A howling good time in Chicago

In "Who Framed Roger Rabbit", Donald and Daffy challenge
each other to a piano duel.  Image credit here.

At the western end of 42nd Street in New York, just before you get your feet wet in the Hudson River, there's a little place called Tobacco Road.  It won Best Dive Bar in 2011, and deserved the accolade for sure.  A former bikini bar, Tobacco Road would never win prizes for its decor but it was here that I discovered Shake, Rattle and Roll - New York's fun and silly Dueling Pianos show.  They've since taken their act on the road, moving the pianos down to the cool Tribeca neighbourhood, but that's just geography really. Shake, Rattle and Roll is still the good-time evening out, where you're entertained by super-talented musicians who enjoy sharing good laughs, music, and drinks with a likeminded audience.

I didn't just randomly wander into Tobacco Road that night though.  My interest in the musical craziness that is Duelling Pianos actually began years before, in Chicago.  So just recently, when I was back there with my parents, I took them to where my rowdy, beer-fueled musical education began - Howl At The Moon, on West Hubbard Street, just off Michigan Avenue.

I have never seen a Dueling Pianos show in Australia (maybe we don't have it) so I had to give Mum and Dad the heads up on what to expect.  In Dueling Pianos, there are two pianos up on stage, facing each other.  The pianists take it in turns to play songs that the audience has requested (you do this by writing down your song request on a small piece of paper, and leaving it on the top of one of the pianos).  Adding a few dollars on top of each request helps ensure that your song works its way to the top of the playlist.  If one pianist starts playing a song you don't particularly like, or if you'd just rather hear a different song altogether, you can put some more money on the opposite piano and the other pianist may well start playing your song, basically cutting off the first song.  The duel is on, and it's like musical warfare!  Things can get pretty feisty, and dollar bills and song requests fly back and forth, but the crowd really gets into the spirit and the sing-a-longs alone are worth it.

We showed up at Howl At The Moon on a really frosty Sunday evening and there wasn't much of a crowd at all.  Cover charge wouldn't kick in until later, so we got in for free and we settled down to the business of beer-drinking and brainstorming our song list.  Before long, the small but enthusiastic collection of music fans in the room had started to warm up and we had pulled together a fairly impressive list of diverse requests.

Obviously this wasn't the first time my parents had been exposed to the depths of musical talent in Chicago. After all, we'd hit up Buddy Guy's Legends Bar on Friday night, and The Gospel Brunch at the House of Blues that Sunday morning (where I had been years ago).  As a result of all this, my parents had come to expect big things from Chicago musicians.  But I don't think any of us really anticipated just how talented the Howl At The Moon artists were going to be that night.  Just when you start admiring how well they play the piano, they switched around to accompany each other on drums, or even the guitar, and they were equally brilliant at everything they touched.  From Michael Jackson to AC/DC, and Sir Mix-A-Lot to Van Morrison, the artists managed everything we threw at them, and all without sheet music!  How?  Incredible.

Whether you get to Howl At The Moon in Chicago, or you visit Shake, Rattle, and Roll in New York, you're bound to enjoy Dueling Pianos.  Amazing musicians play the songs you want to hear, while you sing and dance along with a noisy crowd of fun people.  What's not to like about that?!

Turning deep dish pizza upside down

We've discussed once before the unique nature of the Chicago hot dog, but I would have to say that deep dish pizza is the fast food for which Chicago is the most famous.  And rightly so - it's cheesy, it's gooey and it's SO filling.

Our time in Chicago was pretty short this time, and we were so busy during the days that I made the potentially controversial decision not to feed my parents deep-dish pizza while we were in town.  Instead, I took them to a place where pizza is theatre, a place where the concept of ooey-gooey pizza is literally turned upside-down.

The Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Company is located in a converted townhouse in the leafy suburb of Lincoln Park, and the cash-only business is worth every good review it gets.  They don't take reservations though so if you're hungry, I'd recommend you show up either just as they open, or right before they close.

Not heeding my own advice, we arrived around 6.30pm on a Saturday night, amidst the hustle-bustle of the dinner rush.  I fought my way past the throngs of people to register ourselves with the maitre d'.  He didn't write anything down - not my name, not my phone number, nothing.  How he possibly remembered who was who is still beyond me.  We purchased a couple of drinks from the bar and waited in the warm, cosy vestibule for the maitre d' to come and find us.

An hour or so later, we were finally seated and confronted with the food menu.  I don't know why they bothered giving us a menu at all; I mean, we knew exactly what we were there to enjoy.

