A decidedly British evening in New York

It was pouring with rain when I left the house this morning, it rained all day, and it was STILL raining tonight when I returned to the 59E59 Theater to see my third Brits Off Broadway production of the season.

The show I saw tonight is called “Peddling” and it was written by, and stars, Harry Melling, who you would immediately recognise as Dudley Dursley from the “Harry Potter” movie franchise (and who, incidentally, looks much more rugged and grown-up than that IMDB profile photo would have you believe).

At the time of purchasing my ticket, all I knew of Melling’s play came from the simple yet compelling plot description in the theatre brochure:

A peddlar boy wakes up in a field, somewhere in London, surrounded by the burnt and empty remnants of the night before. With no memory, he knows he must go back to 'the very start of it all.  His attempts to retrace events lead him on a haunting journey where everything comes into question: his life, his world, and his future.

This NY run has only just started (it goes to May 18) and I have to confess, it’s pretty adult material but I thought the 25-year old playwright and actor handled it really well.  I lived in London for only 7 months but the neighbourhood I spent most of my time in was brutalised during the recent London riots.  I remember seeing the stores I shopped in with smashed windows, and broken fixtures and it was all so sad.  As tonight's play progressed, and I watched Melling's character slowly succumb to despondency and aggression and teeter on the edge of violence, I wondered whether the London riots had in fact inspired his material.

I am always very impressed by actors who can carry a one-person show.  To my untrained eye it requires a special kind of skill to take the audience with you and hold them there for the duration of your production.  But that’s exactly what Melling was able to do tonight, and though the theatre was only small, it was full and the applause at the end was heartfelt.  As people left, I could hear them muttering to one another about how impressed they were with his performance, and his interpretation of the character.

The down-side of seeing theatre shows at night is that I’m usually too wired to sleep straight afterwards, so before heading home tonight I trudged through the pouring rain to the opulent St Regis Hotel on Fifth Avenue for a cocktail at its famous King Cole Bar.

I actually didn’t think the hotel would let me in, given that I was wearing black rain boots and had the bedraggled appearance of someone who had been rained on all day (all true).  But they didn't just admit me, the bartender gave me one of the reserved tables right in front of the bar, all to myself!  Such treatment!

The King Cole Bar is famous for a couple of reasons, but particularly because in 1934 it produced the world's first Bloody Mary.  However at the time, the hotel's patrons were a little too upper-class to call it that, so the drink was sold under the name "Red Snapper".  Indeed, you can still order one at the bar today - but for the less refined amongst us, the King Cole also offers a huge menu of Bloody Marys to cater to everyone's taste - Scotch-based, tequila-based, some with clam juice, some with extra spice...it's a treasure.

Had it been brunch, or a weekend, I definitely would have indulged in one of the many Bloody Mary options.  But being a weeknight, and in such beautiful surrounds,  I spoilt myself with an "Astor Midnight" cocktail, made with Stoli blueberry vodka, lavender syrup, limoncello, and Roderer sparkling brut.  I was not at all disappointed - it was a perfect choice.

The other thing that makes the King Cole Bar famous is the historic mural behind the bar. It actually contains a secret and the only way you find it out is to appeal to the generosity of the barman to tell you.  If you're nice to him, he'll give you enough information to let you sniff out the details.  And trust me, when you do learn the secret, it will change the way you look at the mural.

Once my cocktail was finished, and knowing that the rain was showing no signs of abating, I offered my seat to CNN political correspondent James Carville, who had just walked in.  I put up my hot pink umbrella, and in the decidedly British weather, I splashed through the puddles on the long walk home.

How would YOU make an American quilt?

After a 24-hour period of spring sunshine yesterday, New Yorkers awoke to a grey Tuesday morning, and clouds that threatened to open up at any moment.  A common, plaintive moan echoed across my office - all of us just wanted to head back home and crawl into our beds.

It was probably fitting then that today’s lunchtime excursion took me across the street into Grand Central Terminal, to view the exhibition entitled “Grand Central Centennial Quilts”.

Grand Central celebrated its 100th birthday in 2013 and to commemorate the occasion, the national magazine American Patchwork and Quilting teamed up with the Chelsea-based store City Quilter to launch a national contest for quilts that would celebrate the iconic train station, as depicted by home quilters across the country.

From hundreds of entries, the NY Transit Museum Gallery Annex, just off the main concourse in the station, is now exhibiting 30 gorgeous quilts, representing the prize winners from 15 US states.

The winning entry is the one on the right here, entitled "Time Flies But We Take the Train", created by a lady in Maryland.  I loved the colours immediately, and when you get up close you can see she has included some sparkly golden thread.  Of course I approved of that too.

Now I can neither sew nor knit, but even I can appreciate the talent and dedication that it would have taken to plan and execute these amazing quilts.  I especially loved the subtle tributes to the Terminal, evident in each piece.  What I found most interesting was that only a couple of the quilts were stitched by people living in or near New York.  It was really wonderful to see how non-residents have depicted the national icon, and what makes it special to them.

  

 

Inspired by my surroundings, and the drizzling rain outside, I started to wonder what sort of quilt I would have made, if my talent knew no bounds.  I figured that it would definitely be colourful, for the noise and diversity of the daily commuters.  I would also need to feature some plush fabrics, in honour of The Campbell Apartment, and the Tiffany Blue colour of the main concourse ceiling (a popular inspiration).  I’d have to devote some squares to the dynamic Grand Central Market, which has so many food options I can barely handle it.  And finally, I’d have to find some way to give a shout-out to the historic Grand Central Oyster Bar downstairs, which I really love.  It would be a messy, vibrant quilt – but to me, that would be the very embodiment of the giant Terminal.

