The Omnivorous Fish

In case I haven’t mentioned it, go to Landmarc. This isn’t a review, this isn’t a recommendation. It’s a mantra. If you live in NYC and it’s remotely convenient for you to get to Tribeca, you need to go. If you’re a serious wine drinker, you need to go, even if you live on the UES. The wine list will blow your mind.

Sorry, just had to get that out.

In other news, the husband and wife team that brought you Landmarc take to the shores with their new Greenwich village “seafood shack,” Ditch Plains. Without even going into the wisdom of opening an oyster bar (let’s be fair, it is in absolutely no way a shack) around the corner from Pearl, let’s just take a moment to obsess over a tiny and meaningless detail that might be signaling the demise of language as we know it. In the press release on the Ditch Plains website, it says- about Marc Murphy, the owner-

“He installed a wooden bar and matching tabletops made from old-growth southern yellow pine reclaimed from abandoned buildings.”

I will be so bold as to suppose that there were workmen who installed this bar. In fact, to paraphrase my father, I didn’t see him do a fucking thing. He had a bar installed. Am I splitting hairs here? Perhaps, but it is in the details. In the plug for the mixology school offered by Employees Only, they make reference to a “modern palette.” Is this a palette made of steel and smoked glass with a white line around it designed for holding drinks? No, they misused the word “palette” where they wanted “palate.”

It’s all fun and games until someone loses an aye.