when i was in elementary school, i forbade my mother to pack sandwiches in my lunch. what was wrong with me?
flawless vegetarian sandwich, i: the scuttlebutt (saltie, williamsburg). hard-boiled egg + feta + black olives + capers + pickles + pimenton aioli. a few years ago, joe was in the neighborhood to help open a new firehouse and snagged a scuttlebutt on the way back to his desk in long island city; when he finally got to eat his lunch, he said, "i had to take a moment." (this food-related awe has since been titled "the cheese pause," after a heart-stopping snack we had on a rooftop in madrid.) we got several scuttlebutts a few months later when my sister and brother-in-law were in town, and one of them seems to have made my sister violently ill; we spent a tense night watching behind the candelabra on our pushed-together sofas, jo getting up every fifteen minutes or so to vomit with gusto and our other sister remarking every now and then on steve. "he's just so good-looking." there's no stopping the scuttlebutt, is my point. we love it still.
flawless vegetarian sandwich, ii: ippudo vegetable buns (ippudo, east village). steamed bun + deep-fried eggplant and eringi mushrooms + spicy sauce + kewpie mayo + iceberg lettuce. do steamed buns count as sandwiches? i say they do, and i feel so strongly about them that "hirata bun" is a term of endearment for my husband and my cats. an ippudo run has followed so many of my half-marathons and 10Ks at this point that i associate climbing stairs and feeling my hamstrings twinge with pillowy, crunchy, spicy little street sandwiches. one of these days i'm going to skip ramen entirely and order three pairs of them as my whole dinner, and i won't be sorry.
flawless vegetarian sandwich, iii: the broccoli classic (no. 7 sub at the ace hotel, midtown west). whole-grain italian hero + roasted broccoli + lychee muchim + feta + fried shallots + mayo. when i stumbled back into our apartment after that overnight relay trail race i camped in new jersey to run, wild-haired, wobbly-kneed and stinking of bonfire, joe asked me what i wanted to eat. A SANDWICH, i said, I NEED A BIG SANDWICH. he called up no. 7's menu on some delivery website and read the options aloud to me; i figured the roasted broccoli was something special, given how improbable it sounded as a sandwich's star, and demanded one. filthy-camping-related hunger is the best sauce, of course, but holy shit was that a good sandwich. the broccoli is crunchy, the brine in the lychee munchin forms a bratty, sour clique with the feta, and the mayonnaise mellows everyone out at the end; i want to learn to make this sandwich myself, but i would have to run twice as hard as i do now if i hoped to continue to fit into my pants. could be worth it.
out-of-town flawless vegetarian sandwich: the cleopatra (gourmands neighborhood pub, austin). this bad boy i can and do re-create on a regular basis, pants be damned; we spent like three days in austin on our road trip last summer and i ate this sandwich at least twice. it's an elegant demonstration of the principle that almost any salad will shine if you stick it between a couple of pieces of quality bread. like so:
toasted seven-grain bread +
mayonnaise +
granulated garlic +
fresh ground pepper +
sea salt +
sliced black olives +
julienned roasted poblanos* +
chopped artichoke hearts** +
bean sprouts +
sliced monterey jack +
sliced avocado +
mandolined persian cucumber +
sea salt +
fresh ground pepper +
granulated garlic +
mayonnaise +
toasted seven-grain bread
it sounds like a pain in the ass, friends, but it will change you.
*(rub with oil, place on a baking sheet, and roast at 425 for 45 minutes, until blackened on all sides; cover until cool, then remove skin and seeds)
**(we like artihearts, available near the fresh mushrooms and herbs at nyc-area whole foods)
12.11.16
BERLIN ENDORSEMENTS {part I}
berliner dom (cathedral, mitte). climb to the top of the dome for a 360-degree bird's-eye view of the city; pause on the way up to take a seat and listen to early-evening choral selections; be sure to get down to the crypt for some outstanding sarcophagi. the dom is the best thing on museum island, and there are a lot of excellent things on museum island (which is a UNESCO world heritage site).
the bird express (restaurant, mitte). you will need cheese fries after climbing all the way to the top of berliner dom; get them a few blocks away at the bird express (a barbecue joint helmed by an expat from staten island and his angelic german shepherd, charlie, who sits patiently underneath a wall-mounted painting of a german shepherd [no relation]). ask for all of the fixings, including three kinds of house-made hot sauces; use them liberally, then congratulate yourself for conjuring english-kebab-van-style chips and cheese in germany.
chapel (bar, friedrichshain). we just learned that odd, the delightful norwegian bartender who made impeccable drink after impeccable drink and performed magic tricks with barware for us after i remarked on how he'd name-checked tommy's on his menu, will be returning to oslo in the new year; that said, the bar he leaves behind is a wonderful one. i sincerely hope he's training his replacement.
dunmore cave (bar, kreuzberg). upon learning that we'd be in germany for a week, our friend edwin—a member of joe's darts team at our local when we lived in hell's kitchen—announced that he would meet us there to play darts. he actually did (dive bar friendships, i salute you), and after a dirndlful dinner at hofbräu münchen in alexanderplatz, we set off in search of a darts bar (odd told us a few nights earlier that they were plentiful and everywhere). boards are everywhere, or are at least easy to find, but most of them are electronic, alas. the glorious exception to that rule, on landwehr canal, is dunmore cave, a well-established, mostly-locals scottish bar with two boards in their own room. we got some gentle heckling from the germans beside us ("ah, phil taylor!"). it was just what we wanted.
