When my editors and I were finishing up last week's story about Alex Rodriguez's (and agent Scott Boras's) hold on Yankees Nation, our main concern was whether we spelled "vituperate" correctly (we had) and whether anyone had taken a photo of Yankees COO Lonn Trost in the last ten years (apparently not). The piece was meant to capture a unique snapshot in the history of a team that has owned this town for a decade, a once-dictatorial enterprise facing a pivotal moment and held hostage by the best baseball player on the planet and his evil-genius agent. I didn't expect much fuss.
But when the Post printed an excerpt from the story in its Sunday editions about discussions Boras had with a group trying to buy the Chicago Cubs, saying Boras had talked about A-Rod potentially owning a piece of the team after his career ended, I was sucked into the all-too-familiar sports-news-cycle vortex.
Fabio Trabocchi gained fame, and a James Beard award, for his modern Italian food at Maestro in Virginia. Now, he's Michael White’s replacement at Fiamma, and his contemporary take on porchetta, the most intensely rural and down-market of dishes, is a fair example of Trabocchi’s style: “In Italy, porchetta is a pig on a spit with wild fennel. It’s either boned and stuffed in a meat-loaf shape or opened up, like a book, on a spit. It’s something we tried to reinvent with a modern version without losing the original flavors.” As always, mouse over the different elements to see them described in the chef’s own words.
New York ran into Chloë Sevigny at Public last night, at the party for Sebaka Wines. We were like, "Chloë, how arrrrre you." Then we went ahead and asked her how she feels about all the people who have been making fun of the fashion line she recently debuted at Opening Ceremony. Her reaction was totally hippie meets hip-hop, a little bit like the look she is rocking on the left. "There will always be haters," she said. "I'm just living my life." —Andrew Goldstein
Line of succession is not usually a big deal on the municipal level, but with a mayor who acts increasingly, shall we say, presidential, the question does arise: Who's in charge when Bloomie's out of town? Today's Times notes a weirdly undemocratic wrinkle in the protocol. Normally, first deputy Patricia Harris picks up the reins. How about when she's also out of town, though, as she will be tonight? Well, in those cases, the job of running the world's capital goes to some dude. Or lady. Bloomberg won't say who among his staffers is next in line to the throne. Moreover, he pretty much asks us not to worry our pretty little heads about it: He's always in control. After all, his private jet probably has Bloomberg Terminals installed.