Really, we weren't there for the football game. I was there to get my food on.
I went with my dad and bro for a Jets game, but that was the least of our worries. Jets won against the Bills in the last minute but the great stadium didn't make up for the mediocre game. If anything, the game really interfered with our imbibing of all things gluttonous. Growing up Rose meant growing up with a lamb chop in one hand, a wine glass in my mouth and a cold vodka on the way. NYC was no different and it will never be, but alas I do digest (not digress, still digesting).
We partied until the wee wee hours one night with friends who had shopped the whole day. And guess what; I am a style setter!!! Our friend Tyler was very eager to point out that he had to buy the same shirt I had been wearing. Following the night's festivities, my brother Lorne and I went to bed around 3am with plans to wake up at 8am to go to my favorite NY joint. Russ and Daughters lives long and fresh in my NY heart. When I lived in New York, my apartment was just around the corner and I ate there every week. My brother had been there a few weeks earlier and hadn't thought much of it. He thought the bagels were a little too tough and complained that his lox and cream cheese kept squishing out the sides. He just wasn't doing it right.
I instructed my bro to order the same sandwich but on a bialy instead. A bialy is like a bagel but is never boiled first, just baked. There is no hole in the middle, just a small depression that is filled with chopped onions. This is how your order right (despite the fact my belly was full, I was hungry): whitefish & baked salmon salad with horseradish dill cream cheese and wasabi flying fish roe on a bagel. It was amazing, and all I could handle. And for the record, Lorne and the bialy got along just fine.