<![CDATA[Gawker: spotted pig]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/gawker.com.png <![CDATA[Gawker: spotted pig]]> http://gawker.com/tag/spottedpig http://gawker.com/tag/spottedpig <![CDATA[Mandy Moore: 314 West 11th Street]]> [Submit your own Gawker Stalker sightings to stalker@gawker.com] April 17 @ 1:30pm At The Spotted Pig. I think they let her cook or something.

She was wearing a chef's outfit and carrying deviled eggs as we passed her on the stairs.

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<![CDATA[Actress Finds Love With Meaty Restaurateur?]]> robinwright.jpegRestaurateur Ken Friedman, who runs the West Village celebrity magnet Spotted Pig and reportedly does not use deodorant, is, according to former Gawker writer and current man-about-town Josh Stein, dating Robin Wright, the former wife of Sean Penn. Does Sean Penn use deodorant? Will Ken Friedman be able to continue wooing the Princess Bride actress while smelling heavily of pork? Neither of these questions can tarnish this unlikely food guy/ golden girl love story. [My Memoirs]

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<![CDATA[A Night At The Spotted Pig]]> Last night we ate at the Spotted Pig, which is a restaurant some famous people own where some famous people go. When we went, some famous people were there! Also, a ton of lame-seeming frat boys. Our residency lasted from 11:15 to 1:30 and during that time, we saw Jay Z and Beyoncé scurry from the second floor (hoi polloi) to the third floor (Empyrean Heaven). Jigga is an investor and looks like a suave African-American André The Giant, though our perception might have been altered since we were sitting on those tiny stools they have there.

Beyoncé also looked 8 feet tall. She was wearing a shiny black overcoat and her skin glowed in the soft light. "My skin would glow like that too if I got facials everyday," someone whispered. The frat boys tried to play it cool like "No big deal that the dude whose music I listen so that I feel somehow in touch with street culture is standing two feet away from me," but they failed pretty spectacularly. When the two walked in, accompanied by a Laestrygonian bouncer, the whole upstairs fell silent. Soon, among the parade to the third floor, we spotted porcine chef Mario Batali, who co-owns the Spotted Pig and his Iron Chef America sous-chef Anne Burrell, who should have been heading up the kitchen at Centro Vinoteca, where she is the chef.

We also learned some things about Adam Duritz, the frontman for the Counting Crows. Like did you know that he is a dick? He also really likes bowties but "in a crazy way." AND! To get to his bedroom, you have to pull on a book, like at the LES bar the Back Room. And you know what that book is? Bob Dylan: Lyrics. HA! Remember that part in Mr. Jones when Duritz sings, "I wanna be Bob Dylan"? He really does!

And also, Jay Z won't let men serve him. Only ladies.


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<![CDATA[Know Your Spotted Pig Investors]]> There are eight investors in the perpetually blooming West Village celebrity hotspot The Spotted Pig. We bet you'd like to know who they are. This unfortunately-headlined Observer piece and a little research did the trick:

  • Mario Batali
  • Ken Friedman
  • Fatboy Slim aka Norman Cook
  • Jay Z aka Sean Carter aka Hova
  • Bono aka That Self Righteous Guy Who Saved Africa
  • Michael Stipe aka the Nightswimmer
  • Michael Guido, a prominent music-industry lawyer. Notable quotable: "I think I own a spoon and a coat hook."
  • Paul McGuinness, longtime U2 manager
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<![CDATA['Seventeen' Party Makes Friends Friendly]]> shoketDid we know that West Village gastropub-whatever hotspot Spotted Pig had a third floor? We did not, but the gals at Seventeen did, and so they threw the tiniest of parties there last night to celebrate new editor Ann Shoket's first issue. Entrance through the rear, as they say! The top floor is like a cute Parisian apartment, with an open kitchen, two refrigerators, a hell of an oven. And so how was extremely tall editor Ann Shoket's day? "Meetings, meetings, meetings, meetings, meetings, and then a party!" the East Village gal said. She was in a two-tone dress, white in the bodice, black to the knees, black hose, undistinguished but not untoward shiny closed-toe heels.

Elizabeth Dye, who came over from Hearst PR last June to handle "special projects," was herself wearing that thing where you have a dress over jeans. She didn't know what we were supposed to call that either. Did all the special projects editors of the world's magazines ever get together and figure out just what made a project special? "It's such an ominous title!" she said. "It's a new frontier." Today she will launch podcasts. It was she who arranged for a Seventeen editor to judge on America's Next Top Model. It was suggested that maybe Tina Brown was right all along about synergy, just maybe too early, or too big-headed?

There was a short surprise speech, by Joanna Saltz, executive style editor. "It's been a pleasure this far. Ann's big thing is that 'It's fun to be Seventeen' and it has been a lot of fun—this far."

There are a lot of blondes at the magazine.

A server passed among the ladies, offering a pink-inflected cake. Were any of them really going to eat cake in front of each other? "We have to offer it, though," the server said.

And then Jossip blogger Debbie Newman met Radar's Jeff Bercovici. (For those paying attention to the minutia, Radar is in some spat with former Jossip blogger and current Page Sixer Corynne Steindler.) Debbie has a big-earrings and head-banded Arden Wohl sort of look, which perhaps affects every girl of their generation from the same high school.

Debbie was nervous. "I feel like there's stuff that precedes me," she said to Jeff about the spat. "Well, there is stuff that precedes you," Jeff said. Friends! Maybe!

It was like a blogger party really! Except Niche Media honcho and Wall Street heir Jason Binn was there, his tie all the way up. "There's an hour-long wait downstairs," he said of the Spotted Pig. "They're fucking killing." There was a reporter from the Wall Street Journal. And Portfolio. And someone from the New Yorker breezed by. So you see what was up. Meanwhile, Edward Burns was downstairs in the Spotted Pig proper.

In the corner of the room was a big poster-size version of Seventeen, which some people were signing like a yearbook. "You didn't know it was like my bat mitzvah," said Ann.

One wrote: "We are so happy about the really FUN Seventeen! -xo Holly."

And another:

"Ann [heart] all the Fun & love [heart] [peace sign] Richie Rich."

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