Sights and Sounds of the Season

Like screens on a window, some things you don't notice until they're right in front of you. There are a few such instances I've taken notice of this holiday season that I find are especially New York in nature.

For example, nothing, not even the the monsoon-like downpour of snow last Saturday, can keep a New Yorker, myself included, away from their Christmas shopping. I trudged through the snow that just kept falling all day (perhaps it's because I'm from Florida, but I've never seen anything like that in my life; it was, in fact, rather bewildering) because that day was the only day I had to get such things in order. As garbage as it can be to trudge through the New York snow, there is no place else I would rather be trudging. And I did it like a champion, no thanks to the herds of SantaCon-ers crowding the subway whom I prayed would not vomit on me in a drunken stupor, only to apologize with a high-pitched "OMIGOD I'M SOOOOO SORRY" or "Oh, uh, sorry bro." Nonetheless, I enjoyed my trip to one of my regular gifting locations, the Strand Bookstore. I got lost as I always do in their miles of books, at least one mile of my own that I lust after every time. I stood in that crazy holiday line to purchase gifts, dreaming about what book I might like to buy next.

It's also wonderful to get a brisk, crisp chill alongside some sun, which I have been fortunate enough to have these last few days in the city. One night it was even warm enough to walk down the street with my coat unbuttoned, and I got to enjoy a nice cozy stroll before heading uptown. I started at Beyond Sushi, a vegan sushi joint on 14th and 3rd (only in New York, right? But it was delicious, and I highly recommend the Mighty Mushroom roll. It features purple Six Grain Rice, Enoki, Shiitake, Tofu, and Micro Arugula, and is topped with a delish mushroomy paste YUM. Wash it down with a cucumber mint lemonade, hello goodbye.) I walked through the West Village, past the gorgeous brick brownstones and 1970s apartment buildings whose lobbies featured leather armchairs for guests, praying silently to myself that I may one day have the pleasure and privilege of residing in one of them.

I like the wetness of the subway stairs when the snow has melted. I like the gift vendors in Union Square. I like the store clerks wearing elf ears with their Marilyn Monroe t-shirts against their will. I like the rush of the cold air on my hands, the posters of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty outside of the obnoxiously large Regal Cinemas on Broadway, and the proliferation of red Macy's shopping bags. I like the jingle of the Salvation Army bellringers with their red buckets. Older women in luscious minks as you head uptown and the younger women in their faux fur coats downtown.

After the Strand, I sat down in a bubble tea shop--called Comebuy, on 14th between 7th and 8th, it had the most kinds of bubble tea I had ever seen in my life, though I settled on a more traditional honey green that evening--and I opened New York Magazine's annual Reasons to Love New York issue. Perhaps it's the season, this time of reflection on the almost-finished year, but I too felt nostalgic. I had also just finished reading James Wolcott's memoir Lucking Out, about his experience living in New York in the 1970s, arriving here with little else than a letter of reference from Norman Mailer in his pocket. Wolcott writes about his experiences getting, as he says, "down and semi-dirty," in the city, living on Horatio Street and in a man-cave on St. Mark's Place as a writer, when such a thing was still possible. I wonder what my 2010s memoir will look like, should I decide to write one. Will everyone expect it to look like a season of Girls? I shudder to think. What will be the things that I miss the most about my New York now, thirty to forty years in the future?

I wonder if I am just kidding myself sometimes about New York being a place to go, for lack of a better phrase, to chase your dreams. People have a lot of things to say about the way New York is now: that it's inhospitable to artists, that it's all but eliminated a middle class that used to easily live here, that it's gone corporate, that it's a money-driven Disneyland. But I still believe in the hope of New York. You can get lost in the difficulty of it all, or you can just push past it and make your life happen. Maybe it's because I am but a relatively new New Yorker (going on three and a half years), but I haven't given up just yet. I don't know that I ever will.

Ladies of the Left Bank

Perhaps one of the greatest friendship phenomena I know of is that of the friendy date. Also known as the "ladydate" or "man-date," it's when two friends plan to spend a night out on the town together. You dress up, go out to a lovely place for dinner or cocktails or both, and you luxuriate in the fabulousness of your friendship. I have been on friendy dates with my bros (SW and I quite like Asiadog for our bro-moments--broments?--and BK and I have taken Empire Biscuit into our recent repertoire), and my ladies, like I did on Saturday with AS.

