This post has nothing to do with Devendra or Natalie. But have you seen his new haircut? Have you seen her new movie? OML! Kidding, kidding, kidding.
On to the post and new years, hello, goodbye, etc, etc, etc….(don’t know why you say goodbye, I say hello, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh…)
I usually try to give up one or two things around New Years, and Lent, and sometimes on Sunday morning when I am not feeling so “hot.” But this year, given our digital outlet to the world- right here on this scrolling list of news- and the fact that my youth is officially “over” (an ugly birthday passed, let’s not talk about it, like, ever) I thought what better way to keep myself honest than to blast my givin’ ups out to the world. Keep in mind, many of these are just for one year, as it would be impossible to say goodbye forever.
1. So long, cheesesteaks – This is very, very difficult for me. Very difficult. Some people like to smoke, some people like to drink, some people like to do drugs- I like to cheesesteak (and once in awhile, okay lots in awhile, cheesfry). It is in my DNA, and dating back to ole Antonio Mazzei and his grocery cart in South Philadelphia. But I must fight it. I must not relent to Pat’s or Steve’s or the ever so dangerous Wogies.
2. So long, chicken cheesesteaks – These also count. And this is also very difficult for me.
3. So long, PBR – It’s time. The jig is up.
4. S0 long, Chuck Taylor’s – It’s time. This jig is also up.
5. So long, late night journeys into the abyss of the Meat Packing district- There once was a time when it was only a few blocks stroll for me to leave the realities of my day to day, nite to nite, for the area between 9th and 10th, 12th to 14th, and exit responsibility for excess. This year, I will limit my adventures to Organicoa cocoa on the high line, and ping pong in the beer garden. When the sun sets down over the Hudson- I am out of there. This same thought goes for Bourbon Street.
6. So long, talking on my cell phone – You can call me crazy, but according to my Uncle, using a cell phone is the equivalent of putting a microwave to your ear, and I believe him. If you see a funny California number show up on your end, it’s me, I am calling you from Gmail to tell you to log on so we can vid chat.
7. So long, size 34 and growing – I understand the inevitability of growing out of my clothes from the turn of the century, but I am going to try to push it another year or so by using the treadmill in our basement at least twice a week. UPDATE: I began this post a couple days ago, and I have yet to get down to the basement, other than to take out the trash and do the laundry.
8. So long, Holy sweaters – I am not saying I am going to throw them out, all I am saying is that I am going to make an honest effort to sew them up. Though, come to think of it, a few have passed the point of no return. But the stories they remind me of- how can I say goodbye?
9. So long, defending my neighborhood(s) – After leaving New York for the better part of a year this year, I have come to grips with the fact that the single most irritating trait of any New Yorker (including myself) is their tireless defense of how “cool” or “great” or “good, better, best” their neighborhood is when in fact what makes each neighborhood of New York so wonderfully wonderful is it’s proximity to so many others, and the diversity presented while merely afoot. So, I am done going on and on about how nothing compares to Carnegie Hill- even though, it is a fact, that nothing does. There, I am done. However, I am going to go on and on about the Marigny for at least a couple more months. As the neighborhood and I are still merely Newlyweds in my mind.
10. So long, pretending to know or care about anything regarding the regular season in sports – I can’t do it anymore. (Get it? Bengals, regular season.) I am sorry everyone, but the fact of the matter is I just don’t have the time (or a TV) to keep up with everything. I sincerely do hope the Phillies win the World Series, and the Saints win the Super Bowl, but far be it from me to tell you who is or who is not on the injured reserve this week. I understand if this clearly makes me not a “real” fan. But it is just time and circumstance. Like I said, none of these are forever.
Continuing on the idea that there is a lot out there on the internet worth reading (if you’ll remember last week I highlighted Nell’s blog), I present to you a number of blogs that I’ve read for some time that are really what prod me to be adventurous in the kitchen.
I’ve always loved cooking, and sometimes have to tell myself to stop posting to Facebook or Twitter about the latest ingredient I’m excited about or the recipe I want to attempt next. My personal food consumption is interesting to me and my taste buds, and it pretty much ends there. BUT, these bloggers write consistently about their own creation and consumption of food beautifully, engagingly enough that I have read some of them for a good… 3 years? 4? My favorite thing about reading them is that, having some familiarity with how ingredients can be used, I feel confident grocery shopping based on whims and fancies. I feel confident just kind of throwing things into a pan or turning on the oven and knowing I can make something taste decent from the cupboards. Empowering, no?
A little caveat here: I was vegetarian for years growing up, and while I eat pretty much anything now, I think it still kind of shows. Most of these lean toward the veggie lovers out there, and some of them are downright crunchy.
