Jillian's?

I dont have a photo for this place, only because I couldnt find it on the web. I couldnt find it anywhere.

Which made me happy. I might just have the name wrong, I have to have the name wrong, because there is no way this place goes along simply by word of mouth. Or maybe it does.

I've been stopping into Jillian's for years. It's right on Purchase Street in the center of Rye.
It's been the cherry on top of a whole bunch of sick weekends spent at the Concourse D'Elegance in Greenwich, weekends in Westport with friends that inspire, and just too good to pass up or pass by when in Westchester County.

I had to go grab a Maybach from Nick Faldo. I may sound overly familiar with Mr. Faldo only because we spent some time chatting at the Master's, and because I have a crush on his assistant (Maria). My dad actually has a good story about Nick (ask him sometime).

I took my time getting to Rye. Bus to Port Authority, Metro North to Rye, nothing to it. And when I landed, I was physched. I get to eat at Jillian's. Albeit alone, I didnt care. I sat at the bar and watched the end of the Yankee game (they leave men on base), I had a Bloody with the salad they pile on top, and I looked around, all good.

Red Snapper pan fried (which means they just use enough olive oil to get that nice brown coating), Ceaser salad with more than enough pecorino romano cheese, and one lightly grilled shrimp. Normally I'd bitch and moan about only getting only one shrimp, but in this case, it was enough. Life was good. Lunch was great.

Afterwards I sat in the Starbucks next door. I had time to kill and contemplated hustling a ride up the hill to the Westchester Country Club. I drank my coffee, read some of my book (Heat by some cat who willingly took a monkey job in Mario Batali's kitchen) and ventured out and up the hill to the course. I had solid fuel to burn, and that don't suck.

Nick came out from the announcer's tent and said "Billy.. you need a towel!".
I responded without a thought "It's all good, mate" in my best South African drawl.
"Cheers" and in the air coming towards my head came the Tiffany Sterling Silver key ring on which the Maybach gets it's life energy. And off he went.

And off I went.