My friendy date sphere of thought began spinning this evening, when I reflected up on the utterly wonderful Saturday evening spent with my dear friend AS. AS and I have known each other for about eight years (ish), and she was one of the first people I swaddled into my New York life (and vice versa) upon my arrival in the city. Frightfully witty and insightful, she is one of my favorite ladies.

After making the utterly miserable mistake of trying to take a cab down the West Side Highway on a Saturday night, I arrived to meet AS at the restaurant of her choice, The Spotted Pig. She found out upon arriving first that the restaurant was known internationally for its food, which perhaps was supposed to alleviate our "Oh, fuck that" attitudes to the restaurant's two-hour wait, but it certainly did not. Instead, we wandered for a bit and, like moths to a flame, were drawn to an archway of trees set alight and sparkling with elegant white Christmas lights. Though the restaurant they surrounded was of no interest to us, we instead parked ourselves at Left Bank next door where the wait was instead 30 minutes. We figured this would be the best we'd get in the area for a place that wasn't a diner--and we did not feel like a diner that evening--so we stayed.

The very kind hostess gave us the option of sitting at the bar, though to our dismay no seats were available. We sat instead on the benches near the door, a chill swishing over us with each opening. Eventually, though, the hostess noticed some women (also on a friendy date??) leaving and gestured to us to take their seats. How kind! we thought to ourselves. Because let's be honest, in most restaurants if you can't find a seat at the bar, you can go fuck yourself and stand in the corner with your coat, no thank you very much. But she pointed out seats to us! And so we sat and enjoyed a carafe of rioja while waiting for our table. We contemplated for a moment to eat dinner at the bar, but AS said, No, let's make this a thing! We're going to a whole thing! So we did!

We shared a salad of shaved brussels sprouts with parmagiano reggiano and walnuts (I would direct you to the menu, but it changes every day!!), then I had a black fettucini (homemade pasta, by the way!) with calamari, and she the swordfish. Both were lovely dishes. We followed it with a dessert cheese plate and aperitifs (she an old-fashioned and I a Disaronno on the rocks), laughing at ourselves all the way about how we are "cleverly disguised as adults," to use AS's words. We toasted to ourselves and our friends and lovers and smiled at all the damage we did on the bill. Well, you get one life and, as my mother always tells me, you can't take it with you. One of the grand delights of a friendy date is spoiling yourself...a little bit or a lot is up to you.

Say what you will, but there is something magical that happens on friendy dates. It is the beauty of seeing exactly what you love about your friend and your friendship with them. I feel lucky in New York to experience the city with all different sorts of loved ones. Too often people get absorbed into themselves or their relationships and forget all about the people who where there first, or there when everything seemed to oil spill awful into the river of your life. It can be a challenge to see your friends sometimes, living here or anywhere: we are all very busy and important. But who doesn't love to know that they are cherished and adored? It is so nice to go out and get dolled up with a friend, no matter whether you are eating hot dogs or drinking old-fashioneds. Or both.

Feeling Radio-Active

Sitting outside today on Las Olas Boulevard, sipping a tea latte in front of a fountain (New Yorkers, my apologies if I've just boiled your blood a bit...) and staring at palm trees swathed in Christmas lights, I knew a Florida post was on the horizon. After a long and leisurely lunch and gossip session with my near and dear JS, I made my way to a place that was really one of my second homes as a budding music nerd down here: Radio-Active Records.

Selling everything from new and used vinyl (LPs, 45s, etc.) and any possible accessory to go with it, as well as new and used CDs, posters, magazines, and more, Radio-Active Records is not really a gem but an entire diamond mine of an independent music store. Nestled in the same shopping center as a tattoo parlor, a gay bar and an art gallery, it's a record store that has happily and effortlessly maintained that hipness all music stores once had: that positive, these-people-know-what-they're-talking-about-but-aren't-dicks-about-it vibe that makes for a good business and a stellar community built around it. In addition to their awesome selection of tuneage (Shannon on the Clams on vinyl, whaaat! In addition to obscure Maria Muldaur albums and an utterly rad David Bowie 45 where he sings "Heroes" in French...that last one I picked up for myself, thank you very much), Radio-Active also hosts cool, up-and-coming bands in their store: recent performances include blues rockers Deap Vally and punk outfit Remembering Never).

