'Tis The Season

We are officially in the thick of the holiday season, and my humble abode has subsequently been doused with a sprinkling of Christmas cheer. This past week, my roommate Regan decorated our kitchen door with a big, pine-scented wreath (complete with gold ribbon) and yesterday, I trimmed us a little tree. (If you all remember my Charlie Brown tree from last year, I am proud to announce that I've graduated to a slightly larger specimen.)

My favorite ornament on the tree is this old-school yellow checker cab ornament from Fortunoff. I think next year I'll pick up some new ornaments to spruce things up a bit.

In keeping with all things holiday, I put on my tourist hat (along with my winter hat) this morning and met my sister and cousins at Rockefeller Center to view old faithful. As per usual, the tree looks great. However, after snapping a few pictures and taking in the sights, it is 100% necessary to promptly exit the madness.

For some reason, it seems like it's taken a bit longer for the holiday buzz to seep into the atmosphere this year ... maybe it's the unseasonably warm weather we've had? (I'd hate to think it's because I'm getting older ... oy gavolt!) Nonetheless, the impending Christmas festivities always put a pep in my step - I love the onslaught of holiday get-togethers. I'm about half way done with my shopping and am looking forward to spending Christmas Eve at my cousin Christopher's house in New Rochelle. We normally have Christmas Eve at my house, but this year, Christopher and his wife Joanna are hosting all of us. I have no doubt celebrating Christmas Eve a la Westchester will be a fun twist on tradition.

It's funny to think back to when you were a kid and could barely sleep the night before Christmas, because you were so overwhelmingly excited that Santa was coming (!!!!). For me, those feelings of holiday excitement haven't completely gone away, they've just been reallocated. Now, I am excited to be home for a few days, enjoy delicious food/drink and exchange gifts with my family and friends. There is something so comforting to me about sitting in the living room with my Mom's tree all a-glow. I know, I know, can you say corny? (But it is so true.)

On that note - Happy Holidays, y'all!

Edgar Degas: Dancers at the Barre

Degas' Dancers at the Barre: Point and Counterpoint, an exhibit featuring more than 30 works by celebrated French artist Edgar Degas, is currently on display at the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C. Degas created 1,500 pieces focused solely on dancers - most notably ballerinas from the Paris Opera in the late 19th century - one of the reasons I love his work. While I've always thought Degas' paintings were extremely beautiful, I never knew much about Degas himself.

Self-Portrait, 1886

The artist was a perfectionist and witty, although a recluse. What's remarkable about his career, was that he, an un-married, male artist, was allowed backstage, to rehearsals and even to dressing rooms in the opera - to quietly sketch the goings-on. Apparently, it was entirely commonplace for "subscribers" to have such access during that time. How incredible that would be today!

The Dance Class, 1873

His drawings and paintings made the mundane profound. (A reprint of) his 1875 oil on canvas La Classe de Danse hung in my grandma's spare room throughout my entire childhood. Back then, taking dance classes myself, I would stare at the painting and wish I was one of the ballerinas warming up in that studio. Degas' paintings chronicled the stretching, warming up and rehearsing of dance, almost never the performance of. These every day, fundamental dancers' rituals were made just as enticing, if not more, than the performance itself.

La Classe de Danse, 1873-75

When my grandma moved to New Jersey a few years ago, I was bequeathed La Classe de Danse, which now hangs in my hallway. I can't count how many times I've stared at the painting and wondered what the girl sitting on the piano was scratching at behind her, or what the dance instructor (if that's who he is) is telling his dancers, or how a cute little pup was allowed in the dance studio. It's a rich, lovely painting, and while simple in subject, very intricate in detail.

I'm afraid a trip to D.C. is not in my near future, so I won't make it to the exhibit, but here's hoping it travels to New York! NPR featured an enlightening article in its Arts & Life section detailing the exhibit (and Degas) if you're interested in further reading. The exhibit runs through January.