eiszeit kino (cinema, kreuzberg). i have felt strongly about movie theaters in foreign countries since we saw snakes on a plane at a quiet theater in belfast on our honeymoon. berlin happened to be hosting a short film festival (more on that in part II) while we were in town, and the sci-fi program was showing at a local indie theater not too far from our hotel. we talked american-youth movies with the young french photographer behind the bar (we recommended heaven knows what, she and joe were both shocked that i had never seen kids, we all liked american honey), she disparaged instagram, and we took a couple of complicated german beers into our space movies. eiszeit kino (lineups chalked on the wall, homemade cake at concessions, international indie programming) feels like sunshine's german cousin, and i loved it.
gute falafel (restaurant, kreuzberg). naming your restaurant "gute falafel" is like naming your bar band "happy hour," and while i have an intense sensory memory of the world-altering wrap i ordered three times in my six days in berlin and can picture the storefront's location, i cannot use the internet to send you there. it's sort of across a half-plaza from angry fried chicken ("so so angry!")? it's kind of near oranienstraße? that wrap's pickled veggies and mysterious sauces (there was a slight mango situation, and a note of...mayonnaise?) are the most effective falafel-support team i've ever met. i pine for you, team gute.
berliner dom (cathedral, mitte). climb to the top of the dome for a 360-degree bird's-eye view of the city; pause on the way up to take a seat and listen to early-evening choral selections; be sure to get down to the crypt for some outstanding sarcophagi. the dom is the best thing on museum island, and there are a lot of excellent things on museum island (which is a UNESCO world heritage site).
the bird express (restaurant, mitte). you will need cheese fries after climbing all the way to the top of berliner dom; get them a few blocks away at the bird express (a barbecue joint helmed by an expat from staten island and his angelic german shepherd, charlie, who sits patiently underneath a wall-mounted painting of a german shepherd [no relation]). ask for all of the fixings, including three kinds of house-made hot sauces; use them liberally, then congratulate yourself for conjuring english-kebab-van-style chips and cheese in germany.
chapel (bar, friedrichshain). we just learned that odd, the delightful norwegian bartender who made impeccable drink after impeccable drink and performed magic tricks with barware for us after i remarked on how he'd name-checked tommy's on his menu, will be returning to oslo in the new year; that said, the bar he leaves behind is a wonderful one. i sincerely hope he's training his replacement.
dunmore cave (bar, kreuzberg). upon learning that we'd be in germany for a week, our friend edwin—a member of joe's darts team at our local when we lived in hell's kitchen—announced that he would meet us there to play darts. he actually did (dive bar friendships, i salute you), and after a dirndlful dinner at hofbräu münchen in alexanderplatz, we set off in search of a darts bar (odd told us a few nights earlier that they were plentiful and everywhere). boards are everywhere, or are at least easy to find, but most of them are electronic, alas. the glorious exception to that rule, on landwehr canal, is dunmore cave, a well-established, mostly-locals scottish bar with two boards in their own room. we got some gentle heckling from the germans beside us ("ah, phil taylor!"). it was just what we wanted.
eiszeit kino (cinema, kreuzberg). i have felt strongly about movie theaters in foreign countries since we saw snakes on a plane at a quiet theater in belfast on our honeymoon. berlin happened to be hosting a short film festival (more on that in part II) while we were in town, and the sci-fi program was showing at a local indie theater not too far from our hotel. we talked american-youth movies with the young french photographer behind the bar (we recommended heaven knows what, she and joe were both shocked that i had never seen kids, we all liked american honey), she disparaged instagram, and we took a couple of complicated german beers into our space movies. eiszeit kino (lineups chalked on the wall, homemade cake at concessions, international indie programming) feels like sunshine's german cousin, and i loved it.
gute falafel (restaurant, kreuzberg). naming your restaurant "gute falafel" is like naming your bar band "happy hour," and while i have an intense sensory memory of the world-altering wrap i ordered three times in my six days in berlin and can picture the storefront's location, i cannot use the internet to send you there. it's sort of across a half-plaza from angry fried chicken ("so so angry!")? it's kind of near oranienstraße? that wrap's pickled veggies and mysterious sauces (there was a slight mango situation, and a note of...mayonnaise?) are the most effective falafel-support team i've ever met. i pine for you, team gute.
12.10.16
i wasn't planning on getting a tattoo on our trip abroad this year; i'm running out of space for them, as i prefer to get them along my spine and i don't seem to be getting any taller, and berlin didn't feel exotic enough (ha). i then learned, via one of the david-bowie-in-berlin books i bought a month before we left, that bowie's old building in schöneberg (in which he lived from 1976-1978) boasts not one but two tattoo studios; well, hell. maybe it was time for a GIANT ARTY BARN OWL across the top of my back?
my foreign-tattoo m.o. is pretty complicated: i tend to reach out to the artist or studio i have in mind long before we leave new york, and we become penpals over the course of a few months. i drop by to say hello and chat when we first get into town, a few days before my appointment, and then get whatever lagoon-soaking or intense bathing i'd planned out of the way; then it's tattoo time. this was going to be different, as i hadn't yet settled on a specific design and we were about to leave; the black-metal guys at Studio 1 a) sounded like they weren't interested in any work but their own, which is completely understandable but probably wasn't going to work for me, given time constraints, b) were only in the building by appointment, c) had portfolios with a lot of burning nordic churches in them, which was more than a little intense, and d) seemed like they were into some less-than-egalitarian erotic art featuring ladies? one of Studio 1's artists was in new york the week before we went to berlin and i could have looked him up, but he didn't seem like the guy for me. i didn't even know Studio 2 existed, in turn, until i saw a line on Studio 1's webpage about how people should not go there. its website was pretty generic, but i've learned that plenty of lovely people have a hard time getting their digital shit together (cough). the more i read of bowie's adventures in berlin with iggy pop, brian eno, and tony visconti, the more convinced i became that i needed to embrace their spirit of collaboration and improvisation. some friends of mine got black star tattoos after bowie's death back in january, and the simplicity of that appealed to me. i could fit it below my lowest tattoo, the gothic cross i got in california right after turning 18; it was simple enough to hand over to a stranger on the spot. i decided that we'd stop in at Studio 2 after paying our respects at the apartment, and if i got a good feeling about it, well.
