Why, God, why?

I feel like a small child, convinced that those things which I love are doomed to die. First, it was Gourmet. Now, it's my favorite local restaurant, the Bar at États-Unis. An offshoot of the Michelin-starred restaurant across the street (which has also closed), Bar États-Unis has been my go-to for a cocktail, a crock of insanely delicious chilaquiles, macaroni and cheese (named one of the best in the city), guacamole and their superlative date pudding ever since I moved to the Upper East Side six years ago.

The staff were always lovely, and often went above and beyond to make sure I had a fantastic time. I once ate there, alone, on a snowy Valentine's Day. I sat at the bar, read Jane Austen and ate macaroni and cheese, and the bartender sent me home with a single white rose. A surreptitiously refilled glass of wine was always on offer, as was advice about what port to pair with that date pudding (The answer: anything tawny.).

And the vibe was - amazingly enough, given the neighborhood - pretty chill, and almost, dare I say it, cool. There's nowhere else in the neighborhood that even comes close to the quality, the experience, or the downright deliciousness of it all.

Excuse me while I go cry into my crappy airport coffee (I'm in LaGuardia right now, waiting to board my flight to Chicago). I'm all verklempt - talk amongst yourselves!