women’s roles like in Shakespeare’s day. Come early and you’ll find the actors on stage milling about, dancing and applying makeup to splendid live Renaissance music: hurdy gurdy, cittern, recorders, bagpipe, pipe and tabor, and field drum. In imitation of the Globe theatre, there is double-decker audience seating on either side of the stage.

Angus Wright’s Sir Andrew Aguecheek and Paul Chadihi’s Maria give strong performances. All actors perform the Bard with ease, humor and clarity. Stephen Fry is a hoot as a lovesick swain, in yellow tights.

Mark Rylance steals the show as young Olivia, countess in mourning. He is both measured and over the top as a young girl in love. Much has been made of his athleticism. We saw Jerusalem on the West End, in which he played a down-and-out. Rylance entered with a handstand over a water trough, doused his head, and thereafter anything he did seemed incredible. As Olivia, he is comically graceful—and pretty.

Clothing is hand-stitched and a close match to the costumes worn in the 16^th-century. As the curtain closes, the six massive chandeliers over the stage are lowered and candles snuffed. Even this was fantastic to watch. Twelfth Night is performed in rep with King Richard the Third. Shakespeare diehards can see both shows in one day.

After Twelfth Night, we felt in the mood to go to a

Paper-thin beef jerky at Rye House

classic pub. What would a British pub be like if reinterpreted here? It might serve truffle popcorn, deep-fried pickles, sloppy joe sliders, fish tacos, and a truly unique version of macaroni and cheese. A juicy steak would be on the menu, and for dessert, molten brownie with vanilla ice cream.

Rye House, in the Flatiron District, turns out all of these dishes and others, including a sizzling pepper steak with extra-crispy fries. It is the classic American pub menu. Their mixologist is famous for the Wake-Up Call and the Perfect Storm. We found the Fall Breeze (house lavender syrup, bitters, cucumber, mint, vodka) to be perfect.

Kale caesar with WI parm

Robert Lombardi and Michael Jannetta have created attractive bars (their other is Sala One Nine) that are crowded every evening. We sat in the woody dining room where music and lighting were pleasantly ambient. Our young critic, Arden, found the deep-fried mac and cheese, served in three baseball-size orbs, “crunchy and creamy” and the medium-rare steak irresistible. Kale caesar salad—a brand new restaurant standby—was topped with Wisconsin parmesan. Made in-house beef jerky is served in sheets in a paper cone. This was a revelation to us: well-seasoned, sweet and salty, and something we haven’t seen anywhere else.

Moonwork and Katz's Delicatessen

After losing their lease and a three-year hiatus, Moonwork is back with $20 evenings of stand-up comedy and musicians and pop-up celebrity guests. You never know who is in town and will appear to try out new material. Moonwork is a well-kept secret quickly gaining momentum. Get there early. They often sell out.

Jim Gaffigan

Jim Gaffigan of The Late Show fame did not disappoint with his fat talk and quiet, clever, edgy delivery. Also noteworthy were Mazz Swift on electric violin, versatile comedians Jeffrey Joseph, Christian Finnegan, and Moonwork's closing act, the epic storyteller Tom Shillue, who took us on a journey back to his college days and paper airplanes, probability theories and haunted stairwells set to music. It was hilarious.

Moonwork is followed by comedy scouts and insiders. Join them on the mailing list to find out when there's a show and who'll be in it. New locale:  Clemente Soto Vélez Cultural and Education Center, 107 Suffolk Street. Moonwork is Gregory Wolfe, James Manzi, Carol Hartsell, and James Wolfe.

Katz's Delicatessen, established in 1888, was where to find actors from the thriving Yiddish theatre scene on the Lower East Side. More recently, it was the set for Meg Ryan's theatrical orgasm in Nora Ephron's When Harry Met Sally. The restaurant supported the war effort (three Katz sons fought in WWII). Their trademark slogan, posted throughout, "Send a Salami to Your Boy in the Army" still holds true. Katz's ships gift packages to the troops in Iraq.

"I'll have what she's having."

Sour pickles, creamy coleslaw, crispy fries, pastrami and corned beef are heaven, but the plain brisket is too. It's casual at Katz's, so expect tea in a paper cup and plates smeared with mustard and catsup to languish until the pick-up cart swings by. Take home cheesecake, chopped liver, and fresh bagels.

