Tonight the Roosevelt Dime boys are playing at Apothéke, an apothecary themed speakeasy behind a secret door in Chinatown. Very 1921/2006… reminds me of my day working at The Box. Regardless of your feelings re: nouveau speakeasies, this should be a lovely time in a beautiful room. Please come, wear something sparkly, and make a nice little Monday out of it.
Roosevelt Dime at Apothéke
Monday, February 27th
9-12
9 Doyers St
(between Bowery & Chatham Sq) 
images from here and here.
Well, today I decided I needed a haircut. So, I went on up and got myself one at the American Barber Institute. That’s right: Barber School. When I lived in the East Village I used to get my hair cut at the D&P Barber on 7th street and used to get blowouts at a joint on Avenue C that called it “big porn hair” and fed me cheap white wine, but nothing I’ve seen was quite like this. It was quite a scene. This is no Frederic Fekkai. It’s on a pretty desolate stretch of 29th street off of 9th avenue, neon scissors buzzing in the window, you go in and slide a few singles through the kind of plexiglass slot they have at liquor stores in bad neighborhoods, you get a ticket, and are led into a big room full of barber stations, red vinyl chairs, terrazzo floors, and men. Lots of men. Apparently they don’t usually take girls, but my barber- a sweet 18 year old named Everett Flint- has five older sisters and has been cutting their hair since he was 12… so… since I only needed a trim, I went for it. Did I leave feeling salon-fabulous? Not quite. But did I leave free of split ends feeling like I’d seen something pretty damn good today? Absolutely.
Image from here.
Don’t feel like braving the hordes on the Lower East Side (ever. again.)? No good music in the hood? Bored to death with “Bored to Death”? I have three words for you, my friend: Minor League Hockey. Did you know that Brooklyn has its own hockey team? Did you know that Minor League Hockey is totally awesome? Did you know that there’s still a place in America where you can get a beer for $3? All of this: amazing and true. Pretty much every Friday night the Brooklyn Aviators take the ice out at Floyd Bennett Field- the oldest airfield in New York City, once a home base for flyboys like Douglas “Wrong Way” Corrigan and aviatrices like Miss Amelia Earhart– the rink is in a converted hangar. The hangar complex has been re-modeled into a fantastical bizarrely/wonderfully suburban feeling sports complex with a climbing wall, middle-school-date-ripe skating rink, basketball courts, gymnastics gear, and a funny, all-nations-food-court where the guy who runs the pizza ovens sort of looks like Robert Deniro in Taxi Driver. The place is great- a departure, an adventure- but the hockey… that’s something else entirely. 
Fast and furious and beautiful and funny and brutally action packed, it’s everything you thought you knew about hockey (the missing teeth, the fights, the French Canadians) writ large and about 8 feet away from you. I think I saw someone’s nose get broken. And it was awesome. Also, I now understand the origin of the phrase “the gloves come off” (see above- ice littered with gloves, nose of dude on right- yeah, the big dude- about to get broken). Also, if the game stops because of a fight, they play the “Rocky” theme song over the loudspeaker. Also, because it’s minor league, at intermission they do hilarious things like “hockey bowling”- slinging a small child across the ice in an inner-tube to knock down huge inflatable pins and stadium employees. Also, zamboni. And if all that weren’t enough, let me reiterate: Beers are $3.
Tonight, February 10th, the Brooklyn Aviators face off against the Danbury Whalers at 7:35 pm sharp. Buy tickets here.
To get to Floyd Bennett Field you can:
a) If you have a car: drive all the way down Flatbush avenue, and turn left just before the Marine Park Bridge. Or, take the Belt Parkway (under the Verrazano Bridge, swinging by Randazzo’s on the way) to exit 11S.
b) Take the 2 or 5 train to the Flatbush Avenue/Brooklyn College station (last stop), Take the Q35 bus one block from the train station – Flatbush Ave. between Nostrand Avenue and Avenue. Request the bus to stop across from Aviator Sports and Recreation at Floyd Bennett Field.
c) Stop one of the dollar buses cruising down Fulton yelling “Utica! Utica!” out of the window. It will cost you $1.
d) charter a helicopter flight and land at Floyd Bennett’s helipad.