Studio 2 was easy to find, as it was 10 feet away from the candles and silk flowers at bowie's door. a genial french bulldog snarfled up to us, and his person apologized for him from down the hall. sprechen sie englisch? "a bit," he said, and i pulled the rumpled little image out from the bottom of my wallet.
my foreign-tattoo m.o. is pretty complicated: i tend to reach out to the artist or studio i have in mind long before we leave new york, and we become penpals over the course of a few months. i drop by to say hello and chat when we first get into town, a few days before my appointment, and then get whatever lagoon-soaking or intense bathing i'd planned out of the way; then it's tattoo time. this was going to be different, as i hadn't yet settled on a specific design and we were about to leave; the black-metal guys at Studio 1 a) sounded like they weren't interested in any work but their own, which is completely understandable but probably wasn't going to work for me, given time constraints, b) were only in the building by appointment, c) had portfolios with a lot of burning nordic churches in them, which was more than a little intense, and d) seemed like they were into some less-than-egalitarian erotic art featuring ladies? one of Studio 1's artists was in new york the week before we went to berlin and i could have looked him up, but he didn't seem like the guy for me. i didn't even know Studio 2 existed, in turn, until i saw a line on Studio 1's webpage about how people should not go there. its website was pretty generic, but i've learned that plenty of lovely people have a hard time getting their digital shit together (cough). the more i read of bowie's adventures in berlin with iggy pop, brian eno, and tony visconti, the more convinced i became that i needed to embrace their spirit of collaboration and improvisation. some friends of mine got black star tattoos after bowie's death back in january, and the simplicity of that appealed to me. i could fit it below my lowest tattoo, the gothic cross i got in california right after turning 18; it was simple enough to hand over to a stranger on the spot. i decided that we'd stop in at Studio 2 after paying our respects at the apartment, and if i got a good feeling about it, well.
Studio 2 was easy to find, as it was 10 feet away from the candles and silk flowers at bowie's door. a genial french bulldog snarfled up to us, and his person apologized for him from down the hall. sprechen sie englisch? "a bit," he said, and i pulled the rumpled little image out from the bottom of my wallet.
12.09.16
missing from yesterday's indispensable things list because it seems that it might not exist:* the mountain-print hooded onesie i purchased for something like twelve dollars at american eagle's soho store a few holiday seasons ago. i spent most of said holiday season trying to convince my husband, sister, and brother-in-law that they all needed onesies to match mine; i managed to precipitate the purchase of one more, but all three of them have agreed in the intervening years that i was/am always right.
it is much cheaper to fly from new york to milan than it is to fly from new york to berlin, for milan is a stopover between here and dubai; emirates will take us there and back for around $500 if we time our travel carefully, and so we do. berlin was where we wanted to spend a week this fall, however, which necessitated a train trip through the alps from italy to germany. it had been so very long since i solved a murder on an overnight train ride! (i had never been on an overnight train ride.) i booked our tickets after languorous electronic waltzes with trenitalia (for the gorgeous daytime journey from milan to zurich) and deutsche bahn (for the sleeper car from zurich to berlin), then had settled in for a really protracted search for the perfect elegant-crime-fighting-between-zurich-and-berlin-in-the-dead-of-night pajamas—i'd fired up a pinterest board and everything—when i realized that i already had what i needed.** alors, i wore my mountain-print onesie to tuck into stinky italian cheese with a knife i nicked at milano centrale, to sing along with "purple rain" in our cabin's dim blue light, to smoke on the platform at midnight in some little german village. i think agatha christie would have approved.
*i mean, it exists—i'm wearing it as i write this—but the internet says otherwise, which is both mildly disturbing and kind of comforting; machines should forget things, too.
**also i don't wear silk, which takes a lot of the fun out of looking for exotic sleepwear.
it is much cheaper to fly from new york to milan than it is to fly from new york to berlin, for milan is a stopover between here and dubai; emirates will take us there and back for around $500 if we time our travel carefully, and so we do. berlin was where we wanted to spend a week this fall, however, which necessitated a train trip through the alps from italy to germany. it had been so very long since i solved a murder on an overnight train ride! (i had never been on an overnight train ride.) i booked our tickets after languorous electronic waltzes with trenitalia (for the gorgeous daytime journey from milan to zurich) and deutsche bahn (for the sleeper car from zurich to berlin), then had settled in for a really protracted search for the perfect elegant-crime-fighting-between-zurich-and-berlin-in-the-dead-of-night pajamas—i'd fired up a pinterest board and everything—when i realized that i already had what i needed.** alors, i wore my mountain-print onesie to tuck into stinky italian cheese with a knife i nicked at milano centrale, to sing along with "purple rain" in our cabin's dim blue light, to smoke on the platform at midnight in some little german village. i think agatha christie would have approved.
*i mean, it exists—i'm wearing it as i write this—but the internet says otherwise, which is both mildly disturbing and kind of comforting; machines should forget things, too.
**also i don't wear silk, which takes a lot of the fun out of looking for exotic sleepwear.
12.08.16
the dirty dozen {twelve indispensable things}
(nb: i have no financial interest in anything on this list, and none of these links are monetized. consider this comparing notes on consumption.)
01 nuun nutrient-enhanced drink tabs. my friend dave dissolved one of his nuun tablets in a glass of water for me the night before we ran the lake placid half marathon, and we definitely heard a bear when we were sitting out on the porch, so i'm pretty sure the vita-drinks saved us. nuun was free at the relay race we ran a week or two later in new jersey, and i consumed it like it was my job; while other teams saw bears, all of my legs were uneventful. nuun: is tasty and good for you, probably repels bears.*
02 lush lord of misrule shower cream. i buy a couple of big bottles of this stuff each halloween and hoard it for bubble baths all year long. turns water witch-green, smells like glamorous evil (anise and peppercorns, with a hint of vanilla and a soupçon of ironic patchouli).
