Posts Tagged ‘brooklyn’

the nytimes tells us that the L is the most romantic line in all the subways in all of new york city. in true scientific fashion, this info has been gleaned by scouring craigslist missed connections. an accurate and apropos scientific inquiry and methodology.

File:Satmar community Williamsburg brooklyn new york.jpg


there is some sexy williamsburg romance a-brewin under those payes.

[ stefanie ]

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future islands is a shimmery new wavey sorta group who used to play with dan deacon and wham city; on 12 june at 8pm they will be playing at the silent barn in ridgewood; you should come!

this is an especially pretty music video (in hd!!!) for their song tin man:

their music feels like pastel afternoons at a build-a-bear workshop, and also like wearing neon leggings while eating ice cream cake on cape cod, and maybe even a little bit like what it would’ve felt like if molly ringwald came to my bat mitzvah.

if you do come to the show and you see a short girl with brown hair dancing around like a huge dork you should come say hi; either it will be me or you will have just made a super cool new friend.

[ stefanie ]

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I go out to eat a lot.  The general rule of thumb when you (the omnivore that you are, maybe) go out to eat is DON’T GET THE CHICKEN.***  Why? Well, because, we eat a lot of chicken at home, right? And you know how to cook it already.  And mostly because it’s not that sexy or exciting.

Unless, that is, you eat it at Le Barricou, a brasserie (sort of) style place in the heart of south/east/central Williamsburg *Brooklyn*.

Never in my life have I craved chicken… until now.  In this very moment, I would love for nothing more than to sink my teeth into their chicken sandwich* or devour their coq au vin** (yyeaah–ahh!).  These are the juiciest, sexiest chicken dishes I’ve ever met, and I’m coming back for more.

Also- no small matter: their chicken dishes are decidedly much better than their beef/seafood- this is unheard of, people!

*With avocado, tomato, provolone cheese, chipotle, mayonnaise on country bread. Served with mixed greens & pommes frites

**Chicken stewed in red wine & served with mashed potatoes

***So you’re a vegetarian. My condolences.  Psych! Sike! Whatever… I actually crave vegetables even more than I do chicken (psssh, until Le Barricou, that is!) so I know where you’re coming from.  Luckily Le Barricou has a f*cking scrumptious option for you: roasted vegetable salad with zucchini, squash, eggplant, yukon potatoes, arugula, honey balsamic reduction & parmesan. It’s a godsend.

I’m done with all the stars, but I just want to point out: Le Barricou is ridiculously wallet-friendly for the quality food the kitchen churns out, so if I lived closer, I would be there every day feeding my new-found poultry addiction.


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Hi friends.  I know I’ve been gone, but I’m baaack! due to (other than guilt and genuine interest in rekindling my blogging fire) my bro-friend David threatening to un-RSS feed me/festo, which seemed a fate too scary to face.

But really, to be honest, I’ve been kind of writer blocked.  Nothing in my life seemed worthy of festo.  Sad, I know.  Please accept my next few posts as small, humble, inane &/or materialistic offerings to the blogging gods as I get back into the groove… boy you gotta prove…

Dum dee dum, onto my comeback post.  My boss always jokes about her husband’s “uniform”: jeans and a black turtleneck, which he wore every day for the 6+ months he was on leave from a “real” job.  Now, all in all, not a bad idea- this so-called DIY uniform: go-to basics that can be accessorized any which way, are completely comfortable yet not sloppy, and can be worn to work (ha- not if you’re in financial services, suckas!).  This uniform concept is much easier in winter- jeans and/or leggings + sweater= not rocket science. However, in the summer, for us femmes, it becomes more challenging.  Look, dresses are cute and top contenders for uniform status: 1 piece and you’re out of the house!  But let’s face it, getting in, riding, & out of subway (up/down stairs) in a dress without flashing somebody, somewhere… is f*cking impossible.  I can’t be worrying about that every day! No no.  So, thank goodness shorts are “in” or whatever this season.

Without further ado… behold my summer uniform:

HAHA gotcha! These are the nineties-licious uniforms 17 year-old Sue Ellen made & showed off her in her absent mother’s backyard at a total rager-cum-fashion show which ended up saving the company she got a job at when the babysitter keeled over unexpectedly…

She’s right on top of that, Rose!

All jokes aside:

American Apparel Viscose Dolman Sleeve T, in white or slate


American Apparel Pique Bloomer Shorts, in black

Yup, you too can have your very own summer uniform, seeing as how its requisite pieces are sold at the reprehensible-yet-ubiquitous American Apparel!   The shorts are amazing, and only barely beat out these equally awesome black silk ones, thanks to their ELASTIC LEG OPENINGS.  That’s right- sometimes you think you’re safe, wearing shorts.  Sit however you want! Au contraire, mon petit cabbage.  With these on, you can actually sit however the hell you want on the subway without some perv/innocent bystander staring up them.  They don’t ride up either! Awesome!  The top is ever so slightly less awesome– it gets a little wrinkly (damn you viscose!) and is potentially hot for the true baking summer sun (BSS), but it goes day to night… to day (Ke$ha & autotune friendly suggest brushing your teeth with a bottle of Jack, FYI).  Plus the draping is a couple notches above your go-to t, so it’s office friendly.  Dave- are you bored yet? (Anyone ever notice how much I love parentheses!?)