$30 A WEEK. This Brooklyn couple spends no more than $30 a week for their groceries and have kept it up for years. And they don’t cheat by going to eat out every meal. In fact, they hold themselves pretty accountable, rarely eat out, and make most things from scratch like bread and tortillas.
G0LUBKA. This one goes as far as being about raw food. Beautiful arrangements, photos, and details of the process. Not sure I’d go raw myself, but the attention paid to what you’re eating, what it does for you, and where it comes from is really interesting.
Click for full post.
HUNGRY CRAVINGS. And here we have quite the opposite, as the author just wrote a cookbook called Seared to Perfection, about steak.
ORANGETTE. Food, the poetry of life, the whirlwind of starting a business. And in food service at that. I know starting a business leads to life-altering busy-ness, first hand!
Because I love soup, and I especially love soup for two. Click for full post.
SADJA’S COLUMNS. This one is written by my amazing aunt Sadja. She is a MD and waxes poetic about particular ingredients and their health benefits mostly. She was the one who helped me become vegetarian when I was small, is the best listener and advice giver around, and every time I visit her I wonder why I don’t live by the ocean and have a glass studio, a music room, a vegetable garden and chickens in my backyard.
SMITTEN KITCHEN. I have made more recipes from Deb than I have any other food blog. I go straight to her archives whenever I have a particular ingredient I need to use or a particular event I need to cook for.
It hurt me to have to choose just one image for Smitten Kitchen. Chose this one because it stands alone well, but I want to make LITERALLY everything on her site.
LUXIRARE. This last one is not strictly food. In fact it’s mostly fashion. But when she does make food, it is such artful, amazing stuff, with such beautiful, art-directed shots that I sit with my mouth open examining it and sometimes shed a tear. She has been traveling abroad for some time, so her home made items are fewer and farther between these days, but check this out:
This is a mere part of the finished product, but even the process shots are unreal. Those are little jellies inspired by cocktails, among other things. Click to see her full post
As Julia Child, who went to my alma mater, would say: ‘Bon Appetite!’
For many of us who spend the majority of our time on the literal and metaphorical island of New Orleans, leaving can be a lot like waking up from a dream. You find that the way you dress is not normal, but is in fact characteristic of sociopathic behavior. You’ll be told that picking through the garbage and taking a one-armed porcelain doll to decorate your home with actually makes you appear mentally unhinged and/or homeless. You’ll realize that not only is it nearly impossible to buy a case of beer or a sandwich at 4 AM; it’s also frowned upon to drink whiskey in front of a government building and wave the bottle at the police officer approaching you.
I left the island this week to venture to a mountaintop in West Virginia, where my wife’s grandfather lives. To say that the culture here is different from what you find in New Orleans is like saying that eating caviar with a glass of champagne is different from eating fried chicken with a 40. I may as well have gotten in a rocket ship and spent a week in space. And I didn’t have to come all the way to West Virginia to feel like an alien. As soon as we left the city limits, the strange gazes began flashing our way. By the time we had passed Birmingham, we were hearing the phrase “Y’all ain’t from here” as much as we were hearing “hello”.
There’s some things you forget about the way of life in the rest of the world when you spend so much time in New Orleans. The first thing is that there’s such a thing as restaurants that serve bad food. In New Orleans, places with bad food don’t survive because good food is so accessible. This makes dining choices very easy. In central Tennessee, this isn’t true. Some people will pay for crap because it’s all that’s available. I found this out firsthand a couple of years ago on the Alabama/Georgia border at a “buffet” that had three choices: fried chicken legs, two-day-old macaroni and cheese, and a pan of what was either dinner rolls or to-go boxes. However, I forget this experience every time I leave and I’m forced to relearn this lesson.
The next thing that I’m always reminded of on vacation is that most villages and towns shut down completely at a certain time, every day of the week. In New Orleans, if I get an urge for a burger, or discover I’m out of toilet paper at 3 AM, there’s a 24 hour place within walking distance to serve my needs and wants. But I was in a hotel in Knoxville two nights ago and I realized sometime after midnight that ice cream would make life better. I put some pants on and grabbed my room key before walking ten feet and having a terrible revelation: there was nowhere for me to go for ice cream. Everything was closed. For the next several hours. I got back in bed with a diminished sense of freedom.
The thing I notice most often when I leave New Orleans, and perhaps the most telling, is that I’m an absolute weirdo anywhere else. At home I’m rather normal, perhaps even tame. But the moment I get above sea level, I become a fish out of water. My manner of dress is the first dead give away. While I don’t dress nearly as ridiculous as some of my neighbors, I do fit in. And if I fit-in in my neighborhood, it means I look crazy in most of America. I did have this forethought this time around though. Knowing I was coming to the mountains, I packed what I considered to be a common mountain outfit. This consisted of cowboy boots, a fur coat, a cowboy hat, and a bandanna to tie around my neck. I figured I’d look local and the natives would take me as one of them. As it turns out, nobody in the mountains of West Virginia dresses like Robert Redford in Jeremiah Johnson. They dress like pretty much everyone else, in jeans, t-shirts, and baseball caps. As it turns out, I’m a presumptuous idiot.
