Category Archives: NYC: A Users Guide

Hey Greeks! How do you do it?!

Posted on by
14

It has come to pass that certain industries in New York City are owned by certain ethnic groups. For instance, if you get a manicure, someone from Korea is going to do it. If you buy a diamond, it’s likely you’re going to buy it from someone who is Jewish. Most of the taxis drivers are from the Middle East. Investment bankers are almost always thieving parasites. (Ha. Little joke on that last one.)

If you eat in a diner, 9 times out of 10 it’s going to be owned by a Greek family. I love Greek diners. Who doesn’t? They are home away from home on a plate. This beauty is located at 8th Avenue and 50th St.

diner%2B1

What I find astonishing is the vast number of items on the menu. It boggles the mind! Here’s the left side of the menu…

greek+2

…and here’s the right.

greek+3

This doesn’t even include the daily special inserts. There must be 200 meals here! These are small New York restaurants with small kitchens. WHERE DO THEY KEEP ALL THIS FOOD!? Try to imagine stocking your pantry with enough items to prepare any one of these meals on a moment’s notice. One table can order veal parmesan, a full pancake breakfast, a Greek salad, fillet of sole and a bowl of matzo ball soup and it will all arrive at the same time piping hot. It’s an impossible task but they succeed. Go Greeks!

Familiarity breeds comfort and each restaurant has the same accoutrements*, giving it that I’ve eaten here before feeling. No NYC Greek diner is complete without the obligatory autographed 8 x 10 glossy of a celebrity (pizza parlors do this, too)…

greek+4

…and the refreshing cocktail suggestion placemat.

greek+1

There’s always a seat at the counter, a bottomless cup of coffee (unlike Starbucks) and they keep the daily newspapers on hand for you to read while you eat. I love ‘em.

* For Mr. Mapstew.

Kung hay fat choy redux

Posted on by
6

Tomorrow marks the end of the Chinese New Year celebration. In New York City, it culminates in the Lunar New Year Parade & Festival in Chinatown. I usually attend but won’t be able to, so I’ve decided to do the lazy thing and rerun last year’s post for those who might have missed it.

Happy New Year!

* * *

Nurse H and I took a trip down to Chinatown to help our Chinese friends ring in the New Year. It’s 4707—the year of the Ox.

The Chinese New Year celebration lasts 15 days. You’re not supposed to say anything negative about anyone for 15 days. That’s quite a challenge, especially in a place as opinionated as New York City!

We strolled up and down Mott Street and watched the dragons parade. The dragons are followed by a team of percussionists. They dance at the entrance of each merchant. To ward off bad luck, the merchant ignites a firework that shoots a big wad of confetti into the air that frightens the dragon away. He then hands a red envelope filled with cash through the mouth of the dragon.

dragon+2

dragon+3

Sometimes, the dragons are invited into the restaurants to parade. I was in the middle of a big plate of beef chow fun and a dragon came in and tried to eat the proprietor.

restraunt+1
restraunt+2
restraunt+3
Mott Street is closed to vehicular traffic and it becomes a big pedestrian mall. (That’s Nurse H in the blue hat.)
street

I met my old lover on the street last night

Posted on by
22

I went into the city for the first time since being commissioned for a freelance project in New Jersey over three weeks ago. I hadn’t been away from New York for that length of time since I was in my 20’s. Take it from me pallies, that was a long time ago.

I was worried that something might have changed. That suddenly, New York and I weren’t an item anymore. I was afraid of long, awkward silences and uncomfortable truths that might be revealed. Working close to home has its charms. It affords some important things that cannot be had when I work in the city. Sometimes, shiny toys lose their luster when you don’t play with them for a while. From a distance, you begin to wonder what you ever saw in them in the first place. Sometimes, you have a change of heart.

I timidly walked out of the subway at 50th Street and Broadway.

