an opportunity

Layers of Brooklyn meeting Manhattan: from Smith & 9th F train.

We'll go back to Union Hall.

Check out a local band. Have a Chimay. Listen to an out-of-town band. The cheese plate is good. You can play some bocce ball. Stone walls. Dim light. It's good to be at Union Hall. You could probably even take your dad, at least I could. There's even a song about it. Upper collegiate enthusiasm mashed with a Brooklyn edge.

Park Slope. Union Street (imagine that!) at Fifth Avenue.

it happens- Pershing Square Cafe

Admittedly, I've never taken a bite beyond an appetizer here...Veuve tastes the same everywhere- and their wine list is on par with a small cafe. The snack mix adds variety? Always a second thought, never really premeditated and usually when you're linking up with friends- do you end up at the Pershing Square Cafe. Complimentary sass from the wait staff in cheap black pants. That is all.

in consideration.

NY Mag takes a jab at Elle: The cover featuring Jessica Simpson is raising eyebrows due to it's lack of glam, sparkle and...hips. (Compare the width of Simpson's hair vs. her hips). Specifically, "It looks like an animal ate her left thigh/ass cheek for breakfast" (The Cut).

I am not an advocate for Elle, and I do in fact find this tremendously amusing, but it should be noted that the color camel is always sexy....and plaid is in for the Fall. Additionally, I do not find this even a fraction as awkward at the June 2008 cover of Vogue, with Sarah Jessica Parker. There is an awkward light on the right ride of her forehead- making her face look deformed. (....) Also: she is posed in between a man's legs. Okay, so I studied some woman's theory in college- but come on!

for the tub.

My mum picked this one out for me when I moved into my new place. Bateau du Monde! You can get yours at the MoMa design store. And yes...it does float. No one is too old for this.

city dogs 2: Fluff

I decided on a cup of street coffee, with a bagel, this morning. There is something quintessential about it. It's probably about five cents a cup, at cost, and absolutely mixed with the cheapest sugar and milk, but it's so good with a semi-stale bagel and warm slab of cream cheese.

As it was still early, Pilgrim came along. The heat wouldn't be at its peak. Fifth avenue stirred with elderly women pushing grocery baskets, dive bars oozed with their 9am regulars.

We turned down 8th street towards the subways. Pilgrim paused. I noticed an off-leash dog, being trailed by his owner.

"He's friendly," I glanced down to Pilgrim, then made eye contact with the man.

"Go on Fluff, say hi."

Fluff approached Pilgrim. They inspected each others derrieres. Fluff trotted away.

"He's great off leash."

"He is. I usually put him on it at fifth ave, with the extra traffic."

"Pilgrim is about to explode, he gets offended when people don't say hi."

Fluff's dad reached down to the shaking Pilgrim, "He's cute, how old?"

"Five months. Does Fluff have a---Mohawk?"

"He did. It's growing in now."

" Ah. See you next time."

He nodded.

city dogs 1: Jerry.

I waited for the sun to cool and stepped out with my pug, Pilgrim. Our older neighbors were drinking Tecate and smoking cigars on their steps, speaking in whispered Espanol. We headed towards Red, White & Bubbly. Still a bit warm, Pilgrim was reluctant to take the path with gusto. Upon arrival, he spread himself in front of the glass door, much to the dismay of the eager wine salesman who was on the other side, waving a milk bone at me.

I scooped him up and took him into the AC. He snacked on the biscuit and rubbed his little dink and balls all over the cool floor while I read labels. I finally settled on one of the staff recommended picks: Craftsman Pinot Noir Rose (Hungary, 2005).

We headed back to the apartment- bombarded by familiar faces , "Would you give me some money for my basketball team?"

The blond woman smoking Parliaments with a glass of red, on a cheap card table. Four men playing dominos, outside the American Legion.

As we turned up our street, the group of twenty-something hippies were drinking beer on their stoop. A girl ran out to me, "Oh, I must meet your dog. I see you walk by every day!"

I let go of his leash. He hopped over the curb and towards her.

"There are such great dogs in this neighborhood. Have you met Jerry?"

"The bulldog, right?"

"Yes, Jerry. I always hear his owner yelling, 'Jerry, please!' outside my window in the morning."

