So long, chicken liver with jupiter grapes. You will be missed. Photo by Jane Bruce
It was only a few weeks ago that I extolled the virtues of Marco’s, one of my favorite restaurants in Brooklyn, and now? It’s closing. Such is life? Well, no. Not exactly. Such, as it turns out, is the economical reality of running a restaurant in Brooklyn. (more…)
Depending largely on salt, sugar and fat (and perhaps a snip or two of sage, if you’re feeling fancy), the traditional Thanksgiving feast tends to have a rather limited flavor profile. But considering the average New Yorker’s pantry is just as likely to be stocked with garam masala and gochujang as it is dried oregano and ketchup, why shouldn’t the holiday reflect our evolving, increasingly international tastes? That’s why we’ve consulted a few of our favorite chefs for tips on spicing up your tired Thanksgiving spread, from Sam Saverance’s Ethiopian berbere-spiked squash and Alex Raij’s Spanish-style, migas-inspired stuffing to Sung Kim’s Korean kimchi turkey pancakes. (more…)
‘The Hunger Games’ series is set in a dystopia in which the fight for survival is televised spectacle.
When we last left Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence), she was waking up in an airplane after unexpectedly evading death in her second Hunger Games, the annual event designed to keep the various districts of the dystopian Pan-Em under control of the nefarious Capitol (you may know the story by now). Specifically, director Francis Lawrence (no relation) finished off Catching Fire, the second film in the series, with his camera tight on his star’s face, watching it harden from grief over her destroyed home district into the beginnings of righteous anger.
Yesterday, amid the news that SantaCon, that yearly yule festival of vomit and invading personal space, Gothamist published an article asking, per the title, “Has the SantaCon backlash gone too far?” The premise of which is “yes” and “everybody calm down” and “New York can handle it.” I know a hot take when I see one, and not just because the article’s literal URL is santacon_backlash_hot_take. But, OK, I’ll take the bait. The answer to the question posed by the article is, in fact, No, and it probably hasn’t gone far enough.
Remember yesterday, when I told you that the C train was garbage? Maybe you didn’t believe me. Maybe you were like, aw, gee, let’s go easy on the poor thing. It’s old and rickety! It works, sort of? Maybe there’s even something charming about it’s stupid slick blue benches and off-kilter schedule. (On Facebook, someone called the C “a shitty old barn on wheels,” which pleased me.) But look, lose your underdog sympathy for that dumb train. Because next year, thanks to the MTA repairing Hurricane Sandy damage on the “Cranberry Tubes,” a thing that sounds made up and/or a move on CandyLand, the terrible C train will run even less frequently and be even less convenient.
For all the ado about the Starbucks that opened just outside of the Bedford L stop, on North 7th street in Williamsburg, you’d think that coffee snobs would be picketing an empty shop. Not so: On both times I visited the new, spacious location, every table was taken. Maybe Williamsburg residents have taken to heart that the Starbucks is not the problem: By the time that the coffee chain moves into the neighborhood, the place has already been well and truly gentrified. Or maybe all of our principles weaken before the sugary, foamy delights of a Chestnut Praline Latte.
Forget The Sopranos. Forget The Godfather. Forget Boardwalk Empire. Forget everything you think you knew about New York’s organized crime racket, because unless “organized crime” brings to mind things like soda fountain treats and Jewish gangsters, you don’t know anything. (more…)
At least a few times a month, I find myself wandering around Park Slope, scanning a mental list of neighborhood spots to grab a beer. And every single time this happens, I hear myself muttering the same words: “Man, too bad Great Lakes shut down.”
It’s not that Great Lakes was that amazing of a bar — it was notoriously trip-over-chairs-dark and cavernous, with a smattering of beat up boardgames, threadbare loveseats and a less-than-thrilling beverage selection. But I was in college, and with its dirt cheap happy hour, Big Buck Hunter and generally unwashed clientele, it was as close to a college bar as you could get in… whatever version of Brooklyn existed right before this current one. What exactly made Great Lakes so great? It housed the all-time, hands-down best jukebox I have ever seen.