My Technics SL-B1 Turntable

While downloading albums through iTunes and streaming songs on Pandora or Spotify have become industry standards, I've also found myself drawn to the music-listening practices of yore. Over the past few years, as friends have unveiled vinyl collections in their apartments and stores like Urban Outfitters* began selling portable turntables, I realized I appreciate, and am intrigued by, the classic system. There is something about the active relationship between the art form and the listener - taking an LP out of its sleeve (after remarking on its creative artwork), placing it on a turntable, setting the needle to the appropriate groove and listening to the remarkably intense sound emitting from the speakers - that I like being a part of.

I vaguely remember my parents playing records every once and a while during my childhood, but with the advent of CDs, their turntables were casually sold at yard sales and their records were delegated to the basement with an unhopeful future. The years went by and the records sat, forgotten, in their subterranean home. Just over a year ago, while chatting on the phone with my musically-inclined Uncle Ed, who's lived in California for the past twenty-plus years, he told me I could adopt a turntable of his that was in my aunt's attic in Queens. I was thrilled (!), and on the next visit to my parent's house, I went down to the basement and began flipping through my mom's pretty stellar record collection. I thumbed through the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, Sly and The Family Stone, CSNY, David Bowie and more, and happily took them over to my apartment. I was especially excited to listen to the classic bands whose music I didn't own myself. (I also took two Fisher speakers from my parent's house ... it's remarkable what you'll find in a basement!)

When I finally set my eyes on the Technics SL-B1 turntable (circa 1980) I discovered that the rubber belt had eroded over the years and was preventing the very necessary spinning action to take place. I did a little research, purchased a replacement belt online and was all set, except for one minor thing. I did not have a receiver. Due largely to my own procrastination, I waited an entire year before purchasing a receiver, but purchase one I did - through eBay - and after hooking up the speaker wires, I now have a fully functioning record player.

I guess I get a nostalgic kick out of experiencing music as it was experienced in a bygone era. However, it's also a great time to be a music fan today, as you can access music through so many platforms. More and more albums are available on vinyl (which, when purchased, usually come with a CD as well) and fans can easily download a plethora of music online. It's really neat to be able to purchase quality music from both the virtual iTunes store and the physical record store. Speaking of record stores, Record Store Day is also attributing to the current resurgence in vinyl's popularity.

So, I'm definitely still a newbie in this area, and learning as I go along, but I have a list of albums - new and old-school - that I can't wait to get my hands on. First up on my list is a band I've become acquainted with over this past year, the incredible Fleet Foxes. I've also been eyeing some great shelves from The Container Store, so my lovely little entertainment center won't have to sit sheepishly on the floor.

*I was in the Urban Outfitters on 14th Street last winter and purchased this Aaron Morris photograph of a record store. I think the angle of the photo is really interesting and it's been hanging above my living room couch ever since ;)

Ra-Ra for Ta-Tas!

This past Sunday, my family got together for an American Cancer Society breast cancer walk in Point Pleasant, New Jersey. My Aunt Karen was diagnosed with breast cancer last year and, thankfully, after catching it in a very early stage and undergoing the necessary treatment, she is now cancer free. We walked to support her and everyone who is affected by this awful disease.

I have to give exceptional props to my 83-year-old Grandma, who walked the entire 5K distance, only stopping a few times to rest. Ten years ago she was diagnosed with lymphoma, but remains unbelievably strong - not even the toughest chemo got in her way. I am proud to have such brave women in my family!

A few humorous catchphrases kept the mood of the walk light, here are some that I remember: 1) Ra-Ra for Ta-Tas 2) Save 'em all, big or small 3) T.I.T.S (Together In Tough Situations) 4) Keep 'em bouncin!

Let There Be Light

I've been thinking of ways to make my living room a little cozier lately, and have finally come up with a plan of action. A new lamp.

I absolutely love the store Anthropologie, but as most of its clothing is out of my price range, I am left to browsing most of the time. One particular browsing session lead me to the home department, which is exactly in line with my taste - and surprisingly offers a lot of affordable goodies.