*Shared laughter*

"They are a pretty funny crew. Some mornings, when I'm walking Pilgrim, I see her pleading with him in the rain, 'Come on Jerry, I know you don't like the rain. I know you have to pee, just do it already.' "

vin rouge, VR

After a good trot to Prospect Park with Pilgrim, I stopped by the old apartment to pick up misguided mail. I craved a spot to read. I considered my options. Exhausted with the usual set of venues, I departed from the usual radius. I do not often wander past 11th street towards the South Slope. There is a curious, apocalyptic feel in the more defined working class edge. The streets feel wider, perhaps it's the lack of old growth trees- or the absence of brownstones.

Buttermilk? Too dark. Too much grunge. Sidecar- awkwardly empty. Something else was boasting free chili. Packed with middle aged people and tv's...I forged on. Vin Rouge: the sultry meets nerdy glasses wine bar adjacent the questionable Suki Sushi. I stepped in. Took a coushiny European seat. Opened my book. I considered the first line, "How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?" (John Lennon). I overhear another patron speaking of Lennon. A server approached. I requested a Kir Royale. Throaty jazz played. Another server ate salad from a large silver bowl.

Small plates are offered- olives, cheeses, crackers. It's worth checking out.

629 Fifth Avenue.

la palapa cocina mexicana

It seemed that few things were going to be accomplished this afternoon. I met Julia in Bryant Park for lunch, made a few calls. I wandered down Park Avenue, and eventually underground. I stepped on the first train that drifted in. I emerged at eighth street. At midpoint in my book, I decided to find a place to settle. I nixed the temptation of iced espresso at my favored Le Pain Quotidien ,and forged on, until I came to the open air La Palapa.

A couple slouched over margaritas, the woman clinging to her dirty french grey Dior bag, the man slightly somber. Another woman sipped wine as she perused her email. A man grappled with a bloody mary. This seemed to be the place where I could read, sip and be welcome-- on a late Monday afternoon.

To stave of the frustration of my server I ordered the white sangria w/ hibiscus. He brought it to me in a pitcher with a small glass of chopped fruit. He placed spiced nuts adjacent. Cool, delicious and light.

Despite the open air, the scents of restaurant were warm and spiced. I submitted to a quesadilla w/ chili rubbed pork and pineapple (Al Pastor de Pork). A palate of three homemade sauces were brought to me. A verde, a vinegar based-roasted green and a robust red that ventured into the flavor of sun dried tomato and chipotle. I cannot begin to explain how wonderfully delicious this was. I am a huge advocate of spice and sauce- coupled with the tender, complex pork.

The sangria demi-pitcher emptied. I still had a handful of chapters left. I ordered a margarita on the rocks. The fresh juices were well pronounced, and better than average. I must admit- it didn't take the cake. Had I ordered the margarita first, then transitioned into the sangria and quesadilla, I may have been more pleased.


Photo: www.lalapa.com

East Village Location: 77 St. Marks

les enfants terribles

Speak of brunch with an old friend, Julia, rustled up the memory of Les Enfants Terribles on Canal. Last winter, I pulled on skinny jeans, boots- a slinky sweater and negotiated the N train to Canal. A slight pang of hunger acted as a catalyst for my curiosity of the tired light sifting through Les Enfants. Eggs Benedict with Salmon pulled me through the doors, where I took a seat at the bar.

There is a colonial Africa twist on the cuisine of frites and rich sauces. The cocktails were vibrantly refreshing- not typical of a Winter month, but well-suited. I listened to the low voices of a Polish couple. I watched a man film a low-budget video across the dining room.

Photo: nymag.com

The East Side Company Bar

Earlier in the week, I found myself at The East Side Bar Company. A whisper last winter had spoken of this narrow, dark place-- along with other sexy spots in Lower Manhattan.

It had been a long night. The rain relentlessly savage. I requested an Amaretto Sour. My company ordered the London Mule- a gin take on the classic Russian Mule. Divine, cool and calculated, these cocktails insist that you slowly sip them.
---
---
This evening, I set out with Vadim, to see the new Batman movie- only to find it had sold out. I suggested that we head over to the Brooklyn Museum for the Murakami exhibit (the museum offers free admission after 5:30).

Unfortunately, the museum had closed by the time we sauntered into reach. The 2/3 train station beckoned. I considered- Williamsburg? Upper West Side to see Carrie and Lindsay? Eventually, we decided to step off at Brooklyn heights and walk across the Brooklyn bridge.
The evening was uncertain, but shaping into something lovely. We edged through downtown and into TriBeCa. I offered, "I went to a place, I can't remember exactly where, let's try to find it." I didn't have much to work with. There is no light above the simple off-white door. There are no signs. It doesn't want to be found.

We cut through Little Italy, Chinatown, the warm scent of old fish. To Essex.