On the same note of appearing crazy, I often forget that not everyone everywhere talks to each other like they’ve been lovers. This is one of my favorite things about New Orleans, and one of the chief reasons I moved there. Its is completely reasonable, expected even, to talk to strangers. Not only to say hello (this is actually the minimum requirement), but to tell them about your day, your life, and your philosophy. To do so makes you approachable, whereas in many places doing as little as making eye contact with a stranger is grounds for harassment. Ask them a question about themselves? You may as well have flashed them. I forget this. So I had to learn that when a gas station attendant in Virginia asks me how I’m doing, and I don’t want to appear crazy, I don’t answer: “Pretty damn good. I’ve had this wild pain in my lower back but I’ve been doing stretches and its finally going away. A few years ago, I would’ve just took a handful of Vicodin and been done with it. But I think it’s better not take the easy way out, ya know?”
As much as I love a good vacation, I’m anxious to get back home. I just don’t feel quite right anywhere else. So until the rest of America serves better food, stops closing up shop when it gets dark, and starts saying hello to each other, I’ll be the weird guy in the cowboy hat giving up too much information.
Last night we celebrated David’s birthday here at FF&G with an amazing dinner that rapidly turned into a hilarious photo shoot that lasted well into the night. Here are some of the highlights (in chronological order):
Instead of music, on long drives I prefer to be spoken at by way of a sterile non-fiction historical audiobook. I find it less physically draining.
Those donut shaped travel neck pillows do absolutely nothing for me in terms of comfort, but lots for me in terms of frustration.
When traveling long distances in the car, I partake in a game I like to call “Eat It, Fatty”. The rules are as follows: if I think I might be hungry in an hour or so, I immediately pull over to the most disgusting fast food restaurant available and eat myself into partial blindness. ‘Tis a gentleman’s game.
My father, once the greatest driver known to mankind, has lost his touch on the road. Although another might feel sad watching a parent’s skills fade with age, I celebrate my triumph as the new best driver in the family!
My levels of arrogance and insecurity are off the charts, and tend to manifest themselves in judging and quiet name-calling, especially when surrounded by top tier athletes. This could probably be left off the list, as this is what my grandmother would call old news, but the point is they’re stupid.
Still got it, old boy is a phrase I think to myself in order boost self confidence after a woman makes any sort of eye contact with me – even if she is just telling me to move out of the way of the triathletes about to run me down as I unknowingly stand in the middle of the course.
I lump most southern states into the same geographic pile and when told that someone has driven nine hours from South Carolina to Alabama, I respond with “Really? I had no idea it was that far. I thought two hours maybe – two and a half tops.” I believe some people refer to this as ignorance.
Although my father can best me in the traditional triathlon (swim, bike, run) I can mop the floor with him in the Steak ‘n Shake triathlon (burger, fries, shake).
My biggest fear is that one day I will wake up alone, unhappy, and morbidly obese.
Given my current lifestyle choices, there is no question that one day I will wake up alone, unhappy, and morbidly obese.
Man oh man, I’m exhausted. Dehydrated probably. Lotta free drinks flowing in and out of my hands these days. Even better that I don’t have to pay for them. I guess in a certain sense I do. My liver, and time is money whatever whatever sort of thing. However, I have had a fun, and interesting- if only to me- week, and since pretty much my social life, personal life, business life, etc are all basically the same ball of wax why not lend a little wrap up, reporter style, on our scrolling list of news.
Starting the day after Labor Day, 9 Undisclosed came to Fair Folks & a Goat – NYC. You can read more about the event here. We had a terrific time, and it introduced many new friendly and fashionable faces to our space- so terrific in fact that we extended it through the week, and were very thankful to have Lindsay Burka’s company as she brought a great deal of sunshine into our afternoons. Also, a pleasant surprise, my mom came by with my Aunt Mary Francis and Aunt Denise on a whim (she pulled them away from “the shore”), and I was very grateful to have the chance to see everybody. If I remember correctly, my mom swooped up a Burberry trench that she needs to get shortened because she is a small lady and the reason my basketball career didn’t pan out. It’s for the better. I love basketball but I also love po boys and I think it is a one or the other sort of thing. I think.
So on Thursday night, after Lindsay left us, and out went racks of clothes, and out went empty cases of prosecco, in came Nina Egli, the fashion designer. and brains and beauty behind Toujours Toi and Family Affairs, and in came new racks of clothes, and in came new bottles of prosecco. We talked about how we would pull off the show the next day, which kept us all laughing as we new it was going to be a madhouse. Nina is delightful, more than delightful, and to talk to her one can easily forget the time. But I couldn’t, I had somewhere to be.
