Parigot

I got back at 5am this morning from a San Diego red-eye and the last thing we wanted to do was expend brain power on what to have for lunch. We walked half a block to Parigot, for what we were certain would be an ordinary meal of ordinary tastes. I went to open the outside door without looking and found myself face to face with a man who had been standing there talking on his phone. He looked at me, I looked at him. Then he moved to the side and I walked into the restaurant. For the next 10 minutes M. and I were incapable of coherent conversation, having just been a little star dazed by the close encounter with Clive. Like all proper New Yorkers though, we completely ignored him for the remainder of the meal, although every time we heard his voice mingled in his table's conversation, our own paused.
Parigot, 155 Grand St, NY, NY 10013 (at Lafayette)