The half-pound pizza pot pie is the most inventive and delicious pizza I have had in a really long time.  It's an individual serving, and includes "triple-raised Sicilian bread-type dough; a homemade sauce consisting of olive oil, fresh garlic, onions, green peppers, whole plum tomatoes and a special blend of cheeses; sausage made from prime Boston butts; and doorknob-size, whole, fresh mushrooms".  I mean, come on.  How could you go wrong?!

But the thing that makes this pizza so special - and so theatrical - is that it is baked in a bowl, with the crust-side up.  So when your pizza pot pie is ready, the waiter brings it over and inverts it at your table.  The ooey-gooey cheese settles into place on the surface of your bowl-shaped pizza, and it is an utter delight to behold, and to gobble up.

 

With apologies to the deep dish purists but when it comes to pizza, THIS is the taste of Chicago for me.  I definitely recommend you visit The Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Company.  Sure, the name is a mouthful, but so are the amazing pizzas!

A mile of magnificence, and then some

Daniel Burnham was a splendidly-mustachioed American architect and planner, charged with rebuilding the City of Chicago after the Great Chicago Fire of 1871.  To my mind, the best quote ever attributed to Burnham was "make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood" and I think it perfectly characterises Burnham's approach to the 'new' Chicago.

One of the prime ingredients in Burnham's 1909 restoration plan for Chicago was a new commercial centre for the City, that would create retail opportunities away from overcrowded State Street.  With the opening of the Michigan Avenue bridge in 1920, the city was ready to give full expression to Burnham's vision for this busy district.

Regrettably, Daniel Burnham died eight years before The Magnificent Mile sprang to life, but I am fairly confident he would love what it has become.

The Magnificent Mile is the 13-block stretch of Michigan Avenue that runs from the Chicago River in the south to Oak Street in the north.  In that area alone, residents and visitors alike are spoiled with "460 stores, 275 restaurants, 60 hotels and unique entertainments", which includes art galleries and museums.  You can download official maps here to see what I mean.

If you're only in Chicago for a short time, and shopping's not really your thing, you should still walk the Mag Mile to get a feel for exactly what this amazing city has to offer.  We did exactly that on our second morning in Chicago and it was fantastic.  My friend Bolts had flown in from NYC to join us for her maiden visit to Chitown and we were so pleased to have her along.  

After a restorative brunch at super-popular Yolk, we headed back to Michigan Avenue and walked up and down the wide, clean promenades past the shops.  More than once, we remarked how lovely it was to have plenty of space on Michigan Avenue.  Had this been New York, we would have been pushing and jostling with people already.  Such a lovely change of pace for us.

Before long, we were back at the Michigan Avenue bridge and the top of the Magnificent Mile.  We crossed over the frosty Chicago River, which the City would dye green for St Patrick's Day less than a month after our visit.  Hard to believe the ice would have melted in time, no?

As we have already seen, the Magnificent Mile part of Michigan Avenue is dominated by shops, hotels, and restaurants.  But walk across the Michigan Avenue bridge and continue walking south, and you're into The Loop (Chicago's central business district).  You'll quickly note that the architecture becomes decidedly different here.  To the west, you've got big office buildings the occasional high-rise apartment residences.  But to the east, you've got beautiful Lake Michigan and some of the most elegant parklands and cultural institutions you'll see anywhere.

Case in point, we headed into Grant Park, named for decorated Civil War veteran and 18th President of the United States, Ulysses S. Grant.  This park is actually a monster, covering 319 hectares of prime lakefront real estate.  Locally referred to as "Chicago's front yard", Grant Park is put to sensational use throughout the year for a range of public events, music concerts, food festivals, and sports.  

The blustering winds and frosty weather prevented us from exploring Grant Park in its entirety, but we did stop to admire "The Bean", the world-famous sculpture in the Millennium Park section.  The sculpture's actual name is "Cloud Gate" and it was installed in 2006.  Created by Indian-born British artist, Anish Kapoor, The Bean stands 120-feet tall and is comprised of 168 shiny, stainless-steel plates welded together.  During installation, each plate underwent a 5-stage construction process and the end result is that they appear to have been fused together seamlessly.  Even on the cold day that we visited, you can see that the sun shines brilliantly off The Bean's mirrored surface.  Kapoor's vision was always that his sculpture would be publicly accessible but of course, that means The Bean gets pretty dirty.  Annual cleaning costs are estimated between $35,000 and $50,000 which are met through an annual endowment - no public tax dollars are used.

