Friday night in
the Meatpacking District, well after ten pm—and the hordes are
out. Buddha Bar has a ninety-minute wait and Buddakan is Grand
Central. Over at Fig & Olive, the music is nightclub loud. The
streets are a parade of stilettos and limos. It’s all a bit
much—over the top and in your face—and therefore, we’re relieved
for the relative sanity of 5 Ninth. Not that this three-story
1848 brownstone is a bastion of calm, but up in a corner of the
second floor, seated by the window overlooking that gorgeous
ivy-covered brick wall, there’s at least a vague sense of refuge
from the madness all around.
Of course, one doesn’t head to the Meatpacking District on a
weekend to find peace and quiet. Romance, perhaps—but more often
the kind of romance connoted by a perfume commercial. But
upstairs, in the back of 5 Ninth, it’s almost possible to
appreciate the very real charms of this wood-beamed townhouse
with its six fireplaces and fieldstoned garden.
The tables are wood—and rickety—and need to be balanced by the
service staff, who do so efficiently. And our server is equally
efficient—and worse, as if she’s got a train to catch, just as
soon as she gets rid of this table. Clearly, she’s feeling the
adrenaline rush of the neighborhood—and sharing it with us.
Still, it’s possible to pay her little mind—treat her more like
a pesky fly—and sink in to the pleasures of the food. A fine
yellow beet and goat cheese salad, and a rich spinach and
parmesan ragout in its own iron skillet. Equally indulgent, with
the bite of jalapeno, is an herb risotto, fresh with pesto and
succulent farmers’ market cherry tomatoes.
If our server hadn’t needed to catch her train, we might’ve
stayed for dessert—a chocolate box at the next table looked to
be just the thing—but there might be another time. Perhaps when
the weather turns chill, and those fireplaces crackle, and the
summer romances have faded to heartbreak, and only the winter
winds blow through the cobblestoned streets of the Meatpacking
District. Maybe then for that chocolate box.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