May I recommend accessorizing with:

Steel Couture Mixed Media Necklace in Deco


Might be McQueen, don’t know, but I bought my white skull silk scarf (peter piper…) at PinkyOtto

Got a better summer uniform? Let me know.


aaah felt good

update: noticed dear stef also posted on her summer basics: cut-out dress, boyfriend blazer (i hate the term too ugh), ugly shoes (they’re ugly), boater hat… hurray! now we’re just missing Diane’s summer uniform… and yours!

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but we went to the most delicious little restaurant in brooklyn a few nights ago, called moto, in the south of williamsburg, yumyum.

moto is tiny dark and rustic, the light fixtures were lovely, the live music was folky and great, and the food was so so good. the menu looks small but once you look closer there are many delicious options (such as a panini with portobelle mushrooms, goat cheese, and arugula; saffron risoto with vegetables; spicy tomato soup with brie crouton; grilled doughnuts; and many more!) that were all $16 or less. the wine list was extensive too. vegetarians and meat eaters alike delighted in the delectable delicacies. only one bathroom, but you can’t win ’em all.



[ stefanie ]

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Good morning, New Yorkers! It’s a beautiful day.

cloudy with a chance of meatballs
sunny with highs in the 60s!

Why not take advantage of the suggestively springlike breezes to go outside and do some grocery shopping?

if you don’t look, you might miss it

May I recommend Tedone Latticini at 597 Metropolitan Ave in historic Williamsburg (…Brooklyn)?  I had first seen this store window back in May while watching One in 8 Million, nytimes’ audio-visual series on random New Yorkers (e.g. “The Urban Taxidermist”).  “The Mozzarella Maker” is Georgiana DePalma, a 90-something-year-old who still makes mozzarella, manning the counter at Tedone on Saturdays:

If I didn’t have my own independence, that would be putting me in a coffin.

One afternoon this January I almost walked right on by that storefront, until a vision of the stunning photograph of Georgiana sitting behind the counter said to me:  Hold on.  This is Georgia’s place.  Without searching for it, I found it, and there was Georgia right in front of me, greeting the steady flow of  neighborhood patrons.  Everyone calls her Georgie– Jawrrr-jeeee— pronounced like the cleaning lady George was screwing in The Red Dot/cashmere episode.

Before heading out for your own mozzarella balls (or a fine eggplant/mozzarella/prosciutto sandwich), watch “The Mozzarella Maker” for its stunning black and white photographs and to hear DePalma’s transporting voice.  Afterwards, there’s no way you can miss Tedone and its very special lady behind the counter.


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Mais oui, Bakeri!

My apartment happens to be sandwiched between a Sardinian wine bar and a French (sort of) bakery.  I challenge you to figure out which establishment I frequent more… frequently… In one corner of the ring, you have an extensive Italian wine/liquor list (including shots of the addictive bitter/sweet mirto), impeccable food, and a Cheers-in-italiano dynamic with the staff.  In the other corner of the ring, you have my wicked sweet tooth, copious amounts of butter & sugar, rustic French charm & baked goods (pear/apple scones coated with almond slices, elf-sized/ hipsterexic– you decide– banana-walnut loaves, petit pain au chocolate, ginger snaps, baguettes…)  all crafted on premises, in front of you.  I JUST ate a specimen from the latter, so now is the time to wax poetic about Bakeri, and, more specifically, its lavender shortbread.

This place is “established 2009” (says on the door) but looks like a French cafe from an earlier era, complete with fair-faced femmes wearing bakeri-gear (blue scrubs, though they look au-so-provencal!) and bandanas.  Owner Nina has soft blond hair, always tied in fat braids, and looks like she could have been the emblem of the women’s worker movement circa ’41 (she’s Norwegian, not French and partner-husband Pablo Argentine).   Behold the interior:

But don’t come for the women.  Don’t come for the decor.  Come for the LAVENDER SHORTBREAD.  You think you know what shortbread is–  I did: buttery, definitely, but, um, hard. Biscuit-like. English. Maybe with little holes poked by forks. False! FALSE!  Shortbread must have died and its soul reincarnated into a higher being at Bakeri, where it is, yes, buttery, but tender!, melt-in-your-mouth!, with an ephemeral crumb and a very-present lavender.  These wondrous bars have not been overworked nor over-baked.  Please, I beg you, make a pilgrimage to Bakeri, try it yourself, then stop by my place and bring me one as a reward for letting you in on the shortbread-that-changed-your-mind-about-lowly-old-fork-poked-teeth-breaking-shortbread.

After I scarf it down, we’ll walk two doors down, and I’ll introduce you to the other contender fighting for my gustatory attention: D.O.C. Winebar.


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