Glenn Collins tells of the imminent demise of a theater district institution, Cafe Edison. Also known as the Polish Tea Room. Glenn is the host of regular Polish Tea Room visits of Times staffers at the Edison, carrying on a tradition that began several decades ago with Richard Shepard, a NYT writer whose always said he wanted his tombstone to read, He never ate at his desk. Glenn would announce each trip a week in advance, asking for RSVPs so that he could warn the place how many of us were coming: please RSVP by e-mail BEFORE NOON THIS THURSDAY for the ALL-IMPORTANT COUNT, so Conrad can cosset enough kasha. The day of, wed depart from the building, two dozen or so hungry Timesfolk, and walk up to the Edison, where a bunch of tables were pushed together for us. Already on the table: bread, bagels, spreads (whitefish, salmon, chopped liver) along with salmon, cream cheese and bowls of pickles. Then you tell the waiters if you want soup. The matzo ball is sublime. Then they bring out kasha and latkes. big platters of them. Then the meats: pastrami, corned beef, turkey. By this time the first-timers are going into shock. But wait! There is more, of course. Hope you saved room for the amazing blintzes, with their hard crust caramelized in the pan and the fruit and rice pudding and various cakes. Time for coffee. As people got up, Glenn would collect the money. $14 a head, though the last couple of times it was $16. And in the meantime, you had sat next to somebody you hadnt met, found out what this new person did for a living. Job titles became increasingly hard to understand with the shift to digital, but hey, youre learning while youre noshing, and what better way to confront the future than over latkes? And then we all waddle back to work. Where we fall asleep at our desks.
Posted on: Thu, 06 Nov 2014 22:48:38 +0000
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