I have done my time at Table 6. Under the old owner and old chef and with the new kids in place. I've been there for drinks when, already drunk, I've worn out my fun elsewhere and stopped in for a hit of warmth and comfort. I've seen [Aaron] Forman on the floor--pressing the flesh, wearing his weird plaid jackets and bushy, porn-star mustache--and heard his stories, heard him talk about the business. I've hunkered down at the long tables among chefs and businessmen, neighbors and friends of the house, chafing my elbows on the rough wood and digging into plates of tater tots stuck with Marcona almonds, served with tomato marmalade in lieu of ketchup; of chestnut spaetzle and ham steak, redolent of maple sugar and glazed in coarse mustard. I've celebrated the closures of restaurants I hated and mourned ones I loved here. And every time I turn the corner off of Sixth Avenue and see the light spilling out onto the sidewalk, I feel an almost gravitational pull--that sure knowledge that no matter what has happened that day, I can shake it off just on the other side of the waiting door.
That's Table 6. I first ate there back in 2004, when Aaron Whitcomb was the chef and the Huff family the in-absentia owners. It was one of my favorite restaurants then, and it's still one of my favorites -- even thought the ownership and the chef has changed. Read all about it in this week's Cafe review.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. In this week's Bite Me, there's news about Patsy's Inn, the auction of the innards of French 250 and the end of the Santa Fe Tequila Company. Even during the holidays, things never slow down in this town.
I can't wait to see what the new year brings. -- Jason Sheehan
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