The Bean also overlooks the McCormick Tribune Ice Rink and we watched a bunch of ice skaters navigate their course, with varying degrees of success.  Anyone not brave or coordinated enough to skate should definitely call into the adjacent Park Grill Chicago, where the cocktails are unapologetically strong.

Our art and people appreciation in Grant Park wasn't quite done yet.  We walked past Crown Fountain in Millennium Park, which is one of the most fun places to people watch in summer.  Unfortunately, based on my photos below, Crown Fountain requires a bit more imagination in the winter.

As you can (hopefully) see, the fountains are huge free-standing structures, about 50 feet tall.  They use over 1 million LEDs to display the faces of Chicago residents that change expressions frequently. Between May and October, the faces pout and basically spit water out of their mouths.  The fountains are separated by a large granite slab (covered by the snow in my pictures).  Water spurts out of holes in the slab too, and many children play and splash in the water spouts during the warmer months.

Our final stop on the Grant Park whistle-stop tour was the gorgeous Art Institute of Chicago.  We didn't go inside this time (300,000 works of art being quite beyond us at this point), but I couldn't help but admire the majestic lions standing guard at the entrance.  Reminiscent of the New York Public Library, no?  Fans of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" will of course recognise this building as one of the destinations that Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane visit in the City when they play hooky from school.   And who knows, if you come inside the Art Institute, you might be just as mesmerised by George Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" as Cameron was.

Whether it's shopping, food, art or architecture that floats your boat, Chicago's Michigan Avenue has it all. On our recent visit in frosty February, we only scratched the surface of the Magnificent Mile and the gorgeous parklands - there is just so much more to see.

Where buddies and legends hang out

A steak lunch and two glasses of red wine should have put me straight to sleep but being back in Chicago had infused me with some strange kind of energy.  I wanted to soak it all up, and miss nothing.  Plus the fact it was Friday meant I was buzzed about heading to one of my favourite Chicago haunts, Buddy Guy's Legends Bar.

When I lived in Chicago from 2005 to 2009, I discovered a deep and unwavering love of the blues.  There was no pretension about it.  The musicians were young, old, black, white, but all very cool and in turn, I felt cool just listening to the blues - feeling it.

As a result, I never missed a chance to pony up to Buddy Guy's on the south side of Chicago on a Friday night, usually after a few sherbets at a nearby Irish pub, to appreciate live blues and beers with my buddies.  Now Chicago may be home to the fantastic Blues Brothers but for my money, fans of real blues music need look no further than Buddy Guy's to get their regular fix.

Blues legend and electric guitarist Buddy Guy opened his bar in June 1989 and for a long time it was an average, no-frills establishment that cared not for fancy decor or food items.  The real star of Buddy's' bar was the music - the bar became legendary because of the music legends that Buddy invited to grace his stage and delight his audiences.

My recollection of early visits to Buddy Guy's include plastic chairs, toilet doors that didn't lock, and dim lighting.  I also remember taking a blind date there once after our dinner, as I just wanted to be on familiar territory, and somewhere loud enough that I wouldn't have to talk to him.  Ah, memories!  I was even fortunate to hear Buddy play on a number of occasions; taking breaks between songs to drink shots that a steady procession of attractive women had bought for him.  Nothing was slowing that old guy down - and his wicked grin betrayed his every cheeky thought (about the music and the girls).

So I was really pleased that Mum & Dad were keen to come to Buddy Guy's for a Friday night musical treat.  And I'll admit to being rather taken aback by the amazing renovations that had taken place since my last visit.  This wasn't just a coat of paint either; this was a total overhaul of the establishment - right down to the employment of one of friendliest toilet attendants you'll ever meet in your life (a significant plus for women, trust me).  If you didn't know any better, you'd say that Buddy Guy's version 2.0 was much like the Hard Rock Cafe - a blues museum of sorts.  Guitars displayed everywhere, plaques, awards, and historical photos galore.  And what's not to love about that?!

That particular Friday night of our visit, we had tickets to the 9pm show of the fantastically-named Biscuit Miller and the Mix.  Have you ever seen a band and realised that they are way cooler than you will ever be in your entire life?  Well, enter Biscuit Miller.  With his musical roots firmly planted in gospel and soul, this Chicago native raised the roof off Buddy Guy's and had us all clapping and dancing in our seats.  Mum and Dad were really loving it, and we totally got into the spirit of the music, appreciating the decades of obvious talent on stage before us.