"This street is too busy, I think. Wait." I turned the corner. And pushed a loose door. Downstairs into a prohibition feel. We took a dark booth. I sipped on a Honeysuckle, (white rum, lime juice, honey) Vadim decided on the Bee's Knees (Gin, lemon juice, honey). Divine as the first time. A slight headache formed as a boisturous foursome plopped across from us. We moved on.

Gold Street

Certain places, exist to me, to fill a balloon of nostalgia. Like cheap champagne from the gas station on the corner in college, Gold Street remains sacred to me. The first evening, or rather, early morning that I settled in New York- I ate a grilled cheese w/ tomato and drank vodka-crans at Gold Street.

The tall buildings in close quarters coupled with the suction of air,creates a sound-sphere comparable to listening to the ocean, from a seashell. Dogs bounce around the sidewalks. A few rats with trollop across the street. You must sit outside, and maintain diner expectations, to appreciate Gold Street. There is a strangely disproportionate number of European tourists, to locals, sitting at the tables, sipping wine and beer. This evening I sipped on a Rose Grenache from France.

Photo: NYMag.com

Sparks Steakhouse

As I typically do not ascribe to the dining culture of surf & turf, I found myself reluctant to report on my experience at Sparks on 46th...

While sipping on glasses of buttery chardonnay, lump crab and a three pound lobster were presented by two men who took the initiative to serve them on our plates. Seemingly precise, or so the servers intended, it turned out to be a messy operation.

The conflict of texture and flavor in ordering both crab and lobster transcended into the old school decor, which would approach 1970's mafia if the seating were more lavish, and sunken.

Although the Croatian servers were incredibly friendly (they greeted me with kisses on each cheek), somebody ought to tell them how to heat rolls. I simply do not possess the ability to appreciate microwaved bread, especially when it rapidly becomes comparable to a rock.

The next offering was butterflied filet mignon, spinach and hash browns. These were perhaps the most intensely large filets that I had ever seen. The potatoes were greasy, but after several glasses of wine, they seemed to fill their purpose. The spinach was not anything beyond average.

The entire experience felt Mid-Western metropolis. It's just not for me. It's for you, you know who you are.

For more details, check out the archived review from New York magazine.


210 E. 46th Street. NY,NY.

Photo credit: NYMAG.COM

Mad 46

Yesterday evening, I finished up a lovely week of temping at 1251 Avenue of the Americas. In preparation for the weekend, I took cocktails on the rooftop of the Roosevelt Hotel at Mad 46.

It's a bit of a think-game to get up to the roof. I found myself being ping-ponged around by doormen, who eventually corralled the group of us down a dark corridor. The candles and plants were a sneeze of an effort to camouflage the industrial sized pipes in the basement/utility hall, that led to the elevator.

Getting past the plastic champagne flutes and martini cups (I refuse to call it a glass, if it's made of plastic) the heat was lovely. The atmosphere was a bit more peaceful than a street front, as well the Roosevelt is situated amongst many aesthetically pleasing buildings.

Packed with white collars, we had no choice but to stand as we sipped our drinks. The service was impossibly slow, but the waitress charming and friendly. If in good company, one can forgive this shortcoming. I'd most likely go back.

Madison Avenue at 45th. NYC

Photo credit: MartiniBoys.com

Cover Archive: Vogue Россия

Sleek meets embellished texture.Full hips, toned legs. A lion's mane. There is something culturally vivid about this cover. Her face is made to appear quite small- although she is more mature in appearance- comparitively to the child-like faces of the new wave of Eastern European models.

this cannot be.

While perusing Media Bistro for career opportunities, I came across this late breaking travesty: the end of the Scrabulous application on Facebook. The online version of the board game classic has 9000 users in the United States and Canada- a nearing cult-like following (not to mention the 512,000 daily users worldwide). The ability to manage several games at once- and pass hours in the office had become a staple since the application launched in 2006.

The full details can be found in TIME magazine. I have one game still open. It's about sixty percent completed- I hold 347pts to former college classmate Erica's 189. I'm going to go weep quietly in the corner now.

cover: vogue italia

NY MAG: "High Brow/Brilliant," on the approval matrix. Vogue Italia featured all black models in their August 2008 issue- and it's a best seller.

(On another note: the opposite end of the spectrum "How Brow/Despicable," a memo in the Bush Administration labels birth control pills as a form of abortion).

bedazzled!