These lampshades are eclectic and shabby-chic, and would pair splendidly with an antique brass base I already have. While they do carry a pretty hefty price tag - coming in around $100 a pop - I think I'll splurge and buy myself one.

http://www.anthropologie.com

PaperTrail

Hi Everyone,

Just a little update - my Will Knox post was featured on Paper Trail music blog, check it out here!

Will Knox; Recharging the Relationship Between Music and Art

I can’t think of a better place for a singer-songwriter to display his or her craft in its rawest form, than at the Lower East Side’s Rockwood Music Hall. The space that holds Stage 1 is roughly the size of a studio apartment, and the exposed brick walls and minuscule stage add to that bare-bones sentiment.

I hadn’t been to the venue in a few years, but after browsing a recent amNY article about an alternative/folk singer, my interest was piqued. Will Knox, a British transplant who now resides in Brooklyn, became disenchanted by the fact that physical art has lost its prominence in music. Since the advent of digital downloads, the need for album art is almost nonexistent. And while digital booklets available on iTunes offer fans a one-dimensional version of traditional liner notes, there is something to be said of holding a fantastic record sleeve or imaginative CD booklet in your hands.

With that in mind, Knox created a comic book to accompany his latest EP Lexicon. The book, illustrated by Robin Ha, details the tragic story of a man overcoming life’s hurdles. It is with this effort that Knox aims to reconnect the long-standing relationship between music and art.

Knox began his performance at Rockwood with the song “Belly of the Beast,” off The Matador & The Acrobat, which was inspired by living in New York. We were given a glimpse into his jovial manor throughout the hour-long set, when he cheerfully exclaimed, “I really like writing songs, which is very convenient when you’re a songwriter.”

He then transitioned into “Footprints on the Moon,” which exemplified the clear, velvety quality of Knox’s vocals. He proved the strength of his voice by, what I can only describe as, yodeling in a few songs, most notably in Lexicon’s brilliant “Ice Capades.”

His third selection off The Matador & The Acrobat was “Buckled Knees.” During the show, Knox declared his dissatisfaction with L.A., a feeling he partially attributed to the fact that he doesn’t know how to drive, and one he details in this tune. Due to the acoustic nature of the set, we couldn’t experience the fleshed out version of the song, which boasts a banjo and a fiddle. However, his tongue-in-cheek lyrics - “On my way to join the circus that they call Hell A … I’m as empty as the pockets of my skin-tight jeans” - filled that void.

Accompanying the set was drummer Timur Yussef, who sat unassumingly in a corner off the bite-size stage and carried each song with his skillful use of mallets and brushes.

Ari Herstand joined Knox and Yussef on stage for the beautiful love song “The Ship and the Storm,” playing trumpet, and “Cog in the Machine,” playing piano. Before performing “Cog in the Machine,” the singer let us in on a secret of his. “I miss having long hair,” he explained, “there’s so many things you can do with long hair, like ponytails … well, I guess that’s about it actually.” Corny as it sounds, it was a humorous intro to a song that resonated with almost everyone present - a song about being unhappy with your job. Unfortunate as it may be, many of us find ourselves as cogs in a machine. It is also worth noting that the song’s video deserves a look. While Knox sings, his now regretful haircut is documented in reverse.

To add to the comedic undertone present during the show, Alec Gross was welcomed to the stage for a rendition of the song he co-wrote with Knox, “The Ballad of Frankenstein.” The final selection off Lexicon was “Bullets.” This bluegrass-infused pop ballad was one of the nights more upbeat songs. To end the night, Knox spared no emotion while singing “Immigrant Hands.” As an immigrant himself, he told the crowd he was inspired to write this song after taking his mother to Ellis Island. Whether you or your parents, grandparents or great-grandparents are immigrants, the song was incredibly relatable. It spoke vividly to his experience in this country and his ability to create a vision through song.

Art and storytelling were central themes of Will Knox’s performance. And while he has come of age in the digital age, he still believes wholeheartedly in the relationship between traditional art forms and music. Through his songs and comic book, he is successfully perpetuating that concept.