The “Grand Central Centennial Quilts” exhibition is free, and it will remain on-site until 6 July.  After you've visited, you need to call into the adjacent Transit Museum store - it's full of great subway-centric souvenirs, baby clothes, toys, not to mention and excellent range of books about New York through the ages.

Black ties and red carpets

Rob Reiner

About a year ago, I dashed across the lobby of the beautiful Carlyle Hotel on the Upper East Side, and almost face-planted into the expansive chest of actor and film director Rob Reiner.  After some tongue-tied apologies on my part, Mr Reiner politely smiled down at me and disappeared into a waiting elevator.  As celebrity encounters go, that one was awkward, but it totally counted for me.

I have always loved movies and working at a video store while I was at university was the perfect part-time job for me.  So to actually meet Rob Reiner, or his chest at least, was a high point of my New York experience so far.  Because let's face it, it's not a stretch to say that Mr Reiner’s films have been enduring favourites, and rather important (to my life, at least).  Consider “When Harry Met Sally”, “Stand By Me”, and (perhaps especially) “The Princess Bride”.  See what I mean?  And they're just the first three examples I could give you.

Avery Fisher Hall

So against this backdrop, you won't think it's strange that I seized the opportunity to go along to Lincoln Center tonight and see Mr Reiner receiving his Chaplin Award.  It's an annual fundraiser (currently in its 41^st year), which is hosted by the not-for-profit Film Society of Lincoln Center and it recognises exemplary service to the arts.  Previous recipients include Barbra Streisand, Alfred Hitchcock and Meryl Streep.

Quite aside from being a fan of Mr Reiner’s work, I can scarcely resist an opportunity to “frock up”, and tonight’s ceremony prescribed “cocktail attire”.  I was so in. I even managed to shoe-horn myself into the dress I wore as a bridesmaid for my sister’s wedding a couple of years ago.  I declared that it still fit – as long as I resolved to keep my cardigan on, and didn’t try and breathe too deeply!

I was also grateful to Westo for joining me – and I don’t mind admitting that our excitement about the event was compounded once we realised that they didn't use the term "star-studded" lightly.  None other than Martin Scorsese would be presenting Mr Reiner with his award.  We might have squealed at that part...

Are you waiting for me?

When the taxi pulled up at Lincoln Center tonight, I was disappointed that I didn't get to walk the red carpet that had been rolled out by the Stage Door entrance.  I could see paparazzi clearly waiting for other people to arrive (Meg Ryan, Billy Crystal, Michael Douglas, and the lovely Marty Scorsese – just to name a few).

The last time I stood in the lobby of the Avery Fisher Hall was only a few weekends ago, and back then it was filled with squealing kids and harried parents.  Tonight, the effect was totally different.  All around me, there were beautiful dresses, sparkly jewels and dapper gentlemen in well-made suits.  Sure, there were a couple of people who clearly didn't get the dress code memo, but in the main the effect was lovely.

From our seats in the Orchestra section, we had a pretty good view of the action and before long, the stars came out to laud Mr Reiner and share their stories of having worked with him, and learned from him.  These speeches were interspersed with footage from his movies, and I was really glad that the audience loved my top 3 Rob Reiner movies too - at least their applause suggested so, anyway.  Did you know that the woman who says "I'll have what she's having" in "When Harry Met Sally" is Rob Reiner's mother?  I've always loved that bit of trivia.  And at one point in the evening, Rob Reiner's father Carl was on screen to make a video tribute. You'd recognise Mr Reiner senior as Saul from Clooney's "Ocean's 11" movie franchise.  His tribute to his son was heartfelt and charming, and he was most proud of Rob's commitment to political activism and the strength of his convictions, as much as for his successful film career - it was a really nice touch.

The piece de resistance came when Marty Scorsese came out to formally bestow the Chaplin Award on his friend.  The mutual admiration was obvious, and at the end of the night we were all on our feet, giving the award recipient and all of his celebrity friends a hearty standing ovation.

As we left tonight, Westo and I declared that the Chaplin Awards was a very "New York" thing to do.  Getting all dressed up on a Monday night, to support a non-profit and congratulate a New York City native son in front of his home-town crowd; it just doesn't get any better than that.  Now if anybody needs me, I'll be re-watching "When Harry Met Sally", for the ten-thousandth time.

Throw your glasses at the wall, and good fortune to us all

When you walk through the doors of Mari Vanna, the Russian restaurant in New York's Gramercy neighbourhood, you're immediately thrown because you feel like you're in a Laura Ashley catalogue.  The restaurant has such a country cottage kitchen feel - warm yellow walls, wicker chairs, lace doilies on the table.  You catch yourself thinking, "it's nowhere near as ostentatious as the Russian Tea Room ", because it has the charming feel of a genteel home.  And just as this thought crosses your mind, you're handed a long list of the home-made infused vodkas on offer, and you realise this ain't no Laura Ashley anything.  This place means real Russian business.  And I liked it immediately. 

If I were taking a leisurely Friday lunch, you can bet I would have sampled at least one of the amazing vodka flavours, which ran the gamut from cucumber and dill, to pineapple and strawberry.  But alas, I needed to get back to the office, so a bubbly Prosecco quenched my thirst nicely.

