One more hour of tweaking powerpoints and I was going to snap. I hoped a faraway lunch adventure would break up the drudgery. No planes involved, only a NYC subway ride to Cocoron Soba. Just what the doctor ordered - pork croquettes and plenty of noodles. However, there's work to put in - the chopstick variety. You better be able to maneuver with the wooden sticks - at Cocoron you may have to dip your own soba into boiling broth, one pinch at a time.
I got something called "Stamina Soba" which I later realized referred to the work I had ahead of me. Here's how it arrives - cold soba on the right, eating bowl in the foreground and a salty fish broth laced with ground pork, boiling on it's own mini-burner. I needed help but was dumbstruck. I stared at it like a blackboard full of calculus. Chef took pity and barked in Japanese at one of the servers who handed me a laminated instruction card. Two ladies seated nearby giggled, then continued their French conversation. French!?!? Reminded me of work and I began to think about the stillborn powerpoint. Dammit!
61 Delancey St