Power Lunch

Play "Blue Boy"
by Orange Juice

I exit across the street from the Staten Island Ferry on my way to meet a friend who works in the financial district, an area of town I'd not visited since I moved here.

The tourists appeared to outnumber the workers, but I was meeting a native. We went to Rosario's, known in the neighborhood as the place where Wall Street guys (and gals) go to stuff their gullets before getting back to the Big Board.

You enter and let your eyes adjust to the dim light as you head for the big, black chalkboard at the back. On it are the day's specials. See what you want? Order small, medium or large. (about $8/$9/$10, respectively, for most dishes) There are other things on the menu too, but my friend was on a strict lunch hour. No dawdling.

Make a left and approach the hot case, look one of the guys in the eye, smile and yell, "I'd like the pasta and chicken, please! Small! And add the calamari!"

"Red sauce?" he yells back.

"Yes, please!"

Shovel, shovel, shovel, shovel. Slop. Slop.

You can stuff an amazing number of pasta shells and chicken chunks into a small aluminum tin, and still have room left over for a nice side of calamari.

The guy who prepared your order writes codes on a brown paper bag, stuffs the tin in, and hands you the bag. You follow the line, making a sharp right past the cold case (salads and huge slices of red velvet cake) to the cashiers.

You know the drill: Make eye contact, smile, hand the bag over so the lady can read it. Pay, then spin to the left out of the flow of traffic and find a booth or a table.

The food is substantial, as is the conversation. We're in and out in about 50 minutes.

Afterward, we walk past the Wall Street bull and split off when we get to the Museum of American Finance, or at least where the museum used to be.

It's moving to new digs in October. Guess I'll have to make a trip back.