I was brought up eating European foods courtesy of my Polish grandma, so I don't get squeamish when presented with anything pickled, brined, or preserved.  In fact today, I actively sought out the pickled herring as my starter on the two-course, $27 prix fixe menu. As you can see, it was served in a tiny jar of pickling liquid, dill, bay leaves, and peppercorns, with pieces of dark rye bread and plain boiled potatoes on the side.  So simple, and really delicious.

For my main course, I chose the chicken stroganoff.  Not an adventurous choice really, but I wanted the comfort food.  And indeed, it was perfect - creamy, and tangy and the serving was accompanied by fluffy mashed potatoes, which I haven't had in a long time.  Blissful.  The food coma crept in.  My afternoon productivity was going to suffer for sure.

 

But we weren't done yet, because our server delivered us complimentary mini strawberry martinis for dessert. Oh, those Russians!  The martinis were only tiny of course, and I couldn't taste much (any) vodka in mine, but it was icy cold, and the delicate strawberry flavour came through so beautifully.  Delicious!

Mari Vanna is located in a really busy area of Manhattan, but on a quiet side street alongside some of the most beautiful bars and restaurants I've been to in this City.  It's one of the most un-Russian Russian restaurants you'll ever visit, until you see the menu and appreciate the traditional cuisine and extensive vodka selection designed to wrap you in the kind of embrace you'd expect from your babushka.

Czech-ing in on the Upper East Side

I'm still house-sitting on the Upper East Side, but I've been a bit slack when it comes to exploring the neighbourhood in any detail.  Even with the two dogs in tow, we tend to just trudge the usual 2-block radius each morning and evening.

In an effort to redress this lameness tonight, I visited a lovely restaurant on East 73rd Street called Hospoda, which means “pub” in Czech.  When the restaurant first opened, its menu featured modern and traditional Czech cuisine, but these days it's inspired by three of my favourite things: beer, seasonal ingredients, and multiculturalism.  A much more all-encompassing affair, really.

Under the leadership of Michelin-starred Chef Rene Stein, the New American cuisine at Hospoda is prepared using beer (or its various ingredients at least), and upon request the restaurant will pair your meal with an assortment of amazing beers and wines.

And let me assure you, the menu is amazing.  I started with a Czech pilsner, and I was really pleased that it was served icy-cold in a tiny stein.  The menu is actually sorted in first, second and third courses (nothing unusual) but that is printed on the left side of the menu, while on the right side you have the dishes matched up with beer pairings.  So I had a main dish of duck, paired with a really hearty Belgian beer and boy, was it strong.  My dessert was a chocolate cake, served two ways (one of which was dehydrated - fancy pants!).  I went rogue at that point and had a Pinot Noir from the Finger Lakes in New York to go with it, but I don't regret my choice at all.   The meal was delicious, and the atmosphere was really beautiful.   Plus the service was great - we were spoiled on all counts.

Architecturally-speaking too, Hospoda is also a treat as it is located on the ground floor of The Bohemian National Hall, which was built in 1897.  In the late 19th Century, the social hall was a popular hangout for the City’s immigrant Czech and Slovak communities, who began to relocate to this 'Yorkville' neighbourhood from the Lower East Side, in search of more affordable housing.

For a long time, the social hall was the heartbeat of the vibrant European community.  It offered language classes, food service, and a venue for club meetings and social get-togethers for people of all ages.  Back in the day, the social hall had a restaurant and bar downstairs, while upstairs there were club rooms, a bowling alley, and a ballroom and theater space for dances.  It would definitely have been something to see.

But this building wasn't all singing, dancing, and eating; it saw some serious political action too.  During the First World War, the Bohemian National Hall served as the New York headquarters for liberation activities, which ultimately contributed to the carving out of what was then known as Czechoslovakia from the former Austro-Hungarian Empire.

These days, while Hospoda may be Czech in name only (with a couple of Czech beers to please you), the rest of the building hosts the Consulate-General of the Czech Republic.  And I suppose in this way, the legacy of The Bohemian National Hall lives on, safeguarding the next generation of Czech residents and visitors in New York.

What do you give a City that has everything?

When you live in New York, you find yourself complaining about exorbitant rents, traffic jams, and never being able to get the restaurant reservation you want.  But every so often, you meet people who remind you that in the scheme of things, you’ve really just been sweating the small stuff. 

 

An addiction to alcohol nearly destroyed J’s life.  He couldn’t keep a job, his marriage had eroded, and his teenage daughter had stopped talking to him.  J was at rock bottom, but he was brave enough to walk into the Bowery Mission and ask for their help.  He committed himself to the Mission’s six-month program, which allowed him to live on-site amongst other men of his age and situation.  But the Bowery Mission also required J to work towards his own recovery.  As a program participant (“resident”), J had to regularly meet with a counsellor, and he was required to attend Church service, which he came to love – not so much for the religious elements, but more for the opportunity for self-reflection.  Other participants in J’s group came and went, but J knew it was doing him good and he stuck with it.

J has been sober for 13 months now. When he graduated from the Bowery Mission’s program, he relocated to another facility up in Harlem where he has maintained his clean-living lifestyle and is saving money to get into more permanent housing.  While J knows there’s no hope of getting back together with his wife, the fact that he has re-established contact with his daughter (now 21) is an obvious source of pride.

