RIP
Martell’s Restaurant
1469 3rd Avenue
New York City of My Youth
I can not even find a photo of Martell’s Restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan — the blue-and-white striped awning, the tile floors, blue-and-white checked tablecloths, big burgers and fat fries. Martell’s was a bridge from the old joints of New York City with their pyramids of hard boiled eggs on the bar, sawdust on the floor and the faint and not-so-faint smell of beer and piss mixed with the grease from a thousand burgers and the new places that hit town in the 70s and began the shift into the world of TGIFridays.
When we didn’t go out for fancy food or to Schrafft’s with our nanny, we went to Martell’s — our version of McDonald’s (with wine for Mother). When I returned to New York many years later, I’d go back to Martell’s on occasion for a big bourbon and a plate of French fries — once with my step-sister (Oliver’s daughter) when our worlds and our lives re-collided.