A Family Affair

Last weekend I went upstate for the christening of my cousin Brant's two children, Sean and Katelyn. With the exception of my Aunt Rosie and Uncle Ed, it's not often that we get together with all of my dad's family, so I was really looking forward to it. For starters, Brant and his wife Tara live in this beautifully restored farmhouse in Putnam County, that dates back to 1820. Needless to say, my historical-house aficionado parents (and myself) were enraptured. Homes back then were built with such character, from the wide-plank wooden floors to the detailed molding on every door frame and fire place. Brant is an expert handyman and crafted this 190-year-old home into a modern day country-chic abode.

Lake Carmel, Putnam County, New York

As is common at christenings, there were little kids everywhere. One particularly curly haired little boy named Donavan, inspired me to tuck his name away in my back pocket, as a possible name for a little boy of my own one day. (In the far off future, I reassured my family.) What can I say, I have a thing for Irish boy names. The crème de la crème, however, were Brant and Tara's two ridiculously adorable kids.

My mom and Katelyn

Sean is almost two-and-a-half and Katelyn three months - you just want to eat them both up. Katelyn reminds me of my sister Kerry, who had enough rolls in her arms and legs as a baby to feed a small family. I don't know what it is about fat babies, but they melt my heart. While Sean was off playing with the other kids, humorously slipping down the Slip N' Slide, me and my mom couldn't get enough of Katelyn. Unfortunately, the poor thing has acid reflux (!) and has to take a special medicine after her bottle. My cousin Dan's girlfriend Yasmin learned this the hard way, after being the lucky recipient of a healthy dose of baby spit up. I was lucky enough to steal her away from my Uncle Jeff and hold her for an hour. And while her pudgy little feet popped open the buttons on my dress, giving everyone a very unintended view of my midrift, I loved every moment.

What a face!

After a wonderful day, I took Metro North back into the city with Dan and Yasmin. In fact, we almost missed the train because Dan was saddled with the important task of filling a cooler with beer for the trip. (Did I mention we were Irish?) Between the cold beers and entertaining stories, it was a perfect ending to the day.

I guess I just have a soft spot in my heart for family, and fat babies, because I got home feeling really happy. For me, no matter what else is going on in life, it's always comforting to recharge the ol' battery with family.

Sunday Stroll

Today, I embarked on a journey. A journey that took Lindsey, Roe and I three and a half hours; down 2nd Avenue, into the bowels of the Lower East Side, through Chinatown, over The Brooklyn Bridge and straight to Grimaldi's.

A leisurely stroll down 2nd Avenue, from 93rd Street to East Houston, and then through Chinatown, speaks volumes to the unique sights and sounds New York City offers its pedestrians. Our ultimate goal was to walk over The Brooklyn Bridge and treat ourselves to a well deserved pie at Grimaldi's. On a clear day like today, the views from the bridge are exceptional. Pier 17 in the South Street Seaport, the Financial District, Governors Island and the Statue of Liberty, Midtown glimmering off in the distance - it's beautiful.

As we walked through The East Side's varying neighborhoods we took in the surroundings. And while the questionable smells of raw seafood on Market Street didn't exactly wet our appetites, the aroma of freshly baked pizza in Brooklyn sure did.

I must be honest, after waiting in line for over an hour at Grimaldi's, the consensus was that this wasn't the BEST pizza we'd ever eaten, but it was damn good.

For our return trip, we walked over The Manhattan Bridge. The views don't match up to those offered by The Brooklyn Bridge and the rattle of the elevated N train isn't the greatest for conversation but it's still a pretty cool walk. (Try not to walk into the chain link fences like I did though, it really hurts :P)

Sundays are normally thought of as lazy days, and while mine usually are, it is nice to get out there and hit the pavement. Lace up those sneakers, slap on the sunblock and go forth!