 

Like many other Bowery Mission alumni, J gives back to the organisation that he credits with saving his life.  Indeed, that’s where I met him yesterday – in the Bowery Mission kitchen, preparing the Easter Sunday lunch for the anticipated 300 residents and community members who would stop by.

Having volunteered at the Bowery Mission on Thanksgiving Day few years ago, I knew that volunteers were in abundance on big holidays and this Easter was no exception.  I strapped on the familiar red apron and J put me to work wiping down benches, filling saucepans, restocking cutlery supplies, and sorting through the donations of salad greens and vegetables that had come from restaurants and supermarkets across the city.

When our first cohort of hungry visitors came in, we dished up plates of sausages & peppers (capsicum), pasta, tomato spaghetti sauce, and side salad.  I cast myself in the role of Chief Parmesan Cheese Sprinkler, and for the briefest of times, I was terribly popular.

Once we had cleaned up, I headed out the back to flatten cardboard boxes for recycling, and to help the Mission staff fill garbage bags full of food that they simply couldn’t use - either because there was just too much of it (in the case of the bread), or that the food was perishable and wouldn’t last the day.  Mission staff mused that sometimes, there is such a thing as being too blessed.

 

When you volunteer at the Bowery Mission (and other places like it) you’ll be really busy; you’ll probably get dirty; and if you're anything like me, your feet and body will probably ache the next day.  But to my mind, whether you volunteer a few hours to work behind the scenes, or up front and engaging with the residents and community, it’s an easy way to give something back to a City that makes you feel so welcome.

When is an apartment not an apartment?

Over this Easter long weekend, I'm having a "staycation" in New York, only I'm actually house-sitting for some friends, at their apartment on the Upper East Side.  I don't know this neighbourhood very well (at the moment) but I hope this weekend will change that.  In addition to the apartment, I'm also taking care of two adorable dogs, so I get my puppy fix too.

In honour of relocating to a new apartment, even for a few days, I took myself to ANOTHER person's apartment in Midtown - to Campbell Apartment, upstairs in Grand Central Station.

Campbell Apartment is much bigger than my own apartment (though most places are).  But funnily enough, this place was never actually used as an apartment  - it was only ever an office, and it was the business and social headquarters of John W Campbell, a millionaire financier and the Chairman of the board of the Credit Clearing House, before he retired in 1941.

When Campbell first acquired his office in 1923, it was actually known as "the biggest single room in New York".  The Campbells lived far out in the NY suburbs, but they leased the Grand Central station office as a midpoint meeting place for their friends and John's clients.

Fans of all things Italian, and with a flair for the opulent, Campbell and his wife redecorated the office in Florentine style - painted ceilings, over $300,000 worth of Persian rugs for the floor and the walls, 13th Century Italian leather chairs, and heavy wooden furnishings.  But as an added flourish, Campbell also installed a pipe organ and grand piano.  I guess just because the business day ended, didn't mean the party had to!  It wasn't unusual for Mr and Mrs Campbell to entertain up to 60 guests a night in their carefully-curated office/party room/museum.

The French martinis
here are amazing

It wasn't until the late 1990s that the room was renovated into a cocktail bar.   The Italianate style disappeared and in its place, Campbell Apartment was decked out in rich blues and heavy patterns.  This scheme was redone by new owners in 2006, who favoured deeper reds, soft couches, and leather barstools to match.  The latest renovations took place in one night, to avoid losing any business.

Campbell Apartment is a dimly-lit treasure of a place.  You can access it from inside Grand Central station, but it can be a bit tricky to find.  By far the easiest way is to come out onto 42nd Street, and turn right in Vanderbilt Avenue.  Follow the Grand Central station building along, and you'll see a doorway with a staircase leading up to "Campbell Apartment".  I'm quite partial to their French martinis, but the bartenders know what they're doing - they'll take good care of you.  Welcome home!

Buds and suds

We've all seen those American college movies where the new students are walking around campus at the start of the year, succumbing to the seductive charms of the social and academic clubs on offer.  Whether it's the acapella society; the chess club; or the debating team, they all want you as their new recruit.

Sure these college clubs are about academic credits, but they're also about making friends in a new place - and that doesn't come easily to a lot of people.  Indeed, as this New York Times article explains, there's an added degree of difficulty to making friends once you turn 30.  Eek!  Some days we feel like being collegiate, and other days we crave our anonymity.  So in the competitive and densely-populated movie college campus that is New York City, how do you find people who like what you like? 

Of course, one easy strategy is to be open about your interests.  Tell people the places you like to go, or the things you like to do, on the off chance they'll like it too. 

Allow me to use beer drinking as a topical example.

Tonight after work I ventured to the Lower East Side and joined the ranks of the New York City Homebrewers Guild as they convened at The Burp Castle, their self-proclaimed (and aptly-named) Temple of Beer Worship.  This is all true.

Now at the time of going along, I wasn't a card-carrying member of the Guild, but a good friend of mine is, and I went along tonight as her guest.  She's a home brewer hobbyist, and has treated me to some delicious beers over the past few months.  Having scoured the online discussion boards and Youtube channels to improve her brewing prowess, she found out about the NYC Homebrewers Guild and bravely signed up.  Since then, she has been encouraged by the camaraderie of the group, and the willingness of its membership to share their expertise with her, and to come together over a general love of good brews.  These were my people.