Whatever happened to the bedazzler? Tucked away in the eighties, Midwestern closets & Summer Camp project rosters. Good news, you can still get yours at bedazzler's homepage- and it seems it comes in a new compact form. Go out and bedazzle the world.

two thumbs up!

My friend (read: MFH) Jason tossed this link at me. Child Trader...a service for people to relocate their children to better-suited homes (...) Please tell me this is a hoax.

the economy of lemons.

Joanna Goddard recently investigated the crashing economy from another angle: lemonade stands. As seen in New York magazine, Joanna scoured neighborhoods in the Brooklyn and Manhattan boroughs to gage whether or not the 30% increase in the cost of lemons has affected the kids sales approach, and pricing decisions. Young business tycoons for sure. I recently purchased a cup for 50 cents, adjacent to Prospect Park. Homemade cookies were another featured item at this stand. Joanna's article is tremendously amusing, and well laid out. You should check it out.

--

This is perhaps the best interview response, which I found myself reading aloud to Vadim, as we drove down to the KY:

"My personal financial advice is 25 cents, because everyone can afford it. Even if your allowance is $1, you will be able to afford four glasses. Also, you can make a classy combo with Oreos, or do three glasses for 50 cents"

---Sam Schiller, Age 10, of the Upper West Side.

--

Picture taken from www.botanical.com

how it feels in today.

It poured late into the night and through the morning commute. The trains were slow. I closed my eyes to listen to some muffled hip hop from across the car. A sunken Asian girl slumped her head on to her Gucci purse. Her oversized headphones slid forward. I opened my eyes. I watched watched drip, drip, drip of an umbrellla down a hand rail.

We stopped at Canal. We stopped several times inbetween. The announcer scratched on about the R,N & Q lines experiencing delays. I considered Asako Narahashi's photo collection, half awake and half asleep in water.

--

Photo credit: Asako Narahashi.

Sephora Event

Exotic Hues in the blink of an eye with EyeEnvy!

Reserve your appointment.

August 2: Sephora Times Square 212-944-6789

Get your animal kingdom on...then head over to Toys R Us.

(Photo from Sephora.com)

perspective, collapse.

From the highway, Cincinnati.

recipe, jello shots.

Amaretto Sour Jello Shots!


One 3oz package of Lemon Jello.
3oz Sweet & Sour Mix
5oz Amaretto
8oz boiling water.

----

Add the water to the Jello mix. Allow to dissolve. Let cool to room temp. Add the sweet & sour mix, the amaretto. Pour into shot cups.

man in a tree, park slope

Although I was in a rush to get to the train, I took notice and paused for this. The action figure has been stripped of his color and placed in this small tree. That is all.

naked cowboy, times square

'Naked Cowboy' Times Square.

Schillers, South Dakota Folk

Yesterday evening, I faced the endurance test of the Holland Tunnel: another reason that Jersey doesn't get my vote.

A name, from the not too distant past, popped into my phone: So Dak Joe. In town for a handful of days, (in the spirit of the Yankees) we toyed with the idea of meeting up, for a night cap.

The Holland Tunnel debacle teamed up with the rental car to and fro/return mission and the scariest/fastest cab ride home nixed my inspiration to meet up for a night cap, or four. The spirit was rekindled this morning after I rose early to walk young Pilgrim.

We met in the Lower East Side for a bloody mary and some Jack Daniels with Gingerale. Soon after our first cocktail emptied at Schillers, a cab dropped off his father and sister. My first time meeting them- they were in a sort of: first-time-in-NYC- I'm-from-South-Dakota-culture-shock. We partook in a meal of grilled turkey sandwiches w/ frites & mayo for dipping, seared Ahi w/ greens and salmon. A diner feel- with fresher, slightly more complex ingredients. Presentation was on par with a Belgian Cafe.

Just inside the doors, magazines climb to the ceiling in racks. They offer patrons to stay awhile, as does the curly-haired, olive-skinned bartender, "I'm from Manhattan. I was raised here. That's unusual. I've heard of South Dakota, but I've never met anyone from there."

After our meal, we hopped on a F-Train to 42nd- as there was interest in seeing Times Square and the Bryant Park hot spots where the Sex in the City movie was filmed.

A lovely day in the heat. Summer. Good Things.

open late, kentucky

Two dollar packs Cigs, Booze, a few young girls drinking from Budweiser bottles.. All enclosed in this late night venue. I bought a few bottles of wine for the hotel fridge.

boone county, ky

The American Legion in Boone County, Kentucky. Inside a bar of cigarette smoke, retired folk and no vermouth (much to my Massachusetts relative's discontent). Compared to the one in my Brooklyn neighborhood: rocking. Brooklyn has a folding table with Dominos outside. All good things.

cousins, sisters: kentucky wedding

This past weekend I had the pleasure of hitting seven states, participating in a wedding & visiting with family. It's been nearly ten years since I was last in the Northern Kentucky-Cincinnati neighborhood.

