"Think Coffee" and the city

Last Thursday was one of those days where a lot of little things went just a little bit wrong, but collectively it felt like the world was out the get me. Okay, maybe not out to "get me", but the universedefinetly game me the metaphorical equivalent of a toddler constantly poking you: it's not painful, and it's not tragic, but it gets frustrating really fast.

I was supposed to meet up with Nate after work so we could see "Make if Work: Engineering Possibilities" at the Center for Architecture. The exhibit run was ending, and Nate, as an architect/structural engineer, was very interested in seeing it before they took it down. So the plan was that I'd get to the city at around 6:30 and we'd meet up somewhere (tbd), go to the Center, maybe grab some food afterward, then I'd go on to my volleyball game later in the evening. Sounded good.

The problems started when due to some circumstances, I ended up going to Times Square at 4:30. I was done with my meeting by 5, which gave me a full hour and half to just wander around the city. Usually this would be great - having time to explore the urban fabric and photograph it. But here is little wrong thing #1, my right foot has been hurting lately. I'm not sure why, but it feels better when I let it rest. So the walking for an hour and half was out of the question.

I decided to hang out at Virgin Records, since they usually have fun books and music to sample, and I can sit on the carpeted areas. But, little wrong thing #2, the Virgin Records in Times Square has apparently closed down. The hell? Are they pulling a Circuit City? That was totally unexpected.

No problem, I could just call Nate and figure out what part of town we were meeting at, so I could start heading out there. Except, little wrong thing #3, Nate's phone was off. I called his office as well, and he was still at the construction site. So essentially, I am somewhere in Manhattan, with a lame foot, waiting to meet my boyfriend in hopefully over an hour but not knowing where.

I hate not knowing what's going on.

I decided to walk to the Central Library, since I could sit there and read some books, maybe even get on the internet (yes, I am crafty). Which brings us to little wrong thing #4, the Central Library was closing. Seriously? It was 5:30, and they were not letting people in. What's the point of having a library if it's not going to be available for citizens to use? I know, I know, libraries serve other functions, such as research, book storage and borrowing/lending, but for all those services to take place, the buildings needs to be... uh, I don't know.... open.

I decided to go to the only other library branch I knew in the city, over in Soho. And of course, little wrong thing #5, this branch closes at 5 pm on Thursdays. Only on Thursdays, they are open till 10 all other days. At this point I am in Soho, it's 6 pm, I'm trying to call Nate and his phone is still off. I wasn't even sure we were going to the exhibit anymore, and I was getting worried that he didn't have a charger and we would have no way of coordinating where to meet.

And this is when my phone started to run out of batteries. Little wrong thing #6. Mind you, it's only been a hour since my silly saga started, and this last blow was the straw that broke the camel's back. I wanted to go home, my foot hurt and I was tired, but I had a volleyball game at 9, and it wouldn't make sense to go back to Brooklyn, only to turn back around 20 minutes after getting home. Missing the game was out of the question.

At about 6:30 Nate called. He had gotten stuck at the job site without a charger, but was currently ready to go and meet. And since my phone was on it's last juice, we agreed that I'd wait for him at Think Coffee. Sitting. Inside. Unwinding.

Good thing I was already in the NYU area, so I only had to walk three more blocks in my increasingly pained foot. Think Coffee was full, as expected, but I found a spot at the bar. I ordered a glass of white wine and began to feel less sorry for myself. I allowed myself to be engulfed by the warm and relaxed vibe. It felt like a haven where I could finally put down my heavy bags and just breathe.

I enjoy Think Coffee, and I wish I came here more often. But it's simply too far to lug around the lap top, specially wehre there are so many nice coffee shops in my neighborhood. This is definetly a laptop/reading/staying-for-hours type of place. The layout is huge, with plush couches and smaller cafe tables. It's a pretty great place to work, not just because it's ideally set up to encourage studying, but also because everyone else is in production mode. I had nothing to study for, but I felt peer pressured into reading my magazine.

I had no idea they had a bar, and maybe I should reconsider my approach and meet up with Nate for happy hour sometime in the future. After all, it's a quiet place, with good music, and it doesn't scream expensive bar. I feel very silly for all my dumb hardships walking around the city, when I could have been hanging out in Think Coffee from the beginning.

In the end, the night ended up working out. Nate found me sitting at bar, we saw the exhibit, and I went to the game, even joining my teammates for burgers and beers at Brother Jimmy's afterwards.

Think Coffee
248 Mercer St. New York, NY 10012

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Warm Weather.

This weekend it's been in the 80's in New York, which would have been great to enjoy if I wasn't currently visiting Texas for the week. And, in Texas, it is always in the 80's this time of year.