The Guild meets every third Tuesday of the month to discuss brewing techniques and to share some of the fruits of their home labours with anyone who is keen to try them.  Tonight's meeting was called "SMASH", standing for Single Malt And Single Hops, which dictated the sorts of brews on offer.

Within about 10 minutes of being there tonight, I had signed up.  I paid my $25 annual fee and got my Homebrewers Guild souvenir t-shirt (Men's size M, definitely for sleeping in).  I settled in and we listened to a couple of commercial brewers from Brooklyn talk about their product, which we also got to sample (only a couple of sips at a time, but they were still very diverse and really interesting flavours).

We didn't stay late tonight but I had a really great time with the NYC Homebrewers Guild.  I found everyone we talked to was very kind and well-informed about their tasty beers.  They didn't even seem to mind that I was a trespasser in their ranks (even momentarily).  The fact I'm a girl probably helped, I think.  By and large the Guild is a very masculine, heterosexual enterprise and so this straight, single girl was definitely in her element!  Here's to having plans on the third Tuesday of every month!

Grab shell, dude!

Righteous!  Righteous!

You know that scene in "Finding Nemo" where the turtles take Nemo's Dad into the EAC ("East Australia Current")?  He starts off swimming along slowly, minding his own business. And then as quick as a flash, he's dragged into the slip-stream and moving at break-neck speed as the world zips by?  Well, relocating to New York can be a bit like that.  But I think the difference is, where Marlin's desperation to find Nemo meant he had no choice but to leap into the bustling current, we get the choice to hop in and out of the hustle-bustle of New York, and the City doesn't mind either way.

This is just my point of view of course, but I got to thinking more about it this morning at the second annual Downtown Literary Festival, hosted at the Bowery Poetry Club.  Until this week, I had no idea that the Festival or the Club even existed.  But on some random website or other, I saw the event advertised and it seemed an interesting reason to "grab shell" and jump into the chaos.

I fortified myself with much-needed caffeine from Think Coffee at the corner of Bowery and Bleecker, pretty much next door to Saxon & Parole (one of my favourite restaurants in the City).  The Poetry Club is only a block away from there, and I strode in with purpose, right on time.

The Literary Festival presents two full days of free public lectures, events, and book signings, spread out over several locations (not just the Poetry Club, but also the Housing Works Bookstore Cafe and the amazing McNally Jackson bookstore).  Saturday's program was largely for kids, so I let that one go and focussed on Sunday's program instead.  Rather than switch between the multiple locations today, I planted myself in a corner seat at the Poetry Club and settled in for a couple of hours.

Chickens are excellent poets.

I had absolutely no idea what to expect from this Festival.  Was it going to be full of weird, cardigan-wearing chain smokers talking profoundly about authors I'd never read (or worse, never heard of)?  Would I be expected to ask a question or make a contribution?  Please God, I thought, don't let there be any audience participation.

I needn't have worried at all.  The Festival was very much a casual affair, with a great line-up of really interesting, New York-focussed panel discussions and readings.

The very first panel discussion was entitled, Natives and Newcomers: How Open is New York City? and so it was really appropriate to my situation, and that of a lot of transplants here.  The panel discussion also compared and contrasted how welcoming New York is versus London, so again that was a hugely relevant conversation for me.

The second session was a selection of readings from magazine articles, which veered into "weird" territory in parts, but was hugely amusing in others.  I was really taken with the reading about the book by The Onion's Baratunde Thurston called, "How To Be Black" - and particularly the (black) journalist's experiences of reading the satirical book on NYC public transport during Black History Month in February, and the various reactions she got.

My final panel discussion for the day was entitled "Vice and Virtue: Stories of Sin and Salvation".  This section was comprised of a short (but very evocative) account of a man's visit to a dominatrix in Amsterdam; a series of short poems on cross-dressing and encounters with a pimp on a Madrid dance floor; a girl's free-association diary entry that I absolutely could not follow; a fantastic recount of a bartender's memoir that struck very close to the bone ("Drinking With Men" by Rosie Schaap); and finally an eye-opening excerpt from a journalist's adventures at a Furry Convention.  Talk about a mixed bag!

With no audience participation necessary, the Downtown Literary Festival is an excellent reminder of the talent that resides here in New York.  It's about people who are brave enough to jump into the slip-stream of this energetic city and share their talents, and their stories of survival, with the rest of us.

Raise the roof

It appears that spring has finally sprung in New York and the City's streets are teeming with tourists and locals in tshirts, flip-flops and sunglasses!  It is blissful.

Great weather like this also heralds the start of rooftop bar season, and New York has a fantastic array of rooftops to cater to every one of your food, beverage, and social desires.

Gallow Green

One of my favourite rooftops in the whole City is Gallow Green, a beautiful space atop the McKittrick Hotel in Chelsea.  The rooftop officially opens again next Saturday (19 April) and it is always worth a visit.  It is like dining in a herb garden - you're surrounded by lush, fragrant plants and flowers.  To get up there, you need to ride an old, rickety elevator operated by a revolving cast of unusual characters, but it's all part of Gallow Green's charm.

Another very popular rooftop that never fails to attract beautiful crowds is the rooftop at The Met.  I'll never forget the first time I went there on a Friday night, and enjoyed a delicious French martini as the sun started to set - it was magical (even with the crazy crowds).

Wythe Hotel

If you find yourself in Brooklyn, I'd definitely recommend you visit the rooftop bar at The Wythe Hotel, with its breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline.  If you can time your visit with sunset, you won't be disappointed.