Perfect for before or after late-night comedy, Katz's never closes on Fridays and Saturdays. You can stay as long as you like. It's not cheap, for instance, the best pastrami sandwich you'll ever eat is $16.95, but worth it.

The Surrender and Chez Josephine

Laura Campbell in Toni Bentley's The Surrender. Photo by Paul Kolnik.

Toni Bentley’s 2004 memoir challenged assumptions. She took control of her soul and her physical self like no one else had done before, and found joy and empowerment through sex that was paid for, massage included. (At least that was my take on it.) The dancer heroine in the one-woman stage production finds her bliss in an obsession with a lover that she shares with a jealous actress known as “the blonde.” This is to say the story has been restyled a bit, not softened. The Surrender is way kinkier than Kinky Boots.

The casting is perfect—the dark-haired Laura Campbell, born in Northern Ireland, wise-cracking, self-mocking, with expert eye contact, holds the audience rapt for nearly an hour and a half without intermission. If another actor were to split the task, say, the legendary lover or the blonde, they would inevitably be duds next to her.

Bentley’s heroine is touching when she confides, “It is so difficult to be one’s self in one’s own sex life.” She had looked for a man who combined “the erotic and the spiritual” but typically found only half of the equation. Inspiringly, she finally got what she wanted sexually after recovering from a hip problem. “Bliss is a post-pain zone,” when “death dies and paradise is entered.” Who knows their body better than a dancer? She gives a biology lesson, turning around the vanity mirror to reveal a diagram of the female body.

Besides being a brilliant Guggenheim-winning writer, Toni Bentley is a former New York City ballet dancer, who co-wrote the sensational 1996 memoir of choreographer Balanchine muse, Suzanne Farrell. No one who reads it forgets that Balanchine proscribed his dancers’ weight-loss diet this way: one apple, halved—all day. The sex life described in The Surrender is of course extreme. Bentley’s play makes a case for that.

Josephine Baker, 1906-1975

The fabulous Baker boys, Jean-Claude and Jarry

Named for the most famous and shocking dancer of Paris in the Jazz Age, who was written about by Hemingway and Janet Flanner, Chez Josephine is right next door to the Harold Clurman Theatre. A riotous scene since it opened in the mid-80s, in a building that originally housed a massage parlor, Chez Josephine offers a French menu with large portions, hot sweet potato fries served in a paper cone, and romantically named cocktails—like A Kiss in the Rain: Tanqueray gin, peach schnapps, Amaretto and cranberry juice.

It seems incredible that two youthful and charming sons of Josephine Baker run Chez Josephine. Jean-Claude and Jarry do her proud, creating a mood that is opulent and unstuffy. There’re chandeliers, candlelight, red velvet drapes, piano music, and naked pictures of mother on every wall. As you depart for the eight o’clock curtain, you might be kissed on each cheek.

The Heath and Sleep No More

The Heath, under the High Line, is a massive old nightclub full of actors in period evening attire and featuring the best music of the past. As you enter, a haze of cigarette smoke in the air – but it’s only a subtle stagecraft to plunge you back in time. It's where you want to be, but didn't know it. 

Every table was filled on a Thursday night in this restaurant only two months old. By the summer outdoor seating on a roof garden will be added.

The confident, continental menu features Yorkshire fry-up, quail, meat pies, fish pie, lamb and beef: classics from another era. The Picked and Smoked platter – smoked salmon, blue fish and shrimp, with caper berries, pickled pears and beets – was a stunner (pictured, above right). Grilled scallops with endive, dates and blood orange was our favorite, though everything looked good. People around us all seemed to be ordering three courses, which you don’t often see in New York restaurants. But at the Heath, you want to extend the experience for as long as possible, the better to listen to the sensational 5-piece band and to watch a glamorous couple twirl on the dance floor.

Remember how in old movies, at restaurants like these, a tuxedoed waiter would appear at the table and say, “There’s a phone call for you?” That happens here, only the waiter knows precisely how to pronounce your name (culled from your reservation, or perhaps from a card trick with a seductress in a strapless dress).  “Please follow me,” the waiter says, making eye contact. He takes your arm and leads you to one of a series of phone booths. But then, he follows you inside, and … .

