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.