The Stage: A Love Story

It's the same scenario every time: the lights dim, the curtain rises and a small lump forms in my throat. Like clockwork, the sound of the overture causes my eyes to mist over and soon enough my vision is blurred. For three hours I am enraptured; my heart swells with each note and every expertly choreographed dance routine is shuffled along with under my seat. Broadway has a way with me.

A few weeks ago my family and I saw Anything Goes in the newly minted Stephen Sondheim Theatre. I was especially thrilled to see this 1930's Cole Porter classic for three reasons; Stephen Sondheim was the God of my high school theatre class, Sutton Foster - the star of Anything Goes - delighted audiences in Thoroughly Modern Millie (a tap heavy production from 2000) and it was the first broadway show I was seeing with my Grandma. My Grandmother Vera danced her way into The Roxy Theatre in the 1940's and was a member of the famed Radio City Rockettes. Maybe it's just in my blood, but as soon as I could walk, I wanted nothing more than to dance. Through freshman year of college I danced tap, jazz, ballet and lyrical and was unabashedly in love with every hard working moment. There's nothing like the feeling of sashaying onto a stage, overcome with emotion.

With my Grandma and sister Kerry before Mrs. Pearsall's Dance Studio recital, elementary school

Techniques Dance Studio, 2002

In junior high I began to fulfill my other passion; theatre. I was graciously accepted into the On Tour drama program at Calhoun High School under the stern/Beatle-obsessed instruction of Mr. Sal Salerno, who we just called Sal. We were theatre geeks through-and-through, playing hooky to come into Manhattan to see Le Mis and Rent. To be in On Tour meant the wonderful privilege of experiencing Shakespeare, Greek tragedies, straight plays, musicals, improv, and even directing a senior year one act. (Being in On Tour also meant "learning" the Stanislavski Method of acting ... but I digress.) It was glorious, and while I knew in my heart I may not have the chops to make it on The Great White Way, I was able to act out my dreams in a dance solo in Follies, a speaking part in The American Clock and as Rosa in Tennessee Williams' The Rose Tattoo. I also lovingly look back on being a proud member of many-an-ensemble, which us cast members termed The B.E.E.S. We were The Best Ensemble Eva, Son. Yes, there was some bitterness when certain people always made the lead, but that's high school for ya :)

Follies, 2001 (along with Chrissy, Danielle and Aviva)

The American Clock, 2001 (Mike, myself, Lindsey and Jon)

I've come to realize that the bittersweet emotions I feel when I see a Broadway show, are the result of a melancholy regret I have for not pursuing the activities of my youth as an adult. While my passions and goals have evolved over the years, I would love to find a way to incorporate my old hobbies into the present. I can certainly take classes at Broadway Dance Centre or attend the various dance workshops that this show biz city has available, but alas, I never have. So, there's no time like the present. This summer I am going to do some homework ... it's time I whip out my old dancin' shoes.

"In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking, but now, God knows, Anything Goes!"

The General Turns 26

This year, my friend Roe's birthday falls on Good Friday, so last night me and the gals decided to celebrate a little early. However, there was one small problem: a monsoon decided to unleash its wrath on Manhattan at precisely the exact moment we commenced our evening of fun. Umbrellas were flailing, our feet were soaked and our coiffed hair was in disarray. By the time Lins, Roe and I met at the subway, we looked liked we had swam to 86th street. We stifled our dissapointment in mother nature, and headed to Dos Caminos in the Meatpacking District. We don't hang out in this uber swanky neighborhood often, so we were ready to take it on.

As soon as we sat down, our informative waiter recommended a potent margarita made with double distilled blue agave tequila, which we ordered: stat. And just when a mouthwatering lava bowl of guacamole graced our presence, Jesse joined us for the birthday fiesta. I think the guacamole I ate last night at Dos Caminos was the BEST guac I have ever eaten. The chunks of fresh tomato, zesty lime juice and creamy avocados create this incredible dip that tortillas were born to be eaten with. (At one point my excitement over the guacamole was so intense that I almost inadvertently stabbed Lindsey with my fork. I sometimes have a problem holding on to my cutlery.)

