Pigs Spotted

The Spotted Pig, trendy mainstay of the West Village has been the fodder for recent #MeToo due to bad behavior by restaurateur duo Mario Batali and Ken Friedman. Friedman’s chef co-owner April Bloomfield has parted ways with him after pretending to be oblivious to the debauched behavior in the venue’s after-hours-upstairs. Drugging and raping staff. Allegedly.

News today that another woman is going to partner with Friedman to revive The Spotted Pig. Gabrielle Hamilton, author of Blood, Bones & Butter and decades-acclaimed chef owner of East Village gem Prune. A renegade rebel from lobster fiascos at upscale camps in the Berkshires, to line chef at Curtis & Schwartz in Northampton while at Hampshire College, as told in Table’s Edge. This is an interesting decision. But. Hey. Go Gabrielle! You are a true survivor.

On Fleek

Plutarch’s fleek Romans were sleek. For today’s pop icons fleek connotes perfection. On point. As in Caitlyn Jenner? Rumer Willis? Rainy Monday. What can I say. Tyrion Lannister and Khaleesi together. Definitely.

Rand Paul has been consistent in making the right case. It’s not about whether data gathering under the Patriot Act makes us safer. The point is that it violates the Fourth Amendment. Slippery slope. Potential for abuse in the wrong hands.

Recent literary prize-winners were women. Mantel. Catton. Enright. Tartt. Why the need for a women-only prize? Edward St. Aubyn spoofs the process in his Lost for Words where the prize went to a Cookbook. What’s wrong with that?