Has US history always been this delicious?

So last week I was obsessing over the idea of pan-fried scallops (and thank heavens Pearl Oyster Bar in the West Village could provide).  This week's culinary craving was pork crackling, and I don't mind admitting that I was rather resolute in my commitment to ugly-cry if I didn't get it.

I needn't have worried though, because I have been assured that pork cracklings will forever remain a staple on the menu of King Bee - a wonderful new restaurant in the East Village that opened in early October. 

The restaurant specialises in "Acadian-inspired cuisine" and if that sounds unusual to you, you're not alone.  Without geeking you out entirely, Acadian cuisine basically dates back to the late 17th/early 18th Century.  The Acadians were the descendants of French colonists living in the Canadian Maritimes provinces (modern-day Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and New Brunswick).  They refused to pledge allegiance to the invading British forces, and in August 1755 over 11,000 Acadians were basically kicked off their land.  While some fled to Georgia, many of the Acadians ended up in Louisiana, and there they developed what we know as Cajun culture - the language, the music, and especially the food.


The Arrival of the Acadians in Louisiana, by Robert Dafford (Image credit here)

King Bee pays homage to this chapter of American history by adapting Acadian-inspired recipes for more modern palates.  The concept totally worked for me but then again, any restaurant whose menu leads with pork cracklings gets a gold star in my book!  The minimalist decor and white-washed walls with funky canvas art allow the food, the bespoke cocktails, and huge wine list to be the real stars of the show - and the formal reviews and informal write-ups from diners have so far been very positive.  This review from the New Yorker had me ready to camp out at the restaurant early.

Our table of four tonight was pretty keen to share a bunch of dishes to maximise our enjoyment.  With excellent service to take care of us, we sipped glasses of tasty Beaujolais (two excellent recommendations) and stuffed ourselves with the pork cracklings and rabbit rillette, plus some faro salad, baked oysters, gumbo, roast chicken, poutine with lamb neck, lobster, and earthy mushroom risotto.  Dessert was a shared piece of the traditional Cajun gateau de sirop - so sweet and tasty.  Definitely "food coma" material.

I had not heard of Acadian cuisine before my visit to King Bee, but I totally loved it.  I really enjoyed the mix of heady spices, and the big flavours present in each dish we tried.  But I'm especially pleased that King Bee has proudly classified itself as "Acadian-inspired" rather that simply "Cajun" or even "Southern" or something more generic like that.  The unfamiliar reference to Acadia made me curious, it got me Googling, and I learned a bit more about US history and the diversity of cuisine available in New York.  And what a tasty lesson that turned out to be.

An Asian assignment, with no filter

Daniel Berehulak is an award-winning Australian photographer whose first ever exhibition opened tonight at the Site 109 Gallery on New York’s Lower East Side.

Daniel first travelled to India in 2003 as a backpacker and a freelance photographer with Getty Images.  He’s just wrapped up 5 years on assignment in the region, where he and his lens have been on the frontline of some of history’s most incredible moments.

From the unique viewpoint of a photojournalist, Daniel’s images present both high and low moments from across the region, from the landmark elections in Afghanistan, to the floods that devastated Pakistan in 2010.

Daniel captured the festivities around the 2013 Kumbh Mela pilgrimage, where 100 million Hindus gathered to bathe in the waters of the Ganges.  For one particular image of this historical event, Daniel was recognised as 2014 Photographer of the Year (Freelance/Agency) by Pictures of the Year International.  But right alongside the stunning photos of these jubilant pilgrims, Daniel presents a decidedly different side of life in the country, capturing images of the child labour conditions in the deep mines of North East India.  A lady viewing the mine-related images next to me had closed her eyes and bowed her head in prayer, presumably for the safety of the kids in the pictures.  

The exhibition also features photos from Daniel’s most recent assignments with the New York Times, covering both child malnutrition in Afghanistan, and the recent historical elections in India.

I don’t know much about art, and I am a truly terrible photographer, but I do love travelling and learning about other countries and cultures.  I was so impressed with the way tonight's exhibition had been curated.  I think the photos in Daniel’s exhibition appealed to me because he didn’t shy away from presenting something unsettling.  I also think that by spotlighting just three countries in Asia, Daniel wants us to appreciate the diversity in the region and to understand the resilience of the people who live there.  With some black and white work, and many brightly-coloured (which pleased me), Daniel remains at a respectful distance from his subjects, but he still manages to deliver powerful social commentary.

