COUNTRY LIFE + CITY LIFE
Rainbow sherbet is making a comeback, everyone's some kind of "high" in NYC and too many synchronicities to count!
COUNTRY LIFE — JUST BEYOND THE CITY
Last Tuesday, Marissa and I met at Penn Station, got all the snacks from all the yummy spots Moynihan Hall had to offer and rode along the Hudson river until we reached the river’s namesake, the town of Hudson. It was great to have had a mini date with her! My boo! And although not pictured, herself, she did me the honor of styling my shoot. You can take the Creative Director out of her office, but you can’t take the Creative Director out of her - even on a train (especially with “good light”).
As I deboarded, I heard some unmistakable Southern squeals coming from the far end of the caboose — and just from the voice (and that high pitch!), I heard home. It was my Erica! We laughed, hugged, and all caught up for a bit until Marissa hopped in her car, East Chatham bound, and we climbed into ours to cruise Hudson and dine at Feast & Floret (where if you go, you just may rub shoulders with ER’s Julianna Margulie, as we did) before "beddy by" came calling in Copake.
Will, Erica, and their two curious, playful pups and I had coffee Wednesday morning around their dining table for hours — my dream! And then Erica’s phone sounded. Rafi was waiting for us at his soon-to-open restaurant, Hilltown.
We rushed to get ready and headed straight there, where I felt beyond honored to get the grand tour as Erica’s guest. Oh! Have I mentioned she’ll be the Head Pastry and Pasta Chef there? (Cue the collective “only about a thousand times in ALL your En Routes” from you all. But come on — I am just so, SO, proud of her!)
Her space? The entire top floor to herself, where she’ll dream up whatever delights our sweet tooths can handle. (I’m hearing Rainbow Sherbet may just make an appearance.) Then we headed downstairs and met the man himself: Rafi, the owner. Truly the smiliest, most enthusiastic, detail-loving human I’ve ever met. His energy? Electric. By the time I left, I somehow thought I owned the place, he had gotten me so excited!
They open mid to late September. If you’re up there — GO!
After the tour, we made our way down the hill to Hudson for a mid-morning lunch situation at Café Mutton — where Erica had spent last summer perfecting the art of the crêpe. When you go, do as we did, and ask for an extra fork so that everyone can get in on the mussel toast, egg scramble and chicken jelly sammie, and then possibly ask for an autograph from Shaina Loew-Banayan, their head chef, who is a NY State Best James Beard Finalist. Impressive!
To walk it off, Erica and I set out for Olana — her “absolute favorite piece of land in all of upstate.” We hiked the entire thing, talking through all the nuances of life. One of my favorite memories with my girl. Afterward, she drove me across the bridge that is just beyond the property so I could see Olana’s full grandness from afar, and be proud of how high up we had gone. It was… in a word I can’t seem to use enough lately because it makes me laugh when I see the smirks of people who hear me… GORGINA!
But nothing compared to the view that we got to experience later that evening, when we went for a glass of wine at Klocke Estate. We ordered our local (ish) Finger Lakes glasses of wine and then went out to overlook what had to be the most gorgina sunset of all time. It felt like there were multiple — each time the sun slipping behind one mountain, then another, then another. Upgrade!
While Will was back in Jersey City prepping for the weekend at their famed butcher shop, Darke Pines (where the hype is real. GO! Just the other day, a girl was overheard in line saying into her phone: “I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but everyone seems to need whatever's at the end of this line.” That pretty much sums up the vibe at their Butcher Shop. Best sammies and meats and prepared foods), we, Erica “Rica” Gia Allen and Anne “Annie” Caroline Bethea, did what we do best — thrifted! We braved the downpour to grab coffees at Super Natural, and when the monsoon let up for maybe 30 seconds, we dashed into Second Stage on Warren Street (community thrift shop). LAWD — someone hold us back! We tried on everything.
I walked out with zero purchases… but the ultimate freebie! I spotted the one gem on the “free rack.” A baby blue London Fog windbreaker in mint condition (minus a massive neck discoloration that we tried bleaching out that night with strong detergent and a washing machine setting that was so intense it briefly knocked the power out – but sigh - not the stain!).
Erica on the other hand. She scored a cake carrier (pastry chef!!), a billowy white birthday shirt (chic city girl), and, of course, a cookbook. My boo doesn’t go anywhere without snagging a new recipe.
To toast our thrifting adventures, we popped into Rivertown Lodge for a little sneak peek, followed by a drive around town. I got to see their old apartment and a few of Erica’s favorite Hudson Proper spots (yep, I learned that’s how locals distinguish the village from the broader area). Wrapping up our day with dinner at Hudson Diner – Where Hudson’s mightiest forces, Mel the Bakery + The Meat Hook Butcher, joined to reincarnate the classic American diner — where rainbow sherbet, would you guess? was on the menu! Erica was right! It’s coming back! — and then an ice cream at Fortunes in Tivoli.
The morning we left, we woke up to the AC unit falling out of the window. Ok! We were already awake, but we fully woke up after that commotion and it landing right near where I was sitting outside. Sweet Erica had tried to remove it herself and when I looked up, she was staring down at me from the second story bare window, hands over her face, eyes wide — maybe even tearing up. She was terrified that she almost ended her AC with an AC. Can you imagine the irony??!! Instead, she fed me…
I rode back to Jersey City with her and finally got to taste the tomato sandwich (uh oh, here comes my bragging again!). This sandwich is so good that the Mayor gave her a key to the city in honor of it! What are we doing!!!?? I’m so proud! I would have given her the key and the house to the city for it, because good gawd it was unreal! I also got a half-pint of pimento cheese for my next day picnic with Lori and Luis, the last rice crispy treat (that she may or may not have stolen from the order in front of me so that her besties could have the last one on the shelf), and a jar of the All-Day-Salt — aka my stepdad’s kryptonite. He puts it on everything.
