Al fresco.

I spent the weekend visiting with friends, which meant lots of lunches, dinners and long walks. I was able to drown out any mid-week frustrations in bowls of au jus.

Saturday I went for lunch an old haunt, French Roast Cafe downtown. I adore bistros, because of pomme frites and tossed greens with a light dressing that I fail at replicating.

My friend and I walked by the front door of the Joffrey Ballet School for old times sake. I never danced there, but my sister did, and I spent many an afternoon flipping through the Times in that white third floor lobby, under the sound of that roaring fan.

That evening was dinner with my friend, and fellow-blogger, Tonya Plank. We parked ourselves at Nice Matin, at 79th (after a chair incident at some other dive). Dining al fresco is such a treat in New York. In Alabama where I’m from, even the nights are sweltering, but in New York the breeze is fine.

My pan roasted chicken and a chocolate tart were perfect. Tonya listened as I rattled off the latest dance gossip. You’ll never find it hard for me to admit I have a big mouth.

Last night Lauren’s friends treated me to dinner at Prespa, a lovely little Mediterranean restaurant in Murray Hill, with an atmosphere to die for. I suppose we dined like the Europeans do, as it took us four or five hours to sit through our courses. Table conversation was memorable, and every time someone passed us on the street, Lauren’s jovial friend shouted “Best lamb in New York!” We didn’t leave until after 1 a.m. And the lamb? Best in New York.