A Brooklyn Life

I’ve lived in Brooklyn for almost two years now and it’s only with this last haircut that I think I may have found a good, affordable salon for a cut. Sure, I had a couple of great $100 cuts in the city (and a couple not-so-great $80 ones), but after tip, you betta luv that haircut and it betta grow out real nice. I know rents are higher here, people have to eat, etc., but $100 is just too rich for me. I even tried the Bumble and Bumble free practice cuts, where I got the most boring (yet most nerve-wracking) bob of my life. With the flight deals back to my former home of Atlanta being as cheap as they are, it was almost worth the flight just for a reasonable cut and color. That is until I went to the Beehive Salon in Williamsburg. Now, I’ve only had one cut there, by a very down-to-earth woman named Jessica, but so far, so good. She took her time, cut wet and dry, and never even reached for the razor (a personal pet peeve of mine as razors do not work with fine hair).  Best part: The cut was $55 before tip. Whew, I even had enough left over to buy a cappuccino from Gimme Coffee. Anybody else have stories of happy hair or horror hair to tell?

From the rooftop, it looked like there were hunters in orange jumpsuits running around a sparse, leafless forest. Certainly not worth the lines for the rather flat view–better to sneak up into a surrounding high rise for a truly bird’s-eye look. Still, I got a couple of semi-nice shots by holding my camera as high as it would go and blindly shooting in the direction of the park.

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This is the third in a series of books spotted on the subway.

There are Jews in my House: Stories by Lara Vapnyar.
When the Elephants Dance by Tess Uriza Holthe.
Neurobiology of Learning and Memory by Joe L. Martinez, Raymond P. Kesner.
Dutch: A Memoir of Ronald Regan by Edmund Morris.
El asalto by Reinaldo Arenas.
Citizen Girl by Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Krauss.
Friday Night Lights: a Town, a Team,  a Dream by  H.G. Bissinger.

On my lap:
A Shameful Affair and Other Stories by Kate Chopin.

According to the New York Daily News. Plus a renewed promise that there really is a Whole Foods opening in Park Slope. [via Brownstoner]

Had dinner the other night at the newish restaurant, Bouillabaisse, on Union Street near Columbia in Carroll Gardens West. The food aside, and it was very good, the restaurant has a very strange menu presentation technique. It happens right after your party is seated and its hunger momentarily sated with a basket of bread: The waiter brings the menu. Not a strange turn of events, except that the menu is a giant (and I do mean giant) chalkboard with the day’s dishes scrawled across its  surface. The shock and giggle of seeing a rather demure waiter toting a giant chalkboard across the restaurant quickly turns to horror when said waiter proceeds to just stand there and hold the huge slate tablet while your eyes frantically scramble across its uneven lines. It’s hard to stare at a menu when the waiter is staring back at you and holding a giant menu. There’s no chance to muse "O honey, why don’t you get the salmon and I’ll get the steak" or to argue about the shared appetizer.  After a few tense moments later, the waiter politely asked, "Do you know what you want?"  Heh, I don’t even  know what your menu says because I’m still focusing on the giant chalkboard in your hand.

All giant chalkboard jokes aside, the food pleased. By far, the best dish was the filet mignon. The oft-overused expression of the knife sinking into the steak as if it were butter is apropos.  The dish’s accompanying sides of mashed potatoes and sauteed carrots and leaks nicely complimented the richness of the meat. We also ordered the bouillabaisse, which in layman’s terms is a seafood stew. We were a little let down by the simple, somewhat bland, broth, but the seafood was top-notch. We haven’t sampled a lot of bouillabaisses, so I’m not sure how spicy and flavorful the broth should be.

Go now, while the place still doesn’t have a liquor license: Our appetizer (crab cake), two meals (fillet and bouillabaisse) and dessert (a very satisfying creme brulee) came to about $55 before tip.  Bring your own bottle of wine, and this dinner’s a steal.

You can find Bouillabaisse at 126 Union, between Columbia and Hicks
streets. Phone (718) 855-4405. The website isn’t up yet, but its address is www.bouillabaisse126.com.

Whew. Totally behind in postings. I think it has something to do with the mini crisis that hit me when I turned 29, that, and the hangover that followed. So now that I’ve recovered (at least physically if not mentally), I wanted to share my Valentine’s Day adventure. On Sunday and Monday I attempted, for the first time ever, to make a cake–and not one from the box.  Of course, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I decided to make what seemed like the most complicated recipe ever: the Black Pearl Layer Cake from Epicurious.com. It involves a ginger-wasabi ganache, a homemade vanilla-ginger syrup, three layers of chocolate goodness, plus a ginger whipped cream frosting.

I wanted to make this cake for two reasons. The first could be construed as selfish: I wanted my cooking whiz of a husband to respect my creativity and talent in the kitchen. The second was, of course, that I wanted to make him something–instead of buying something–to counter the overly commercial nature of the manufactured holiday.  I hadn’t considered that to make the cake I’d have to buy a few things, actually a lot of things, more than $60 worth of things in all. Yes, the pressure heated up a bit after my trip to Whole Foods. Would you believe that all $60 worth of ingredients fit into one bag? This is not a cake I wanted to mess up.

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This is the second in a series of musings from my friend, Yer Vang, who helped put The Gates in Central Park.

Friday, Feb. 11

I think I figured out how to sum up this whole experience:  It’s just like summer camp.

While eating our fabulous meals from a buffet-style cafeteria, I
turned to my fellow teammates and realized that this just like camp. We even have an "end to the gates dance" on Sunday night at some cheesy
club off of 14th Street. It has an open bar, so I guess that part of it
is not so summer camp-ish. But I do feel like our little cabin has come
a long way, and as much as The Gates is this beautiful visual
experience, I think it’s also about the relationships formed in all of
our willingness to make this artistic vision come to life. I think we
are always on a constant search for this connection, whether it be a
small moment connecting with one person or a big moment of coming
together with a group of people and building 7,800 gates for Central Park. We live for moments like these, like standing in the middle of
the dance floor and feeling everyone groove to the same beat, the
feeling that beyond all of our differences there is that one moment of
synchronicity. It’s wonderful when we can allow art to do this for
us; I live for these moments.

Even though I’m seriously in pain, and Bengay has really become my best friend, and I’ll probably be getting up at 6am without an alarm for the next week, and my next paycheck will be cut in half, it was so worth the experience, especially tomorrow when we unfurl the fabric.

…  I hope you all are finding moments of inspiration, especially in these times.

I’m going to step aside from the keyboard today, and let a friend of mine, Yer Vang, who worked all last week to help with The Gates, take the reins. As much credit as Jeanne-Claude and Christo deserve for the vision and the financing of the project, I think it’s good to remember that workers came from all across the country to help make their vision a reality. These are the people who woke up at the crack of dawn Saturday morning to unfurl the fabric and breathe fresh life into Central Park.

Monday, Feb. 7

First off, just let me say starting new things with strangers is like eating lunch in the cafeteria on your first day of high school. I feel myself turn into this shy 9th grader talking about my favorite color.

We have six days to build 7,800 steel gates. My team of eight, with whom I will work with all week from 7am to 4:30pm, will build 100 gates covering the west side of central park from 68th Street to 72nd Street. These will be my gates. It’s amazing to be a part of something like this, but in actuality you don’t really have to build them to be a part of them, the experience is the art.

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Well, at least I’m not 30. Cause that’s when you have to get all responsible, right?

(for more monkey love …)