We all ordered the Mexican Chopped salad, made with chiles, crisp apples, beans, green olives, cheese, tomatoes and crispy tortillas tossed in a savory vinaigrette. Mmm mmm good! Mexico City Style Quesadillas and Sweet Potato Fries rounded out our lip-smaking meal. Everything about Dos Caminos, from the warm lighting and rustic atmosphere to the sip-to-the-last-drop margaritas and palate pleasing Mexican food, equal a delicious experience.

Even more delicious was the fact that directly below us was 675 Bar. In times of turbulent weather, the less walking the better. We moseyed on down to the bar and this is where things got interesting. Since we were coming directly from the restaurant above, we got a private escort, head of security style. Now, this guy was an absolute hoot, sporting jeans, a hoodie and an arm cast - not exactly intimidating. Suprisingly, what he lacked in uniform he made up for with enthusiasm. In one breath he told us to "follow me," "now wait right here," "get in line against the wall - single file!" "show me your wrist!" "YOU NEED A STAMP!" ect, etc. It was hysterical, we weren't sure if we were getting admitted into a prison ward or what.

Most bars in the Meatpacking District take clubbing very seriously, but this basement dwelling has more than meets the eye. The theme of 675 appears to be The Retro Home. It reminded me of That 70's Show with wood panelling and Ikea-esque furniture. The even cooler thing was that along the stone wall perimeter are these inconspicuous rooms. In a previous life this space must have been a wine cellar or distillery of some sort. Our "room" had a TV, plaid couches and lounge chairs, cabinets and a (broken) foosball table. We graciously took on the role of letting curious foosball enthusiasts know that sadly, the ball was stuck inside the table. (Side Note: It turns out, one curious foosball enthusiast used to work at Roe's law firm. Small subterranean world indeed.) We tried a few cocktails, one being the April Affair. No Bueno. The mixture of cucumber vodka and blueberry liquor left a curious aftertaste that did not require a follow up. Our last drink, The Moustache, was a refreshingly bubbly combo of Proseco and St. Germain.

That facial hair-inspired cocktail served as the finale to our night on the town. In a funny twist, the rain we dreaded all night ended up leading us to an interesting bar beneath Dos Caminos. Roe's birthday was a success, deluge or not. The four of us gals are going to Tennessee in two weeks, which will ensure a plethora to write about. Great times with great friends and a laugh factor that tips the scales into the red zone. So, with that being said, I encourage you all to travel to Hudson Street and go south of the border at Dos Caminos and south of the street for 675 Bar.

Exciting New Culinary and Imbibing Horizons

I currently work in the restaurant industry, but often feel like an outsider when I am caught unaware when asked about a trendy new eatery. I LOVE to eat and really enjoy eating out, but hobnobbing at the hottest spots in New York City comes at a price. I'm a firm believer that you can still enjoy unique and delicious fare, and not have to dine at said hottest spots, so I usually find myself eating at establishments that fall both under the radar and in my budget. With that being said, it is really exciting when you do find yourself at the pulse of New York City, eating at restaurants that have been reviewed by The New York Times and are revered by industry honchos.


Stanton Social

On Monday, my girlfriends and I began a tradition that we've dubbed GNO (Girls Night Out). We all lead busy, and at times, stressful lives, so it's really important to set aside nights when we'll get together, treat ourselves to an indulgent meal, unwind and revel in the fact that we have each other to lean on. Lindsey made reservations at Stanton Social, an uber trendy hotspot on the Lower East Side at the corner of Stanton and Ludlow Streets. The LES is one of my favorite neighborhoods, so that sweetened the deal even more. We were seated in a u-shaped booth and immediately ordered a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. The premise behind Stanton Social is tapas style menu offerings. We ordered about five small plates, which included Potato and Goat Cheese Pierogies and French Onion Soup Dumplings. Our meal was really good, but with all of the hype considered, didn't blow me away. Maybe it's just my oversized appetite, but small plates alway leave me wanting more. The overall atmosphere was incredibly fun and swanky, so I would definitely go back. (Especially to try their sliders, one of the only items on the menu that don't come tapas style.) GNO was off to an impressive start.