I had to be at Brother Jimmy’s over on 93rdish (on this night because it is the closest joint) to drink one or two tall boy Natty Lights, eat barbecue chicken, barbecue ribs, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, candied yams, coleslaw, cornbread, and maybe one or two more tall boys, and watch the Saints beat the Vikings. Who dat? Who dat? Who dat? All up in yo face, yo!
Now here is where things get interesting. I climbed the hill back up from 3rd avenue, and when I got to the top on Madison, the entire block had been roped off by police. I have never seen anything like this before in Carnegie Hill. Very quickly a police officer, maybe my age, maybe a little older, certainly more mature and intelligent, stopped me as I was hopping the “Do Not Cross” tape.
He said, “I can’t let you do that.”
I said, “I gotta get home, man. It is almost midnight. I have to be at work at 7am to-morrow.”
He asked me which building I lived in and when I told him, he said, “Sorry, no can do. Keeping people away from the park.”
I asked why, and he explained that a suspicious package had been found nearby on Fifth Avenue, and they had called in the bomb squad to investigate. I was like you gotta be kidding me, and maybe the tall boys talked a little out of line, but then the officer lent some sense, and he was like dude it is a bomb scare, do you really want to chance it?
I said, “I guess you are right.”
Then these two ladies, maybe about ten or thirty years older then me walked up, and they also lived on the block, two doors up the street closer to Madison, and the police officer said they could pass. They also had a very beautiful dog. It was sort of ridiculous big white poodle thing you would see in a New Yorker cartoon, but I have to admit it was very well groomed and all and attended to.
Anyway, I was thinking aloud, and thinking loud enough to dissuade my neighbors from crossing the tape. I said, “I live two doors down and they aren’t letting me cross, so I am just saying I wouldn’t cross if I were you.” And then I asked the police officer, what about my neighbors (whom I knew were out of town, the one’s in our house) and why weren’t they being evacuated? He told me this was his first bomb scare, and then I sort of let it all go, because truth be told he was an easy going and easy to get along with guy, and the Saints just won and I’m not really good at or interested in giving people a hard time. Plenty of people out there to play critic other than me.
So then my neighbors started suggesting bars, which later I thought was a little strange, but now looking back on it, I think it is great. People have the wrong idea about folks in Carnegie Hill. The more people I meet, the more I like it. That being said, I wasn’t going to any bars and luckily enough soon after a couple awkward excuses the police officer received word on his walkie talkie and cleared the tape to let us pass.
The next thing I knew Fresh Direct was buzzing the front buzzer around 7:30 am. It was Friday morning and another Big Friday. Nina ordered quite the spread. I shoved the fridge full, and figured I might catch a little more shut-eye, or at the least coffee, or at the very least a shower, but I had swiffering and trash and needed to turn the gym, which is in the basement, into a hair, make-up, and styling station. She has great pics on her site. Then the buzzer was buzzing again, and the models and stylists and everyone else from pr to you name it began pouring in. It was an inopportune time to look and smell and be dressed the way I was.
Nina is Swiss, and I enjoyed all of the languages, and the hello’s (Swiss people do both cheeks) and just the madness of it all. When I was growing up, I was taught to play basketball in a state of non-stop controlled chaos. It is far and away the most enjoyable way to play, and to watch, and preparing for the fashion show was very much the type of controlled chaos I find exciting. Quick decisions, full court press, push the ball, go go go.
(this is the greatest team ever assembled for such a style)
Soon enough, a sense of order took over the varying rooms of the house. I don’t know how far into detail I can go about how it all worked, and that is probably because I am still a little blown away that it did work as well as it did, and I think Nina’s cool calm made it such a success. And of course, the fact that Aurora was there to play ringmaster of the circus.
I do have a video clip. Or two of them. But I have to warn everyone that I am not anywhere near the video editor that Peter or David or anyone else around here is. That being said, enjoy!
Wasn’t that incredible? I’m not used to seeing that many beautiful women all in the same day. Maybe in a magazine, but I mean in real life. This space in Manhattan really lends itself to interesting events that we never really, really thought possible when we began. We have a handful of exciting stuff in the works, including the Kite Class and picnic in Central Park this Saturday with Haptic Labs. If you have never been up here, or haven’t been in awhile it will be a great day, and perhaps the city’s most eco-responsible small business,Organicoa (owned by my old buddy, old pal Matt Pek from “school”) will be supplying the food, and the hot cocoa.
