La Colombe in Noho in photos

Published on 5/19/12 in Coffee. (0 Comments)

I’m pretty sure I hit the point of obsession with La Colombe months ago, but I really cannot get enough. I brought my camera along with me as I met with a friend for coffee and treats. We bought two iced cappuccinos and then a double chocolate gluten-free walnut cookie that is ever so gooey and delicious and an almond croissant loaded with confectioner’s sugar.

La Colombe is definitely one of the serious contenders of the reinvention of downtown Manhattan coffeeshops. It’s sort of this wave of return-to-the-basics, no wifi, and no artificial flavors. You can’t order a skinny vanilla latte at La Colombe. And for the right reasons: when the brew is amazing, there is no need for additional flavorings. A cappuccino shouldn’t need anything more than steamed (organic) milk and a little sugar. It becomes too clunky and too artificial when it is loaded with syrups and fat-free milk. It drains the flavor. It ruins the coffee, even.

It’s sort of funny to think of a coffeehouse without wifi, especially since Starbucks spent the past five years branding cafes as these writing hubs where creatives can smell the aroma of burnt crappy espresso and feel oh-so-inspired to write novels and plays on their Macbooks. But it just sort of grew into this weird culture of freaks mooching off of the internet. (I can’t be the only one that notices that person at the Astor Place Starbucks who plays interactive online games on his two-foot laptop stand. And yet we all wonder why the internet is slow.)

The seating at La Colombe is generous enough for creatives to sit down and play around on Final Draft, or even read on their iPad, but there isn’t any ridiculous jazz music playing in the background. La Colombe is loud. There’s going to be a gay couple that met on Grindr on a coffee date (remember: we’re downtown) on your left and a small group of Europeans on your right. Don’t confuse them for tourists, either. They are most likely jet-setters. But it doesn’t matter if they are wearing Prada or not because there’s something more important: They are talking. It’s a nice return to people being people. Coffee is a unifying and powerful drink and it’s meant to be enjoyed with others.

Do you need anything more than a great brew, beautiful atmosphere, and a solid conversation?

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Dean and Deluca: Pomegranate Italian Soda

Published on 5/18/12 in Adventures. (0 Comments)

Celebrations are fun. It’s fun to reach a goal, however trivial, and then celebrate it in some magical way. Perhaps this is exactly what is wrong with my generation, but I find it totally reasonable to splurge on a double chocolate gluten-free walnut cookie after a “long” day or to head down to Dean and Deluca to splurge on whatever overpriced item my heart desires.

Though, I’ve sort of slipped into a perpetual celebration where I kind of can’t stop spending money on gifts to myself. It started with one of La Colombe’s delicious cookies because I really can’t deny those and the day was long, and the price is hardly anything, but it snowballed out of control. The next celebratory gift was running shorts because my fat ass wanted to run again. (Turns out, I’ve been running every morning in those shorts, but that’s beside the point.) The gift after that was a mix of celebration and laziness – I found it easier to go to Calvin Klein to buy new underwear than doing my laundry. The next gift was a black sweater because summer is approaching and I don’t already own twenty black sweaters or anything. Cue in the rest of the list: too many Bay Breezes at this bar, this delicious hard apple cider, a six course meal at a Spanish tapas restaurant, and too many more gifts that I’m embarrassed to list.

But there’s one gift that I will never regret: Dean and Deluca Italian soda.

Oh, Dean and Deluca. I don’t know which one of thought of these, but they are out of this world. I’ve anticipated their return for months and now that summer is here again, I stand only a few blocks away from heaven in a cup.

Of course, I had to celebrate their return, so I marched my way to their espresso bar. “Do you have the Italian sodas?” “Yes! Which one would you like?” “Strawberry.” “Ah, we’re out.” “Pomegranate?” “We have that! Which size?” “The largest size possible!”

Dean and Deluca has a strict no camera policy, but the drink looked great and the camera was around my neck, so I went for it. I was using a 50mm, so I had to stand pretty far back, but the bar was empty and I didn’t see a security guard in sight. Snapped a few shots and left as if nothing happened. Did I beat the system? Yes! Time to celebrate!