Dumpling Man

On Friday, my sister Kerry met me at my Union Square office around 7:30pm, and from there we made our way to the East Village's Dumpling Man. My sister had been talking about Dumpling Man for a while, so I was really happy to finally sink my teeth into some authentic Chinese dumplings. The restaurant is long and lean, although after eating here a few times, I think it would be hard to maintain that sort of figure! The dumplings are offered steamed or seared, and we both opted for seared. I ordered pork, while Kerry ordered veggie, and then we both split a second veggie because they were that good. It really is a simple dining experience; tender, piping hot dumplings come in portions of 6 or 10, and are presented in a cardboard container, which are then eaten with a pair of chopsticks. Nothing fancy, but classically satisfying all the same.


Tribeca Grill

My weekend of dining excursions continued on Saturday night, when I accompanied Lindsey and the wonderful DiCola family to Tribeca Grill, co-owned by Robert De Niro. I really love this part of town; quaint cobblestone streets and classic townhouses, juxtaposed with extremely high end dining and even higher rising waterfront condos. The neighborhood oozes a sophisticated vibe, but lacks the stuffiness of an area like the Upper East Side (spoken by a resident Upper East Sider). Grand is the first word that comes to mind when I think of Tribeca Grill. The place is massive, with high ceilings, exposed pipe and bricks walls, giving it an almost loft-like feel. We especially liked the larger than life stained glass light fixtures, which resembled upside down sombreros. Lindsey and I split the Bleu Cheese Endive Salad to start. The savory bleu cheese and crisp apples was a refreshing appetizer. We both ordered the Sweet Potato Gnocchi, which was superb. The soft texture of the gnocchis was complimented by the crunchiness of the dish's squash. We all split dessert, a medley of cherry sorbet and warm apple pie. You talkin' to me ... fantastic!


Auction House

After Tribeca Grill, Lins' dad drove us back uptown. Here, I was introduced to a diamond-in-the-rough of the Upper East Side bar scene. I've lived in this neighborhood for over a year now, but the bars still don't do it for me. With the exception of American Trash, Biddy's Pub (a bar we are determined to become townies at) and Dylan Murphy's, most of the bars up here have a fratty atmosphere that I have found myself weaning off of. However, there is a bar on the corner of 89th and 2nd, which Lindsey found with a friend, and the aid of a map. It has no signage, and resembles no other bar on the UES that I have ever been to. At Auction House, you are greeted by exceptionally dim lighting, red velvet couches and murals of 18th century nudes. The relaxed ambiance and old world surroundings were a breath of fresh air and while I only had wine, I will definitely be back to explore the rest of the options on tap. Good find, even if a map was required to find it.


And with that, my weekend tale comes to a close. Stay tuned, as upcoming GNOs will surely be recounted in this blog - who knows where we will end up!

Josh Ritter at Terminal 5

I have most definitely been slacking in the blog department as of late, but I can't stay away for too long. I should have made my New Year's Resolution "Write More" ... but maybe I can still make it my Middle-of-February-and-Beyond Resolution.

For starters, this past weekend I had the pleasure of seeing/hearing Josh Ritter at Terminal 5 with Rob and friends. It was a wonderful show, which I wrote a review for on PapertrailMusic.com. Take a look!

http://papertrailmusic.com/2011/02/15/josh-ritter-incited-a-valentines-day-brawl-at-terminal-5/

S'MAC my lips for mac and cheese

I love macaroni and cheese. I always have. The velvety combination of two of my favorite foods, most notably the smooth and creamy CHEESE, make for a sublime dish that I can hardly resist. And while I don't snub my nose at the familiar blue box, a little orange eatery in the East Village has reserved a spot in my heart for the best mac and cheese I have ever eaten. That little eatery is S'MAC.