(these are the cozy cups we sell for sixty bucks, handmade, a little unrelated but a good place to drink cocoa from I have to believe)
Back to Friday early evening when the fashion show ended. The first thing, and pretty much the only thing I could concentrate on was getting a cheeseburger and cheese fries and a beer as quickly as possible. The show had started officially at 1:00 pm, and we had everything cleaned and cleared by around 4:40, maybe 5 ish it was off and away in a taxi cab to Brooklyn. Then I dominated Shake Shack, and rushed home to get ready for Subports party at Partners & Spade which we thought we were supposed to be at early in order to drop off a Joon & Jung mug for their Fashion Night out Party for Non-Fashion people.
(here is the Joon and Jung Mug, we sell for 47 dollars)
Aurora and I ended up showing up late and it was all my fault. I kept going back and forth trying to decide which costume I would wear on Halloween. I mean what outfit I would wear on Fashion’s Night out. I ended up wearing the only suit that still fits me, and very much barely after the sh-t-show at Shake Shack. I never curse, but the alliteration of that last sentence was too good to pass up.
I felt a little out of place with all the riff-raff. It should be well known by now that I consider myself very much “in” the Fashion world, and easily one of Carnegie Hill’s foremost legging designers. I was convinced that this year was going to be the year I was to be “discovered.” There is always next year. I am just messing around. Sort of.
(these are the leggings, 60 bucks, photo credit Brook Christopher)
A few of the highlights of the party were familiar faces from the design world, and it felt a bit like ICFF all over again. Which is a good things, as I for one really enjoy ICFF. Also, my cousin, Alyssa, who is now a sophomore at NYU showed up with her friends, and I commented on how amazing it was that she still had the same friends from last year. But thinking it over, a lot of my friends now over ten years later are the same kids I met as freshmen way back when down in Atlanta.
From there, we went to some outrageous art shows. One was put together by fellow New Orleans resident Delaney Martin. And that was absolutely incredible. It was in Chinatown, in the middle of the street, and included the wrestling team from Baruch High School, and a fellow playing the drums, and a whole host of other characters but there is no possible way I am going to give it justice in description. I hope she does it again down in New Orleans. It was called “Things Fall Apart” and based upon the book of that very same name, which was once assigned to me in college, but I didn’t read, because it was one of those semesters where I didn’t really read much of anything.
At this point in the night it was late. But Amy, our art curator here in New York had yet another art show in store for Aurora and I, and off we went to Ludlow street and a rooftop, where I was most certainly the only person wearing a suit, and that scene was a little too nuts to explain here on this scrolling list of news. Perhaps Amy will give a rundown of the events, as I didn’t last as long as perhaps I should have, and fled for a cab.
Saturday, the 11th, I woke up really early, maybe around 7ish, with the sun, probably out of paranoia, and then got all depressed about September 11th, and watched old youtube clips, and listened to really sentimentalized country songs and on and on, until I decided it would be good to get outside and see the sunny day. My parents lived in Battery Park, and still do, and during that September so long ago- just like everyone else- it was very horrifying and I count my blessings, as luckily neither of them happened to be in town. I had left for Italy a month before, and because I was so removed, have a certain amount of detachment to the day, and the event, that for whatever reasons stirs up a notion of guilt for “not being there.” It is strange, but honest.
After I escaped the house, I drank a gigantic bloody Mary at Sarabeth’s up the street on Madison, and had French Toast, and then walked a loop up and down past the museums, and checked out the antique stores, and the Gagosian Store down near the Whitney. The day, or the time of idleness at least, flew by, and soon enough Warby Parker, a company very much positioned and prepared to take over and forever change the eye-wear market in America and beyond, was knocking on our door to drop off their glasses (and a ton of vodka) for Sunday’s brunch and display that followed the cancer walk in the park. If you go to their site, and learn about their business it will knock you out of your chair. To make ultra-hip glasses, and give back at an inspiring rate.
(A funny picture of Aurora trying on a pair. Photo credit Andy Warhol)
After we set everything up, and said our goodbyes, I had to rush to my friend Max’s 30th Birthday party. I warned him I couldn’t stay long because of the early wake-up on Sunday, but he said no worries, and after a little tequila and a few trips back and forth to his balcony on 46th street, I was back down in a cab and in bed fairly early, maybe a little after midnight.They all went out to a place called Juliet- which I have not been to, but I do like that name, but not as much as I like the name Julia. Let’s be honest, Julia is a much better name.
And then the buzzer buzzed again, somewhere in 7:45am range. It was Garden of Eve, or Garden of Eden catering, and Neil Blumenthal (a co-founder and “fearless leader” of Warby Parker) ordered a crazy spread of stuff. Usually, I help the delivery guys, partly out of urgency, and partly because I desperately need exercise, but on this early Sunday morning, my eyes weren’t really opening, and I forgot to put on my shoes, so I just ended up holding the door, and then the door to the elevator. I think after I stuffed the fridge of everything, I may have taken a nap, but maybe not, because very soon after that the walk for a cure had ended and a sea of pink flooded into our space. I ate way too much of the quiche, and probably way too many cinnamon swirls, but they had plenty of food, and plenty of pink lemonade vodka’s- which was sort of funny as going back a couple days, Nina’s theme was Ocean Lemonade for her SS2011 show. Here is a picture of Aurora and Neil after the Warby Parker party ended, which Andy Warhol also took.