A part of me is a bit bummed that the heat wave came when I wasn't there to enjoy it. It's not enough that I am also in the sun and wearing tank tops, it's like I feel that no one else should either. I was supposed to come back glorious to the city telling tales of the crazy Texans and their unbearable heat. People were to be jealous and ask me about this strange concept known as heat during April.

Alas, it is not to be. Though I am glad to hear that when I get back in town, I will be able to wear all the sundresses that have been sitting on my closet for way too long.

On Blogging

I've been keeping this blog for about two months now, and I am trying to figure out what it's supposed to be. I realize most people just write, as a cathartic exercise of all the ideas they want to put out into the world. I seem to have a similar need, but I am struggling with how to go about it.

Is this a personal journal? Is it a detached anthropological record of life in New York? Is my audience myself and a few friends? Or do I pretend that other people might read it down the line. I'm trying to figure this out.

I am realizing that I am not a natural born writer. I am better with the graphics, drawing and diagrams. So in a way, this is a good exercise for me.

Coco Roco - Park Slope

I feel like I have neglected this blog lately. I've been studying for the LEED exam (sustainable design certification), and it just took over my life these last few weeks. The good news is that I passed and I now get to put the super nifty LEED AP title after my name. The bad news is that my apartment is falling apart and needs to be put back together, and now I am back to full time job hunting. blegh

Still, yesterday was a great day. I took the exam, managed to inadvertently insult the proctor while singing in, became convinced halfway through that I must be failing, received my passing score, stared at the computer screen for a solid five minutes in disbelief, and proceeded to excitedly walk back home all the way from Brooklyn Heights (about 40 minutes). I felt like this weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a monkey off my back, of however that weird expression works. I'd been holding my breath for a solid month, and the feeling of oxygen seemed to confuse my lungs.

Of course I celebrated by having some wine at home. Nate was still at work, but since when has that stopped anyone? One of the perks of being self employed is that ability to make scheduling adjustments for any personal, um, needs.

I later convinced Nate we should celebrate a Coco Roco, a Park Slope Peruvian restaurant that we hadn't been to in a while. I was seriously craving some Pollo a la Brasa (also known as Rotisserie Chicken); which is weird, because my family did not eat pollo a la brasa in Peru (my dad didn't care for it, said it was too hard to eat with all the bones.) So it's not like this craving came from a childhood comfort food place.

We ordered Pisco Sours, I got Pollo a la Brasa with french fries, and Nate Lomo Saltado. The drinks were great- sweet, tasty and strong, just like they should be. It's not a good Pisco Sour unless you think you are drinking lemonade and then realize you are buzzed.

The food didn't fare as well. The chicken was juicy and tender, but the soggy fries left a lot to be desired. The roast chicken is supposed to be their specialty, and I can see why. Nate's meat was tasty, but the rice felt dry and under seasoned. And seriously, this is a Peruvian restaurant, rice quality is of the essence. I found his dish disappointing, because Lomo Saltado is one of those things that should be hard to mess up. I've had it before though, and it was good, so maybe their rice maker was broken yesterday or something.

Fun side factoid though, Tuesdays are the token free Salsa lesson days. Must be an attempt to rev up business on the slow part of the week. And it must not be working because there were only about 6 full tables. A couple of tables joined the instructors for lessons, and I wish we had gotten up and learned some fun turns. But Nate had to get back early, and we left shortly after finishing our food. He promised that next time we go, we can make more of a night and stay for free lessons.

I want him to learn more moves so that we can latin dance at our wedding. Silly me, but it seems important.

Coco Roco
392 Fifth Ave., Brooklyn, NY 11215

interior photo courtesy of Kate Attardo and New York Magazine

Lincoln Center - Alice Tully Hall

I have no idea how I ended up on the New York Opera mailing list. Yet somehow I am, and they sent me information about the newly renovated Alice Tully Hall, and how the New York City Opera had a special discounted performance called Looking Forward, a "concert of vocal and orchestral music by great composers of the 20th century."

Great. It was one of those moments where I had to decide whether my long term cultural aspirations were more important than my giggly fits at operatic singing styles. I've never been one for the "classical" side of things, preferring an unbridled rock concert to the refined sophistication of the symphony. But I made a promise to myself when I moving to NYC that I would earnestly try to embrace the cultural opportunities the city had to offer - and this included ballet, opera and the symphony.

So, I bought the tickets, and managed to get box seats for the same base general admission discount price. I am fairly confident I will not be able to afford box seats again in a very long time, so this was pretty exciting.

