fauxklore (fauxklore) wrote,

Noshtalgic New York

I went up to New York last weekend, largely due to one of the theatre events I will write about in another entry. Some of the folks on milepoint were planning a brunch and, since I was intending to go up anyway, it was just as easy to take an early train up. The weather on Saturday was lovely and I walked from Penn Station to the Minetta Tavern in Greenwich Village. We had a good meal with lots of the usual travel-related conversation (and some significant diversions into baseball).

After that, I meandered my way through the Village to my hotel. I was staying at The Jane, which is a very odd place at the edge of the Meatpacking District. It was built as a sailor's hostel and the rooms are, essentially, a land-based version of a cabin on a ship. They're tiny but functional and the bathroom is down the hall. The location is good and, at about a hundred bucks a night, it's quite reasonable for New York. (I will note that I often use hotel points for trips to New York, but I am saving up for something else.) On the way over, I walked through a street fair and succumbed to a moment of noshtalgia (i.e. the longing for the foods of one's youth) in the form of zeppoli. Fried dough, powdered sugar - all very charming while eaten hot right out of the bag and entirely unappealing moments later. I also bought a steampunk necklace I saw.

The lovely weather allowed me to walk to midtown, starting with the entire length of the High Line. I'm glad to see it being such a success, but the crowds were irritating. Once I was in midtown, I just did some browsing at Macys before getting a small bowl of soup for supper and Saturday night's theatre venture, which I will write about separately. After the show, I took the subway back downtown and collapsed with exhaustion.

That meant I was up decently early on Sunday. Rain was predicted, so I had both my rain jacket and an umbrella. It hadn't started yet, however, so I decided on a nice long morning cross-town walk to the Lower East Side, intentionally seeking out a particular food memory. Kossar's is alleged to bake the best bialy in New York. Even more significantly, they are one of the very few placea left on the planet to get pletzel. Even more significantly, they make miniature pletzels, of a size to make a perfect breakfast for one aging and noshtalgic displaced New York Jew. I was very happy, indeed. I will note that I then supplemented the damage by a trip next door to Doughnut Plant to have a creme brulee doughnut and a cup of coffee as a sort of dessert, if one is permitted to have dessert with breakfast.

It was starting to drizzle, but I continued walking some around the Lower East Side. Eventually, I went over to The Tenement Museum on Orchard Street. My schedule didn't match up with the available tours of the Tenement House, but I did look at a photo exhibit they had on hand. And I could not resist their bookstore, where I picked up a copy of The Baseball Talmud to feed my obsession about Jewish baseball players. I also bought a cute pin, in the shape of a pair of old-fashioned eyeglasses. (I wear pins all the time at work and it was only 12 dollars, so I couldn't resist.) By the way, there were lots of other books there I would have liked, but I had limited room in my backpack.

The rain was picking up and I needed to get uptown, so I walked towards the subway. On the way, I happened to walk by Yonah Schimmel's, home of some of the best remaining knishes on the planet. I stopped in and bought a kasha knish to eat later on. It was, indeed, delicious. (The best knishes of all time, by the way, came from a little stand called Jerry's, on the boardwalk in Far Rockaway. Lacking a time machine, these will have to do.)

I made my way up to 110th and Central Park North, which is a reasonably short walk from El Museo del Barrio, my destination for the afternoon. I was going to the theatre event that triggered the entire weekend. You shall, alas, have to wait for the next post to read all about that.
Tags: food pornography, new york, travel

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