Before we knew it, it was midnight but the crowd and the musicians showed no signs of slowing down.  The pace of the day had hit us though, and it was time to call it quits.  Even though Buddy Guy himself was a no-show, our $20 cover charge was so well spent and we would come back in a heartbeat.

Sweet home Chicago

I had to work during Mum and Dad's recent visit to New York, but I was fortunate to secure a couple of days of vacation so that we could disappear to my old sweet home Chicago. I spent a very happy 4 years there from 2005 to 2009 and while Mum visited me during that period, Dad had never been.  Given that Mum was hell-bent on seeing snow during her US visit, I was fairly confident that Chicago would deliver the goods.

Our American Airlines flight left around 9am one Friday morning, and while the sun was shining on our descent into Chicago, you can see for yourself the frigid conditions awaiting us below.  The ice on Lake Michigan stretched back as far as the eye could see, and snow covered most of the houses and city buildings we flew over.

Chicago O'Hare is the busiest airport in the United States, in terms of flight traffic, but whenever I disembark there I always feel like I'm home again.  I led Mum and Dad through the push and shove of passengers, cabin crew, and airport staff and we headed straight to the baggage claim.  Luggage safely in hand we headed down the escalators to the Blue Line train.

New York has the subway system, but Chicago has the "El" train.  Short for "elevated train", the El is a network of 8 elevated train lines serving over 140 stations.  Like the New York subway system, the El system is colour-coded and clearly marked, and features express and local trains.  The Blue Line runs from Forest Hills (the western terminus), through the City, and out to O'Hare and it is a fantastic way to get to and from the airport.  Not only is it an easy, fuss-free way to travel, but it's inexpensive too.  A one-way taxi fare from O'Hare to Chicago Downtown will cost you about $50 and takes about 30 minutes.  A one-way trip on the Blue Line will only cost you $3 and granted it will take you a little longer, but if you haven't got a heap of luggage, and you're not in a rush, the choice is pretty easy, no?

Another advantage of the Chicago Blue Line train is that it literally stops underneath the baggage claim terminal.  You don't even need to go outside the building to catch it - so handy.  When we got to the station downstairs, I discovered that the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) had replaced its old travel cards with a new Ventra Card system that are like Mastercards (they're credit card sized, and they're rechargeable just like NYC's Metrocards).  In the end, we purchased 3-day Ventra cards from the vending machine to last us for our visit.  The cards can be used on the El trains, as well as on the city buses, so they are a fantastic and flexible way to travel.

Looking back on it, I suppose I was a bit mean making Mum and Dad travel downtown by train, because when we got to the Thompson Center station at Clark/Lake, we had a bit of a walk to get to our hotel.  In fine weather, this would not have been a problem, but winter in Chicago is something else.  You may be aware that Chicago is known as the Windy City.  This nickname actually originated to describe the puffed-up, wind-bag politicians of Chicago's early history, but over time it has also come to capture the heinously cold breezes that come off Lake Michigan, as well as the frozen Chicago River, which winds its way through the Downtown area.  And it was these weather conditions that greeted us as we emerged from the stuffy warmth of the El station.

Needless to say we dragged our suitcases the few blocks to the hotel in basic silence, pausing only to admire the majestic Trump Hotel and also the historical Wrigley Building and the Tribune Tower, that dominate the skyline and Michigan Avenue.

We checked into the beautiful Intercontinental Hotel, where Johnny Weissmuller, Olympic gold medalist and film's original Tarzan, used to train in the gorgeous Olympic-sized swimming pool.  We didn't have time for a dip though because we needed to defrost and have a feed.

For this purpose, we chose the Michael Jordan's Steak House in the lobby of our hotel.  I had neglected to tell Mum and Dad that there is a New York site of the restaurant upstairs at Grand Central Station, overlooking the concourse, and it's a fantastic place to eat and to people-watch. But in Chicago, to be honest, we chose this restaurant not out of any Chicago Bulls loyalty; but rather in part to avoid having to step outdoors in the freezing cold again, but also so we could see my former room mate Lexie, who works in an office building just across the road.  I've been friends with Lexie for 10 years but my Dad had never met her, and Mum had only met her once. It was fantastic to just sit in the restaurant and have a proper catch up with Lex where none of us were actually in a rush or needed to be anywhere in particular.

Food and friends.  This is exactly what our return visit to Chicago was all about, but it was only the beginning!

Nothing to sneeze at here

Every year in late March to early April, the ground floor of Macy's in Herald Square blooms in the brightest of colours at the annual Flower Show.  Signaling the impending arrival of spring, the Flower Show is definitely an iconic event for the store and thousands more shoppers stream through the doors to get a look at the inventive displays.