But back in Manhattan and closer to my office in Midtown, there are several spacious rooftops, perfect for after-work cocktails and networking (but mostly for cocktails).  I really like the rooftop at Aretsky's Patroon, at the summit of a three-level event space.  The restaurant on the ground floor is pretty nice too.  I've only ever been to this rooftop for official events, but I'm pretty sure it's also open as an everyday bar when the weather is nice enough for it.

Pod Hotel rooftop

My other picks for slightly less fancy, but still perfect places for after-work drinks and city views, include the rooftop bar at the Pod Hotel (after dinner at the amazing Salvation Taco downstairs) and the rooftop of the Affinia Shelbourne (their downstairs restaurant called Rare isn't bad either).

A few blocks away is the decidedly more fancy rooftop bar of the Kimberly Hotel, called "Upstairs".  The cocktails here are great, but I find the crowd is a bit more pretentious and you'll definitely need to stick out your pointy elbows and fight your way to the bar.  The views can't be beaten though, so I try to make a reservation ahead of time - distance myself from the crowd, get a small table, and just soak up the atmosphere.

230 Fifth

One of the most popular rooftop bars in the City is 230 Fifth, and it's open all year round.  It is literally around the corner from the Empire State Building, so it's a bit of a tourist trap at times but definitely worth a visit for the breathtaking views it affords.  If you head here in winter time, you'll still be given the option to sit outside, and the hotel will give you hooded blankets to wear, just like Snuggies - looks a bit silly, but pretty thoughtful really.

Birreria at Eataly

I like 230 Fifth for the amazing views, but my favourite year-round rooftop space is Birreria, the beer garden on the roof of Eataly.  The view's not so great up here, but the food and beer menu more than makes up for that.  Everything here is so fresh and tasty.  If you're lucky enough to snag a seat at the bar, the staff will hook you up with all kinds of refreshing beers, but my favourites are the local ones curated by Eataly's Head Brewer.  The bartenders will even let you try a sip of the local beers until you know which one you want to order - it's definitely a good idea to branch out and try something new.  Just be ready for the crowds here too; they can be a bit intense.

Of course, this is just a random selection of my favourite rooftop haunts when the weather finally turns in my favour.  There are so many more spaces just like these ones to discover in this town, and after the polar vortexes we've endured this winter, I bet it won't take long for New Yorkers to head upstairs and get as close to the warm sun as they can.

I hope you didn't mind my bending your ear

If you're looking for a slice of vintage New York, you need go no further than the corner of Third Avenue and East 55th Street, where you will find the original PJ Clarke's saloon.  There are other PJ's franchises dotted elsewhere around the City, but back in 1884 this Third Avenue treasure was called Jenning's Bar.  Then it changed hands and was called Duneen's, and they hired Patrick Joseph Clarke as a bartender in 1902.  He bought the place ten years later, and gave his name to the Third Avenue location, which has remained largely unchanged ever since. 

Legend has it that songwriter Johnny Mercer wrote "One For My Baby" while propping up the bar here, and it's the perfect tune for a place like PJ's.  The bartenders are friendly, the drinks are strong, and the patrons are the convivial bunch you'd expect from such a New York City icon.  Perhaps these are the same reasons that attracted the patronage of Frank Sinatra (who has a permanent table there), but also Buddy Holly, Jackie Kennedy, and Elizabeth Taylor?

But PJ's isn't just for history or booze buffs - they know their way around the pots and pans too.  When I moved to New York three years ago, PJ's sold me my very first bowl of lobster mac & cheese, and I have never forgotten that kindness.  It was so rich, so tasty, and I so didn't want to leave.  That I turned up post-theatre at 10pm tonight (on a school night no less!) I wasn't surprised to find the dining room full of people cramming in burgers, fish & chips, and all manner of tasty treats from the kitchen. 

I had to adopt the pointy "elbows out" stance I normally reserve for Christmas shopping at Macy's, just to edge my way through the crowd, past the squawking women and tipsy businessmen, to finally get to the bar and order my drink.

Word of warning though: don't get too distracted by the crowd or the menu at PJ's, because when you're jostling for a seat at their beautiful mahogany bar, you run the risk of missing the little quirks that make this place really fun.  Like the traditional red & white ginham tablecloths; or the old cash register and pay phone that broke years ago but nobody wants to throw away.  Old-world charm, right in Midtown Manhattan.

One of the reasons I think that PJ's has lasted so long (aside from the tasty food and strong drinks) is that they value their customers, and they reward loyalty with special treatment.  They've got photos all around the walls of customers and staff they've loved and lost, and the Third Avenue PJ's also has a members-only section called Sidecar, located upstairs in what used to be the Clarke family home.  See?  How could you not enjoy yourself here?

A Night in Billyburg

Most people know that New York is comprised of five boroughs: Manhattan; Brooklyn; Queens; The Bronx; and Staten Island.  While I've lived in Manhattan for a little over three years, I've only been to Brooklyn maybe 3 or 4 times.  I've visited Queens only to fly out of it (JFK and La Guardia airports are both there), and I have never once set foot in The Bronx or on Staten Island.  Seriously, what have I been doing with my time?

Last night, in an attempt to redress this imbalance and to broaden my horizons, I took off after work to Williamsburg ("Billyburg"), in Brooklyn.

