Dope on the Slope

Dining with Republicans

In honor of the GOP convention here in NYC and with characteristic courage in the face of unfamiliar situations, we decided to take our Sunday evening meal in the presence of Republicans. I'm not talking about people who usually vote Republican, I grew up eating with those folks. I'm talking about hereditary Republicans of the Daddy Warbucks variety. The kind that light after dinner cigars with thousand dollar bills.

Where would we find such quarry? Our friends Katie and Jonathan, who were up from California for a weekend visit, selected the perfect venue - The River Cafe. A swank little spot just beneath the Brooklyn Bridge (in fact, to get the perfect swank background music for this post click this link before reading further).

Jonathan and I wore khakis, rep ties and navy blazers so as not to spook the critters. I draw the line at tasseled loafers, however.

I almost blew our cover early by not insisting that our driver pull right up to the entrance. He looked skeptical about the narrow opening from the street into their cobblestone courtyard and timidly asked if it was OK to let us out there. Jonathan and I both said "sure" reflexively. How very plebian of us. I now recognize that I should have imperiously demanded that he drive right up to the valet so the ladies wouldn't risk scuffing their Manolo Blahniks on the charming but uneven surface. (not to be confused with charming and uneven service, which is the norm for NYC restuarants)

Luckily, only the valets witnessed our faux pas. Oh... in case your wondering, neither Jessamy or Katie were actually wearing MB, which is good since they aren't shoes per se, but rather attractive torture devices that give pampered pretty people (PPP™) a wee taste of how the rest of us experience the world. If you detect a hint of envy in my tone, then you aren't very perceptive. There is A LOT of envy in my black little heart.

Once inside, we began our little adventure by ordering some wine. Once again I almost blew our cover by revealing my utter ignorance of French whites to our waiter. Crossing my fingers, I pulled the "I'm just a poor ignorant Philistine" ploy. It worked! He was firmly in our corner for the evening, although he did manage to toss some snark in Katie's direction over her dessert selection (more on that later). I reckon it was his version of "tough love." After he had thoroughly and enthusiastically taken us through an inventory of his likes and dislikes in white wine, he recommended a Chateau Carbonnieux 2001. We weren't disappointed.

I should mention at this point that I was in the induction phase of the South Beach diet, which normally precludes alcohol consumption. After closely perusing the text, however, I found this exception on page 313:

"In general, alcohol should be avoided during the first two weeks of this diet to achieve maximum benefit. However, an exception is to be made for single malt Scotch of extremely sublime character as well as wine when consumed with pleasant company in the vicinity of large suspension bridges."

God Bless the small print.

Now for the food. It was exquisite. If this is how Republicans usually eat, then perhaps I need to reassess my politics. For starters we sampled scallop ceviche, Hudson Valley foie gras, tuna two ways, and sea scallops with caviar. For the main course, Katie and Jonathan both selected duck with a scandalously good dark cherry sauce. Jessamy chose salmon with shitake mushrooms and still more scallops! I had red snapper with chanterelles. To complement the duck without overwhelming the fish, we chose a nice Oregon Pinot Noir, Yamhill Valley.

Since no thousand dollar bills or cigars were forthcoming, we opted for dessert. Jessamy immediately charmed our server by ordering his favorite, the mixed berry pudding, which he claims to eat every day. Katie ordered the dessert that the River Cafe is notorious for -
the chocolate Brooklyn Bridge.

His response to her order was something like "respectable choice, solid, not too daring." Katie's eyes said "f*ck you," but her lips quipped "oh but I do so love chocolate." I thought it was the perfect example of patrician restraint on her part. She would make a splendid Republican.

Jonathan ordered the ricotta cheesecake, which lasted about 90 seconds. To stick to my low-carb South Beach guns, I ordered the cheese plate. The waiter convinced me that the exception clause I had located earlier would allow the optional three wine sampler designed to perfectly complement each cheese. However, he was adamant that I try each cheese/wine combination in the exact order he laid out or else "cheese chaos" would ensue. Wise words.

All in all it was a lovely evening. The Republicans were well behaved and the meal itself was at least a 9 out of 10. Unfortunately, it will probably be time for the next GOP convention before we can afford to eat there again.

C'est la vie.

NOTE: The River Cafe is justifiably proud of their signature dessert. However, I believe we trumped them with this fabulous groom's cake constructed by baker extraordinaire Peggy Hambright.

Blogjam

It's been awhile since I've posted, but not for want of subject matter. Besides, how can a blogger who essentially writes about nothing get writer's block? Lots of stuff going on this weekend. I should post a few updates today. Stay tuned (I know you're just waiting with bated keyboards).