From the left: Michelle Champagne, Keisha Eremic, Breeanne Champagne (now: McMillen) & Brittany Champagne.

spare change, cincinnati

demolition, collapse: cincinnati

Riverfront Saxophone, Cincinnati

More taken with Cincinnati than I had expected from previous visits. There is something to be said for the influences that years and education will have on your perception. Saddling Midwestern thought and Southern ruffling...

Havana Martini Club, Cinncinati

Although we didn't have a Martini at Cincinnati's Havana Martini Club, I feel justified as I don't consider a Martini to be a Cuban drink. We took it a step farther away from the focus to partaking in the Casablanca (Champagne & Chambord w/ a fresh raspberry garnish) and a French Coffee (Courvoisier & Creme de Cacao). The Casablanca was a divine end to a ninety-five degree day in the Southern Midwest, even in the forgotten environment of sunken brassy light and full-charge AC. The French coffee was an odd choice, but seemingly enjoyed by my drinking partner.

Excellent service. Great location, if you're ever in the downtown area of Cincinnati.

bounded by fourth, bounded by julio

Last Summer, I moved into an apartment on Fourth Avenue with Ben and Vadim. Now according to Wikipedia, Park Slope is "bounded by Fourth Avenue." This begs you to question whether or not is can be considered Park Slope- or is it in fact flirting a little too much with the Gowanus Canal?

After today, I believe it may be the latter. Let's consider the evidence:

Fact: Our Super, Julio, followed suit with his poor grammar and spelling abilities. For example, he would leave signs that would start, "Please be advise..." I'm actually jarred when proper grammar is exhibited in this area. It's feels like a pariah.

Julio called me "Baby," when I was alone. He would awkwardly revert his eyes from me when I was accompanied by a man.

On several occasions, we explained to Julio that the mailman would simply drop the mail for all eight apartments on the floor (rather than sorting and putting in the lock boxes). Julio was to let the mailman in everyday- He acted surprised, a week we overheard him command, "just drop it over there." Thank you, Julio. xo.

Julio appointed pit bull, "Scooby," to reign over the territory. Scooby has the largest balls that I have ever seen on a hound, (Please note: Scooby's boner to the right there).

Julio provided a soundtrack to the building via his gray circa 1980's Oldsmobile with:Puerto Rican flag on the hood and "Bones of My Brothers," painted across the windshield. He'd open the doors, shine his rims and bump bump bump on his installed sound system.

And the big guns: this evening, Vadim went to retrieve his bike from the apartment. Ben and new tenant Corey had been storing it. Upon arrival, Vadim discovered that the seat was missing on the bike. He knocked on the neighbor's door.

"Hey, do you know what happened to the seat on my bike?"

"Julio takes them."

"What?"

"He takes the seats off our bikes and uses them."

"He stole my bike seat?"

"He's down stairs, go knock on his door."

---Julio did not answer his door.

market menu, stone park

I've sung praises to Stone Park Brunch several times before- and a few positive whispers to late night desserts and apertifs- This evening I had the pleasure of taking dinner. Four of us gathered for a cocktail at The Gate while we waited for Stone Park to open doors at six. Although outside of Restaurant Week, Stone Park offers a daily Market Menu: Three courses at $30.

We began with another round of drinks. I sipped on the Cava Brut L'Hereu from Spain. Delightful, meant for food and appetite. Our first bites: Asparagus Ricotta Gnocci, Braised Leek w/ Wild Mushrooms, Frisee & Poached Egg, Smoked Salmon wrapped around Roe and Greens. Warm bread came with a creamy sweet butter. Portions were approaching perfection- flavors marked balance and toyed with ecstasy.

For our entrees: Pan Seared Striped Sea Bass on a bed of mashers limon, Hangar Steak w/ greens, and the Seared Sea Scallops with Squid Ink Tagiealle, Espositos Italian Sausage and Saffron Beurre. We requested grilled asparagus on the side to share. The Sea Bass was light, flaky and exhibited a lingering flavor. Mashers- nothing to write home about, but anything next to the lovely fish would seem modest. The Sea Scallops were large, plump: serious business. My one complaint on the Hangar Steak was that it was requested at Medium and came in state more accurately described as rare-medium rare.

