Papi's Russian Tea Room

I don't really know what I was thinking when I decided to walk 20 something blocks in Manhattan on a hot summer day, knowing I'd have to enter the Kremlin (NYC version). Luckily, I've lived my life as a vagabond long enough to know what to do when my wardrobe malfunctions (loss of stretchband elasticity, persperation stains and armpit whole)... Yes. So the plan is to make sure to walk an extra block out of the way and slow down the pace and lower my heart rate and soak in the beauty and the peaceful oasis that is Bryant Park. In the whirlwind of the city vibe Bryant park is a sanctuary. My footsteps widen, my shoulders relax, my chin lifts and I can suddenly breathe and i'm mesmerized by the sight. Wait, for a moment I'm not in Manhattan, but I'm carried away to a Parisian Parc; where lovers picnic on the grass absorbing the suns rays, children chasing butterflies, a couple of elderly men compete at a game of chess, and a woman sits alone on a park bench with her favorite companion... a good book. It's in this quiet moment when I step out of my own reality that I feel more myself... A true vagabond at heart... my friend once referred to me as an escapist. Which is true to some degree, because I don't have to ever go very far or carry a lot of baggage to go and see what I want to see or be where I want to be. I've perfected the art of living in the moment of the city and being in all but one. I take a few steps down as I exit the park and as if I've just stepped through a portal I'm back in the race. I have to be there at 2:00 and I look like a hot mess. So I dash to the nearest department store. Really, I just followed my heart to Bergdorf Goodman. Literally walked out with a new dress and a European shower, as I pass the cosmetics counter. I close out my tab and in a hop skip and a jump, I enter the Brasserie Pushkin and suddenly I'm pushed through another portal, into the Russian empire. I'm greeted at the door by the hostess. Oops how does she know my name? Must mean I'm the last to arrive, but I wasn't late. As I followed the hostess (wondering if she was really Russian) my head swung from one side of the room to the other, my expression was awe. There's no way those pastries are real or edible, they look like crown jewels they're radiant and colorful and intricate designs, dusted in gold flakes. I think I've died and gone to heaven! I fall a few steps behind the hostess as my head falls back and my eyes trace the wood oak panels all the way up to the sky. It seems this is a Russian palace. It is a marvel. The hostess seats me at the table where I reach my destination, my family. On this day we have gathered to celebrate my father in honor of Fathers Day. I'm relieved to sit after the hike and after a sip of sparkling water I begin my tirade of events. We toast my father and send blessings to my mother caring for our grandmother in Spain. We order a good variety of dishes my dad the Beef Stroganoff, after the Russian Masha I cool myself down a bit and I chose the Burger "Pojarsky" which is a veal and chicken cutlet, with house made crouton crust. My sister, Andrea ordered something that just looked really pretty on her plate and her boyfriend, Clinth decided on one of the egg dishes and Russian bacon (they were both big fans of the Pushkin's olive bread). Time to eat, but be sure to leave room for dessert, because their selection is out of this world. While Andrey Makhov is the Executive Chef at Pushkin, it is Emmanuel Ryon who sculpts the pastries in to the most delectable delights. So we delighted on a Cafe Pushkin, a layered cake of blueberry & raspberry gelee, toasted almonds, raspberry sorbet, pistachio mousse, and vanilla orange coulis, which all seemed to lay dormant under a a dark chocolate dome until you take the first bite and you encounter each and every flavor at once then apart then at once again and it finishes with a lingering hint of raspberry. So refreshing and light! It's incomparable to any dessert I've ever had! It pairs nicely with the Prosecco... then again what doesn't? It was a majestic meal that I will alway remember and I'm so glad we had the opportunity to share this moment with my father. The frescos on the walls, the ceilings, the wood details the chandelier lighting, the plush cushions and sofas. My dad was Russian Emperor for the day and that for him is a title well deserved.