Railroaded

Holy Robert Moses! The Robber Barons are back with a vengeance in this great land of ours. No matter where you live, somebody somewhere is conspiring with elected officials to take your property with the magic of eminent domain. Even if you don't own your home or business, you can be affected because the valuation of property in many areas is tied to rental income. This means it is in landlord's interest to raise your rent is she is facing eminent domain.

Instead of raising the rent, we should be raising the roof, before they raze our neighborhoods.

How can this happen? The term "railroaded" refers to the first widespread use of eminent domain during the expansion of the railroads. According to this essay by Susie Rogers, the practice really got going in 1852 when

"a statute authorised condemnation for railroad use, i.e., the right of eminent domain, so when landowners refused the railroad's offer to buy their lands outright or to purchase easements, the railroad could exert its stat-granter powers to condemn the property for public use."

Ever since that time, the definition of what constitutes "public use" has been the crux of the matter. Purists like myself interpret "public" to mean something that constitutes substantial if not essential benefit to the public. A benefit that is so compelling that any reasonable member of the public would agree that the benefit justified the condemnation. Of course, the owner who loses her property would be handsomely compensated. To the Robber Barons (and those who eat at their trough), "public use" means "whatever I can get away with."

The picture above is from the window of Freddy's in Prospect Heights, just a stone's throw from the Atlantic rail yard. Freddy's is a venerable neighborhood pub that has been ranked as one of the ten best dive bars in New York. Freddy's is also threatened by Bruce Ratner's Atlantic Yards development project. Columbia journalism student Joel Myer offers an excellent summary of the impact of this develoment on the neighborhood in "A Net Loss in Brooklyn." (a play on the New Jersey Nets, which would be moving to the arena to be built over the rail yards.)

IMNSHO, folks like Ratner don't give a rat's ass about the blood, sweat and tears that go into building a community organically. They aren't satisfied unless their involved in something really BIG. To them, BIG is better, BIG is progress, and BIG can't be bothered with little people who get in the way, or hampered by inconveniences such as laws, zoning regulations or realistic economic analyses. Developers look at your neighborhood and see a blank slate. They're just dying to take their BIG brush and paint their vision in its place. Of course, their vision has its limits. In reality, one can't plant an old growth forest into a clear cut field. It would soon wither and die (just as convention centers, shoppertainment complexes and sports complexes often do). Deep down they know this, but since they will make money no matter what, why not try? After all, it just might work this time.

Luckily, help may be on the way. Earlier this month, the Michigan state supreme court unanimously overturned an earlier decision that allowed the city of Detroit to take away the homes of residents of Poletown. The details can be found in this WSJ editorial, Poletown's Revenge (PDF). This quote from the article sums it up:

The lead opinion put it this way: "Poletown's 'economic benefit' rationale would validate practically any exercise of the power of eminent domain on behalf of a private entity. After all, if one's ownership of private property is forever subject to the government's determination that another private party would put one's land to better use, then the ownership of real property is perpetually threatened by the expansion plans of any large discount retailer, 'megastore,' or the like."

I will be posting more about Ratner's project as the situation (ahem) develops. In the meantime, visit developdontdestroy.com to find out how you can help.

Best Chicken on The Slope

The best rotisserie chicken on The Slope is at Los Pollitos II at 148 Fifth Avenue. La Taqueria's chile infused chickens are a close second, but there is just no beating Los Pollitos for reliability and economy ($7.95 for a whole chicken). These guys must roast thousands of chickens a week. The rotisserie itself is situated just inside the door to your left. Make sure to ask for an extra crispy bird for maximum flavor and to ensure you don't get one with slightly undercooked thighs, which can happen when birds are flying out the door like hotcakes (usually from 6:00 - 8:00 PM). One chicken feeds two hungry people with a bit left to spare. They come packed with uninspiring salads, but very inspiring red and green sauce (ask for extra green).

Having guests over? Order some birds, make your own salad/sides and pop open some red wine. They'll think you're a genius.

The number to call is - (718) 623-9152

Standing Tall in Brooklyn

The image to the left is the magnificent Williamsburg Bank Building. It is at once both a beacon of hope to Brooklynites living within its shadow and a defiant flipoff to Manhattan for daring to consider itself superior to Brooklyn.

According to the folks at Forgotton New York:

Joe Friedman, who wrote the excellent Inside New York: Discovering the Classic Interiors of New York, describes Brooklyn's Williamsburgh Savings Bank Building on Ashland and Hanson Place as 'the tallest and most Priapic commercial building in Brooklyn.'

It is currently the tallest structure in Brooklyn (with the possible exception of Marty Markowtiz's ego) and its clock was the largest in the world until 1962. However, development associated with Ratturd's er Ratner's proposed Nets arena threatens to topple the mighty tick tock tower from the position of preeminence it has held for over 70 years. Some have nicknamed this stately edifice "Willy." Perhaps residents of Prospect Heights will tell Ratner where he can stick their Willy.

