Adventures in the City

Finding new places to eat often involves a fair amount of risk-taking and adventure. I must often push myself, and others, out of familiar and comfortable safety zones and embark on tiny adventures. Eating at Pies-N-Thighs last summer was, of course, a great experience. It was not only the food my family and I loved; we also adored the down-to-earth warmth of Sarah and her partners. During each visit there, I was transported back to Edisto, our favorite island in South Carolina. A whiff of Bobq, a tiny little Southern restaurant open Wednesday-Friday and located in one of Edisto's gas stations, would waft over me as I contentedly sat in Pies-N-Thigh's postage-stamp sized backyard. From my office, located in a bustling, commercial neighborhood at Marcy Avenue/Broadway in the shadow of the Williamsburg Bridge, the walk to the calm environs of Pies-N-Thighs, always made me feel as I'd taken a small trip. I generally followed the same route. Meandering through a tidy neighborhood of slightly faded, but well-kept brownstones and little Spanish bodegas, I always anticipated making the turn onto Driggs to get to South 5th street. At the corner, I would see the East River, with one perfect Weeping Willow tree silhouetted against it. As I walked down old sidewalks, some still covered with cobble-stones, I looked at old buildings built in the 1800s. It was a moment of pure bliss. With warmer weather again beckoning me outside for lunch, I am often at a loss of where to go. Pies-N-Thigh's is closed, but soon to re-open. I resorted to walking a loop from the South side over to Bedford Avenue. There is one beautiful garden on N. 5th Street, between Roebling and Driggs and the cherry blossoms were quite spectacular. So, I was quite thrilled recently when Mr. D. (a former therapist on my program) met me for lunch and insisted that we visit Tipico bk. Located on S. 1st Street, just past Roebling, Tipico bk is a Paraguayan restaurant. It is small and personal in space, but big in generosity and spirit. When Mr. D. and I visited there recently, we were initially the only customers. I ordered an iced cocido, a brewed yerba Mate tea, and Mr. D. had a glass of fresh Mango juice. I ended up adding milk to my cocido and found that I enjoyed the slightly bitter taste. After finishing the tea, I experienced a moment of true acuity -and felt a sense of being very clear in my body. (I googled yerba mate when I got back to work and discovered that it is prized for exactly that: providing energy and clarity without the buzz or heart-beating impact of coffee. Yerba mate contains less caffeine then tea/coffee, according to the site I consulted.) While Mr. D and I were eating, a gaggle of Paraguayans arrived. As I observed them interact, I was reminded of the excitement of living in the E. Village during the early 1980s. Two of the young women were dressed stylishly, and without attitude; in skinny jeans and straw fedoras. They were clearly friends of the two proprietors and an easy camaraderie existed between them. One of the young women had an old Nikon around her neck. After we finished our lunch - I had a generous portion of beef stew over polenta (and took half of it back to work) and Mr. D had a chicken sandwich - we passed the young women sitting outside in the sunlight snapping pictures of a friend. It was a perfect moment. The next day, when it was warm and summer-like, I returned by myself to Tipico bk. I was greeted warmly by the same counterman. I decided to sit outside in the sun, at the one lone table in front. It was not a perfect view. The building across the street sported a sign saying "Police will arrest any loiterers" and the super looked at me quizzically as he desultorily swept the sidewalk. A garbage truck came rumbling down the street. It stopped momentarily in front of me to compress a few boxes and I was pleasantly greeted by both sanitation workers. Various people walked by, several of them loaded down with bags of groceries. One old lady with a cane turned back to examine me intently a few times, and then walked on. As I looked up, I caught the eye of a man in the window of the lone luxury apartment building on the street. He was sipping coffee and looking out his window. Yet, as I sat there eating my Acai (a South American fruit prized for it's anti-oxidant properties) with granola and bananas, I basked in the sun, content and at peace.