One of my New Years Resolutions was to eat more lobster rolls. I like to make realistic goals. To this point, I must give my ringing endorsement of the stellar roll from Fairway Market. It’s no secret that I love Fairway, in part due to their generous burlap sack policy, but the Fairway cafe- tucked in the very back corner of the Red Hook compound, seems like my little secret. It feels especially very special on lone weekday afternoons when it’s all but deserted. The Fairway lobster roll is served on a warm griddled bun, with chips, pickle, and slaw- all for $9. It’s big enough to share (or not) And you get to eat it looking at this:
This week marks Chinese Lunar New Year, officially kicking off the year of the dragon! This year there are two parades in Manhattan’s Chinatown, one happened this past Monday, January 23rd DRAGONYEAR, and the second is coming up this Sunday the 29th. On Monday we started the celebration by getting down to Mott street early enough to stake our claim to a prime dim sum and dragon-dance-watching spot, eating pork buns, chicken feet, and delightful garlicky greens while the clatter of drums and the din of cymbals made sure that any evil omens and bad spirits lurking around got the hell out of there. 
The dragons dance up and down the streets, coming into open businesses to collect money to ensure luck and well-being. This one was wearing a shower cap because it was drizzling and, I guess, like me, dragons are sensitive to humidity ruining their hair. I think he looks pretty great.
This paper represents what we ordered over three hours for lunch. Somewhere in those hieroglyphics are the aforementioned pork buns and chicken feet, shrimp dumplings, pork dumplings, vegetable dumplings, scallion dumplings, doughnut noodles (!), spicy squid, Chinese broccoli, garlicky bok choi, bean curd wraps, chili oil, Chinese winter sausage, fried shrimp with bacon, fish balls, sweet custards, sticky rice in lotus leaves, multiple coke classics, and eleven pots of tea- all ordered in Aunt Sheila’s perfectly wonderful Upper-East-by-way-of-Bensonhurst accented cantonese. She’ll tell you “I don’t speak cantonese, I only speak Dim Sum”. Repeat after me: Josh-eeuw-Baow (BBQ pork bun). That’s all you need to know.
And, of course, it was only $15 per person for the feast.
Join in the festivities for yourselves this coming Sunday, January 29th, here’s the info:
13th Annual Chinatown Lunar New Year Parade & Festival
11:30 a.m. – 4 pm, Sunday, January 29, 2012
Place: Canal Street South
The parade usually winds throughout Chinatown along Mott, Canal, and Bayard streets, and along East Broadway. Gung hay fat choy!
HiHat’s father Jake infamously once said “I think everyone should do what they want all the time” at their family dinner table (and then got up to watch football). On New Years eve, as we presided over the beautiful kitchen full of wine and recipes, as the boys played music, and as Janelle shucked oysters, I had a conversation with dear Sara (who is my personal guru even if she doesn’t know it). She said: “You know what? When Jake said ‘I think everyone should do what they want all the time’, that’s basically the translation of the chant we do: Om lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu– may all the beings in all the worlds become happy with simplicity and intention”. First of all, any friend who can weave sanskrit interpretation into cocktail conversation and have it come off as moving and relevant is a real keeper. Secondly, living simply with intention focusing on the things that truly make you happy? That seems like a good way to go. I usually don’t make resolutions just for the sake of New Years, but this year I’m going to resolve to continue do what makes me happy with who makes me happy. For Example…
Then you’re set. Promise.
Thanks to my other dear friend Sara, from half a world away, for the first quote.