03 baggu duck bag. i have carried one of these in leopard print every day** for the past six months. it fits everything (and has a little interior pocket for metrocards and plastic animals). speaking of,
04 schleich animal figurines. lee's (RIP), the wonderful art shop next door to my first magazine-lady office, kept me out of trouble when i was waiting for copy, supplied me with materials for eight jillion projects, produced our wedding invitations, and had a fantastic children's section full of marvelously detailed little german animals, which is why i've been carrying creatures around for the last decade and change. schleich has a horse club (and a horse advent calendar). they make six different elephant figurines. they are the shit.
05 burt's bees red dahlia tinted lip balm. i can apply it all day and not look like a maniac if i use way too much, and it works whether my hair is red, pink, or malfoy-blonde. smells good, too.
06 burt's bees pink grapefruit facial cleansing towelettes. you can bring them in carry-on luggage, and they're great for swiping bleach and dye away from your skin. not sure how this became about my hair, or about burt's bees (but on the latter, at least, they have solid sustainability goals, they source responsibly, and they don't test their products on animals; i appreciate all of that).
07 the new york times daily crossword app. my crossword subscription is not cheap; i suspect, in fact, that i pay more for it than we do for our digital subscription to the paper. that said, it keeps track of solve times far more accurately than our microwave did and plays a delightfully old-farty piano riff when one finishes a puzzle.
08 sturgill simpson, a sailor's guide to earth. our friends lesley and cody's son was born this summer; we made them a shepherd's pie, per their request, and i've been trying to figure out what else i want to bring over. i realized a few weeks ago that i need to bring them this record (framed as a sailor's letter home to his wife and son; simpson's own son was born two summers ago). joe and i have been sturgill simpson fans—pretty rabid, in joe's case—for a few years now, and after watching him blow the roof off of kings theatre in brooklyn this october, i'm getting there as well. if you don't know him yet, ease yourself in with his cover of when in rome's "the promise;" if you're prepared to take a flyer on some alt-alt-country, do.
09 minicyn sterling silver faceted stud earrings. these studs have spent more time in the field than any other fripperies i've owned, and given how long i had a barbell in my face and a ring in my navel, that's saying something. handmade, ethically-sourced, ultra-simple jewelry: i guess paris can get a thing or two right after all.
10 we are handsome sports bras. i acquired a t-back betta-print bra via a flash sale a few months ago and have ordered two more in the interim; they are so fierce, so no-nonsense, so unlikely to go to pieces in the laundry (looking at you and your weird pads, under armour). fitness gear can be stylish or functional or inexpensive, but it is so rarely all three; we are handsome (on sale), i salute you. (i'd happily pay full price for their stuff at this point, to be honest, particularly in the big-cat prints.)
11 s'well stainless steel bottles. the bottles' mouths are large enough to clean without drama and the finish, at least on my 'teakwood' version, is durable enough that i regularly ignore the no-dishwasher instructions (shh); the company supports UNICEF and american forests, and the 17-oz size is perfect for throwing in a backpack.
12 barkthins dark chocolate pretzel with sea salt snacking chocolate. "snacking chocolate" is a clunky term, but it actually makes sense in this case; i keep a single-serving pouch of this stuff at the bottom of most of my bags for when i forget to eat and discover that i want to, say, tear my fellow volunteers limb from limb. i consider fair trade, non-GMO chocolate superior to the candy bars i used to buy from the vending machine at my office (those "snickers really satisfies" commercials did a number on my subconscious back in the day, apparently).
*that said, i'd like to see bears.
**unless i'm wearing a leopard-print shirt; i'm not a monster.
(nb: i have no financial interest in anything on this list, and none of these links are monetized. consider this comparing notes on consumption.)
01 nuun nutrient-enhanced drink tabs. my friend dave dissolved one of his nuun tablets in a glass of water for me the night before we ran the lake placid half marathon, and we definitely heard a bear when we were sitting out on the porch, so i'm pretty sure the vita-drinks saved us. nuun was free at the relay race we ran a week or two later in new jersey, and i consumed it like it was my job; while other teams saw bears, all of my legs were uneventful. nuun: is tasty and good for you, probably repels bears.*
02 lush lord of misrule shower cream. i buy a couple of big bottles of this stuff each halloween and hoard it for bubble baths all year long. turns water witch-green, smells like glamorous evil (anise and peppercorns, with a hint of vanilla and a soupçon of ironic patchouli).
03 baggu duck bag. i have carried one of these in leopard print every day** for the past six months. it fits everything (and has a little interior pocket for metrocards and plastic animals). speaking of,
04 schleich animal figurines. lee's (RIP), the wonderful art shop next door to my first magazine-lady office, kept me out of trouble when i was waiting for copy, supplied me with materials for eight jillion projects, produced our wedding invitations, and had a fantastic children's section full of marvelously detailed little german animals, which is why i've been carrying creatures around for the last decade and change. schleich has a horse club (and a horse advent calendar). they make six different elephant figurines. they are the shit.
05 burt's bees red dahlia tinted lip balm. i can apply it all day and not look like a maniac if i use way too much, and it works whether my hair is red, pink, or malfoy-blonde. smells good, too.
06 burt's bees pink grapefruit facial cleansing towelettes. you can bring them in carry-on luggage, and they're great for swiping bleach and dye away from your skin. not sure how this became about my hair, or about burt's bees (but on the latter, at least, they have solid sustainability goals, they source responsibly, and they don't test their products on animals; i appreciate all of that).