The exhibition has been curated in such a way that there is a good mix of confronting imagery, right alongside more 'everyday' portraits.  I was grateful for the photos of kids just being kids, and even to see pictures of the Swat province in Pakistan, which I recognised as the one Malala Yousafzai grew up in.  To me, the whole exhibition felt like a warts-and-all travel guidebook, and I can totally get on board with that concept.

I was also really proud to realise that Daniel's exhibition was created by the Australian Consulate-General in New York.  Without their encouragement, Daniel might not have been inspired to share his amazing photos with such a huge audience.  Fortunately, Reportage by Getty Images was also behind the exhibition, supporting Daniel as one of their contributing artists.

Whether you're an art fan or not, you need to see Daniel's work.  His exhibition will be open to the public until 27 June so make sure you stop by.

A very memorable long weekend

When you move to a city like New York, the concept of a staycation over a long weekend is never a trial.  In fact, you wear the goofiest of grins when the drizzly rain and thunderstorms clear out and you get bright sunshine soaking right through your skin and down into your bones.  Such was the experience for New Yorkers this long weekend, capped off with Memorial Day celebrations that herald the official start of summer.

I had a fairly low-key Saturday, filled with the sorts of errands that everybody puts off doing during the week.  Come Sunday though, I was ready to face the City and like most New Yorkers, that meant the most delicious of weekend institutions: brunch.

Alder is one of those tiny restaurants that line the stretch of Second Avenue in the East Village.  Blink and you'd miss it, but that would be a shame.  Their outdoor dining space is also small, but we snagged a great table in the sun, and shared the bacon, egg & cheese gyoza, and a serve of pickled beets, before I tucked in to my delicious pastrami hash, with a soft-boiled egg that oozed gooey yolk like liquid sunshine.  The barista at Alder knows a thing or two about coffees as well, and on that front I was not disappointed.

A few blocks away, the predominantly Puerto Rican community on the Lower East Side hit the streets on Avenue C to celebrate The Loisaida Festival 2014, a massive community street fair that stretched for blocks.  In a neighbourhood that used to be racked by drugs, violence, and gangs, fed-up local residents started the Festival in the mid-1970s as an attempt to rebuild their little corner of New York.  Over the years, the annual celebration has grown to embrace other Hispanic nationalities, but the Puerto Rican flags were still flying high yesterday.  There were little stalls selling grilled meats, roasted corn, and the most refreshing pina coladas for $5.  A large concert stage set up at the very end of the Festival showcased a number of bands that inspired couples of all ages to get up and dance.  My friends from Brazil and El Salvador could not stand still and I have to say, despite not having any salsa rhythm to speak of, I found it hard not to shimmy along.  If you can't beat 'em, join' em!

Regretting my decision to wear 3" heels, I left the Festival and hobbled a few blocks to Ninth Ward, a narrow and dark Louisiana bar back up on Second Avenue.  Walk through the dim, wood-paneled bar area and you'll find  the restrooms (unisex - and rather cheekily labelled "Sex", "Drugs" and "Rock n Roll").  Continue further on and you emerge into a beer garden that is a real treat.  The sun was still warm, the drinks were ice-cold, and our smiles were large.

It must have been the day for friends and cold beers, because after our refreshing pit-stop, we persuaded a lovely taxi driver to take us a few blocks south, just past Houston Street.  We called into Fool's Gold, which was having its "soft opening" yesterday - prior to its official launch on 1 June.  With a massive selection of craft beers, and very knowledgeable staff, we sipped our drinks and watched the sign-writer paint the brand-new gastropub's name on its front doors.  It's not often that you get to see a New York bar before the "welcome" sign paint even dries!

When my alarm went off this morning, and the sun was already shining on Memorial Day, I don't mind admitting that I cursed the impromptu bar crawl of the day before.  But I did not roll over and go back to sleep, because I'd made a deal with myself to head to the Upper West Side and observe the Memorial Day ceremony at the Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument at Riverside Park.  I'd never been up to this part of the Upper West Side, and on such a beautiful and important day, it seemed silly to stay under the covers.

So off to the Upper West Side I went, and with a cool breeze blowing off the Hudson River, just past the tree line, I sat and watched the crowd grow for the Memorial Day service.  Pipers were warming up not too far away, and the Navy band was in place and ready to go.

The Soliders' and Sailors' Monument was created in homage to the Civil War soldiers that served and gave their lives to protect the Union.  Then-Governor Theodore Roosevelt laid the cornerstone of the Monument in 1900 and it was dedicated two years later.  Now the monument comes under the care of the NYC Parks Department.  They completed a major restoration in 1960 and the plaza (where we sat today) was reconstructed in 2008.