Flying Fish and Tadpoles

One of my biggest dilemmas is learning to sit still. Given everything going on in my life, I am like a wind-up energizer bunny and then boom - I crash. Perhaps that's why I love driving around upstate and visiting gardens during weekends (or taking an occasional day off to do so). This past Friday, we took a drive up to Stonecrop Gardens in Cold Spring, New York. I stumbled upon Stonecrop Gardens a couple months ago, as I was googling "gardens in upstate New York." The garden opened to the public on April 1 and I'd initially planned a day trip there with Carl as a pre-birthday treat. After learning that little one had no school Thursday and Friday, (in honor of the Pope's visit to NYC), the trip expanded to include little one, her best friend, A.T. and Lady L. (A.T.s mother). In a fortunate twist of fortune, Lady L. and I have become good friends. This means that we are lucky enough to enjoy each other's company while our daughter's happily play together (most of the time, until they get tired and exhaustively fight). I was quite excited about the trip and even more happy about the summer-like weather. The issue of Carl's back was on my mind, since he'd been in significant pain the prior week. Carl was surprised that I was worried. Despite the pre-arrival Pope traffic jams, he graciously made a detour to Hong Kong Station in Chinatown, so I could get my morning fix of iced milk tea. Carl wasn't too thrilled when I came back with the wrong pastry from the bakery next door. He actually got out of the car and went to buy the pastry he'd requested!! Carl has joined me in being exact in his taste about food - a recent development. I remember when he was content with his bagel and a black coffee. But back to the road trip. Without any pre-coordination, Lady L. brought multiple snacks and I packed two coloring books and crayons. At the last minute, Lady L. had also burned some CDs of High School Musical and Vanessa Hudgens (the music of choice for 5-year-olds.) For most of the drive, Little one and A.T. were quite giggly and happy (with Lady L. squashed in between them). They were so engaged with each other, they remained blase about the view from the Bear Mountain bridge. Just before we found Stonecrop, windows began opening and closing with numerous "are we there yet?" queries. Momentarily, we found our turn-off and the girls were happy to get out of the car. Stonecrop Gardens is comprised of several small gardens and greenhouses. Little one and A.T. were extremely thrilled to see tadpoles and "monster fish" (big orange and grey carp) swimming in one pond and delighted to watch as a baby turtle paddled amidst small fishes and tadpole in another pond (near the Bamboo Pavilion garden). Stonecrop Garden was imbued with a very special feeling of tranquility and generosity and after an hour or so of wandering the grounds and greenhouses, we departed with a renewed sense of overall goodwill. We decided to stop in at our favorite cafe, 2 Alices, in Cornwall-on-Hudson, for lunch and tea. In the midst of our excited chatter about our food order, the proprietress put two-and-two together (after I asked about carrot soup). She asked if I had posted a piece on 2 Alices recently, and explained that a friend of hers (who has a website about Cornwall-on-Hudson), had forwarded her my blog. I was quite thrilled. It was exciting for me to directly experience the vastness of the Internet. We were not disappointed with our lunch. The girls had Chicken-Caesar wraps and I had a slice of Artichoke quiche. Lady L. had a slice of the quiche and then switched food with A.T. Carl ate a vegetarian sandwich and finished my Iced Vanilla Chai Latte. I was happy for the excuse to order a hot Masala Chai with steamed milk. In the spirit of truthfulness, the girls also each ate 4 miniature chocolates (before their wraps). They then shared a huge Zabar's chocolate chip cookie. It was a perfect afternoon, and we got back to the city at 5:30. To avoid the Pope-related traffic, Carl dropped me off at the West Side Highway. The walk to my private-practice office was both quick and pleasant. I decided to get a tamale at Pio Mayo (W. 8th street between 6th Avenue and MacDougal). Pio Mayo is a pretty, tiny space which serves exceptional Mexican food. It opened a couple years ago, and has a strong following. I stumbled on it when it opened, and then read about in New York Magazine. The best part of Friday was that we were all re-uniting on Saturday evening for my actual birthday dinner. After reading something about stewed chickens in a New