07 the new york times daily crossword app. my crossword subscription is not cheap; i suspect, in fact, that i pay more for it than we do for our digital subscription to the paper. that said, it keeps track of solve times far more accurately than our microwave did and plays a delightfully old-farty piano riff when one finishes a puzzle.
08 sturgill simpson, a sailor's guide to earth. our friends lesley and cody's son was born this summer; we made them a shepherd's pie, per their request, and i've been trying to figure out what else i want to bring over. i realized a few weeks ago that i need to bring them this record (framed as a sailor's letter home to his wife and son; simpson's own son was born two summers ago). joe and i have been sturgill simpson fans—pretty rabid, in joe's case—for a few years now, and after watching him blow the roof off of kings theatre in brooklyn this october, i'm getting there as well. if you don't know him yet, ease yourself in with his cover of when in rome's "the promise;" if you're prepared to take a flyer on some alt-alt-country, do.
09 minicyn sterling silver faceted stud earrings. these studs have spent more time in the field than any other fripperies i've owned, and given how long i had a barbell in my face and a ring in my navel, that's saying something. handmade, ethically-sourced, ultra-simple jewelry: i guess paris can get a thing or two right after all.
10 we are handsome sports bras. i acquired a t-back betta-print bra via a flash sale a few months ago and have ordered two more in the interim; they are so fierce, so no-nonsense, so unlikely to go to pieces in the laundry (looking at you and your weird pads, under armour). fitness gear can be stylish or functional or inexpensive, but it is so rarely all three; we are handsome (on sale), i salute you. (i'd happily pay full price for their stuff at this point, to be honest, particularly in the big-cat prints.)
11 s'well stainless steel bottles. the bottles' mouths are large enough to clean without drama and the finish, at least on my 'teakwood' version, is durable enough that i regularly ignore the no-dishwasher instructions (shh); the company supports UNICEF and american forests, and the 17-oz size is perfect for throwing in a backpack.
12 barkthins dark chocolate pretzel with sea salt snacking chocolate. "snacking chocolate" is a clunky term, but it actually makes sense in this case; i keep a single-serving pouch of this stuff at the bottom of most of my bags for when i forget to eat and discover that i want to, say, tear my fellow volunteers limb from limb. i consider fair trade, non-GMO chocolate superior to the candy bars i used to buy from the vending machine at my office (those "snickers really satisfies" commercials did a number on my subconscious back in the day, apparently).
*that said, i'd like to see bears.
**unless i'm wearing a leopard-print shirt; i'm not a monster.
12.07.16
my friend melissa invited me to something called church of the infinite you, held in the basement beneath union hall (a park slope bar with bocce courts and a fireplace), this past sunday. she'd heard about it from john hodgman. "nondenominational," the tag line read, "...only motivational." "we invite you to SAVE YOURSELF." i was reminded of an oxford house party i attended with a couple of friends that turned out to be some sort of cult recruitment meeting; it took us nearly an hour to leave once we figured out what was going on, as their plan to ensnare us involved hiding our shoes. this was more of an uplifting variety show about the importance of self-care, helmed by jean grae, a hip hop artist, writer, actress, and ferociously charismatic person. she told a story about going to puerto rico and shopping and cooking dinner for an old woman in a bikini who was probably dead; she led a surprisingly effective guided meditation (i have an extremely low tolerance for guided meditations, which tend to make me feel like the little prince) accompanied by a guy playing radiohead's "everything in its right place" on the keyboard. after talking about reports that a muslim woman was attacked on the subway (and that no one helped her), she chatted with the most athletic member of her choir about her women and trans kickboxing class, how it had gone from like six people before the election to about 35 now, and how you should hit people in the eyes, kidneys, and crotch with your elbows and knees, not your fists. it sounded like someone in the row behind us was crying pretty hard. and let the church say FUCK YEAH, she bade us. melissa and i agreed that we'd come back for the next session in two weeks, and that we'd try to find a krav maga class together.
12.06.16
fantastic movie theaters and where to find them {in new york city}
the venue: nitehawk cinema, williamsburg
the perk: everything. nitehawk is our favorite theater, and we've been there at least once a month for the past few years. a few doors down on metropolitan, skinny dennis serves up free hot peanuts, honky tonk, and spiked frozen coffee; it's the perfect place to meet before a movie. nitehawk's house popcorn (made with citric salt and truffle butter) is delectable, its pre-show content is clever, its drinks are reasonably priced, and its indie programming is consistently on point. you can't reserve seats and need to line up at least 45 minutes before your program starts if you want to be sure you won't be in the front row, but since you can bring a drink in line and the house opens for seating and orders 30 minutes before showtime, that's not really a problem.
the venue: alamo drafthouse, downtown brooklyn
the perk: assigned seats and decent table service. the location is new and alamo's servers are still getting their feet under them, so they aren't especially quick about picking up food and drink orders and keeping them straight, but i imagine that'll change. house of wax, the lobby bar, is alamo's version of philly's mütter museum, which is both cool and kind of unnerving. its layout is a little tricky, but that too might change in a few months (i hope). like nitehawk's, alamo's pre-show content is fun.
the venue: metrograph, lower east side
the perk: sex appeal. this is the kind of place you bring a first date to see a newly-restored version of, like, voyage dans la lune. the snack stand sells scorchingly-expensive but charming refreshments (think cold-pressed juice, artisanal sodas, turn-of-the-century candy, and champagne gumdrops), and the bookstore and restaurant upstairs (modeled after an old-hollywood commissary for studio employees) from the theaters are both gorgeous. metrograph's tickets guarantee specific seats, like alamo's, but their film offerings are quirkier (we saw little sister, a melancholy comedy about an ex-goth nun with a killer soundtrack).