This mysterious envelope arrived for me the day before my birthday, looking vaguely official with its blue and white IRS ticking, while also looking a little Groucho-Marx-glasses-disguise-suspicious with its multiple various stamps, inclusion of my middle name, and slight lumpiness. Upon opening it, I removed a perforated parcel of purple construction paper sealed with a warning:
DO NOT REMOVE UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO GO ON YOUR JOURNEY
Along the top it said:
“Start Here and work your way down to help you discover your birthday surprise”
A SCAVENGER HUNT! After following included instructions to consult Sweetheart as to the correct time to begin, I broke the seal and was told to go north out of my apartment- after that, each paper-clipped-flap revealed further instruction on my journey to find my birthday surprise. I sang a song at the Roberson Theater, stopped in the Cuyler Gore playground, was led to Jessy’s Unisex Salon, instructed to pass by Cake Man Raven, made it to “U Kiss” Chinese all the way down to… 
Saffron Brooklyn! Upon arrival, I was instructed to go inside to see what Kana had waiting for me. Oh the suspense! The tiny shop smelled of spice and leather and fresh flowers…
True to the construction paper oracle, Kana was expecting me- with this beautiful rose hip and juniper bouquet and an impossibly tiny envelope containing a card worth 100 smackers to get anything I wanted! YES YES MARVELOUS! This adorable shop has been here for a few years (the shop and I arrived in the neighborhood around the same time) and is basically the perfect little store for yours truly: they have worn-in classic barware and weird ephemera (a lamp made of a nautilus caught my eye), an amazing selection of vintage bags and coats, and gorgeous, gorgeous flowers- more camellia than carnation, more dahlia than daisy. Read: danger for this bird. Danger UNLESS- you have an amazing birthday scavenger hunt for presents concocted and executed by the best Mama around*.
Go visit them yourselves: Start by going left…..
Saffron Brooklyn
31 Hanson Place (Between Saint Felix & Fort Greene Place) Brooklyn, NY 11217
*This is Mama who wants it to say on her tombstone:
“She Never Did Anything Half-Assed”
I’ve just made my bittersweet return back to New York from my family’s whirlwind columns-in-various-states-of-disrepair-and-epic-boozy-meals-tour of the Mediterranean. We Came, We Saw, We Loved, We had Cheese.
It was truly amazing.
If anyone would like to see a few more pictures (including some of the best of our family taken in a long while) just come on over for a glass of fine aged grappa (none of this white lightning/firewater stuff for me thankyouverymuch) or a strange new amaro- the smuggling of which now has me set up perfectly for the holiday season that seems, immediately upon my return, to me joyously upon us! Such a life!
WordPress isn’t allowing me to post images right now, so my “cheeses-and-bizarre-liquors-of-the-mediterranean-roundup-welcome-back-to-my-new-york-nest” post will have to wait until WP support comes out of their post-turkey comas. In the meantime: When we were in Rome every night around sunset clouds of starlings would swell up out of nowhere and swarm, silhouetted against the soft slant light of the winter sky, moving like ink through water, like schools of fish, a whisper of wings looking to gather together and roost on some warm marble. Perhaps it was the wine or the wonder, but I couldn’t get over how stunningly beautiful they were. Upon our return, my Mama sent me this amazing video. Apparently, a choreographed swarm of starlings is called a “murmuration”. The word itself sounds and feels like heart, which is how you feel when you see it. Marvelous.
Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.
Ahhhhhh, Rome. It’s official. I’m in love with the eternal city… I’ve been here for a little bit and my visit has been essentially straight out of Roman Holiday. The only difference is that instead of sporting Atticus Finch on my arm and having Audrey Hepburn’s waist (!), I’ve simply been ogling marvelous ancient things, shopping amazing vintage (of course Rome has better vintage than New York, of course), and eating and drinking like a mad fool. It’s been absolutely divine- in the best panthiestic sort of way. Could I live on red wine, speck, gnocchi, tartufo honey, grappa, and stracciata? Yes. Would I want to? Yes.
Feather By Feather 