York Times Dining Section, I was intrigued by a place called Palo Santo. Interestingly, Palo Santo was completely Carl's style. It's located in a brownstone at Union Street and Fourth Avenue in Park Slope and completely incongruous with the "suburban" aspect so often attributed to the area. As a disclaimer, I should admit that Carl always get nervous about places I select for birthday dinners. To provide context; it's taken him a long while to get comfortable at Blaue Gans, where we have breakfast every weekend. (It helps that little one loves Blaue Gans as does her Big Sister -when she deigns to arise early enough to join us there.) Anyway, at Palo Santo we were seated at a large wooden table in the back of the restaurant. Our table was adjacent to a large casement window overlooking a small garden with a sculpture/fountain. There were lots of plants and some paintings (which I found very hippie-like). Afterwards, I realized that the overall vibe was akin to eating on the beach in Negril, Jamaica or outside of San Juan, Puerto Rico. That being said, the food was absolutely terrific. There was an extraordinary medley of flavors in everything we ate. While we waited for our group to arrive, we ordered some avocado and tortillas. The avocado was sliced and served with finely diced onions, olive oil and tiny pieces of mild, green peppers. The tortilla were little tiny discs of lightly griddled dough. Carl and the girls loved them. Later, when A.T. and her family came in with The Devster, Carl ordered some more avocado and tortillas but added an order of Tacos (which arrived in a series of three with chicken, and (I think) octopus. The appetizers were pretty much inhaled on the spot. For the main course, Carl and I shared the flying fish which was served with a piquant red cabbage salad, a mild salsa and placed on top of a sweet plantain (still on the leaf). We also ordered the fish soup, which was chock full of clams and shrimp. It was spicy and satisfying at the same time. The waitress described the flying fish as being like sardines with edible bones, and they were very good. Big Daughter ordered the hen with mole sauce and black beans. Little one and A.T. shared a baked pork chop with yucca and a side of rice with mushrooms, beans and cheese which was like risotto. We all had to taste the rice, it was so creamy. Lady L. ordered beef cheeks and her partner, Sir M. also ordered the Baked Pork chop. Sir M. liked our soup so much, he ordered one as well. The desserts were phenomenal. At lunch time, my friend Miss E. and I had visited Batch (the bakery affiliated with P*ong). We shared a Yuzu Meringue, a very rich, miniature chocolate chip type cookie and a chai tea pudding. Both were absolutely amazing. I was a bit scared to eat any more sweets, but after blowing out the candle, I tasted the tangerine pie at Palo Santo and was glad I did. It was tangy, sweet and ethereal. The two little ones serenaded me in Mandarin and English as they sang Happy Birthday. After all the excitement, Little one was overwhelmed and needed to cry for a minute. Big Daughter and The Devster both ordered Apple-Rhubarb crisp with whipped cream, and the two little ones shared a tangerine pie with extra whipped cream. Lady L. ordered the chocolate mousse with tequila and pronounced it strong. I offered Sir M. my Yerba Mate and he was intrigued by the taste. Lady L. compared it to Macha, which we all agreed had a similar texture. As I get older, I find my birthday belongs more to my family and close friends, and that is a true gift in itself. Luckily, Carl did not force us to take the M train home and agreed to a car service. I love driving over the Brooklyn Bridge on a warm evening, it feels like we're on the top of the world.

Kumquat preserves and acupuncture

Since my post of last week, Carl has been slightly freaked out that his fruit-selling pals suddenly disappeared from their regular spot. Today, it's exactly one week that they're absent and Carl is supine and recovering from chronic back pain. I'm not suggesting a connection but that is an interesting coincidence. To comfort him, Big Daughter suggested that perhaps the couple took a Spring trip to China. As I walked up the subway stairs this evening, at the Canal Street stop of the J train, the sidewalk looked empty without the fruit stand. I expected to see the fruit vendors momentarily, although I understand the irony of writing a post about them, and poof, they disappear. Life is like that. When you're not looking, time passes and things change. I'm surprised that it's April. Spring is