the venue: ipic, fulton market
the perk: seriously decadent seats. a premium plus ticket is no bargain—with a mysterious "VIP fee," each one rings in at $28—but for that price you get a leather recliner with a pillow and a blanket, as well as tableside service and unlimited popcorn. a cozy pod of two chaise lounges, in turn, is $16 per person, but you have to pack your concessions in from the lobby like a commoner. we went for premium plus on our first visit, but i think i'd swap over to a pod if we go back; ipic's servers don't quite have their game together, and ours kept sneaking up behind our lounges and bugging us when we didn't need him (fine at a restaurant, annoying when you're trying to watch a movie). he also called me "my love," which would be awkward coming from my date, even.
the venue: sunshine cinema, lower east side
the perk: humble excellence. though it's part of a 56-theater group, sunshine feels like a one-off in the best way: the 1898 building is beautiful, the munchies are local and quirky, the films are consistently high- and middlebrow arthouse (in my mostly-civilian opinion, sunshine's screens are significantly larger than those at other nyc theaters with similar lineups). i rubbed shoulders with many of the staffers when i volunteered at the lower east side film festival at sunshine this spring, and they were universally delightful. a ticket stub knocks down the price of one of the eighty jillion craft beers at fools gold next door on houston, at least until the theater is shuttered and turned into condominiums (which neighborhood blogs have been howling about every other month for the last few years). get there before it is.
the venue: nitehawk cinema, williamsburg
the perk: everything. nitehawk is our favorite theater, and we've been there at least once a month for the past few years. a few doors down on metropolitan, skinny dennis serves up free hot peanuts, honky tonk, and spiked frozen coffee; it's the perfect place to meet before a movie. nitehawk's house popcorn (made with citric salt and truffle butter) is delectable, its pre-show content is clever, its drinks are reasonably priced, and its indie programming is consistently on point. you can't reserve seats and need to line up at least 45 minutes before your program starts if you want to be sure you won't be in the front row, but since you can bring a drink in line and the house opens for seating and orders 30 minutes before showtime, that's not really a problem.
the venue: alamo drafthouse, downtown brooklyn
the perk: assigned seats and decent table service. the location is new and alamo's servers are still getting their feet under them, so they aren't especially quick about picking up food and drink orders and keeping them straight, but i imagine that'll change. house of wax, the lobby bar, is alamo's version of philly's mütter museum, which is both cool and kind of unnerving. its layout is a little tricky, but that too might change in a few months (i hope). like nitehawk's, alamo's pre-show content is fun.
the venue: metrograph, lower east side
the perk: sex appeal. this is the kind of place you bring a first date to see a newly-restored version of, like, voyage dans la lune. the snack stand sells scorchingly-expensive but charming refreshments (think cold-pressed juice, artisanal sodas, turn-of-the-century candy, and champagne gumdrops), and the bookstore and restaurant upstairs (modeled after an old-hollywood commissary for studio employees) from the theaters are both gorgeous. metrograph's tickets guarantee specific seats, like alamo's, but their film offerings are quirkier (we saw little sister, a melancholy comedy about an ex-goth nun with a killer soundtrack).
the venue: ipic, fulton market
the perk: seriously decadent seats. a premium plus ticket is no bargain—with a mysterious "VIP fee," each one rings in at $28—but for that price you get a leather recliner with a pillow and a blanket, as well as tableside service and unlimited popcorn. a cozy pod of two chaise lounges, in turn, is $16 per person, but you have to pack your concessions in from the lobby like a commoner. we went for premium plus on our first visit, but i think i'd swap over to a pod if we go back; ipic's servers don't quite have their game together, and ours kept sneaking up behind our lounges and bugging us when we didn't need him (fine at a restaurant, annoying when you're trying to watch a movie). he also called me "my love," which would be awkward coming from my date, even.
the venue: sunshine cinema, lower east side
the perk: humble excellence. though it's part of a 56-theater group, sunshine feels like a one-off in the best way: the 1898 building is beautiful, the munchies are local and quirky, the films are consistently high- and middlebrow arthouse (in my mostly-civilian opinion, sunshine's screens are significantly larger than those at other nyc theaters with similar lineups). i rubbed shoulders with many of the staffers when i volunteered at the lower east side film festival at sunshine this spring, and they were universally delightful. a ticket stub knocks down the price of one of the eighty jillion craft beers at fools gold next door on houston, at least until the theater is shuttered and turned into condominiums (which neighborhood blogs have been howling about every other month for the last few years). get there before it is.
12.05.16
the dirty dozen {notes from my hometown police blotter, as reported by the oc register*}
Suspicious person/circumstances. 7:18 a.m. The caller said he saw two people possibly create a false ID while sitting at a table inside McDonald’s.
Suspicious person/circumstances. 2:55 p.m. The caller reported a 13-year-old boy in front of 7-Eleven who asked the caller for $2.
Suspicious person/circumstances. 9:05 a.m. The caller reported a man who was cleaning mailboxes in the neighborhood and is now sitting against someone’s garage door.
Disturbance. 6:30 p.m. The caller reported a drunken man making customers uncomfortable by throwing money at them, sitting at different tables, and telling them he’s sponsored by Vans.
Disturbance. 6:25 p.m. The caller reported hearing a loud obscene radio show from a neighbor’s house.
Disturbance. 10:43 p.m. The caller reported an argument with a friend.
Disturbance. 3:06 a.m. The caller said one of her sons hit the other son in the face.
Disturbance. 1:06 p.m. The caller said she had been cleaning all night and her husband was not helping her and then her daughters trashed the house.
Welfare check. 9:47 a.m. The caller asked for a check on her daughter who was sending suspicious text messages that don’t make sense.
Suspicious person in a vehicle. 2:53 a.m. The caller reported two people on motorcycles looking into mailboxes on the street.
Missing juvenile. 9:20 a.m. The caller reported 17-year-old son who didn’t return home after a family discussion.
*previous installment here.