Cannot divulge what happens next, and it wasn’t done with every diner, just the ones who seemed receptive to loosen the stays of convention and play along with a brainy form of spin-the-bottle. Other dramas co-exit at the bar and the coat check. Wander around. The Heath, a complete night out in itself, is actually secondary to the theatrical presentation, Sleep No More, reviewed courtesy of our mystery critic:

From the Punchdrunk theatre company, Sleep No More is an immersive experience wherein the audience dons white masks and embarks on a three-hour exploration through 100 rooms in the fully outfitted McKittrick Hotel. Audience members are not allowed to talk throughout the show, but instead chase after the actors as they dart from scene-to-scene.

As you travel through dark outdoor forests, Victorian living rooms and a hospital, you may run into actors as they dance, pantomime, and sometimes scream at other actors. The show is loosely based on Shakespeare’s Macbeth, as well as Hitchcock’s Rebecca, so you may recognize characters or elements from both even without most of the dialogue. If you’re bold enough, as the host stresses, you may be pulled aside for a one-on-one with the character and come away with a memorable story to tell afterwards. The idea of immersive theater may seem intimidating, but after you’ve experienced Sleep No More, you won't stop talking about it.

Norman's Cay and Lower East Side Cabaret

Bold new Norman’s Cay serves the invasive Lionfish
that is hoovering up fish populations, including shrimp and ecologically important parrotfish that destroy algae, all along the Atlantic Coast. Surely, the voracious Lionfish deserves to be caught and eaten in restaurants, but so far Norman’s Cay is about the only restaurant brave enough to try. Theirs comes from Nassau.

Perhaps because it is wildlife, not a farmed fish, it tastes wild—and like a cross between grouper and red snapper. Norman’s Cay does fried Lionfish tacos garnished with guacamole and slaw. The whole fish is presented stunningly, surrounded by leafy greens and chunks of lime. It is beautiful to behold: the handsome pterodactyl head rests on a pedestal of molded peas and rice.

Coconut Shrimp with mango chutney is probably a classic there. However, we started in stride with tender and delicious Conch Fritters served with three sauces and quaffed a stylish cocktail called the Midnight Run: tequila, Licor 43, lime and bitters. Then, salad with Bahamian Christophine (also known as Chayote, between a fruit and a vegetable) shaved onto Valencia oranges, hearts of palm, and avocado, in a sharp vinaigrette. Our much-anticipated Lionfish experience began with senses awakened and tingling.

It is admirable what Norman’s Cay is doing for the planet, and there’s more than a little sense of adventure here. A1966 Cessna Skyhawk, purchased from Craigslist in Dayton, Ohio and driven east, hovers overhead. We felt like we were in the Bahamas even though it was cold outside.

Burlesque is going through a renaissance that is pro-woman, unpredictable, and very funny. For instance, the Lower East Side was a testing ground for world-class performer Narcissister. We saw her groundbreaking Marie Antoinette routine a few years ago at the former Corio Supper Club.

One hot burlesque venue is Le Poisson Rouge, a little further north. The Box is late-night in every sense of the word. The Slipper Room and Nurse Bettie present classy and classic burlesque in midweek as well as weekend shows. Speaking of funny, Moonwork, pop-up stand-up comedy with beer served, is back up and running at Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center.

The arty cabaret entertainment we have just recommended is witty and decadent in an almost wholesome way, but we’ve never found the food served to be anything exciting. Norman’s Cay is open some nights till 4 a.m., so you can begin or end your burlesque evening there.

Betrayal and the Hotel Edison Cafe

Daniel Craig and Rachel Weisz in a photo by Brigitte Lacombe

Betrayal unfolds in reverse order to tell the story of an affair between a married woman and her husband’s best man and best friend, breaking up in 1977, and back to when it all began. Mike Nichols directs and infuses it with a lightness we don’t remember from last time we saw it and judged the play dated. Descending and sliding sets, particularly an Italian restaurant banquette where the two men get drunk together, are clever and convincing—though Nichols mysteriously omits the fun, 1968 party scene and gives us the three principals in a room off to the side while the party goes on, drinking (there is alcohol in every scene) and smoldering.

