The original Waldorf- Astoria hotel at Fifth Avenue and 33rd Street was built in 1893 and torn down in 1929 to make room to build the Empire State Building. That Waldorf Hotel was on the site where millionaire developer William Waldorf Astor had previously built his mansion. The Astoria Hotel opened in 1897 on the southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street, next door to the Waldorf. The two hotels were connected by the 980-foot-long corridor known as “Peacock Alley” after they merged in 1897.
And all that palaver, dear reader, brings me to my point. Inspired by a gushing New York Times article on said Peacock Alley (https://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/07/booming/peacock-alley-a-bar-that-lives-up-to-its-name-and-setting.html), a friend and I recently met there for a drink.
I don’t know what the Times reporter drank but obviously it was more inspiring than our ginger beers. The article calls the place fit for a “quiet drink.” We were there on an ordinary Tuesday night when it was anything but quiet as surfaces are hard, the place is enormous and starting precisely at five PM, the already intrusive canned music was augmented by a man playing the piano. The reporter also calls it “a contemporary, comfortable place.”
True, the chairs are comfortable, the service is impeccable and I can’t address the quality of the drinks because I didn’t have one. However, the space felt more football field than alley. The ceilings are so high they reduced me to a dot; there are hostesses in sparkly gold dresses and the only connection to peacocks is the color of the waiter’s jackets.
Somehow I don’t see this as cozy or intimate.
The article also reports on seeing “many suits, not many jeans”—we saw some men in suits and plenty in shorts and baseball caps. The entire hotel is a mass of huge spaces with one huge entryway flowing into another. I’m sure the owners have ample insurance and may need it because the polished, cream-colored marble stairs are practically an invitation to fall. When I entered via the Lexington Avenue side, I asked the way to reception where my friend and I had agreed to meet. “Up the stairs” said my helper, with no suggestion that an elevator was around somewhere.
Here’s a real digression: when I think peacock, I flash back to “peacacocka, “ a funny (but maybe you had to be there) incident on one of many trips Joel, my husband, and I took to Japan. We somehow attached ourselves to a Japanese group that boarded a boat for a ride on the Inland Sea, stopping at an island that had an historical connection with Greece. At one point we were led to an area where on the hour peacocks were released from a hillside opening to a recording of the 1812 Overture. Our guide, as limited in her English as we were in Japanese, referred to the birds as “peacacoka.” This stuck. 
However, I would be remiss if I didn’t include a recipe for Waldorf Salad, a staple of my childhood. Whether or not this was originated by the famed chef, Oscar of the Waldorf, is anyone’s guess
Waldorf Salad
Serves 6
- 1 teaspoon lemon juice
- ⅛ teaspoon salt
- 3 apples — peeled, cored, and chopped
- 1 cup thinly sliced celery
- ½ cup chopped walnuts
- ½ cup raisins (recipe says these are optional. If you want something along those lines, I suggest dried cranberries.)
Whisk mayonnaise, sugar, lemon juice, and salt together in a serving bowl. Stir in apples, celery, walnuts, and raisins. Cover and chill in the refrigerator. Remove to let it warm up and bring out the flavor about one-half hour before serving.
Drink if you wish, to Oscar. Visit the newly renovated Waldorf and enjoy a cocktail at Peacock Alley. Let me know how you feel about it.
My friend had a lobster roll at the Inn on Peaks, an island in Casco Bay accessible by (crowded) ferry, I went for the fish tacos.
there for many years and never saw the space so crowded. A friend and I dined on crudities, fried chicken and cole slaw followed by cherries and biscotti. Gustave Dudamel, about to become the orchestra’s director, conducted works by Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, and soloists Arturo Sandoval and Gonzalo Grau. A half-moon hung in the sky and the only thing that gave me less than total enjoyment was the absence of a chair—entirely my fault.
If your dog freaks during fireworks considering keeping him or her at home. Be kind to your neighbors on adjacent blankets; yes, it’s crowded and we all do the best we can with limited space
(Performing is something my cat, Sake, doesn’t do unless you count running through a cat tunnel when she feels like it as a performance.)
essence, and some landscapes do a good job of evoking, but not precisely delineating, the setting.
and, in fairness, I agree with them. My suspicion is I picked the book which is flat, omits many important moments in the period and is peopled with two-dimensional characters, because I have never quite shucked off my guilt about being so uninvolved in the seventies. Sorry group, I’ll hope you’ll be happier with my selection next time!
Several of you out there have told me my blog is blocked. In an effort to stop this, I have changed my email marketing service. I very much hope this gets rid of any problems you have had.