Suspicious person/circumstances. 7:18 a.m. The caller said he saw two people possibly create a false ID while sitting at a table inside McDonald’s.
Suspicious person/circumstances. 2:55 p.m. The caller reported a 13-year-old boy in front of 7-Eleven who asked the caller for $2.
Suspicious person/circumstances. 9:05 a.m. The caller reported a man who was cleaning mailboxes in the neighborhood and is now sitting against someone’s garage door.
Disturbance. 6:30 p.m. The caller reported a drunken man making customers uncomfortable by throwing money at them, sitting at different tables, and telling them he’s sponsored by Vans.
Disturbance. 6:25 p.m. The caller reported hearing a loud obscene radio show from a neighbor’s house.
Disturbance. 10:43 p.m. The caller reported an argument with a friend.
Disturbance. 3:06 a.m. The caller said one of her sons hit the other son in the face.
Disturbance. 1:06 p.m. The caller said she had been cleaning all night and her husband was not helping her and then her daughters trashed the house.
Welfare check. 9:47 a.m. The caller asked for a check on her daughter who was sending suspicious text messages that don’t make sense.
Suspicious person in a vehicle. 2:53 a.m. The caller reported two people on motorcycles looking into mailboxes on the street.
Missing juvenile. 9:20 a.m. The caller reported 17-year-old son who didn’t return home after a family discussion.
*previous installment here.
12.04.16
at robina town centre in queensland, a christmas tree made of pelicans.
at the australian reptile park in sydney,
from animals australia (a group working to end factory farming and cruelty to animals), plush creatures and symbolic adoption certificates. surely a few can make it to the states in time to meet my nephews and niece for the holidays (the chook, the chook!). if plush creatures aren't your thing, they also sell cruelty-free chocolate and macadamia nuts.
*from the wombat protection society of australia's accident & emergency wombat first aid page: "Wombat joeys can live for many days in their mother’s pouches after the female is killed. If you are involved in a motor vehicle accident with a wombat it is unlikely that the adult will survive but it is very likely that the joey will." the page features detailed instructions on everything from what to do if you see a wombat at the edge of the road to how to alert the proper authorities to and/or provide care for injured wombats and orphaned joeys.
at the australian reptile park in sydney,
George, a common wombat, was found at just four months old after his mother was hit by a car in Scone, in the Hunter Region of New South Wales.george's home is the only zoo in australia with a spider and snake venom-milking program, by the by.
"A passer-by stopped and pouch-checked* his mum and George was in there," [keeper] Renee Gomez [said].
from animals australia (a group working to end factory farming and cruelty to animals), plush creatures and symbolic adoption certificates. surely a few can make it to the states in time to meet my nephews and niece for the holidays (the chook, the chook!). if plush creatures aren't your thing, they also sell cruelty-free chocolate and macadamia nuts.
*from the wombat protection society of australia's accident & emergency wombat first aid page: "Wombat joeys can live for many days in their mother’s pouches after the female is killed. If you are involved in a motor vehicle accident with a wombat it is unlikely that the adult will survive but it is very likely that the joey will." the page features detailed instructions on everything from what to do if you see a wombat at the edge of the road to how to alert the proper authorities to and/or provide care for injured wombats and orphaned joeys.
12.03.16
i have half of a set of scrubs. i have a scrub? i have scrub pants; i found them on the giveaway table when i worked at ye olde ladymag, where i imagine the photo department abandoned them after a shoot for a health story. they floated around in our closet until i started volunteering at the bird hospital; i showed up in street clothes for exactly one shift, was shat and puked upon with gusto, and remembered them. sort-of-hoarding is the best! i wear them with old crew tees from the tribeca film festival, a pairing so automatic at this point that i'm always surprised when people want to talk movies with me in the underground treatment room. i also tend to forget that my scrubs aren't volunteer-colored (staffers and rehabbers wear navy, while most volunteers wear shared sets of lime green scrubs or their own clothes; my pants are royal blue, neither here nor there) and jump each time newbies introduce themselves and ask me for tasks. A, a staffer i've now known for a few years, asked me if i needed another volunteer's help as i tube-fed pigeons yesterday afternoon. no, i said, i was cool with doing it on my own, but thank you. would i be okay with help, though? she wanted to give the new guy a job. sure, i said, he could weigh my pigeons. i will admit i made it through the BIDs and SIDs faster with his help.
an hour or two later, i held a fat little red hen as A unwrapped her for a bandage change. she wriggled as we poked at her bumble foot; "hold her like a baby," A instructed. "she'll calm down, sort of like sharks do."* i had to think about that for a minute; ah yes, in the crook of my arm, on her back. "i think i've held more chickens than babies," i said.
scrubs are the best, is my point, though i would never wear them anywhere other than at the bird hospital, nor would i turn them inside out and wear them a second time before washing them, even though they have a butt pocket on the inside, too; i know where those scrubs have been. when i arrived for yesterday's shift in a marinière and jeans, a vet and a staffer were installing shelves in the bathroom (which doubles as the changing room). i ended up turning away from columbus avenue and ducking into my tribeca tee under the picture window of our second storefront, still under construction, and wriggling into my scrubs on the floor when foot traffic on the sidewalk thinned for a moment (i tried not to meet anyone's eyes). it was worth it. i love those pants.
*my friend phil just finished a two-year stint working with sharks in the bahamas; one of his fellow dive pros was so good at inducing tonic immobility that he could balance sharks' snouts on his own face.
an hour or two later, i held a fat little red hen as A unwrapped her for a bandage change. she wriggled as we poked at her bumble foot; "hold her like a baby," A instructed. "she'll calm down, sort of like sharks do."* i had to think about that for a minute; ah yes, in the crook of my arm, on her back. "i think i've held more chickens than babies," i said.
scrubs are the best, is my point, though i would never wear them anywhere other than at the bird hospital, nor would i turn them inside out and wear them a second time before washing them, even though they have a butt pocket on the inside, too; i know where those scrubs have been. when i arrived for yesterday's shift in a marinière and jeans, a vet and a staffer were installing shelves in the bathroom (which doubles as the changing room). i ended up turning away from columbus avenue and ducking into my tribeca tee under the picture window of our second storefront, still under construction, and wriggling into my scrubs on the floor when foot traffic on the sidewalk thinned for a moment (i tried not to meet anyone's eyes). it was worth it. i love those pants.