Husband and wife are embodied by glamorous real-life couple Daniel Craig and Rachel Weisz, who are great to see onstage rather than in the cinema. For one thing, they are life sized, no larger—or maybe it’s the roles that make them seem so. Weisz begins things on a shrill note that her character then has to spend the play recovering from. Craig, in a long-haired wig, must portray a prick who cheats on his wife. As soon as the play closes, he will return to being James Bond—a morally unencumbered role.

The betrayed party is not the husband, as you would think, but the best friend and best man, when he finds out in act one that his buddy has known about the affair for years and done nothing. The best friend, played by Rafe Spall, is natural and appealing, in the role the playwright identified with, and he knows how to do the Pinter pause. Harold Pinter wrote Betrayal in 1978 about his own affair, and it has the messy reality that a made-up play might not.

That's "$7.00," not "$700."

The Hotel Edison has appeared in recent fiction as a trysting place. The café has been around the block too, yet maintains the appearance, the portions, and even the prices of an earlier era. There are several versions of club sandwich, and pastrami and corned beef, served with a side of coleslaw and crisp pickles. Salads and the blintzes are very popular on the vast menu with four homemade soups every day. Theatre and film people are regulars. (Robert Forster, of Quentin Tarantino’s Jackie Brown, was there when we were.) The restaurant’s manager, Conrad, told us “James Bond” (Daniel Craig) sometimes drops by from the Ethel Barrymore Theatre across the street for a carryout quart of chicken soup.

The Mutilated and Gaetana's Cucina Italiana

Mink Stole, Cosmin Chivu and Penny Arcade

A rediscovered Tennessee Williams play is being presented in such a way that you wish you knew it your whole life. How to explain why it was shelved since 1966? “Maybe it’s the name,” said Thomas Keith, one of the producers. The Mutilated, more decadent than Williams’ other plays, is surprisingly cathartic. Like a good movie that goes by too fast, you want to watch it again immediately. Attractive denizens of the Boheme bar in the French Quarter hotel become a chorus. A jazz band sounds superb. It’s Christmas Eve, 1940.

Mink Stole plays elegant Trinket Dugan, who has a secret apart from her clandestine drinking. The only one who knows the secret is Celeste Delacroix Griffin, her former best friend and a total loose canon. Trinket is a recognizable Williams character. Celeste is someone we haven’t met before. She claims to have partied with Huey Long, though she was just released from jail: “Nothing like a week in the pokey to bring out the philosopher in me.” It’s hard to tell whether Mink Stole and Penny Arcade do justice to roles they are more or less inventing, but they are lovable at it and experts in telling a juicy story.

In a classic scene Celeste asks Trinket for a vanilla wafer, and Trinket gets the tin from the kitchen only to open it and discover a roach. As she’s about to toss it out, Celeste takes the tin, removes a giant roach, flings it into the audience, then hungrily eats a wafer. “But you are eating after a roach!” cries Trinket. “People in the best restaurants eat after roaches,” Celeste says, having another cookie.

Trinket and Celeste are indomitable and describe themselves as such from the beginning. The self-assessments bode well and take us past a potentially scary scene with a red-headed sailor. This Williams story is about estranged friends who finally get back together, one of them “mutilated” by a mastectomy. (No spoiler, it’s revealed early on.) Later, she is visited by black-hooded Death—but when he sees how well she’s doing, he decides to stay away for a while longer.

This smartly conceived production with amazing actors and music, and even great costumes (Angela Wendt), is directed by Cosmin Chivu, who specializes in late Tennessee Williams. Well-timed for the holidays, The Mutilated could move straight to Broadway.  

Bespoke Penne a la Vodka at Gaetana's

In its Greenwich Village location, the New Ohio Theatre has two lovely historic restaurants right across the street. Malatesta and Gaetana’s like each other, because both are so popular that they have no need to compete.

The night we were at family-run Sicilian Gaetana’s after The Mutilated we sat at the long bar and chatted with friendly diners who are regulars. One person’s order of bubbling hot Penne a la Vodka caused a chain reaction, with requests honored for variations such as bacon, sausage, meat balls. Heaping green salads, homemade bread and pastas, a brick oven in the kitchen. 

Matriarch Gaetana, whose recipes are used, was married to a man who worked at Jilly’s on West 52^nd Street—Frank Sinatra’s favorite boîte. Sinatra portraits and memorabilia are part of the décor. He becomes so familiar that you expect him to walk in the door.