Ok, I lied, it turns out there was more nostalgia to come. The first place I ate at in New York as an adult was The Four Horsemen, James Murphy’s Williamsburg wine bar, late one night after landing at JFK. That night, by chance, Murphy was eating with friends there, and I tried to be as cool as possible as I said hello to him as he was leaving, not interrupting his evening too much. I was not hoping for a repeat, but I did want to go back. Booked out for months but with walk-ins at the bar an option, I figure in for a penny and take the day off such that I can get there for the 11am opening time. In reality, I am maybe overzealous, but nonetheless I get in. Armed with the end of a good book, I enjoy a leisurely lunch with a glass of Riesling on a very sunny day, starting with some fried squid, maybe the best I’ve had thanks to the pimenton coating; some grilled sourdough and oil; and some wild nettle pesto tonnarelli. Sad not to be there for dinner to try the sticky toffee pudding, but a rhubarb frangipane tart nicely rounds off my lunch before an afternoon of wandering.