It was like seeing an old friend you’ve been worried sick about. Hello, 7th Avenue! Did you miss me! (Yes, she did.) My feet missed the sidewalks. My senses missed the disharmony. It was the first time I noticed how odd the mounted NYPD look strolling up an Avenue.

cops+1

* * *

I saw David Mamet’s Race. Full disclosure: I think Mamet is a great writer and am predisposed to liking his stuff before the house lights dim. I sat next to a black couple and I suppose the fact that I squirmed in my seat over the racial issues that were addressed is an indication of how expertly constructed the dramatic arc of the story was. And it was surprisingly funny. The entire cast is killer, especially James Spader.

race

Race is at the Barrymore, which was built in 1928 and has a rich past. At the same theater in 1992, I saw Jessica Lange struggle (and fail) to play Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire. She couldn’t keep up with Alec Baldwin’s Stanley Kowalski. He wiped the stage with her. In 1948, on the exact same floorboards, the play was premiered with Marlon Brando as Kowalski. I love history stuff like that.

* * *

I walked into the subway to catch a downtown train. Someone was playing a trumpet. I threw $1 into his case. Subway stations have perfect acoustics for horn instruments. There’s just enough echo. He was so talented. A great musician. He played a rich, soulful rendition of Erroll Garner’s Misty and then a version of Johnny Mercer’s Laura that broke my stupid, stupid heart. And I felt at home again.

And you see Laura
On a train that is passing through.

Tim Burton at MoMA

Posted on by
13

The cool and hip thing to say is, “Oh, I NEVER listen to the critics! I go my own way!” But the fact of the matter (for me, anyway) is that I have very limited time and funds and on those rare occasions when I am at liberty to see a show or an exhibit, I do some homework beforehand so I don’t squander the opportunity, and that homework includes scouring the reviews. That’s why when the Tim Burton exhibit currently at MoMA got a weak review in the New York Times back in November, I demoted it to my B list of things to see.

Well, I had my “doh!” moment when I approached the exhibit. Critics can sometimes be humorless idiots and that is certainly the case here. The exhibit is a blast. Initially, I was puzzled over why MoMA would mount a retrospective of a movie director but Burton is an imaginative designer and makes good use of the floor space.

popup+2

Photo credit: Marilyn K. Yee/The New York Times

As you can imagine, it has broad appeal and the crowds are pretty thick. (That’s probably one of the reasons why the Times critic—sniff-sniff—didn’t like it.) If you’re in the neighborhood, it’s worth a visit, although you should probably get a timed-ticked from the museum, especially if you’re going on a weekend.

popup1

Tim Burton/20th Century Fox

[Edit for comment: I didn’t take my girls to this show. 3-Year Old is too young for ANY museum and 8-Year Old would have been creeped out by it. As you can imagine, some of this stuff is actually quite frightening and 8-Year Old has a delicate sensibility. I think it would have given her some serious nightmares. At bedtime, the Edward Scissorhands costume would have marched out of her closet and the Catwoman costume from under her bed.]

What to avoid in NYC. Tip #2a: dining options

Posted on by
7

A few months ago, I pleaded with NYC visitors to stay away from the chain restaurants in Times Square. There’s nothing inherently wrong with them and they have their place, but if you’re coming to New York, eat locally, not nationally.

I also think it’s a mistake to come to town and spend hundreds of dollars on a single meal just because a bunch of food snobs say it’s the thing to do.

I’ve never understood fine dining. For me, food “goodness” has a threshold. It’s not like buying a house whereby the more money you spend the more house you get. You can spend increasingly greater amounts of money on a meal, but there’s a tipping point whereby a great meal cannot become any greater. It’ll just cost a hell of a lot more.

I think the fine dining industry knows they’re preying on people’s vanity and have perpetuated this scam for generations. I often picture the chef and Maître d’ back in the kitchen laughing their asses off at the suckers in the dining room. Particularly here in New York.

For instance, Frank Bruni, the restaurant critic for the New York Times was asked where the best sushi restaurant is. Are you ready?

The absolute best [sushi] I encountered in New York over the last five years is Masa, but that’s a recommendation of limited usefulness. A meal there is upward of $400 a person. I haven’t been in a long time.

So I’d like to single out Sushi Yasuda as well. There you can have a wonderfully intimate, pampering omakase experience for under $100 a person, not counting drinks. Still a major treat, but much, much more manageable.

So if you order a nice hot Saki, the bill would be over $100 per person? For friggin’ sushi?! Is a $200 bill for a sushi dinner “much, much more manageable?” Or worth it? Not to me! Believe me, there are PLENTY of sushi joints (and other restaurants as well) in Manhattan that will deliver a satisfying meal for a fraction of that cost.

Don’t believe the hype.