Chank

I have a feeling that some of you were scratching your heads when I suggested last Friday that you picture me over the weekend at, among other events, a “chank” bachelorette party. Chank? What the heck’s that?

I realize that there are likely a few of of you high verbal-SAT-scorers jumping up and down right now with an - Ooh! Ooh! I know. Sorry buckos, I’m not talking about a shell-themed bachelorette soiree. (How lame. You guys needed to study less and party more.)

Chank is a term I coined several years back, a combination of the words “cheap” and “swank” - ultimately the perfect combo for experiencing the magnificent dichotomy of New York’s drinking and dining scene, while being kind to your wallet. Example? A Kir Royale at The Four Seasons followed by Indian food on Curry Row in the East Village.

Get it now?

And, so Saturday night began at the decadently delightful Campbell Apartment (pictured above), where we were immediately put off by a tall, unpleasant Nazi hostess. How fabulous! (Not really.) I attempted to work some VV magic and eventually secured a prime perch for our party and we began to toast the bride-to-be with Veuve Clicquot. (F. Scott and Zelda would’ve been proud!)

Certainly the swank portion of the night had been a winner. But, what chank evening would be complete without the requisite “ch?” And, what’s more “ch” than good ol’ BBQ and a few cool brewskys? So, we bid adieu to the luxurious surroundings of Campbell Apartment and headed to the Theater District’s smokehouse fave, Virgil’s (spread pictured below.)

A heaping platter of Hush Puppies, a plate of cold Jumbo Shrimp, several Memphis Pork Ribs, a helping of Georgia Pecan Rice, an oversized BBQ Salad and several ice cold beers served us well. It was finger-lickin’, downhome fun, featuring four fairly drunk, overstuffed broads and one goofy tiara. (Dolly and Loretta would’ve been proud!)

Chank. Live it. Love it. Go forth and chank…And, let me know how it goes.