This year's show is called "Art In Bloom" and flowers carpet the floor and even parts of the ceiling!  With a combination of flowers and pretty lights, I'm a floral fan for sure.

Bend your arm at this New York institution

Established in 1854, McSorley's Old Ale House is widely recognised as the oldest Irish bar in New York City.  Located in the East Village, it's the kind of place with swinging doors, sawdust on the floor, and it has not been redecorated since forever.

McSorley's operated as an all-male establishment for the first 115 years of its life.  Then in 1970 Faith Seidenberg and her brave female friend attempted to come in for a drink but were ejected from McSorley's onto the frosty January sidewalk, much to the raucous delight of the male patrons and waiters at the time.  Faith Seidenberg decided enough was enough.  A lawyer by trade, she sued McSorley's to compel them to admit female patrons.  She won the landmark case, but she never went back to the bar again.  Ms Seidenberg died at her New York home in January this year, but her efforts will always be remembered.

McSorley's, like Ms Seidenberg, is an unforgettable New York character.  The staff there are always ready with a smile and a tall story.  To wet your whistle, your only choices are light beer or dark beer.  Either choice is a great one of course, and you're rewarded with two little beer steins of frothy, cold goodness.  You can also buy a couple of food items, which is particularly useful as the beers go down very easily.

You'd think that McSorley's would be a tourist trap but it's really not.  I've only ever seen a handful of tourists in there over the past few years; usually it's just locals and the crazy St Patrick's Day crowds (who admittedly come from all over).  When I completed the New York half-marathon in 2012 I hobbled to McSorley's for a cleansing ale (or four, if my memory serves).  And there is something wonderful about coming here on a wet, wintry day, hiding from the cold in the warm, dimly-lit pub.

But even if you go to McSorley's on your own, you'll never be bored.  You need only browse all around the walls, behind the bar, and even on the ceiling for some historical treats and treasures.  There is a bust of JFK, framed photographs of the neighbourhood through the ages, and lots of black and white images of old time New York.  Of a more macabre nature though are the wishbones suspended over a light fixture.  Legend has it that American soldiers in WW1 left the wishbones there after a satisfying chicken lunch, pledging to take them down when they came back from the war.  They have remained there, untouched, ever since.

McSorley's is a beautiful time capsule of New York, and as long as you obey the sign over the bar, "Be good or be gone", your memories will always be good ones.  Cheers!

Book nerds, unite!

One of the girls in my office recommended I subscribe to the New York Times website.  Not for the articles, she said, but for the events calendar published online every day.  When I finally took her advice, it was like New York City opened up for me.  Work has been insanely busy so it has been a while since I browsed the website, but I am so glad I looked at it this morning.

Not only did I learn about The Grolier Club on NYC's Upper East Side, but I toured A Legacy More Lasting Than Bronze, a fascinating exhibition of Italian Renaissance book publisher, Aldus Manutius.  If you've ever opened a book, much less read one, you owe a debt of gratitude to Aldus and his family.  Check out my photo album below to find out why.

Post by The ABCs of NYC.

The Griswolds Take Manhattan...again!

Mum and Dad came to town and the snow finally fell.  Mum was especially pleased.  Buttoning up our winter coats, we braved the elements and took off exploring, capturing some of the city icons at their best.  How we didn't get blown off The High Line in the Arctic breeze is anyone's guess!

My parents are in New York for a couple of weeks, and I took a few days off to show them around. These are just some early photos of our adventures.
Posted by The ABCs of NYC on Saturday, February 21, 2015

The Griswolds take New York

So my parents are in town until early March and I love having them here.  Like me, they enjoy late mornings, strong coffee, sightseeing, and generally just soaking up every inch of New York.

I took Thursday and Friday off work to spend a couple of days getting Mum & Dad reoriented to the City.  We're staying in a lovely, spacious 2-bedroom apartment in Midtown not far from where I lived when I first moved here.  So it has been great just to wander the old neighbourhood, pointing out the closest grocery stores, pharmacies, pubs with generous pours, and restaurants with the most delicious dishes.  So far we've enjoyed ice-cold beers, lip-smacking BBQ, and the crispiest wood-oven fired pizza.

We went to Madison Square Park, past the beautiful Flatiron Building that I love so much.  After a bit of shopping in Chelsea, I showed Mum & Dad my old, booby-trapped apartment, and then we walked the new extension of the High Line (and nearly froze solid in the process).

