Yesterday evening, Vadim and I met his folks and friends at National in Coney Island. Alive with older Russians, young things in sparkles- and bustling servers.
Platter after platter of traditional dishes were brought to us as we sipped our vodka in the Russian sense: without ice. The food was decent- although admittedly- I prefer Irina's cooking. Some of the meat dishes were comparable to cat food. The cow tongue was good, but would have been better suited with some horse radish.
Perhaps the best part of the evening was the elaborate entertainment show. Dancers in bright costumes sang and smiled. It seemed that is was everyone's birthday at the National.
It was all to the nines- doormen in suits, a desk with a man lording over- large men in flashy suits and gold chains. Chandeliers. Спасибо