Andy Warhol didn’t really take that picture. And I don’t have some cool app on my phone or anything like that. What I have is a broken phone.
That pretty much wraps up my past week, except for a quick visit to Taco Taco over on 2nd avenue for their Carne Tampiquena.
Lastly, Autumn in New York is on its way. I am very excited for the leaves to change color in Central Park. And as I mentioned above, we are having a picnic to welcome the change of seasons.
This picture (above) I found online is from a newspaper in the UK, and it says September 1st, but if you live in New York, and probably LA, the film has already premiered. I know this to be true in New York because I went and saw this tonight- right after I had a cheeseburger and cheese fries and a Shackmeister Ale from the new Shake Shack on 86th, which surprisingly, didn’t have a really long line around 4:30. I wasn’t intending on going to the movies, but when I realized this was playing I rushed to buy tickets to the 5:50 show. I had about a half hour to kill, and just dilly dally’d in the Duane Reade across the street because it was raining, and I didn’t have an umbrella. Usually on Sundays, I eat a big spaghetti dinner to prepare myself for the week ahead, but today I didn’t eat anything but birthday cake all the way out in Sag Harbor in the morning, and because of traffic getting back into the city had to rush to a two o’clock meeting in Carnegie Hill about exciting developments in New Orleans and after that was over I was pretty famished and figured a cheeseburger was a quicker solution than boiling water, grating cheese, etc, etc.
Back to the film. First off, my old buddy, old pal Jordan Pope-Roush worked very long, very dedicated hours on this film last year here in New York. He worked in many different facets of the production from very small things to very big things as the assistant to the directors, Will Speck and Josh Gordon. When he was here we got into plenty of trouble and had all sorts of good times and watching the film it helped me recall some of those times and when I had the chance to visit him and the set, like outside of the Apple Store, and another time out in front of the subway near Grand Central, and a bunch of times down in the Village, which is where a lot of it was shot, and he lived during his stay here. Another interesting bit of this film’s history is that when they were finishing the sound editing they happened to do all of the post production in New Orleans and that was during the time I was first down South looking at our house and deciding whether or not we should take the plunge and set up shop. Again, Jordan and I got into all sorts of trouble, and amazingly I was granted access to some of their recording sessions that as an outsider were a real treat. There is a funny story in there about Bob French but too long for the blog. We didn’t really get into that much trouble actually. I think one night we stayed at the Royal Sonesta jazz club until it closed, and then got caught in the rain running around town with married tourists. Or something like that. No real damage. Although, I’m pretty sure I ended the night with a crawfish omelette at Harrah’s that I can’t whole heartedly recommend.
Some highlights from the film include Jessica Joffe on the subway. How many girls have you seen on the subway that look like Jessica Joffe? I have seen maybe four in 6 years. Another highlight is during a scene in Cafe Cluny- which has terrific egg sandwiches, and bathroom interior design- they play Sea Green See Blue by Jaymay, whom I happened to know and eat chinese food with a couple times way back when I was stumbling around Fiesole and Florence looking for god knows what and she was playing in the piazzas. After I moved to New York, I found out she was playing at the Sidewalk Cafe on Avenue A, and this must have been 2003 or 2004, and I would go watch her there. She is still playing in New York, and all over, and if you ever have the chance to go see her, I encourage you to do so.
Some other highlights are Jennifer Aniston’s apartment on Riverside Drive and scenes with Jeff Goldblum. If you like Jeff Goldblum. I do. So when I see him on screen I enjoy it. My friend Jordan is in a quick scene in the end- which to be honest I missed, but I plan on watching the film again to try to catch it. I have a feeling this movie will be on TV a bunch in the future. I, currently do not have a TV, but I am working on that with Time Warner. Also, Juliet Lewis is in this film, and she is always good in everything she is in.
Long and short, go see this film. I’m not sure I am the target audience, because I’m not yet at the age where the idea of purposefully having a child makes good, clear, honest sense. That being said, I still enjoyed the hour and a half, and had a handful of laughs. But one thing I do not suggest, is getting a large popcorn and large cherry coke. I still feel terrible from that. And it was 13 dollars 50 cents.
Fat Boy Gotta Eat was the original idea for a name before stumbling upon Fair Folks & a Goat. All things considered, I think we made the right choice.