We retreated to the warmth of Grand Central Terminal, including the last vestiges of the Holiday Train Show at the NY Transit Museum - a lovely model train of New York and the Hudson Valley.  I went on my first tour of the NY Public Library and got to see their copy of the Gutenberg Bible, plus the original stuffed toys that inspired the Winnie the Pooh stories.  

Lunch at the Grand Central Oyster Bar was great, walking underneath the beautiful Guastavino tiled roof.  And even though the New York Knicks lost to the Miami Heat, it was so much fun to get to Madison Square Garden and cheer them on.

But, see?  The literal frosting on the cake came yesterday, when the skies opened up and rained down a slushy wintry mess of ice and snow.  Now we're from a part of Australia that doesn't see snow (unless there is a very freaky weather occurrence up in the Hills) so I was so glad that Mum got to play in her first snowfall.  "Kid in a candy store" is the most apt expression for what ensued.

Post by The ABCs of NYC.

I love big hair and bigger ballads

"Sex and the City" was a fantastic show about the excesses of New York - cocktails, men, and taking taxis the length and breadth of Manhattan.  Real-life New York may be like that for some people, but the rest of us tend to enjoy a more moderate way of life.

And let's face it, when there's an absence of sex in the city on Valentine's Day, you could stay at home and mope about it or you can do what I did and head to Union Hall in Park Slope, Brooklyn for a fantastic night out.

The front bar of Union Hall has a roaring open fire, filled-to-capacity bookshelves, and plush comfy couches and the bartenders don't hold back with the pours.  But wander a bit further along and you'll find bocce games in progress - yep, inside the bar!  Who needs pool tables?

But my evening was not to be spent above ground, with the couples on dates getting all snuggly in the bar.  Oh no, I headed downstairs into the basement of Union Hall to rock out with Love Bites: A Power Ballad Sing-A-Long.  A fantastic evening, for the bargain price of $10 (plus drinks).

The biggest hair of the 70s, 80s, and 90s was on full display in the music videos beamed up on to a big screen and as the lyrics scrolled along the bottom (karaoke style) all of us in the room sang at the top of our lungs.  Fists pumped in the air, inflatable microphones were passed around the crowd like batons, and air guitar contests raged.

My hit-list included "Eternal Flame" to "Sister Christian", then "Every Rose Has Its Thorn", "Kiss From a Rose", and working up to "Oh Sherrie"and "When I See You Smile" - I sang till I was hoarse.  But when they played "You Give Love A Bad Name", I realised I had a bit left in the tank to rock out some more.

The power ballads might have been love songs, but there was nothing lovey-dovey or soppy about the Valentine's Day celebrations at Union Hall last night.  From 9pm until midnight, singletons, couples, even people who publicly classified their relationship as "it's complicated" sang side by side.

You don't have to wait for February 14th for nights like that either - the party hosts Secret Formula host a bunch of other sing-a-longs throughout the year (R&B, 80s hits and others also feature). Follow them on Facebook & Twitter to stay up to date on all their shows.

Old-school plays in mint condition

Image source here

Founded in 1992, New York's Mint Theater Company is dedicated to bringing old, often neglected plays back to the stage.  The tiny theater space is located on the 3rd floor of a rather unremarkable building on West 43rd Street. But inside, there isn't a bad seat in the house.

Since the company was established, Mint has staged about 30 plays and yesterday I went along to see its latest production, Fashions for Men - a charming, character-driven comedy by Hungarian playwright Ferenc Molnar.

Old-school haberdashers used to be a place for men to buy their fashion and accessories: gloves; coats; scarves and the like.  But life, on and off stage, gets decidedly more interesting when you introduce women into the action too.  So Act 1 of "Fashion For Men" opens in a haberdashers in Budapest in 1917 that caters to a colourful cast of male and female characters from all walks of life.

In a post-play discussion with the company's dramaturg and scholar, Dr Maya Cantu, we were reminded that even though the play is set in WW1 Europe, Molnar makes no mention of these outside influences in his play.  There's no hint of strife or sacrifice and as one critic put it, the play really does feel like it's taking place "inside a snowglobe".  Indeed, no external or "real life" influences interfere with the action at all.

