Ken Friedman was none too pleased that a top Batali-Bastianich executive let the cat out of the bag about he and co-owner Mario Batali’s plans for a sister place to the Spotted Pig. Initially, he wasn’t ready to confirm or deny anything, but once we got him talking, he did tell us that the new place, a seafood-centric gastropub, would not in fact be a twin operation. (Actually, we had wondered why a seafood place would be called the Spotted Pig.) “It won’t be a carbon copy. [Chef] April Bloomfield and I could have made a lot of money just cloning the place and having one in Vegas or elsewhere, but that’s not interesting to us. We haven’t signed the lease yet, and I don’t want to jinx things. But I’ve already thrown all my pig paraphernalia out of my apartment.” Does that mean he’s buying fish paraphernalia?
Earlier: Wish There Were Another Spotted Pig and Another Casa Mono? Guess What.
When one thinks of the great feast-givers throughout history, one thinks of the medieval dukes, earls, and kings of England. One thinks of Chinese and Roman emperors, the Persians, the Turks, maybe a Fijian cannibal chief or two. Add to this illustrious list of revelers Sir Ken D. Friedman, the owner of West Village gastropub the Spotted Pig. This past Sunday, Friedman threw a belated holiday–Super Bowl party at Del Posto for his 80-person staff, and it was of such Rabelaisian excess that, like an old Woodstock hippie, the restaurateur is having trouble remembering it all.
After cutting her teeth as a bartender at Paris Commune and Mary Anne’s, Anna Vanderzee started work at the Spotted Pig two and a half years ago; she now splits her time between slinging drinks and serving up the ever-popular Roquefort burger (sorry, no cheese substitutions allowed). Being a dancer has helped her survive relentless seven-hour shifts: We asked her what coping mechanisms she deploys against Jäger cravers, Jay-Z groupies, a salt-shy Times reviewer, and a certain scooter-stealing celebrity.