In other news, I am back in New Orleans having a fun time working with Peter and Theodora and David. Today we had something like a nine hour meeting with Aurora via video chat to discuss the nine thousand things we have to get done before the week’s end. I thought it would be a good idea for me to take a break from business and share 20 great New York restaurants and the reasoning. I actually started this list before I left, and at this point, three days later, sort of want to get it out to the world, so I can begin another. I never typically make lists in my life unless I am going to the grocery store, and then I write on my hand. I never typically go to the grocery store because I don’t know how to cook too many things. Although, the meals that I do know how to prepare are fantastic. To me. My theory is the less dishes and clean up the better. Which is why I stick pretty much to Irish Cousin, which is a dish I will explain at a later date because it is really really complicated.
These aren’t rankings, ps, I just number them so I know when to stop.
1. Sushi Mambo – Not to be confused with Sushi Samba. Not even for one second. My favorite person is actually the delivery guy whom you might not see. He also sells jewelry, though I have never bought anything from him. They shot the movie Prime here with Meryl Streep. And there is a great wooly chair in the entrance that I have never been able to make sense of.
2.*Cornelia Street Cafe – If you are meeting someone for the first time, go here. The best time to go is for brunch, and if you do order the chocolate bread and the farmer’s breakfast and a bloody mary and sit outside so if you smoke you can just walk into the street. When I first moved to New York, I would eat here regularly, more than regularly, and Lady Gaga- Stephanie- was the waitress. My friend and I used to play this game called “Would you?” and we would go back and forth about her. She had good days and bad days. She was pleasant and sweet.
3. Pearl Oyster Bar – I used to live above this restaurant and order take-out because the lines are eesh. If you sit in the back, it is tight, and you basically are a part of the other parties’ conversations. Some folks enjoy that sort of thing. But it can also be sort of miserable- in fact there are a few other uncomfortable things about this place, but none of them matter because the food is so good. I like to sit at the bar. Also, the Praline Parfait.
4. Le Gigot – I hesitate to tell people about how wonderful this place is because there is never a line. The french toast casserole and cranberry juice. A wonderful place to go on a lazy morning. Crab cake Benedict also delicious. I wouldn’t go with a stranger though- this is more like date two or three or six breakfast. The first morning after someone sleeps over. Unless you never want to speak to them again. In that case, the Washington Square Diner- which is also amazing- is right around the corner.
5. Delmonico’s – One of my favorite short stories in college “May Day” begins here and I always wanted to go as a kid. I have a fairly recent memory of losing myself when a corporate executive told me he was taking his ball and going home on me at a back table. However, this restaurant will forever remain my father’s restaurant to me, and to dine with him here, is a lunch, or dinner like no other, a true Italian American experience. If only they would let us smoke cigars- that is definitely missing.
6. Jean Georges – I ate here this Spring to repay a debt to my first boss and in some ways Manhattan mentor and had a great time. The best part was his hearing is terrible, he is around 80 or so, and he likes to recount his youth and conquests, and in doing so the entire place had a story to tell after their lunch break.
7. Tortilla Flats – My friend(s) and I go here on Sundays and play trivia competitively and sometimes meet strangers. I never feel fantastic afterward. Never. But I am likely to order too much. Here. Everywhere. I sing that same song over and over with my appetite.
8. Cafe Sabarsky – One time, maybe I was 25, when I had my head stuck down in the ground and never thought to look up above West 4th street, a very nice old lady, in her 80’s, a great aunt of sorts of my friend at the time, took us first to the Guggenheim and then here for lunch. I thought I was stepping into a dream. That lunch profoundly affected my idea of elegance, aspiration, and the aesthetic for what I had hoped we would create with this idea of Fair Folks. I want people to feel the way I felt the first time I went to have lunch here. Like all of these iconic New York images that I had lurking around in my imagination had sprung to life, and I recognized them, although I had never seen them before. The funny thing in all this is that after so much time passed- maybe two or three years- and this idea I was being pulled toward was finally coming to life, I returned to Cafe Sabarsky, and I realized that it was nice, but it wasn’t that nice. And this is something I have learned and believe to be true- that distance, whether it be from people, places or things, allows our critiques to outsize themselves in either direction. The good becomes so great. The bad becomes so terrible. You have to be careful about that- especially with people.
9. Harry’s – Pretty much same idea as Delmonico’s, subtract the Fitzgerald story. Cheesesteaks will get you. Don’t eat one if you have to go back to work. A good place to get work done as well. You never know who is sitting next to you. I guess that can be said about anywhere though.
