You miss NYC. Giant gin martini in the noisy bar at Peter Luger's, followed by a slab of aged beef, apple pie with real whipped cream. Black car back to Manhattan to walk it off on Fifth Avenue from 42 to 57 and a night cap at one of the few dark neighborhood bars still in existance on the upper east side.
Clarke's baby. As long as Clarke's stands, the Upper East Side will not become another SoHo (I'm exagerrating, I know).