inching closer and I feel a discernible shift in the air. When I discovered that my doctor's office was closed on Saturday, I decided to head over to Euphoria Spa (Harrison between Greenwich and Hudson) to get a Thai Herbal Poultice Massage. I was hoping that the combination of the hot oil and Thai herbs might present some relief to my sinus/allergy headache, and it did. During the massage, when I found myself momentarily reviewing a few unfinished tasks at work, I realized I was not yet out of the woods. Nonetheless, I achieved some moments of bliss that propelled me into work early Friday morning to tie up some loose ends. As I was finishing up with my private clients Friday evening, I encountered my colleague from the adjacent office. She told me that Saturday was the first day of operation for her new low-cost acupuncture clinic. Since the sinus headache had returned, I scheduled an 11:30 a.m. appointment Saturday morning. I was again seeking relief. Twelve years ago, I had one prior experience with acupuncture during my MSW training. I found it so extremely pleasant that I was taken aback. It was acupuncture in the ears. When I mentioned it on Saturday, my colleague referred to it as "acupuncture Valium." My session with her and an office-mate was more diagnostic. After taking my pulse and analyzing it on many levels, they quietly discussed the placement of several differently numbered needles in my body. By the time they were finished, I had two needles inserted into each of my upper temples, one in my breastbone, one in each of my wrists and two in opposite ankle/shin areas. After inserting the needles - which didn't hurt - they both left the room for a short while. I remained very still and had the sensation of energy moving around my body. As I entered into a half-dozing state, I thought my arms were behind me, even though I knew they were resting on my knees. I figured this symbolized the last year; when I had no choice but to manage the situation. When Big Daughter, and her boyfriend, Young Sir C, met me for a late lunch, she was slightly uncomfortable with the idea of my walking around with two little seeds placed in each ear for stress management. The seeds are placed on a pressure point and I was instructed to push on them for realignment. I liked the idea and I continued to periodically press them. After deciding I was still sane, Big Daughter agreed to lunch at Belcourt, a restaurant I'd noticed a few months ago at the corner of 4th street and 2nd Avenue. Initially, we were the only customers. This seemed fitting since it was my first meal with Big Daughter and Young Sir C. Although it was a sunny day, there was a cool breeze. Over Big Daughter's objections, I asked if the long glass windows, which opened onto the sidewalk, could be closed. Belcourt is designed in a clean, modern-deco style with a row of burnished brown leather banquettes against one wall and free-standing tables scattered throughout. The restaurant is refreshingly anti-climatic in the way it appears comfortable with itself. The prevailing energy is not about showcasing food, or elevating the customers, but maintaining a sense of ease. Big Daughter and Young Sir C both ordered the same thing; a cheddar cheese omelet with toast on the side. When the waiter arrived, the sight of two exactly identical plates was interesting to me. I opted for a Spinach Salad with Manoush cheese and crackers. The waiter made sure to inform his counterpart that we had snagged the last order of house made sausage. Afterwards we headed over to Sugar Sweet Sunshine (Rivington off Essex) for dessert, as per Big Daughter's request. Young Sir C ordered the chocolate bomb, a pudding-like mixture of chocolate and whipped cream. I wanted a Red Velvet cupcake so I could eat the chocolate frosting and Big Daughter got the Strawberry-Rhubarb crumble and a Vanilla cupcake with pink frosting. The next day, Big Daughter, Young Sir C,and I went with our dear friend Miss A. to the Chanterelle Sunday Salon on Artisinal American Cheeses and Wines. On the table, there was a bowl of homemade Kumquat jam to accompany one of the cheese courses. As we waited for the Salon to begin, we nibbled on pieces of bread spread with Kumquat preserves. I was tickled when Young Sir C remembered that we'd had Kumquat Preserves at Belcourt during our lunch on Saturday. During my bout with sinusitis/allergies, I had lost my appetite for several days. The presence of homemade Kumquat preserves on the tables of Belcourt and Chanterelle seemed fitting and left with me with a sweet taste in my mouth.