Even a swirling land of corporate music retailers, I always chose Radio-Active instead. The staff is friendly and helpful, not like Jack Black's character in High Fidelity who will balk at your distaste of The Jesus and Mary Chain despite your love of Echo and the Bunnymen. Plus, it's great to get into a conversation with someone who not only has varied tastes and can recommend you sounds you might like, but someone who is also willing to learn from you! (Thank you to R-A's Scott today, who told me about Burial and The Vaccines, and was willing to listen about my interest in Brooklyn band Parquet Courts). And of course I will admit it feels great when they heartily approve of your day's purchases, that my own good taste in music is hardly a figment of my own imagination.

Another fun part about today is that their 45s sale on this weekend (and hurrah, I got to support during Small Business Saturday!). There were crates upon crates upon boxes upon boxes filled with the things, all for $1 apiece. They were given to the store by a woman who had purchased all of them in hopes of filling a jukebox she never purchased. I managed to wrangle some oldie-but-goodies (Johnnie Ray, Tavares, The Seekers, and other divinities) from the crates, as well as my aforementioned David Bowie 45. I listened to the latter on their gorgeous sound system, headphones canceling all exterior noise and allowing me to lose myself in, forgive the Phil Spector reference, a wall of sound. Bowie swooned and lamented to me, the tune sweeping in a hopeful upswing through my ears. I must listen to my records more often, I said to myself. A good music store, a store like Radio-Active Records, will (and should) have that effect on you. See below for a photo of their sweet postcard with all of their contact info. If you're out of state, you can follow their radness on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, where they're really good at showing what's up at the store.

Presents/Presence

I have been remiss in not writing my annual birthday post, so here we go!

November 2

I celebrated my 25th birthday! And I sort of had a birthday week because why the hell not?

I took my annual birthday trip to Bloomingdale's and got myself a lovely sweater coat, followed by a trip to Dylan's Candy Bar for gummies and yummies, and Serendipity 3 for the ridiculous/sublime/ridiculously sublime Cleopatra's Barge: potato skins topped with sour cream and caviar with a side of red onions. I'm 25, health be damned! Then, later...

"How hot are we getting tonight?" SD asked me via text.

"How well do you know me?" I said.

I texted AS: "In case it wasn't already implied, dress code for tonight is 'look hot, betch.'"

By accident I ended up eating my Dylan's Candy Bar loot for dinner. Nothing says adulthood like caramel creams for an entree. 

That evening, the ladies stepped out, heels and all, downtown. The first stop was Decibel, the rad, red-lit, underground sake bar where the waiters all seem kind of pissed at something but don't really take it out on you. We had octopus sushi in wasabi sauce, a variety of dumplings and a laahhhhhge bottle of sake. Even sipping little bits from those teeny glasses will get you a little more than buzzed (well, me anyway). "You know how I feel about drunken women," my mother said. "But one only turns 25 once..."

Next stop was The Slipper Room, the newly refurbished burlesque house on the Lower East Side. We hooted and hollered at fierce ladies being fierce, jiggling like there was no tomorrow. I was a little worried because it was EL's first burlesque show ("What is burlesque, exactly?" she asked) but she loved it! Another convert to what I feel is a sexy, empowering performance art. Huzzah!

After the show, we left to find another bar, but SEP stopped me. "I know a guy who can get us drinks for free," she said. I figured she knew someone who would be nice and get us a couple of cocktails, but  she actually knew the manager of Beauty & Essex, a rather swank restaurant and bar on the Lower East Side. We ended up getting a table and champagne bottle service. For free. They brought one of the champagne bottles over with a giant sparkler in it and everyone sang happy birthday. I never pictured myself as a lady having a birthday 'at the club' but there I was, and there we all were, and it was marvelous. It was followed by a rather drunken bout of disco fries (cheese and gravy...I know...) at the brilliantly 24-hour Remedy diner and a rather sleepy cab ride home. I even wore my heels the entire time! Like a champ.