Specially because, seriously, the building? It's awesome. I'd heard about it, and passed by the construction scaffolding before. But in all honesty, I wasn't familiar with the project and design details. Sometimes (often), I feel like I fail in keeping up with the architecture world. I don't know what that means about my career aspirations, and frankly, I don't care to find out. I still managed to get crazy with the pictures, so I guess I am in the right field.

For the sake of this blog I've dug up some online information on the building. Curbed - Diller Scofidio + Renfro Architectural Record The very confusing flash hyperactivity of the Diller Scofidio + Renfro official website


What I can say, the massing is exciting, and the glass facade feels modern and airy. It reminded me of a Jean Nouvelle building, and I mean that as the biggest compliment. The design includes some pretty amazing overhangs, details of warped wood panels, and a lobby cafe that was open to the public. I don't know why more theaters don't have a cafe in the lobby, it gives people a place to be before the performance, and also guarantees that the space will always have people, even if the show is not full.

The historic preservation controversies are interesting, as with many cultural institutions. I am still a child of my times, and believe that sustainable historic preservation practices need to allow for bold contemporary design, specially when given a landmark building opportunity. So it follows that I am delighted with the Alice Tully building, and I can't wait to see how the rest of Lincoln Center will shape up. Keeping my nerdy fingers crossed that I will still be in the city when they finish working on the main plaza.

The actual performance hall was incredibly underwhelming though. They didn't allow me to take my camera past the ticket check point, I had to drop off my baby at the coat check. I understand why they do that, but there was no way to convince them that I had no interest in taping the NY Opera perform, I wanted pictures of the wall panels. (They probably thought I was mental, going around taking pictures of spider brackets and silicon mullions. Heck, I think I'm mental for even writing that last sentence.) The problem is that in comparison to lobby's modern grandeur, the performance hall felt oddly small and unfinished. I'm sure it's got amaaaaazing acoustics, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were aboard a minimalist wooden Swedish space ship.

Here are some pictures.

Coffee Shop

After a three hour long shopping spree, where Nate got himself a new suit yet failed to find the corduroy jacket he'd been specifically searching, we found ourselves hungry and tired and on Union Square.

As often happens in this situation, we went to grab food at The Coffee Shop, my favorite diner-meets-Brazilian restaurant. It's strange how often I end up here, because it begins to feel like an after thought, that place where I eat often yet never set out to make it there. And in reality, I would plan on coming here, but because of it's great location right next to our subway stop, we end up here before I would have made the decision.

The place is great. It's dark, and festive, and tends to have a crowded and lively bar. And though the patrons are usually spilling out of the door, the wait for a table has never been more than a half hour, and usually only about fifteen minutes. It's all about making things seem crazier than they really are, I guess. And it works. The bar bisects the main dining area, creating two separate spaces - the front a mostly standing-room only bar, while the back is the "quieter" dining area. They manage to get the best of both worlds, as Hannah Montana would say. And the music tends to be modern, a little clubby, but not too loud that one can't have a conversation.

I don't care what they say about the uneven service, or whether there is a bias for pretty pretty people. I seem to be pretty enough to always get sat fast, and I've had no real complaints on the efficiency. So I don't know what all those people at Yelp were talking about. Maybe I just have "low" standards, but all I know is that Coffee Shop gives me diner prices with a festive trendy vibe. And ultimately, that means I give it two thumbs up.

I like to get the sausage quesadillas, cheeseburger with herb fries, or mac 'n cheese. I guess I'm more inclined to embrace the "diner" side of the menu, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. If there is one thing my life could never have enough of, is mac 'n cheese.

One of these days, I keep telling myself, I will order one of the delicious sounding Brazilian plates. Maybe I'll order a ropa vieja with a caipirinha the day I finally go the Coffee Shop as my only destination. And when this happens, I'll also be sitting on their patio looking out out to the Union Square crowd.

Can't wait for summer.

Connecticut Muffin

Many years, ago, when I lived in the UT dorms, I developed a morning routine of picking up to-go breakfast from the dorm coffee stand. Specially useful on those days when I had early morning classes. Nothing crazy or unusual, just a juice box and a muffin. Not just any muffin. A poppy-seed muffin, and if they were out of that flavor I would just get a bagel. I developed a taste for these delicious poppy concoctions, and figured that after I moved out of the dorms, it'd be nice to still have them from time to time.

No big deal, right?

Well, to my amazement, poppy seed muffins are not that easy to find. Over the ensuing years, I kept my eye open for these very specific muffins, checking every coffee shop in the Austin area just in case they carried them. I found banana nut, bran, orange, chocolate chip, oat, etc. But I was a woman on a mission, and it was all or nothing. In reality, I don't particularly care for other muffins, they taste a bit soggy. Maybe I just have a chemical dependency to poppies, they did make Elaine fail a drug test on Seinfeld, after all.