We sipped on espresso and nibbled on homemade biscotti and cookies while we waited for our third course. I couldn't say for certain the brand or origin of the beans, but it was spot on. There was a particular harmony of raw sugar and lemon peel. Next our servers brought blackberry cheesecake and a variety of sorbets. Port and Sherry to boot. The apertifs were appropriate- but the meal certainly peaked with the entrees. The desserts were short of spectacular and we would have been best suited to end of the biscotti note.

open late, even on a Tuesday.

It was after 11pm on a Tuesday evening. With nothing to do the next day- and the Summer humidity in play- I craved a margarita. The usual suspects had closed their doors so I walked further down fifth. Alchemy. Only a few tables open, a few people at the bar. The tender was welcoming, delightful.

He poured me a pomegranate margarita: Sauza Gold, Countreau, Lemon, Sugar: tart and precise. Morphine shifted on the Ipod playing through the room.

I've read good things about the food at Alchemy in New York & L magazines. I intend to return.

style watch-Tuesday.

I am a firm believer in the goodies rule. A lady has three goodies: legs, cleave & mid drift. Aside from afternoons at the lake or beach- you must only show one at a time, to remain tasteful. Mila Kunis achieves this beautifully in Stella McCartney.



Photo Credit: In Style Magazine- Look of the Day.

An evening in Coney Island

The train ride seems epic. The last stop. It's a good time to finish a book. We arrived in Coney Island as the day was closing into night. Scads of families were flooding the station, after a long day at the beach, it was time for them to head home. The wet sea air was wonderfully nostalgic.

When heading home, I engaged in a game of soccer with three Russian teenagers. Vadim confirmed, "The best part of the night was when you started playing soccer with those kids."

"I remember that part of the night."

"Then you grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him."

"I don't remember that."

----

Later I admit, "How did we get home?"

"Q train to Atlantic. Then we took a cab. You sat on this guy's lap by accident. Then you called me a liar and an asshole when I told you that the train was coming. This large Puerto Rican family was watching us"

At least we were both laughing.

That French vodka w- the Polar Bears wrestling on the label. Who knew.

a dinner at National

Yesterday evening, Vadim and I met his folks and friends at National in Coney Island. Alive with older Russians, young things in sparkles- and bustling servers.
Platter after platter of traditional dishes were brought to us as we sipped our vodka in the Russian sense: without ice. The food was decent- although admittedly- I prefer Irina's cooking. Some of the meat dishes were comparable to cat food. The cow tongue was good, but would have been better suited with some horse radish.

Perhaps the best part of the evening was the elaborate entertainment show. Dancers in bright costumes sang and smiled. It seemed that is was everyone's birthday at the National.
It was all to the nines- doormen in suits, a desk with a man lording over- large men in flashy suits and gold chains. Chandeliers. Спасибо

lunch bentos, JPAN sushi

Sunday afternoon: warm and breezy. Vadim & I took a table outside in JPAN's garden. Peaceful and intoxicating, we both chose a bento from their lunch specials. Eight dollars will bring you: amazing service, salad, miso soup, a roll, shumai, house noodles and entree. I chose the yakatori chicken skewers and Vadim decided on the tempura. Both were expertly prepared. Light, yet filling, the bentos were ideal for a Summer weekend lunch.

The shumai were particularly flavorful, the miso soup and salad were fairly standard. The rolls were delicious, but could have been wrapped a little tighter- mine kept falling apart. The tempura was beautifully done- not too greasy- and the vegetables quite flavorful.

shoulders, east village

As I stepped out of the wine shop in the East Village- I caught this boy on the shoulders of his grandfather. Small talk was exchanged- I went unnoticed.

Friday- early evening.

Improvise

Photo by: Vadim Grinberg.

Walking down Park Avenue South- I open my Whoppers to discover them melted (NYC heat) and molded (Duane Reade AC force). They still tasted good. Or I was simply staving off hunger until Chinese Take out.

Sometimes you have to be a little gross. A lovely evening, none the less. Photos captured. Slight shopping at Atrium, Wine Shop, MUJI SoHo (I have a bit a a problem w- my affection for office supplies) Sephora- where I picked out the Lindsay Lohan CARGO lipstick. Check them out. The packaging is biodegradable and embedded with wild flower seeds. If that's not enough a reason- two dollars is donated for each lip color purchased to St. Jude's.

Gowanus meets Park Slope

Brooklyn. 4th Ave @ 7th Street. As I waited to cross and head up the avenues.