10. Robert – This restaurant is in the Museum of Arts and Design, and has tremendous views of Central Park. There was a contest to name the restaurant, and I submitted “Madeleine’s” and a drawing of a lady who lunches as a mascot, but the idea was turned down. Still my favorite museum in town in terms of the people involved and the exciting things going on. If you haven’t been to the museum, email me, and I would be happy to go with you. Also, a great gift shop. If you buy your mom, sister, girlfriend, wife, earrings here rather than Tiffany’s they will wear them more often. There is another shop like that I know- wink, wink.
11. Joe’s Shanghai – You have to go to the one downtown. It is cheaper. They sit with you tourists, usually pleasant well-fed tourists, and the one in Midtown just isn’t the same. I was psychologically mugged outside the one in Midtown. The same guy who psychologically mugged me the last time. Here is his trick in case you are ever there. He walks down the street with a plastic container of food that you would fill at a deli, or could easily be removed from the trash, gently sitting on his shoulder. He and his accomplice make it increasingly difficult for you and (in both my instances) the woman you are walking with to pass. He then bumps into you or her- doesn’t matter to him- and the food falls and he cries, violently and threateningly, that is my dinner, that is all I got to eat. And then, because you don’t want to look like a schmuck or don’t want to deal with any trouble, you give him 12 dollars. He also has glasses, so beware of that. Like I said, just go to the one downtown and you will never run into him. To me, he is like the troll of Midtown.
12. Square Meal – I recently discovered this place in Carnegie Hill. They always ask if you have a reservation regardless of whether or not anyone else is in the entire place. Which I think is funny. Because I want to say, “Yes” to see their reaction. I will do this next time. It is tucked into a town house on the same block as Yura and they carry their BLT Bites. If you come up to our shop this is a good place to go to breakfast before, or lunch after. I think it is 91st street between Madison and 5th.
13. Shun Lee- If I were a film maker, I would shoot a scene here for sure. I am pretty sure Woody Allen has shot something here. I love the pitch of the dim sum server’s voice. It is almost as if they are screaming at you. PORK SHUMAI, CRAB SHUMAI, CHICKEN SHUMAI! And on and on and on.
14. Fatty Crab- Here is one restaurant, and I suppose the Mermaid Inn is another, where I don’t care if it is downtown or on the Upper West Side. I always order the same thing every time I go here and it is the Beef Rendang and the Dark & Stormy. So good.
15. Snack Taverna – I love Greek food. I also love Greek Beer. A great place for a date, but also a great place for friends. What I wouldn’t recommend is an uncomfortable date, or a double date where anyone doesn’t know each other well. But you know, where is a good place for something like that? Oh I know…
16. The Rusty Knot – I have met my fair share of interesting folks in this place. One time, my buddy put me in a cab, and then tried to fight a handful of punks without me. I guess he thought he had a better shot on his own. Kind of insulting. He was in a suit and they were calling him American Psycho and it was all very funny and around 3 in the morning. I stopped the cab and talked him out of it. They recently changed their menu, and I am getting used to it.
17. August – My favorite breakfast for sometime was their Ham and Egg Galette. I don’t know if that is spelled correctly. Anyway, they took it off their menu, and I emailed them to email me when it comes back on. That was about two years ago. They haven’t. When they do, I will go back to eating it once a week when I am in town.
18. Lima’s Taste – I prefer my friend’s Peruvian cooking because it was the first Peruvian cooking I was introduced to, however, this is the closest thing I have found in the city, and if you have never eaten Peruvian food do yourself a life changing favor and order the Aji de Pollo and you will surely return. If you are a fatty like me, also the chicken causo (sic?), and steak lombatina. Maybe a Peruvian restaurant in New Orleans isn’t a terrible idea. I am a little busy and tied up to help, but if anyone does do it, I promise to eat there often.
19. Lil Frankies – Another place where I like to sit at the bar. I am allergic to red wine. Not in the rush me to the hospital sort of way. I just get all ugly and look like the Devil, turn purple and such, and not really that much trouble to me as much as the folks around me because I can go all uncivilized pretty quickly. That is why I always go to this place with friends, who understand that after dinner is over it is best to put me in a cab and take me home. This type of Italian food you can’t eat without red wine.
20. Pig Heaven – I just went here for the first time on my last night in town and I am in love with it. I am looking forward to returning to prove to myself that it exists. Just go, you will see. Like I was saying about Shun Lee- if I had a movie to film, I would just roll in the cameras and not touch a thing.
I sort of felt like I had to mention some of these restaurants out of respect for my experience and the friends who introduced them to me over the years. I feel so bad to leave so many of my favourites out. I’ll add a bunch more sometime soon. But right now, I am hungry. And when fat boy gets hungry. Fat boy gotta eat!
Alla prossima,
Anthony
* Fair Folks & a Goat was founded here last summer one early Tuesday evening at an outside cafe table.
(this is the greatest team ever assembled for such a style)
(here is the Joon and Jung Mug, we sell for 47 dollars)
Goats Will Eat Anything 