*my friend phil just finished a two-year stint working with sharks in the bahamas; one of his fellow dive pros was so good at inducing tonic immobility that he could balance sharks' snouts on his own face.
12.02.16
vegetarian soup, i: giada de laurentiis's winter minestrone. [use 1 tbsp butter instead of pancetta and vegetable broth in place of beef broth; add a rough-chopped italian field roast sausage in the last 10 minutes or so.] this is one of our favorite cold-weather bowls; the flavor builds beautifully via the rosemary sprigs and parmesan rind (any hard cheese rind will do, i've found), and using a pile of chard always makes me feel like a responsible adult. reheats like a charm, pairs well with a crusty loaf of bread.
vegetarian soup, ii: ina garten's roast potato leek soup. [use vegetable stock in place of chicken stock.] the barefoot contessa gives no fucks; i think i actually gained weight while preparing this soup, to say nothing of eating it, and both she and i knew it. she had a chef's table at the hearst cafeteria when i worked in the building, and she turned up for it in what was more or less a very fancy pair of black velvet pajamas. i did not deglaze my baking pan on the stove after roasting the potatoes and leeks, as i'd used a foil liner (rookie) and didn't want to make an even bigger mess. the flavor was still deep and luxurious; the glug of white wine and pile of parmesan you whisk in right before serving perfect it. i'd serve this as a non-holiday holiday meal - say, stealth-fancy dinner for incoming guests three days before christmas.
vegetarian soup, iii: red lentil dal with coconut milk and kale. [use vegetable stock or broth in place of chicken stock or broth.] this soup's lively debut convinced joe and me that we had a new favorite dish; the second iteration was so overpoweringly onion-y that even i ended up abandoning it. know, then, that if you can keep an eye on your alliums, a gorgeous, bright dinner can be yours. we doubled the red chiles like the fire-eaters we are, and joe wasn't interested in the reserved spiced onion mixture as a topping; i, in turn, think it adds a lovely textural note. serve with, say, a light-bodied asian beer (like singha or kingfisher).
non-vegetarian money: britain's new five-pound note, made with tallow. it's not going over well.
vegetarian soup, ii: ina garten's roast potato leek soup. [use vegetable stock in place of chicken stock.] the barefoot contessa gives no fucks; i think i actually gained weight while preparing this soup, to say nothing of eating it, and both she and i knew it. she had a chef's table at the hearst cafeteria when i worked in the building, and she turned up for it in what was more or less a very fancy pair of black velvet pajamas. i did not deglaze my baking pan on the stove after roasting the potatoes and leeks, as i'd used a foil liner (rookie) and didn't want to make an even bigger mess. the flavor was still deep and luxurious; the glug of white wine and pile of parmesan you whisk in right before serving perfect it. i'd serve this as a non-holiday holiday meal - say, stealth-fancy dinner for incoming guests three days before christmas.
vegetarian soup, iii: red lentil dal with coconut milk and kale. [use vegetable stock or broth in place of chicken stock or broth.] this soup's lively debut convinced joe and me that we had a new favorite dish; the second iteration was so overpoweringly onion-y that even i ended up abandoning it. know, then, that if you can keep an eye on your alliums, a gorgeous, bright dinner can be yours. we doubled the red chiles like the fire-eaters we are, and joe wasn't interested in the reserved spiced onion mixture as a topping; i, in turn, think it adds a lovely textural note. serve with, say, a light-bodied asian beer (like singha or kingfisher).
non-vegetarian money: britain's new five-pound note, made with tallow. it's not going over well.
12.01.16
december will be a month of odd feats, i think. i have a dozen assignments due by the 21st; i'm running my last 10K of the year on the 17th; i'm going to run at least a hundred miles by new year's eve. i'd like to read another dozen books or so, and to have a complete first draft of one of the essays for my book proposal. i'm hoping to see the floor of the closet at some point.
condé nast announced today that it will shutter self's print edition. self's fact checking team was, is known for its rigor; as a magazine research chief, i looked to their guidelines the first time my managing editor asked me to draw up instructions for contributing writers. good night, ladies.
a high school acquaintance and i snarked at each other on a mutual friend's facebook wall yesterday morning and afternoon. we were talking about trump's flag-burning tweet, in theory, but at some point he noted that he'll "no longer read or accept the NYT as a valid source until they admit they helped CLINTON cheat and terminate those who proofed stories with her campaign." o facts; o, sources. my december assignments are all for websites associated with television networks, and they are as apolitical as assignments can be; social media and ye olde book proposal get all of my spiky feelings about journalism and truth for the rest of the year.
condé nast announced today that it will shutter self's print edition. self's fact checking team was, is known for its rigor; as a magazine research chief, i looked to their guidelines the first time my managing editor asked me to draw up instructions for contributing writers. good night, ladies.
a high school acquaintance and i snarked at each other on a mutual friend's facebook wall yesterday morning and afternoon. we were talking about trump's flag-burning tweet, in theory, but at some point he noted that he'll "no longer read or accept the NYT as a valid source until they admit they helped CLINTON cheat and terminate those who proofed stories with her campaign." o facts; o, sources. my december assignments are all for websites associated with television networks, and they are as apolitical as assignments can be; social media and ye olde book proposal get all of my spiky feelings about journalism and truth for the rest of the year.
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