The Tao of Soy Custard and Gardens

On my way home from work this evening, I was hopeful to find homemade soy custard for sale, just outside the Centre street exit of the Canal stop on the J line. For the past couple days, I've been coming down with a cold. The thought of eating, warm, fragrant soy custard was comforting. Big Daughter met me for lunch in Williamsburg today. We decided to visit our old standby, and favorite lunch spot, Diner. The menu has been revamped, so no more pressed Cuban sandwiches. They've added Shepherd's Pie and some other yummy choices, and their specials are still great. As we finished our lunch - she had Beef Ragu with two poached eggs on top, and I had beer-battered cod and a few french fries with A-1 sauce - I noticed the waitress walk by holding teapots. Our waitress confirmed that Diner is now serving tea, courtesy of In Pursuit of Tea. I was happy to order some Keemun, which I doctored with milk and sugar to get me through the afternoon, as my throat was getting sore. The restorative effects of the tea had worn off by the time the day was over, hence my wish for soy custard. As I walked up the subway stairs, I was happy to see a familiar sight, the large, blue shopping cart that holds a huge vat of steaming custard. A small group of vendors regularly ply their wares outside the subway entrance, but the soy custard vendor is there sporadically. After little one began attending a Chinese Catholic School on Bowery, Carl discovered a wily pair of fruit vendors, neighbors to the soy-custard vendor. They sell their fruit outside, rain or shine or snow. Carl is thrilled to buy not-too-ripe strawberries, bananas, oranges and grapes from them, while he practices a few choice phrases in Mandarin that he's learned from little one. Prior to finding them, Carl would purchase fruit, some a bit too ripe, from vendors on Park Place and Church, when little one was in a day care next to Ground Zero. In both cases, he established personal relationships with the vendors -such that they always gave little one an extra apple or orange. Carl has continued this dynamic with the couple, who interact affectionately with him. They enjoy the back and forth; the haggling over any errant change, and the subsequent rounding off of the amount due. They indulge Carl's request to visually check, via the scale, the exact poundage of fruit and together they confirm the total purchase. Recently, when I happened to unexpectedly meet Carl at the fruit stand, lively pointing and gesturing occurred, and the word "pretty" was mentioned (much to my liking). I should note that I have purchased fruit there several times but without Carl, it was clearly not memorable to the duo. When I buy fruit, it is a straightforward process. I select green,under ripe bananas, firm grapes and some miniature tangerines. There is no haggling. At the soy custard shopping cart, this approach serves me well. I've become acquainted with the young, high-school-age, custard-purveyor, Ms. Li. She automatically asks if I want a small custard, and then lifts up the fabric-wrapped lid, places it carefully to the side and in deft, elegant motions, scoops out enough soy custard to fill a small plastic to-go container. The top of the custard is covered with smooth, latticed patterns as she gently replaces the lid. After placing the sealed container in a small plastic bag, she adds a little container of sugar-syrup. This is usually dinner, when I'm lucky enough to find her. The custard is still warm, 15 minutes later, when I arrive home. I take a slotted spoon and scoop some custard out, leaving liquid behind, add a drop of the sugar syrup and voila, dinner. This past Sunday, in the same spirit of comfort, I requested that Carl, little one and I take a drive upstate. Big Daughter took the New Today bus from Chinatown to Philadelphia, to visit a friend at Bryn Mawr. In warmer months, I generally map out day drives to different gardens (Innisfree, the Institute of Eco Systems in Millbrook, Montgomery Place etc.) Since we needed to be back by 4 p.m. (for a March Madness basketball game), I googled gardens in upstate New York and found Boscobel. Located near West Point, Boscobel is a short,pretty drive along the Palisade Parkway and around Bear Mountain. An old house with beautiful grounds, Boscobel is perched on a bluff overlooking the Hudson River. We walked along a mile-long Woodlands trail through a still, stark forest of trees without leaves. Little one acted as the leader and instructed us to stay in a "straight line" behind her. It was an easy walk, and there were little yellow triangles marking the way. As we wound our way along the trail, we caught glimpses of the Hudson River. During the walk, I forgot how tired I was. Near the end of the trail, little one and I rested together on a wooden bench and looked up at the vivid, blue sky for a few tranquil moments. The sunlight had turned the tops of the trees silver. We weren't too far from one of my favorite cafes, Two Alices Coffee Lounge, located in Cornwall-on-Hudson. The short drive to the cafe wended scenically along Bear Mountain with spectacular views. It was our fourth visit to Two Alices, a comfortable, welcoming cafe with a retro-style setting. They carry a wide selection of teas; green, black, chai and prepare them in iced/latte versions along with great baked treats and soups/sandwiches. Little one gamely ate half of her curried carrot soup and then had several miniature-sized chocolates. Carl had a wrap with cheese/vegetables and read the Daily News. I peacefully sipped an iced chai latte. We made it home in time for the basketball game and Davidson lost by a hair, literally.