Fast forward ...oh.. about eight years. I am older and wiser, and have by and large finished my search. Simple answer: the HEB bakery sells poppy-seed muffins. Not the most glamorous setting, but they taste good. If there are other places in Austin, I'd love to hear it, but I won't believe you. I searched. It's done, I am content. Then I move to Brooklyn and it stirs the quest again. And wouldn't you know it, I am still having a hard time finding the dreaded muffins here too.

That is, until the day the skies part and angelic music fills the streets, and I see, a mere eight blocks from my apartment: Connecticut Muffin. An entire place that celebrates muffins. And of course, they carry lemon poppy (my favorite) with glazing. I am in heaven.

I should add that I like Connecticut Muffin for many other reasons as well, and I probably wouldn't have found those out if I didn't have this zealous quest for poppies. Connecticut Muffin, in addition to their namesake, also sells other basic pastries, sandwiches, coffee, and refreshing granitas in the summer time. The service is efficient and friendly. And though their location is tiny, they have claimed the exterior via a slightly sunken area with benches. When it's warm, every possible seat is taken, and people use this space to read, chat with friends, hang out with kids, dogs, etc. It's truly a case of a coffee shop spilling out to the street.

I like coming to Conn Muffin on days like today, when I am washing my clothes at the laundromat across the street. I start the washer (or dryer) and come here, order my blessed muffin, a cup of coffee, and pick up one of the many newspapers lying around from previous customers. It makes the dreaded laundry process be a bit more bearable.

And, it puts a very satisfying end to an obnoxious quest that I should have finished years ago if I had been really really serious about finding these muffins.

The Pink House in Yonkers

It feels that since moving to New York, I don't go to as many house parties as I used to. I can't decide if this is because I am now older, and that was part of the college phase of my life, or if it directly relates to the smaller real state in NYC. More and more I think that because of people's small apartments here, they are less likely to have large get-togethers.

This weekend I went to a birthday barbecue party at a friend's house in Yonkers. Because it's outside of the city proper, and space is more available, their apartment was the entire first floor of a house, with a backyard included.

It was fun afternoon/evening, with grilled hot dogs, burgers, dip, micro-brew beer, caipirinhas, good conversation and dancing.

It made me miss the gatherings of Austin. This house was old, with hardwood floors, and the furniture had that "found" quality of creative artsy people. Sometimes I miss the sense the old wooden homes of Austin, specially in the campus and west Austin areas. And, most importantly, the house was pink - the entire exterior and outside light posts.

The crowd from yesterday reminded me of Austin as well, a laid back artsy vibe without the standoffish hipster pretension. Maybe that's how all "cool" people are at home when they can relax and let loose. Maybe if I went to more house parties, I would find more chill hippies. in NYC. Who knows. A part of me feels that I sound like my beloved US Weekly in a new section called "Hipsters, they are just like us" (they drink coffee!! they go thrift shopping!!! they work on their macs!!! just like me!!!). I don't know why I am going on a hipster rant, but I think it's because sometimes when I go to East Village or Williamsburg, it makes me nostalgic for the easygoing community I'd built in Austin. Maybe if I stay in the city long enough, I'll feel like I truly belong in the soup here as well. Then again, I feel perfectly at home in Park Slope though, so it might just be a neighborhood thing.

Or, more likely, I'm getting older.

Cafe Havana

I remember the first time I went to Cafe Havana, in Nolita. We were on out way to see a show at the Bowery Ballroom, it was a weekday, and we decided to eat around the area since it didn't' make sense to back home to Brooklyn only turn around and come right back to Manhattan. We are sensible like that. That was about a year ago, when were still relatively new to the city and hadn't built up a stock of go-to eateries in different neighborhoods, so we were aimlessly walking around the Bowery on a hunt for affordable food. Affordable funky food, our plan B was Subway, and I wanted to avoid that. It was serendipitous to find it just as we were about to give up on our search, and we had one of the best Mexican influenced meals you can find in NYC.

And finding Mexican food in this city is a thankless task. Sure, it's out there, but most of it is subpar at best, lacking a certain je ne sais quoi that I am more and more convinced is actually the delicious taste of lard. There has to be a reason why all restaurants in Texas get it so right, and 95% of places in NY get it so... bland. I mean, NY is known as a foodie mecca, and it's just jalapenos and melted cheese, people. Can't be THAT hard.