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Curry Hill in photos

Published on 5/12/12 in Adventures. (0 Comments)

I’m not sure if this is officially a neighborhood, but the streets between 24th an 30th on Lexington Avenue are considered Curry Hill as it has an abundance of South Asian businesses, restaurants, and grocery stores. The largest on the street, Kalustyan’s, whose name is impossible to pronounce, is the big supermarket hat offers every spice imaginable. I’ve spent endless hours in the store, scouring through shelves, and trying new and interesting foods.

Though, for the sake of time and delicious treats, I find myself at Spice Corner to stuck up on their dirt cheap black pepper, pita, and roti. I can’t walk out of there without a pound of gulab jamun and pista barfi, either.

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Fried eggplant sandwich at Mile End

Published on 5/5/12 in Restaurants. (0 Comments)

Since construction began a few months ago, I’ve been anxiously waiting for Mile End to open on Bond Street in Noho. On the way home, I would walk slowly and peak my head in through the little tears of the boarding paper that covered the windows and sneak a glance when construction workers came in and out. Call me obsessive, but I feared that the deli wouldn’t open before I went to LA and I really wanted to try it. A pleasant surprise came last week when the paper was torn down and the neon light was turned on.

The menu is a little too heavy on ingredients that I don’t like at all (roast beef, pastrami, horseradish, mustard, beef franks, to name a few) so I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to find a sandwich that I would enjoy. I don’t want it to sound as if I am blaming Mile End because those ingredients are quintessential in any delicatessen. I’ll gladly admit that the problem is me: I don’t like condiments and I like my sandwiches to be very dry. Not dry in the sense of tasteless, but dry as in no condiments.

My picky preferences rendered most of the menu off limits, but I was left with a few options that were serious contenders. There was the Grandpa sandwich, a gourmet twist on the generic turkey sandwich, the smoked lamb sausage, with harissa slaw and eggplant puree, and then the fried eggplant. I went with the fried eggplant which consisted off a breaded and fried eggplant, roasted red peppers, halloumi, and pickled ramps all served on a light and fluffy pita. I also grabbed a root beer, which was much to my surprise the most hilariously (and most Brooklyn-y) labeled drink I have ever had.

It’s worth mentioning that Mile End originally opened shop in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, and then opened in Noho as their first Manhattan restaurant. (It seems to be quite the trend for Brooklyn-based restaurants to open their second or third location on the other side of the East River.) But the root beer, of course, was micro-brewed and the label featured a husky and long-bearded mean in a seemingly two-tone shirt. I really want to say plaid, too, but the shirt is barely discernible, and sort of even looks striped. Alas, hipster laughs aside, Virgil’s root beer is delicious.

Now, the sandwich was absolutely delicious. It was filled with so many different flavors and textures. The pita didn’t really hold up well, so it was mostly me pulling and picking apart the sandwich but I enjoyed every second of the mess. I am honestly so excited to return and try the rest of the menu.

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Eleven stories high in photos

Published on 5/5/12 in Adventures. (0 Comments)

I found myself waiting for a friend on the eleventh floor of the NYU Tisch building, so I figured I’d pull out my camera and take a few shots from the windows in a desolate hallway. The weather has been consistently muggy and gray, so life sort of has this awry outlook lately. It didn’t help that it was relatively early in the morning and the streets were deserted, either.

It’s sometimes too easy to walk by the NYU Genomics Center or Gallatin or even graze through the monstrous NYU 2031 plans and see a very futuristic and modern approach to architecture and academia, but I think there’s something to be said about NYU’s older buildings.

There’s a special charm to the dilapidated Silver Center and the neo-Renaissance Brown Building, whose roof is in the second photo, has that creepy and old feel as it was the building of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that killed nearly 150 young women a century ago. Perhaps I’m a bit too much of a history lover, but these buildings have character and narratives. Silver, the dreaded college of arts and science building on Waverly Place, was once where Walt Whitman and Herman Melville lived and lectured. (There’s also Edgar Allen Poe, but his writing is painful to read.) Sure, the NYU SCPS building is sleek and clean, but it’s so boring. Modern architecture and interior design is stupid. (I mean, really. Just look at how ugly it is.)

Being on the eleventh floor was refreshing. It was nice to see the beautiful buildings from a top down perspective. The gray skies really set a toned and desaturated backdrop as it if was a white and black movie from decades ago. The turn of the century was a beautiful era and it’s great to have access to such fascinating and historical buildings, albeit often rackety and tatty.

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