Click on the Forgotten New York link to learn more about the building's history. More pix of willy and other fine New York sights can be found at pic patrol.




Cheers.

Eat Your Heart Out Pepys & Proust

OK. A vanity site that chronicles the escapades of a couple of BoBos in Brooklyn isn't great literature, but it won't fill up your e-mail box and no trees will be killed to produce an annual holiday letter. We hope to post 2-3 times per week so that our friends, family and neighbors can keep up with us. Who knows? Maybe our descendents will appreciate having a record of the quotidian details of 21st century existence in the greatest city in the world. At a minimum, we hope to convey a good idea of what to expect if you come up for a visit. We promise as much irrelevant ephemera as you can handle.

Cheers.

Stoopacopia

One of the great things about living in “Brownstone Brooklyn” is that it’s culturally acceptable both to leave and to take things from the stoops in front of your building. We’ve left and lifted books, clothing, shoes, small appliances and furniture. Books are by far the most common booty, but furniture and artwork aren’t as rare as you might think. However, earlier this week I noted a first – homegrown produce. Some backyard gardener on our block was up to her earlobes in heirloom tomatoes and decided to share the wealth. When I lived in Tennessee, co-workers frequently brought sacks of ‘maters and cukes to the office. However, only in Park Slope would you see a sign that read “good for ratatouille, Provençale and gazpacho!”

RECIPE: RAT-A-TATOUILLE

1 carton of grape tomatoes, halved (sweeter than cherry tomotoes)
2 cloves of FRESH garlic, thinly sliced (i.e. not that minced crap in a jar or old dried out cloves)
coarse salt
fresh ground pepper

Pre-heat a HEAVY cast iron or non-stick skillet on medium
Heat 2-3 TBS of olive oil until small bubbles form (but no smoking)
turn the burner down a smidgen until the bubbles just subside
toss in garlic and saute until golden (don't burn - about 2 min)
toss in tomoatoes and saute until the structure of each tomato half starts to break down. All of the skins should be wrinkly, some should be separating from the pulp and quite a few should be lightly caramelized.
Add copious amounts of fresh ground pepper and salt to taste

You can serve immediately as a side dish or refrigerate for use later as a condiment. It makes a great bruschetta topping.

Cheers.

Guerrilla Marketing

It seems one can't escape the constant scheming of real-estate developers intent on snatching private property in the name of the "greater good" and having taxpayers pay for the theft. I thought this was just a Knoxville problem - the hillbillies were just too ignernt to resist these snake oil salesman with big ideas but no accountability for following through on their promises. New Yorkers couldn't possibly fall for that crap, they're too worldly to be lured into that con.

WRONG

A lot of Brooklynites have already resigned themselves to the fact that developer RATner will get his new basketball stadium/auditorium proposed for the Prospect Heights area with nary a condition or qualification. "It's a done deal" they say. "You can't fight City Hall" they say.

Apparently the gremlins who place this postcard on 1 out of every four picture frames at the new Target on the day of their grand opening did not agree.

Keep up the good work. I would recommend hitting the D-Con aisle at the hardware stores next. There's a lot you could do with a name like RATner. (more on my struggle against an evil mouse in our house later, I can't reveal too much because he may be reading this site - surprise is my only advantage)

Happy Anniversary

On August 9th, Jessamy and I celebrated making it through our first year of marriage with no domestic disturbance calls, no paramours hiding in the closet and no disagreements about money, how to spend the evening or where we should put things (OK, OK, two out of three ain’t bad). I thought I’d share this photo of the two of us at the wedding trying to look attentive during the post ceremony toasting (we were well on our way to being toasted). Thanks to all of you who helped make the initial day of our life together so memorable. I look forward to many happy years to come.

Up On The Roof

Jessamy and I finally made it to the rooftop of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Saturday. Where else can you have a $10 plastic flute of forgettable champagne to make you appreciate a priceless, unforgettable view? We were there to see the popular "Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion & Furniture in the 18th Century" an exhibit of sumptuous costumes displayed on mannequins in naughty tableaus. The lighting was quite evocative (very, very dim - just like it must have been in those pre-electric days), and the mannequins were superb. They appeared to be made of cream colored linen and almost invited you to project your own visuals on to them. There was also a cat mannequin (catequin?) and a number of snooty little lapdogs (though only outlines, I'm quite sure there were pugs and whippets).

Of course, we couldn't leave without a visit to the arms and armor room, Temple of Dendur, Parisian Art Deco furnishings and the gift shop.

Cheers.