Since then we've gone back to Cafe Havana a couple of more times. I'd go more except that we are not the only brilliant people who like this place. The lines are usually long, and life is too short to wait outside for a table in the dead of winter.

Yesterday we were lucky to find two stools at the bar straight away. The New Museum was having it's free night, and after indulging ourselves in contemporary art, we took a chance on finding a table since the dinner rush would hopefully be over.

I should mention that Cafe Havana is teeny teeny tiny. So small that a couple of tables are pretty much up against the corner facing door. All part of the decor, which is a combination of old-school diner, taqueria and Cuban cafe. I can't think of another way to describe it. I guess it's a dive-restaurant, but one of the cool dive places that wears the decay on it's sleeve like a badge of authenticity.

The food was delicious, as expected. I ordered enchiladas suizas, and Nate had a steak. Their suiza sauce is tomatillo based and feels really light, which is a good thing. So many restaurants make the suiza sauce uber-creamy that it can be overwhelming. Nate liked his steak and finished the whole plate, so I guess he liked it too. We really should have ordered the grilled corn, which is coated in gooey cheese and chili powder, and is like a melting party in your mouth. Alas, we realized our mistake too late to save tummy room for it. Next time, I promise. Hopefully soon.

Nate and I were talking about how we want to show this little gem to our relatives when they come visit us, about how it feels very New York with it's hipster clientele, crowded busy atmosphere, while being incredibly affordable. (actually, that last part in not new yorkie at all) And then quickly realized that most of our relatives live in Texas, and why would they fly all the way to New York to have the best enchiladas in town, when they can have equivalent tasting dishes in any ole' place back home. Still, I want them to see it. There is a certain intimacy that comes from eating in close proximity to others that one does not get in Texas. It might feel like a personal bubble invasion at first, but very quickly you go with the flow and enjoy the ebullient feeling of a crowd.

Angelika Film Center

While being fully aware of what a predictable cliche I am, I will admit that the Angelika Film Center in Soho is one of my favorite movie theaters.

I feel soooo much better after admitting that, like I am at some "inadequate film buff" anonymous meeting. I say inadequate because I am not actually a film buff, just wish I was. And part of not being an actual film buff is that one is free to embrace the established and like the Angelika, even though I am sure there are much more obscure art-houses in the city showcasing contemporary experimental films and those weird b-movies hipsters seem to be so fond of.

Before this, my favorite movie theater was the Alamo Drafthouse, in Austin. Scratch that, the Alamo Drafthouse is still my favorite place, it's awesomeness cannot be denied. The great thing about the Alamo is its ability to be kitschy and indie and funny and alcoholic and genuine and ironic and serious all at the same time. I digress, but among the types of screenings I saw at the Alamo (in no particular order): foreign movies, new releases, weird documentaries, pop-music sing alongs, 80's sing alongs, film classics, special screenings with guest directors, and the Mr Sinus movie commentaries. All of this while ordering food (from a menu) and beer. You can't beat that. When I lived in Austin, I thought the Alamo was one of those great places I wouldn't be able to find anywhere else.

As it turns out, you really can't beat it. I have searched high and dry in NYC for a theater equivalent, a place where silly events and serious films occupy the same building (though at different times), with the ability to drink in the screening rooms. And though I have not found it, I think the Angelika is a wonderful substitute.

My favorite Angelika feature, and the one that reminds me most of the Alamo, is the large coffee shop in the lobby. I haven't seen this in other movie theaters, and it really creates a sense of place. As opposed to most theaters, where the lobby is non-existent, and tickets are required to have access to the concession stand, the Angelika coffee area is open to the public. With pastries, couches and tables (oh my!), it is a standard cafe that happens to be in a movie theater. A great place to chillax while waiting for friends to arrive (and they will be late, specially if it's a weekend and the subways are running on insane weekend schedules), or wait until the movie starting time. Last week, my mother and I were a half hour early for our movie, and grabbed coffee and chatted for a while, and Nate even stopped by for a bit to say hi on his way to the subway back home. It's such an efficient way to give guests a sense of place, and people feel invested in places they can claim as their own. Easy way to build a return customer base.

The main problem, though, is that as an older building, it lacks the bells and whistles that many of us have grown to expect from the movie experience. No stadium seating, no seemingly fancy surround sound, the screening rooms are small. And on a charming but bothersome note, probably depending on your sense of irony, you can hear the subways rumbling under the floors.

The movie selection more than makes up for the potential sound issues. I am of the idea that films are better experienced collectively, as a shared experience with a group of strangers that become companions for at least 90 minutes. And state of the arts technology doesn't affect or change the heart of that experience in the least.