November 3

November 3 is my actual birthday, and it was the perfect day to take it easy and relax. Even if that wouldn't have been what I wanted to do, I would have had to because it was the day of the New York Marathon! The marathon runs directly past my house, so there was no crossing the avenue that day to get to the train and go anywhere in particular. It was fine by me, though, since DL was running the marathon! All morning I tracked his pace then did some rough calculations to see when he would be running by me. Luckily, and much of a surprise to the math gods as myself, I did it right and waited for him out by the barriers, brightly glittered sign in my hands saying "Go DL Go!". I had made it the night before, before going out, so there was glitter all over my apartment. Since we checked in before, he knew where to look for me, and soon enough he found me. I got a picture of him and he wished me happy birthday. I have to say, it's one of the best birthday presents I've ever received because it's so unique--I don't know if he'll run the marathon again, or if I'll even be living in the same place, so it could very well be a once in a lifetime opportunity to be wished happy birthday in the middle of the marathon! I was so proud of him. The magnitude of what these people are doing doesn't really strike you until they run past you and...they just keep going. I don't know if they're crazy or brilliant. Or a combination of the two.

Then I went to eat my favorite omelet, granny smith apple, cheddar cheese and chicken apple sausage, at my favorite brunch spot, The Barking Dog. I went for a walk on the East River and read a book. That evening, MDP brought me flowers and sat on my couch eating Chinese food.

November 7
My bro (yes, I said bro) BK took me out to new restaurant Empire Biscuit for my birthday. It's a 24-hour biscuit joint, with rad homemade biscuits, biscuit sandwiches, gravies, spreads, and god knows what else. We sat and had girl talk at their long wooden tables about Nora Ephron, dating, and toothbrushes while indulging in these incredible concoctions. I had a biscuit and sausage gravy sandwich while BK went the 'pig and fig' route, bacon and fig jam. Both were to die for, and I'd go back in a heartbeat. It's great, too, for late night munchies since they're open 24 hours! I mean, who doesn't want homemade, gourmet snacks at all hours of the night?

November 9
It was soiree city at The Blue Banana, my apartment. There were a bunch of people I didn't know and a bunch I did, and everyone had a fabulous time and drank champagne. My delightful roommate made me a funfetti cake topped with pink cherry frosting--"To Our Favorite Diva, Happy Birthday Elyssa." With 25 candles!

November 10
EH stayed over after my birthday and we went gallivanting around downtown. Our first stop was the Daily Candy Bazaar, and we managed to scoop up some free Jamberry nail wraps (they're like sheets of nail polish with different patterns on them)! Next stop was Vanessa's Dumplings--you have to go to the one on Broome and Eldridge, because that's where you can get 10 dumplings for $5. No, I'm not joking. We also got bubble tea and a sesame pancake, then sat on the steps of Eleanor Roosevelt Park on Houston and Chrystie to people-watch. We then strolled through Bond No. 9 fragrances to see if we could swing EH a new perfume. While we weren't exactly anticipating their $275 per bottle, we did score a sample for her, which was pretty sweet. Shortly after, EH left and I bopped around SoHo getting my shop on before meeting MDP for tea at McNally Jackson, my favorite bookstore. Later I went home, all warm and snuggly from the day, and reflected on the past week or so--a perfect start to my 25th year. 

Fall on the Rocks: Zabar's and Central Park

Thankfully this is not a post about tripping on painful objects.

As I have said many a time, try as you might to find it, there is absolutely nothing that compares with fall in New York. There's a cool rush of breeze that runs through your hair and kisses your neck, on top of none too few days of sunshine if you're lucky. What I find interesting, though, is that I don't get to see the changing leaves nearly as often as I thought I would; that is, I'm not in an open green space on a regular enough basis. I did have the pleasure, recently, of walking past the beautiful McCarren Park in between Williamsburg and Greenpoint in Brooklyn, though. Walking along the western edge of the park felt like I was walking down a corridor paved with yellow leaves, upon which walked hipster parents in matching flannels and their unwittingly hipster children similarly adorned.