There was a huge turnout today - hundreds of people came to pay their respects.  The old ladies in my row handed me a giant American flag and designated me the official flag-waver for our group.  At various points in the ceremony I was prodded to lift the flag high and wave it proudly.  The only time they gave me a break was during the Star Spangled Banner, which was just as well because I always get a bit weepy during that song.  I know, I'm not even from here - I can't help it.

The line-up of guest speakers for this morning's ceremony included a who's who of the City of New York.  Mayor De Blasio was there and delivered a stirring address, speaking quite personally about growing up in an Army household and the importance of always remembering the fallen.  The Mayor was followed by the Secretary of the Navy, the City Comptroller, the Borough President of Manhattan, and a Brigadier General from the 2nd Marine Division.

After a group of young cadets recited the Gettysburg Address, wreaths were laid in memory of those who had given their lives for their country.  Before long, the base of the Monument was a sea of lush green foliage and bright, colourful flowers.

The ceremony only last about 90 minutes but it was a beautiful tribute to past and present men and women in the armed forces.

Walking back through Riverside Park, I enjoyed the cool Hudson River breeze on my face, and just watched the families, joggers, cyclists, and dogs all out and about on this sunny public holiday.

My belly was growling for lunch by the time I reached the steps of The Boat Basin Cafe, which has finally re-opened for the season.  The hostess was kind enough to find me a table right by the water, and somehow I bypassed the 25-minute wait for tables.  My Australian accent wins again!  I had already had one of the most American days in living memory, so I continued the theme with beers and a burger - now that, my friends, is the real American dream!

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.

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!

Maybe crime DOES pay...eventually?

In an unassuming two-room apartment on St. Mark’s Place in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, you will find the Museum of the American Gangster. 

During the Prohibition era, the building had been a speakeasy, owned by NY gangsters Frank Hoffman and Walter Schieb.  A young Frank Sinatra waited tables there, serving drinks poured from behind a long bar on the first floor that was wired to blow up in the event of a police raid.  Clearly this was never needed, but perhaps staff and patrons fled through the speakeasy’s three escape tunnels instead.  Hoffman and Schieb had bribed local business owners to let them dig the tunnels through their basements. 

In 1964, the Otway family purchased the building from Schieb and opened a theatre, but Lorcan Otway had designs on a museum to tell the story of the time when the likes of Al Capone, Lucky Luciano and John Gotti ruled the City’s streets. 

Otway’s dream was realised in 2010 and while the museum may be small, his lovingly-curated collection includes newspaper clippings, Tommy guns, John Dillinger’s death mask, and bullets from the St. Valentine’s Day massacre in Chicago.

Otway’s knowledge and enthusiasm for the seedier side of early New York has been described as “encyclopaedic” and he happily leads tours of the speakeasy and museum, to tell the story of the role that organised crime has played in shaping the politics, culture and legend of New York City.

Vegetarians need not apply

“Katz's Deli" is a Lower East Side institution that jams truly staggering amounts of tender pastrami, mouth-watering corned beef, tangy sauerkraut, and spicy mustard onto their rye bread sandwiches.  But the matzo ball soup, chicken soup, and dill pickles are also delicious.  

Locals and tourists alike flock to Katz's every day, and lines out the door aren't unusual.  Katz's walls are covered in tacky neon beer signs and photos of past and present celebrity diners.  You can either order from the counter like a local, or you can opt for table service.  You can even sit where Meg Ryan performed THAT famous scene in "When Harry Met Sally".   Who didn't want what she was having?!

When the deli opened its doors in 1888, it was owned by the Iceland Brothers.  Willy Katz and his cousin bought the business by 1910 and moved it across the road onto Houston Street, to make way for the new subway tunnel construction. 

In its early days, Katz's catered mostly to European immigrants, and in the 1920s and 30s it also became a regular hangout for actors and audience members of the Yiddish theatre scene. 

When the Katz sons were deployed overseas in WW2, the deli began sending them food supplies wherever they were stationed.  "Send a salami to your boy in the Army" has been the store's slogan ever since.   

The deli remained in the Katz family until the mid-1980s when long-time family friends came on board to manage the operations. 

Each week, Katz's serves 10,000 pounds of pastrami; 5,000 pounds of corned beef; 2,000 pounds of salami, and 12,000 hotdogs. 

And don't forget to slip the counter guy a couple of dollars when you place your order.  He'll let you sample some of the pastrami while he's cutting it, and he'll give you the most tender pieces he has.  This is the voice of experience (in stretchy pants) talking.