One thing that always strikes me when I come to Brooklyn is the irrational fear that I am not now, nor will ever be, cool enough to be here.  Brooklyn, and Williamsburg in particular, has that reputation of being hipster headquarters and I am about as far removed from a hipster as it is possible to get.  But that insecurity is all in my head because in reality, Williamsburg is one of the most accessible and approachable neighbourhoods.

Sure, the streets are quieter than in Manhattan, and the architecture is very different, but every block is jam-packed with stores and restaurants that seem so interesting.  They're shops you actually want to go into - vintage bookstores sit next to dive bars, across the street from pierogi vendors and top-shelf coffee shops.  The stores are characters in themselves, to say nothing about the cheery people who run them.

As I walked along North 7th Street last night, shop owners and their customers were milling around on the footpath (sidewalk), taking full advantage of the mild weather.  There was real community there, far from Manhattan's yellow cabs and honking horns.  I felt comfortable there - not like a trespasser at all.

Random exploration would have to wait for another day though, as I had made reservations for dinner at a lovely little restaurant called Fat Goose.  Of all the restaurants in the area - and they are many and varied - I chose this one because the online reviews were excellent, but also because it is located halfway between the Bedford Avenue train station and the East River, a location I felt fairly confident I could find on my own.  Indeed I got to the restaurant very easily and was very pleased to realise that its online reputation is entirely justified.

I had a starter of braised octopus cassoulet, and a main dish of NY strip steak with roasted vegetables.  Is it just me, or does everything taste better when someone else cooks it for you?  Our server had the most fantastic curly moustache, and he was a kind and attentive host who took very good care of us.

Another reason I chose Fat Goose is because it is only a couple of blocks away from the Brooklyn Winery, a wonderful urban oasis that is producing some delicious products.  The winery has only been open for 3 years, and I had purchased a couple of tickets to do a behind-the-scenes winery tour starting at 9pm.

Now if you're like me and you don't know Brooklyn very well, you would nevertheless be aware that in a concrete jungle like New York City, vineyards are not exactly plentiful.  In fact, they're bloody non-existent.  We don't have any space for vineyards here!  So the grapes that Brooklyn Winery uses for its red wines come from sunny California, but its white wine grapes are sourced more locally.  They come from the Finger Lakes region of New York and the North Fork of Long Island, where I had enjoyed a wonderful grape-grazing weekend in June.

As we learned about the wine-making techniques employed at the most urban winery I've ever visited, we got to sip some really tasty wines.  I surprised myself by really enjoying their chardonnay, which I normally avoid.  This one is fermented in stainless steel tanks (like the ones in this picture), so it doesn't have that buttery taste from the oak barrels that a lot of people like about Chardonnay, but which I cannot stomach.  The Brooklyn Winery's chardonnay is crisp and fresh, and much more reminiscent of a pinot grigio really.

Being from South Australia, I am also quite partial to those robust red wines that punch you in the face (you know the ones I mean).  The Brooklyn Winery makes a Petit Syrah, and their running joke is that there's nothing petit about it.  Sure enough, the rich red wine is full-bodied, powerful and quite frankly, really tasty.  These are fermented in barrels onsite.


The winery has a fantastic bar just as you walk in, and the wines they serve there are poured from kegs rather than from bottles.  The winery figures there isn't much point bottling the wine out the back, only to pour it into glasses in the very next room.  But they do bottle the wine they intend to sell, and each batch is numbered.  My friend and I certainly came home with some bottles, and our souvenir wine tour glass.  An excellent haul.

Williamsburg is just one of the great places to explore in Brooklyn.  It's easy to get there as well - the first stop off Manhattan on the L train, and even if you only have time to walk along Bedford Avenue (and the few blocks either side of it) you'll be amazed at the number and diversity of the treats on offer.  They shouldn't be missed.

Where Westeros meets the West Village

Every Monday night, talented Chef David Santos at Louro in New York's West Village hosts a multi-course supper club dinner.  I first read about these supper club menus in a New York Times article and I was curious to find out more, so I joined the restaurant's mailing list.

It turns out that each week, the restaurant puts away its a la carte menu and replaces it with special dishes on a particular, topical theme.  Reservations are essential, and diners can BYO beer and wine.

I was fortunate enough to snag two seats to tonight's amazing feast, which had a "Game of Thrones" theme, to capitalise on the start of Season 4 last night.

Miss Fitz did not need any coaxing to join me for dinner, which was just wonderful.  And I also need to thank her for encouraging me to indulge in the beverage pairing for our menu (an extra $45), which tonight was the brand new local "Game of Thrones" beers from Cooperstown, New York.  I confess that originally I was going to wimp out on the beer pairing, just because I wanted to leave plenty of room in my belly for the food.  But Miss Fitz was feeling brave, and I was too, so we jumped right in.  Other than not wearing stretchy pants, I don't regret a single thing.

Here's what we enjoyed (and thanks to Miss Fitz for the photos):

Amuse
Suckling Pig Fritter

After the glass of sparkling wine that I'd had at the bar before Miss Fitz arrived, I was raring to get the night underway.  My stomach was grumbling and when the amuse came out, I confess I stabbed it with my fork and stuffed it in.

I've only ever eaten suckling pig in full medieval-feast format, but this was elaborately laid out on a bed of something creamy and spicy and I'm not really sure what it was.  Nevertheless, it was tasty and by the time we were finished chewing, Miss Fitz and I were ready for the night to begin.  The amuse had done its job and set the scene beautifully.