You would think, too, that living close(ish) to Central Park, I would have taken a gander there on my own in the past few weeks, but to no avail. This past Friday, however, MDP took it upon himself to show me what I was missing. Leaving his workplace at Columbus Circle, we went for a stroll up Broadway to the one and only Zabar's to get supplies for a picnic. It occurs to me now that I have never actually written about Zabar's, one of my favorite places in the entirety of New York, so I will briefly inform you of its magic now. Zabar's is a gourmet and kosher grocery store on the Upper West Side that has been in existence since 1934, an almost entirely family owned and operated business since then. They roast their own coffee, they have a stupendous prepared foods section, and hand slice their smoked fish. I will admit, my fascination with Zabar's began with a drawing by genius caricaturist Al Hirschfeld, pictured below.

The drawing is of the famous prepared foods counter, dotted with celebrities waiting for their numbers to be called, salamis hanging overhead. I wanted that quintessential New York experience, to buy my groceries where New York's literati and glitterati did. I don't know if the drawing was based on truth, or if he just inserted celebrity friends who lived in the area into the drawing (which he may well have done). But I wanted to go where the people were, not just to some chain that was easy to get to. Zabar's is priced extraordinarily reasonably for New York (and even not for New York), so it's easy to love. The store is always bustling with people, the food is fresh, and my bags are always brimming with goodies when I leave. As it was on the day when MDP and I left: salmon meatballs in an herbed cream sauce, Thai curry chicken salad, eggplant bruschetta, fruit compote and, of course, a famous bagel with Nova and cream cheese (which I have schlepped all the way to the Upper West Side for on multiple occasions). MDP had never been, and to my delight I found he enjoyed it as well.

Next, it was my turn to see something I had not previously explored. "I think the entrance is here," MDP said as we wound our way around the south end of Museum of Natural History and across Central Park West. Police barricades were already in appearance in preparation of Sunday's famous New York Marathon. But inside the park we went, following winding paths practically drowning in beautiful colored leaves--yellows, oranges, reds, and even the occasional misfit green--to a small beach of large rocks right next to a purple gazebo. The rocks overlooked a large lake surrounded by trees upon trees upon trees. A bright red one looked like it was on fire. Buildings seemed far away. The sun sank lower in the west and through candy colored clouds, fluffy tangerine, lavender and cotton candy streaming through the sky. High school kids blasted Top 40 radio, a man in a bowler hat and red suspenders took self portraits, two girls held a photoshoot near the water.

MDP and I sat near the water and dove into our trove of goodness, watching the sun set. As the sky grew darker, we left the park. In darkness, just before we got on the train, fireworks popped and burst through the sky in celebration of the upcoming marathon. Blues and reds and golds glittered through the sky, as if somehow planned just for us (and everyone else standing on the corner of 81st and Central Park West watching along with us). Somehow feeling warm in the chilly autumn air, we got on the train and headed downtown. I smiled. Every year, I fall in love with New York fall all over again.

Wishin' and Ziftin'

I think the only time in my life I've been jealous of brides is when they get to register for gifts. I mean, imagine putting together a giant list of things you want and having people actually buy them for you! It's virtually unheard of in non-married life, sadly. Until now!

Ziftit.com* is a website you can use to register yourself for gifts. Any gifts. Of any kind. That are available to purchase online. The site allows you to create "Zift Lists" or gift lists, for any occasion from any store online, or even from the Ziftit site, with no limit to items added. You can also send the list directly to your friends and family, and they can have the gift delivered directly to you (with an upgraded account, multiple people can even split the cost of a gift--super fun for those of us who aren't iBankers.). Voila! Last minute shopping and failed gifting attempts become a thing of the past. 

When assembling your list, Ziftit will tailor a Trending Feed based on your likes and dislikes, and products that match your personal style will magically appear. You can also create an event on their Events tab--birthdays, bachelorette parties, etc.--that will allow people to not only RSVP but to see what to get you for your special occasion! Another fun point is the Ziftit Barcode Scanner, which you can use on your mobile device to scan any item to add to your Zift List. The Barcode Scanner is especially lovely because when you scan a product, the app will show you where to find the product at the best prices.

