The moment I drove down West 24th Street, looking for a parking lot that wouldn?t require the liquidation of my IRA account, I knew that I was going to like the Wyndham Garden Chelsea Hotel. There, down the block from the colorful tile wall that marks the entrance to this Midtown hotel, was Eataly, the Mario Batali-sanctioned indoor playground for those who like to exercise their taste buds with Italian foodstuffs.
Let?s be honest for a moment. Staying in New York is less about needing all the comforts of home than it is about location. Personally, I can practically bunk in a flophouse as long as I have easy access to some of Manhattan?s shiniest objects, and few things shine as bright for food enthusiasts as Eataly. There, you can slice into a thick Piedmontese porterhouse for two, scoop up some house-made gelato, buy fresh pasta and bread, pick up a bottle or two (or five) of wine and finish your excursion with a fine demitasse of espresso. I?d sleep there, if only they?d let me unfold a cot near the charcuterie section.
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