Over the weekend, I was helping a friend sort through decades -- actually almost half a century -- belongings of a woman named Doris. I never met Doris. But I learned a lot about her life and personality by spending hours in her $130 a month rent controlled fourth floor walk-up.
I don't know what dinner at Sette Mezzo costs because my friend George obviously gets a bill sent home monthly. But one would never know from this restaurant that we've fallen on hard times — or is it possible they're eating out of nervousness?