First Course: King Joffrey
Skewered Hamachi and Radishes, served with a piri vinaigrette
Pairing: Ommegang Fire and Blood

Well, who doesn't want to skewer that little punk Joffrey?  An excellent place to start.  The slices of yellow tail (hamachi) were thin, but not falling off the wooden skewer.  The piri vinaigrette was spicy, but also acidic enough to coat the fish and even cook it a bit, a play on ceviche, I guess.  Plus the slivers of radish were a spicy, crunchy complement.

At this point in the evening, the representative of Ommegang gave us an introduction to the beer pairings, and particularly talked about the "Fire & Blood" beer that we had been enjoying with our fish. He commented that the beer had accents of ancho chile, which of course I couldn't detect until he said it.

Now I don't want to draw parallels where there aren't any, but I think this was a really clever food, beer & character pairing.  Spicy, flavourful, and really sharp.

Second Course: John Snow
Grain and wild greens salad, served with house cured venison lomo
Pairing:  Ommegang Hop House

Next up we had a more rustic, simple dish of salad greens atop some delicious and crunchy grains.  There were strips of what I thought was prosciutto but it turned out to be salty venison, served up in a way that resembled jerky (to me).  It was salty and crunchy and really tasty.

The Ommergang Hop House beer was very hoppy - and it made me appreciate the ancho chile flavour of the earlier beer a bit more.  I thought the beer was a really good contrast to the fresh salad and I really liked the crunch of the grains and saltiness of the venison.  Definitely something simple and tasty that John Snow would eat atop the desolate Wall.

Third Course: Arya and the Hound
Bacon-wrapped monkfish with clam chowder and herbs
Pairing:  Ommegang Wild at Heart

Befitting these two adventurers, this course was a delicate piece of monkfish encased in a firm, crispy piece of bacon - and all of it was sitting in about an inch or so of meaty clam chowder.  The sweetness of the monkfish and the beer complemented one another really well.

The flavours were pretty rich by this stage of the evening, and while I wasn't 100% struggling yet, I don't think I could have eaten too much more of the fish, bacon, and cream combination.  Fortunately Miss Fitz and I didn't shut up for the whole dinner, so we were burning calories with conversation.  I think that helped.

Fourth Course: Dragon Lady
Dragon's egg with wild mushroom, asparagus & shaved truffles
Pairing: Ommegang Wild At Heart

When the restaurant tried this dish it last year's supper club it was so popular, they had to bring it back this year - and I'm so glad they did.

While we were eating the John Snow salad greens and grains, the waiter circulated an emu egg around to each of the tables.  Of course I've seen emu eggs before - even beautifully carved ones in Australian souvenir shops, but I've certainly never eaten one.

Did you know that one emu egg weighs about the same as one dozen chicken eggs, and they feed about the same number of people? It was certainly heavy and cool to the touch, but I also thought it looked like it was coated in dark green glitter.  Gorgeous.

When the emu egg had finally been scrambled, it was served up in a tiny bowl with some mushrooms, truffles, and crunchy asparagus.  It was like the most heavenly brunch meal you have ever enjoyed.  But again, it was so rich that the tiniest amount made me very happy.

The beers were getting sweeter with each course too, and I really liked this pairing.  It was definitely an easy-drinking beer and cut through the richness of the scrambled emu egg and the beautiful, smoky flavour of the truffles.

Fifth Course:  Jamie
Beef Two Ways - first, a classic steak tartare a la crostini; and second, as braised beef shanks with toasted wheat cavatelli and arugula
Pairing: Ommegang Wild At Heart

To my mind, every good evening would start and end with Jamie Lanister, am I right?  Notwithstanding he's an incestuous murderer, he's pretty yummy.  And I have to say, the two beef offerings we had for this course were equally delicious.

First up, we had a small mound of steak tartare with a big crostini sticking out.  The steak had been ground finely, but not too finely, and I really liked the texture and the peppery taste.  I could have had a second helping of that one.

Then we had the most delicious braised beef shank that was swimming in a small bit of broth with some nutty whole-wheat pasta - it was like a miniature pot roast.  The meat was super tender and just flaked with the fork - so delicious and really flavourful.  If I thought the steak tartare was enjoyable, I hadn't seen anything yet.


Sixth Course:  Tyrion
Lemon Cake, served with lemon curd and oat ice cream
Pairing:  Ommegang Three Philosophers

A tart finish, packed with loads of attitude. Appropriate, no? And pairing a dessert with beer seemed really weird to me at first, but it totally worked.  Despite my love of all things Jamie, in my view Chef Santos really did save the best (Lannister and dish) till last.

The oat ice cream was pretty savoury and kind of bland, but against the tartness of the lemon curd and the sweetness of the cake, it all really worked.  A very simple and uncomplicated end to a rather fancy (and very filling) menu.

I was actually really pleased that I could go along to tonight's supper club dinner.  Far from being kitsch, it was a clever and delicious opportunity to pair food and beer together.  You didn't need to be a fan of "Game of Thrones" in any sense, but you definitely needed to have a healthy appetite and the courage to try new taste sensations.

I'm not sure I'd go out and buy the "Game of Thrones" beers myself; however, I am glad that I can now say I've tried them, and I also got to have a fantastic evening and catch up with a good friend I haven't seen for a really long time.  And that's what nights out in New York are all about.