Five or six years ago, Mike had a "fake heart attack" in a New York City hospital. I flew the Jet Blue "red eye" flight to the City and arrived in Mike's hospital room as the cardiologist told Mike that he was just fine. Mike's irregular heartbeat was a personal peculiarity and his chest and stomach pains were from eating too much rich food (fueled by his Goldman Sachs expense account). One of the highlights of that weekend, once Mike was released from the hospital, was Sunday brunch at Sylvia's, in Harlem.
Sylvia's is an institution, serving ribs, fried chicken, corn bread, and peach cobbler to generations of Harlem residents and tourists passing through.
Sylvia's has fed many celebrities.
On October 20, 2019, I staged a Sylvia's soul food dinner, complete with barbecued ribs, mac'n'cheese, collard greens, corn bread, and peach cobbler. We pretended it was "Juneteenth," when African Americans celebrate their culture, often accompanied by the vibrant kente cloth designs from West Africa.
I played Ray Charles jazz in the background.
I even fried some green tomatoes from my gardens, snatched from the first fall frost.
I love the diverse guests at my parties, and I encourage my grandchildren at BYU, Spencer, Naomi, and Grant, to bring their friends.
When dinner was over, there was nothing left but bones. Success!
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