A few years ago I read an article in Newsday about an up-and-coming food joint devoted entirely to macaroni and cheese. Immediately, my mouth began to salivate and I knew I had to try it. I sought out this gem on East 12th Street and, lo and behold, my dairy dreams were handed to me in the center of a piping hot cast-iron skillet. The macaroni and cheese is so decadent and rich and is accented by a crunchy breadcrumb topping; a simple meal crafted to perfection.

An eclectic menu offers a variety of choices, from the standard All American, my personal favorite, made with American and Cheddar cheeses to the Mediterranean with spinach, goat cheese and olives. If your palate dares, you can also try the Cajun, made with Cheddar and Pepper Jack cheeses, andouille sausage, green pepper and Cajun seasonings, or the Masala, inspired by the exotic spices of India. In addition to these dishes, and a few others I didn't note, you can also create your very own signature dish.

By some miracle of the Food Gods, I was able to snap the following picture of the Buffalo Chicken I recently ordered before completely devouring every last morsel.



Whenever the skillet arrives to my table, the fork humbly housed in the table's condiment caddy is dutifully prepared, and mere seconds pass before I dive in. The crunchy exterior gives way to a creamy middle, where the macs are cooked al dente and the cheese oozes and stretches comfortably before exploding on the taste buds.

You may need a moment. It's ok.

The experience at S'MAC is not for the meek, as this teeny spot requires diners to have hawk eyes to scope out that group of pleasantly stuffed friends just about to get up from their table. For those who wish to take the magic home, Sarita's Macaroni and Cheese is only two storefronts down and deals entirely in the take out and delivery business. Depending on the degree of hunger being faced, you may satiate the pangs with either a Nosh, a Major Munch, the Mongo or the Partay! size, which could feed a small family. The macs used in these delightful concoctions are also versatile: regular, multi-grain and even gluten free.

After all is said and done, I can't stress enough how delicious the mac and cheese is here. If I were a famous chef/restauranteur/foodie/on the Food Network, I would unabashedly announce that this was my favorite place for macaroni and cheese on The Best Thing I Ever Ate - Macaroni and Cheese edition. Please, go forth and try some S'MAC!

http://www.smacnyc.com/

That's a spicy meat-a-ball!

When I was younger I dreamt of being a chef. It all goes back to spending weekends at my Grandma's, who was lucky enough to have cable before we did, where I watched countless hours of The Food Network. East Meets West, Molto Mario, the original Emeril Lagassi show The Essence of Emeril, Two Fat Ladies and countless other classics occupied my weekends. My Grandma and Mom still humor me every holiday by letting me make the antipasta, a tradition I insisted on growing up.



It makes me laugh to think that I used to make faux shopping lists and pretend to go food shopping in my parent's fridge as a kid, knowing that when I finally had my own house, my cabinets would be filled with only the best ingredients. The sad reality is that today, food shopping is just as big a chore as my mom always complained it was, and at 8:30pm, whipping up dinner is purely a method of survival. However, every so often, when the stress levels have subsided and I have a few hours to spare in the kitchen, I'm able to dabble in the hobby of my youth and cook an extra tasty dinner.



This afternoon, the cutting boards came out and I began chopping garlic and onions just the way I like before adding them to a pot of sizzling olive oil. After adding crushed tomatoes and seasonings, my sauce boiled away its frustration while I made some meatballs. My Grandma, hands down, makes the best meatballs I have ever eaten. Meatballs were always a cause of consternation for my Mom, who is never fully satisfied with her makings. I think the key to my Grams delicious meatballs, is that she uses the trifecta of ground meat - beef, pork and veal - and in addition to Italian breadcrumbs, she mixes in stale bread, which she mashes with water. The taste and textures are just right, every time. Today, my meatballs were made in the standard style of ground beef, egg, grated cheese, breadcrumbs and seasonings, which after browning in a pan, were tossed into the sauce to simmer.

A few hours later, when the penne was al dente, I tossed the macaroni and sauce together and enjoyed a satisfying Sunday dinner. Mangia!