Diva at the Met

A diva? MOI?!? Not in the slightest - only when you have crossed me (read: O.C.D.). So just make sure you are always positioned on my left, do not dare to help out by washing my mugs with a dish sponge, or meddling in my laundry business in any capacity. These are just a few examples and I won't bore you with the rest, all of which have perfectly sound explanations. You see, the left is my good side (both in terms of looks and eyesight), I don't know anyone who likes to smell polenta in their coffee, and don't even get me started on the cashmere sweater that was shrunk to a ball of fuzz by someone who wanted "to do something nice and surprise me with clean laundry" (you know who you are, mom). See? I'm not a diva.

Back to the real diva: the insanely talented Quang Dang, the executive chef at Diva at the Met. Last Saturday night, when most people were Halloween-ing about town, four friends and I were treated to a private performance: a uniquely tailored tasting menu, served to us at the bar overlooking the kitchen. It turned out those were the best seats in the house: a loge reserved not for barflies, but bob vivants who enjoy spending intermissions watching musicians fine-tune their instruments. Dang hit all the right notes as the orchestrated staff delivered a total of six exquisite courses, three of which I have provided below as a palette for your palate. 

Scallops, Brussels Sprouts, pistachios. 

Something resembling Pho, though unlike anything I've ever tasted - a symphony of flavors.

Forgive me, lactose intolerant digestive system, for I have sinned.