Our taxi sped along the expressway, ducking out of Queens and heading toward Manhattan. The window offered a view of a muddle of buildings, which raced past into blurred obscurity. Welcome, as they say, to the jungle. My sister continued her pleasant narrative. Inside the taxi, I felt completely at ease. I had left the farm in good hands, and despite the stress of getting away, here I was. There was nothing to do now, but enjoy myself. Given the previous week, I deserved it.

I squeezed my wife's knee and she smiled, just as relieved to be here as I. There are few greater feelings than the joy of having just stepped off a flight, with a full week to explore such an iconic city. Sarah continued, "You guys are going to love the place we're going tonight - they serve spaghetti in a giant cheese wheel. Chris should be home by the time we get to the apartment ... " She trailed off. Man, was it good to be back.

The taxi ducked into the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, and rocketed out the other side. Suddenly the buildings stretched taller than I could see through the window. You in the jungle, baby.

Just as abruptly, my sister changed her tone. "Hey, hey. Where are you taking us? I said 39th and first - what is this?" The taxi driver offered a defensive rebuttal, something about a one-way street. My sweet, mild-mannered sister with the soothing voice shot back, "You were supposed to turn right back there, that would've taken us straight to 39th. What is this detour?"

I must've looked shocked. We reached our destination, and Sarah explained that in the city, you constantly had to be on the lookout for scammers. That dude, she explained, missed his turn and had to drive an extra couple of blocks, ultimately running up our fare. I could only shrug; he could've driven us to the Bronx and I would have been happily oblivious.

And, what a view. Sarah and Chris' apartment offered a commanding view of the East River. I could see the United Nations building, Roosevelt Island, and a helipad. From the communal top floor of their apartment complex was a postcard shot of the Chrysler Building. Having sipped my obligatory beer and pondered the impossibility of leaving the farm (see last week's article), we headed out.

Herein lies what I believe to be the single greatest aspect about a place like Manhattan. Before departing Wisconsin, Ashley and I decided to try food that we had never had before. Over the course of our week in New York City, we would experience ethnic dishes not available back home. Even with seven full days, we never came close to exhausting the options.

One night we tried Sicilian food, at a place on 2nd Avenue called "Cacio e Vino." I tried the calamari appetizer, with a baked monkfish entrée. Ashley ordered the aforementioned "cheese wheel spaghetti," which was nothing short of epic. Literally, the server presents an enormous cheese wheel, with a hollowed bowl of pasta in the middle. By spooning the food onto Ashley's plate, a healthy dose of melted cheese is included. Like I said, epic.

Another evening saw us at a Japanese restaurant called Aquamarine. When I saw Kumamoto oysters on the menu, I jumped. Served raw on a bed of granulated ice, Kumamoto oysters need no sauce. I gingerly picked up each half-shell, savoring the flavorful flesh of each. As a kid, I found the idea of raw seafood revolting. But these oysters simply melt in your mouth, so savory and delicious. Trust me, they are impossible not to enjoy.

Another night, Sarah treated us to a Spanish place in SoHo. In a total change of atmosphere, this restaurant was lively and crowded in a festive, rather than imposing, tone. Thanks to Chris, who had spent a great deal of his childhood in Spain, I could actually read the menu. Over the jovial chatter of the patrons, we enjoyed Spanish cheese, meatballs, tapas, and a ceaseless parade of jugs of sangria.

In another change of pace, we retreated to a quietly chilled cocktail lounge called the Blue Owl, straight from the scenes of TV's "Mad Men." If ever you are in New York City, look it up - in this venue, mixing drinks is an art form. Be sure to try the Sea Smoke Cocktail; as if tequila couldn't get any better.

Possibly the highlight of the culinary trip was Sunday morning. There we were in the East Village, scoping out a place for brunch. Chris casually pointed out that not too long ago you couldn't come here, for the drugs and violence. Ashley suddenly shrieked. What, were we about to be mugged?

No, it was the Life Café. She pointed across the street. You know, Life Café, as seen in the Broadway Musical "Rent". I racked my brain, but I guess I'm not as up on "Rent" as I thought. The food though, was outstanding.

Our goal for the week was to try as many diverse foods as possible, not difficult for New York City. Also included on this culinary excursion, which need no further explanation, were the following: Yes, I actually ordered, paid for, and consumed raw oysters, jellyfish, pigeon, curried duck, lamb, olive oil gelato, sesame seed gelato, green curried seafood, goat's milk marzipan, green apple hookah, and a cow tongue sandwich, which tasted exactly like the one grandma used to make.

Oh, and I'm ashamed to say that I did have one more thing. One night I actually drank a Bud Light. I can only live with myself because I didn't actually pay for it.

- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.