And maybe that's what helps "Fashion For Men" retain its appeal across the decades.  It's not frozen in time - it could probably be set anywhere, at any point in history.  The characters are certainly credible.  The protagonist is Peter Juhasz, owner of the haberdashers, and the quintessential nice guy.  Never seeing the bad in people, he's constantly being taken for granted by the other characters - they take his money, his emotional energy, and his time.   Around him, we meet the unfaithful wife, the deceptive co-worker, the wise older man, the skirt-chasing aristocrat, and the conniving ingenue - all of whom capitalise on Peter's good nature to achieve their own end game.  Such saintly goodness has led critics to describe Juhasz as "unworldly" and even "pathetic", but I think I share NY Times critic John Corbin's assessment of Juhasz as "a character conceived with the most exquisite grace and sympathy".

As the three-act play unfolded on a series of beautiful old-timey sets, I do remember thinking that Molnar's 1917 Hungary is a lot like 2015 New York City.  There are pushy-shovey people galore out there who will try and take advantage of you if they think you'll let them.  And while his kindness can sometimes be frustrating in the face of such blatant exploitation, ultimately Peter Juhasz sees his fellow characters for who they are, but he stays true to who he is.  He doesn't stoop to the mercenary level of others and because of that, when Peter finally realises his happy ending, you know the audience is proud of him.

I'm so pleased to meat you!

On my very first visit to New York my friend took me to a steakhouse for dinner.  I can't remember which one we visited, but I do recall that we ate really late; our reservation was around 10pm or something.  The restaurant was still so full, even at that late hour, and I remember thinking how hardcore New Yorkers seemed.  This really was the City that never sleeps.

Fast forward a few years and I'm still a steakhouse devotee.  In search of the perfect medium-rare steak I've dined at places in the Financial District, Midtown, the Upper East Side, and pretty much everywhere in between.  And let me tell you, none of them have ever let me down.  New York steakhouses are a carnivore's paradise.

Case in point, last night's excursion to Quality Meats on West 58th Street.  Online reviews and feedback from friends all suggested I would enjoy the dining experience and I was not disappointed.  Even the 9pm reservation time didn't bother me - after all, I'm a New Yorker now and late reservations are just how we roll!

I arrived a few minutes ahead of my friends last night and I sidled up to the bar.  The friendly bartenders definitely had their hands full, catering to a noisy bunch of customers of all ages.  As often happens with me, I befriended an older man at the bar and we swapped steakhouse stories, while I sipped a delicious glass of Duckhorn "Decoy" meritage from the Napa Valley.  The restaurant's wine list has 350 bottles to choose from, so you've really got your work cut out for you.

We didn't have to wait too long for our table but by the time we were seated, I had worked up quite the appetite.  Take a look at the menu online and I'm sure you'll be as happy as I was last night.  My heart sang when I saw the corn creme brulee on list of side dishes, because late last year I'd had that same dish at Quality Italian, the restaurant's sister location around the corner.  Delicious!  But while it was great to revisit something familiar, I lived a little dangerously and tried the bacon and peanut butter appetiser, which admittedly sounds weird but was a taste sensation.  The oysters, steak tartare, roast potatoes, creamed spinach, bread rolls and the steak sauce (prepared table-side) were all amazing.  And my steak?  Cooked to medium-rare perfection.

The food, service and decor at Quality Meats was all wonderful.  Dining so well never comes cheap, but good friends from Chicago don't visit me every day, so the treat was well worth it.  And big thanks to Courtney for these photos.  You know that if I'd taken them, they would never have been in focus!

The amuse bouche turned cheese
and crackers on its head (literally!)

The baked oysters appetiser

The dinner rolls were soft and flaky

Behold the majesty of steak tartare.
Yes, that is an egg yolk in the centre!  YUM.

Because the world needs more bacon,
and peanut butter was an inspired addition.

Whoa, that is quite a steak! Bonus points for
the brussels sprouts & corn creme brulee sides. 

More sides - creamed spinach & herbed roast potatoes

Told you - a carnivore's dream, cooked to perfection. 

And to complement your steak, how about
some special sauce, prepared table-side?

I was defeated by the time dessert came, but
behold monkey bread with walnut ice cream
and chocolate sauce. Amazing.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

Two years ago tomorrow, I moved into a little studio apartment in Chelsea, on the western side of Manhattan.  In the interests of transparency, I must tell you I was both tipsy and rather desperate when I viewed the apartment for the first time.  I really needed to find a place to live and seeing the small studio filled with the previous tenant's belongings convinced me (even in my beer-addled state) that I had found my New York home.  I signed the lease, paid the security deposit, and a few weeks later when I finally took custody of the empty apartment, my sober self stared in utter disbelief at the blank slate before me.

