Last night, after dropping 128 dollars at our local Key Food, Gerry called to see if we wanted to have dinner. Even though the move has all but drained our bank accounts and we’re trying to be as frugal as possible, we agreed because we enjoy Gerry’s company and I wanted fish. Gerry took us to a place on Union Avenue called Dumont.
For those of you living in Brooklyn or Manhattan, this place rules and you should come check it out. The mac and cheese looks amazing. (But definitely something to share because of its richness.) The french fries are covered in garlic. And for you meat-eaters out there, the hamburger is supposed to be phenomenal. Not only is the hamburger the cheapest thing on the menu, but it’s the largest as well.
Be prepared to wait during the winter months. The garden is closed and the interior can only hold so many people. But it’s worth wait. Sit at the bar and order a Maker’s Mark Sidecar or maybe even a Manhattan. I had a glass of wine. And red wine is always good.
While we were sitting at the bar waiting for our table, sipping our drinks and talking about things that have or haven’t changed, Gerry turns to me in that I-have-to-share-something-with-you sort of way.
Don’t turn around or anything, because he’s right behind you. But in the booth by the window is the little guy from the Station Agent.
The midget?! I mean dwarf?
Yes. Shhhh
Can you let me know when it’s ok to turn around?
You can turn around, just don’t be too obvious about it.
He’s with four ladies.
Didn’t you blog about him at one point? Did you say you thought he was hot or something?
And then Toby said something about my wanting to have sex with the dwarf. But that’s not true. This is what I really said.
We ended up getting his table and Gerry’s butt touched where his butt once was. I ordered the striped bass. Toby ordered the soup and salad. And Gerry had the steak. Everything was perfect. What an excellent way to spend a Sunday evening.
At Dumont, not only is the food amazing and caloric as all hell, but you might see famous little people, too. That said, I highly recommend getting your ass to and on the the L train, getting off at Metropolitan Avenue (like you’re going to <a href="http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/11406871/brooklyn_ny/union_pool.html?cslink=roundup_name_noncust&ulink=rounduproundupentity1-5_10_profile_5_1” target=”_blank”>Union Pool) and then making a beeline for Dumont instead.
i haven’t read but the first paragraph but i must say yes, i love that place! very yummy and good.
I live in the town in which Station Agent was filmed. I would rather be able to say that I ate in the same restaurant… oh what the hell is his name!… that he ate in. Peter Dinklage. yeah.
surburban life can suck.
No way, Colleen. I was born in New Jersey. While I only lived there for a year and moved at the age of 1, Jersey gals rule. :]
My butt once touched where Brad Pitt’s butt once was. Brad’s butt had been gone for about a week though.
PS: I’d do that guy from the Station Agent in a heartbeat.
PPS: the new background is supercute!
Donnie is a midget fucker.
Donnie, come visit us. Brad Pitt’s butt has been all over this town. And I need someone to play pool with.
I’ll play pool with you. We can go this week sometime. I’ll meet you there after work.
(p.s. calling someone a midget fucker isn’t always the best way to get them to comply. Unless, of course you’re a horny midget. then that might work.)