The Tao of Family Dinners

In recent months, the concept of Thursday Date Night has morphed into infrequent dinners alone with Carl, which are snatched between all the scheduling changes that comprise our daily lives. After factoring in March Madness, various days off, school closings for little one (and the graduation of her caregiver); the idea of a date was replaced by the simple ability to sit down at a table sans children. And true to form, this past Thursday night, our new caregiver informed us that, at the last minute, her school scheduled a final exam. In an attempt to believe that we were not slaves of routine, I suggested that Carl and little one meet me for an early dinner at Hataka Ippudo on Fourth Avenue at 10th street in the East Village. Over the past months, I'd heard, and read, bits and pieces about Ippudo and thought Carl would like their ramen soups. He adored Rai Rai Ken on E. 10th between 1st/2nd, but I always felt like it was too close quarters in there. I was the first to arrive at Ippudo. At that point it was relatively calm, with a scattering of customers. I informed the very sweet hostess that we would be a party of three (comprised of myself, an adult and child). For some reason, she and the waiter thought Carl and little one were already there. The waiter escorted me through the restaurant -past a centrally-located, square-shaped open seating area, and down a narrow space to more tables - but there was no trace of them. As I waited, I headed back to the bar and perused the drinks menu of different flavored Sakes. Minutes later, I looked up and saw little one, her upper lip jutting out dangerously and Carl, looking equally grim, coming through the door. Despite my exuberant greeting, I was met with dark looks. Little one was crying about Pizza Hut and wanted to redeem the coupon that she, and her classmates, received for good reading at school. I reminded her that I had googled Pizza Hut and discovered there was one at 33rd/7th, which wasn't too convenient and we were planning to go on the weekend. Nevertheless, in that moment, Ippudo was not cutting it for her. Carl had the look of someone who just joined a chain-gang. It's very possible that he was tired. That morning, he had woken up at 3:30 a.m., due to my restlessness, and ended up talking with me about some rather awful bouts of anxiety I had been experiencing. Although the early-morning conversation went well, I've observed that Carl is unable to sustain a lack of sleep unless it's sports-related. In those moments, he remains chipper and upbeat no matter how little his sleep i.e. he remains in good spirits throughout the day after watching the Australian Open from 3-5 a.m (several days in a row). Once our party was complete, the hostess again signaled a waiter and we made the walk to the other side of the restaurant. We were seated at a large, spacious table and little one was provided a booster seat. Still pining for pizza, she was only slightly placated by the suggestion of noodles, which are usually her favorite thing to eat. She was more receptive to the idea of pickled vegetables (which I'd seen after a quick perusal of the menu). I liked them so much, I asked Carl to get another order, which didn't add to the strained silence at the table. When he gets grouchy at dinner, money is usually his first point of focus and I think he fears any kind of excess. I on the other hand, begin to feel increasingly empty and become afraid that I will have nothing to eat. While we waited for the soups, there was little conversation. I became increasingly irritated as my attempts at making conversation were continually rebuffed. I began to wonder if this had been a good idea after all and considered a looming landscape of miserable family dinners forever. Thankfully, the soups arrived, steaming hot in large white bowls. Carl immediately decided that he had been given my soup (when he fact he received his order). I had started out eating the Shiromaru soup with little discs of stewed berkshire pork and cabbage amidst thin noodles in a pork-flavored broth with tiny scallions. I was agreeable to switching to a spicier broth with small pieces of ground pork and thin skinny noodles. Little one actually ate most of my broth and noodles and then began to enjoy wiggling around the retro-1960s long, red leather seats. After finishing his soup to the last drop, Carl also became more expansive and talkative. He was interested to hear that I was still hypervigilant about my anxiety, and observed that I seemed "excited". I was actually over-caffienated. Earlier that day (due to my own tiredness from our early morning conversation), I had picked up an iced chai latte from Roebling Tea room to keep me alert for the afternoon team meeting at work. As we finished our food, the waiters stopped by periodically to check on us. There were several of them, and all of them were friendly and accommodating. I enjoyed eating my soup in the more spacious, relaxed atmosphere that pervaded Ippudo. I temporarily forgot I was in the E. Village and simply enjoyed the moment. When eating at Rai Rai Ken or Momofuko, I always felt slightly on edge and a little too serious. Ippudo had a racuous energy that relaxed me. Many of our fellow eaters were happily making their way through several large glasses of draft Sapporo as they slurped their soup and talked loudly with each other. Although I felt very comfortable, I had read about long waits for dinner at Ippudo and was mindful of paying the bill without lingering. Sure enough, as we walked out of the restaurant at 7:30, I overheard one couple discussing the hour wait for a table. It had begun to rain lightly but little one was set on having an ice cream cone. As we headed to the M6, we stopped at the ice cream truck (which is always parked outside the uptown Astor Place stop in the warmer weather) to get her a frosty. There was only one other customer, a friendly, young Asian woman, who was dressed in a very hip, urban Tokyo style with a striped sweater, jean skirt and white leggings. Despite the rain, she couldn't stop smiling as she waited to order her ice cream.