Extremely crooked floors.  Low ceiling.  Greying tiles on the bathroom floor.  Noisy radiator.  Lunatic neighbours (though I would learn this much later).  When the movers brought in my furniture, they actually laughed.  What had I done?!

For a time though, I could overlook the apartment's flaws.  "Diamond in the rough" became an oft-uttered phrase around my house.

I painted a bright feature wall - selecting Tiffany Blue (of course), though I had to Google it for the guy in the paint department at Home Depot.  I bought a fantastic striped shower curtain from Kate Spade, some simple but beautiful DKNY curtains and a cheerful, coral-colored bedspread with lots of cushions of different sizes.  I went to Anthropologie and bought blue glass knobs to add pizzazz to my plain kitchen cupboard doors.  I put up some temporary wallpaper in a fantastic peacock print, and even had some house plants for a while (a short while, as is usually the case for me).  I bought artwork, which I never found the confidence ot hang.  I quickly acquired a sleek Nespresso machine in a gorgeous shade of green, which naturally clashed with my fire engine red microwave, but I didn't care.  I put together flatpack kitchen storage, and a cube bookcase (for a literature collection that only ever seemed to grow).  And if the four walls of that one-room studio seemed to close in on me, I just stepped outside into wonderful, eclectic, noisy Chelsea, and I was spoiled with bars and restaurants and art galleries in every direction.

The lease on that studio expires tomorrow and I have chosen not to renew it.  I could turn this post into an acrimonious take-down of the "building management" company, but I really don't have the energy to do that.  Suffice it to say that the last few months of my tenancy were characterised by a leaky ceiling (that was only ever patched up and never properly mended), potentially hostile neighbours that played showtunes at full volume until 4am on weekdays, and lengthy interruptions to our heat, hot water, and cooking gas (the latter is still not connected).  It was definitely time to go.

While I'm certainly not sentimental about the studio apartment I'm leaving behind, I did form attachments to some of the contents (the cheerful bedspread, curtains, and cushions, just to name a few).   Those I'm keeping with me, and will be a beautiful reminder of the effort I made to carve out a little corner of Chelsea for myself.  I bequeathed some of my homewares to friends and colleagues, selling others on Craigslist and donating yet more belongings to thrift stores and even to the local animal shelter (they love used sheets and towels).  I also discovered the fantastic resource called Task Rabbit, where you can hire people to do odd jobs for you.  The guys I contracted to do heavy lifting for me were an absolute godsend.

Real estate prices in Manhattan make it really hard for many people to afford even a studio apartment, so I know how lucky I've been to have had that space to myself for the past two years.  I loved living in Chelsea and the mixed feelings I have about the apartment will never taint the overall fondness I have for the neighbourhood.

But having said all that, when I gathered up my jackets, and moved it to the exits, I knew it was closing time and I was ready to go.  The Chelsea apartment chapter is closed, and the next one is about to begin.

New York's fizzer blizzard

The snow plows still haven't
made it to East 74th Street!

I know it has been a long time between posts, but I've been moving out of my apartment and it has been a particularly stressful time.  The whole process has taught me a lot about the ups and downs of NY real estate and I'll definitely share those stories soon.

For now though, the City is recovering from Winter Storm Juno (aka The Blizzard That Wasn't).  Now I lived in Chicago for nearly four years so I'm used to snowy conditions, but today was my very first Snow Day ever, and I made the most of it with a decent sleep-in, hot cups of tea, and generally not moving too far from the sofa.

All the hype yesterday suggested that Winter Storm Juno was going to bring New York City to an utter standstill, and the commute home last night was really awful.  Buses crawled down the road in almost white-out conditions.  Blustering wind whipped up snowflakes so they seemed to be coming from all sides, ending up stinging your eyeballs and freezing your face.  But even though the going was slow and frustrating, as this gallery from Gothamist shows, a snowy City is still a pretty City.

Buildings signs are still covered by a
dusting of white, clean snow

Residents across New York responded to the Mayor's warnings by clearing out supermarket shelves - bread, milk, artisan cheeses, and lots of potato chips and pretzels.  We also seemed to decide that drinking through the storm was a sensible idea, with alcohol sales in New York and Boston up an impressive 477% percent!

As we all emerged from our collective hangover this morning, NYC residents no doubt expected to see a City paralysed by white-out snow, no cabs, and mass transit shut-downs.  The reality was different of course.  

Manhattan still ended up with about 8 inches of snow courtesy of Winter Storm Juno, and the streets were eerily quiet the day after, but the Mayor was right - we dodged a bullet, ending up with only about a third of the snow that was initially forecast.