D.I.P. Chris Connelly just wrote to alert me to the review of a restaurant called the Queen's Hideaway in today's New York Times.
"The dining room at the Queen's Hideaway [222 Franklin Street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn] has a winning country-punk vibe and a culinary design motif (shelves full of cookbooks, a framed ode to Jacques Pepin), but without air-conditioning its charms will play second fiddle to the backyard until cooler weather arrives."
He wonders if that "framed ode to Jacques Pepin" could be my poem "To Jacques Pepin" from Gastronomica. And so do I!
Wouldn't that be funny?
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