What's more is that Ziftit is having a contest! The Trendsetter Contest will allow participants to choose their favorite products from all over the web and put them into their own personal Zift Lists with the Ziftit Browser Plugin on the site's product search. The goal is to get the most followers and be the most influential with your Zift List, via the site's "follow" feature. Add products you love and that appeal to your followers. The products will populate your followers' news feeds, allowing them to re-add products to their own Zift Lists. The "influence rating" will be increased by gaining followers and having your products re-added. When the contest ends on December 15, the participant who has the highest overall influence will win $10,000 and they'll be named "The Trendsetter of 2013." Sound like fun? Then head on over to Ziftit and get Zifting today! 

*sponsored post

Chinatown Sunday

Sunday morning I was summoned from being curled up on my bed by a knock at the door. It was SC, requesting my presence at a dim sum brunch. Having only been to dim sum one other time in my life, also with SC interestingly enough, I jumped at the chance. Brunch was organized by LA, who chose Jing Fong on Walker and Elizabeth in Chinatown. He liked it, he told me, because it reminded him of Hong Kong--he loves the chaotic, hectic nature of it all. So up and up and up we went in an elevator replete with mirrored walls and chandeliers to a giant ballroom fit for an enormous bar mitzvah. You simply don't find spaces like this in New York--more chandeliers, red walls decorated with gold dragons, endless circular tables themselves encircled by red leather banquet hall chairs and petite women in orange pushing around carts upon carts upon carts of food.

LA ordered for us--fried dough covered in rice noodles topped with soy sauce, sesame pastries filled with lotus paste, lotus leaves stuffed with pork and sticky rice, bok choi with oyster sauce, fried turnip cakes dotted with Chinese sausage, small, flaky egg custards, barbeque pork buns, and the list probably goes on and on. Cart ladies came by every few minutes and LA told them what he wanted, supplying the table with what seemed like an endless supply of goodies to nibble on. Absolutely everything was delicious. And between the 10 of us at brunch that day, the grand total was only about $12 per person. I was simultaneously elated and dumbfounded. Dim sum at Jing Fong reigns supreme, and New York will have to work pretty hard to prove to me there's something else as much fun and as exciting to do for brunch.

Post-dim sum MDP and I head to the East River to skateboard. Yes, I, Miss Manhattan, took to a skateboard. While the idea of doing it in traffic scares me half to death and going downhill makes me think of the dangers of land luging, I actually really enjoy it in the same way that people enjoy moving sidewalks and roller coasters. Come to think of it, skateboarding is a perfect medium between the two.

MDP is teaching me and while I am very much still learning, I do think I have the required muscle memory down. It's a little like choreography, pressing your foot to the ground to gain speed, then gliding then doing it all again. Press, press, glide; press, press glide. Not to mention the view along the East River is absolutely stunning: you get a beautiful sight of the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan Bridge going into Brooklyn. The sun was setting and there was a light orange glow around everything. We pissed off as many bikers as we could skateboarding in the bike lane. All was right with the world.

Next was a jaunt through Chinatown to get watermelon bubble tea. MDP's favorite is at the Canal Bakery (242 Canal St), a Chinese bakery that puts real watermelon in with your tea and blends it all together. Plus, bubbles! I actually don't like watermelon that much, but even I thought it was delicious, a nice, cool treat after a skateboarding lesson.

We sauntered down the streets, peering at the different groceries selling nearly-alive sliced open fish, spiky durian, very-alive crabs, herbal medicines in boxes with tigers and smiling, mustachioed men on them. It's amazing how someone else's neighborhood can be a new adventure in and of itself.

The last stop on our tour that day was a Malaysian jerky joint near the F train. And I'm sure my mother is reading this, clutching her face. "YOU ATE WHAT?" No worries, mom, it's cool. And yeah, I ate homemade beef jerky, chicken jerky and pork jerky. While the chicken wasn't really my bag, I dug on the beef and the pork, both doused in a sweet, tangy sauce (barbeque?). In fact, I was enjoying it so much I accidentally got on a train going in the wrong direction. None of us is perfect....Luckily we have New York to remind us of that, and that there's so much of the world we haven't seen, even in our own boroughs.