Bottom line. If you’re ever in JC, GO!!!! But make it on a Friday or Saturday because these tomato sandwiches are worth the wait! And you will wait … and wait … and wait until it’s your glorified time to order and start salivating!
CITY LIFE — ACCLIMATING FROM THE COUNTRY
This past week was filled with some of the best people who I’m lucky to call best friends, in the best city that I used to call the best home.
To kick things off: Lori and Luis invited me over to their new apartment — with a “trifecta view” (I think that’s what he called it?), where you can see in three different directions across the city. UNREAL! We then booked it to Central Park, walking in the street the whole way since Madison (I think?) was closed for a pedestrian day. LOVE THAT. We caught up on work, trips, what’s next, city life, laughed about the bachelorettes behind us dressed in tulle gowns... and I had what is now my second favorite sandwich (thanks to Erica’s tomato masterpiece the day before), which is any sandwich made by Luis. He’s also a master (home) chef. Yummmy.
I also made my annual visit to Kalustyan's on Lexington as I walked home. It’s the landmark for fine specialty foods! And if you know me, you know I go for the honey roasted pecans, the lemon dried almonds and the dried strawberries! It’s where it’s at!
Yesterday, on my walk to the Whitney to see the Amy Sherald exhibit, I felt high. But I wasn’t. (I don’t think?) Then again… who can say anymore? It’s legal up here now. It wasn’t back in the archaic days when I called this place home. Back then, if you wanted weed (which I didn’t, Mom and Dad!!), you had to call some sketchy delivery service (which I didn’t, Mom and Dad!!) and host the guy in your apartment while he showed you “the goods.” Now? That skunky scent floats freely through the streets, wafting up like it’s the suspect steam from the potholes.
Anyway — I derail.
So, as I was saying, I felt high. High on excitement, high on love for this almighty city, and maybe just a little on secondhand smoke from everyone! Who freakin’ knows!
On my happy high walk though, I passed my favorite house!!! And, what I’m calling the most expensive house in the world.
It’s a teeny little place — maybe 1,700 square feet tops — sitting right on the corner of Charles and Gansevoort in the West Village. And she is CUTE. Like, stop-in-your-tracks, storybook-level cute. Look at her!!
I say “most expensive” because my totally unqualified, not-at-all-in-real-estate guess is that this tiny slice of real estate is worth a cool $300 million. I’ve been known to grossly overestimate the value of things that I’ve never bought before — homes, boats, diamonds, just to name a few — but I’m still confidently placing this one in the hundred-million club. I mean… it’s on a goldmine!
And my favorite part about her? Which I’m quit sure is everyone’s favorite part about her… is that her owners have kept her exactly as she was. My heroes! They haven’t sold out (yet). No 35-story glass tower full of finance bros thinking they’re the %$#& living their rich life on top of one another in the West Village. No. It’s just one perfectly private petite house, with a doggy door, a yard, and their Subaru parked on the street for a single family in the heart of the most coveted neighborhood in all of the world. J’obsessed!
WILD RUN INS AND TELEPHATHY
On Sunday, I was invited to a Buddhist temple in Williamsburg. I’ve never been to a temple before and haven’t read much about Buddhism, but being back in NYC, I’ve returned to the way I used to live here — under the mantra: always say YES until you have to say NO. (A life rule gifted to me by Fiona, who I’m staying with now. She first shared it with me on my 28th birthday outside of The Ludlow Hotel. My old watering-hole.)
Although unfamiliar, I really enjoyed it. The teacher at the temple, Joe, spoke about the sky. How it isn’t actually blue. There is no blue. We just see blue. This blew my mind. And, instantly brought me back to a question I asked my mom as a kid. I am cackling as I type!! Hilarious. Here goes: “If the sky is blue during the day and it’s black at night, is it ever really blue? Or do we just think it is because someone told us so?” She took a sip of coffee, said it was too early for this kind of question, and then promptly left to dry her hair. She’s never returned to answer it. Ha!
And now, some 30 years later, I finally have my answer. In Williamsburg from a Buddha. The sky isn't blue. Because there is no blue. I mean think about it (it’s heady so be patient), but you’ll never reach blue. When you take off in a plane as an example, you see blue, you fly up to blue, and yet lo and behold nothing ever turns blue! Are you ready? Because it’s not blue. I’m still processing too. But I loved the lesson. Basically this is all an illusion. Ha! Got me wanting to now go dry my hair and not return.
Before going to the temple, I walked the Williamsburg Bridge and made a quick detour to Bakeri — my all-time favorite place in Williamsburg — for their famous lavender shortbread. Eek! They were sold-out (tragic), so I turned to the line behind me and asked, “What’s the move?” In an anonymous vote they all said the cinnamon bun. Huge. Gooey. And can you believe it? Calorie-free!
With ten minutes to spare, I grabbed it and a seat outside. Mid-bun bliss, three girls walked by, muttering “That place looks cute.” I couldn’t resist (I’ve been talking to strangers nonstop since I’ve been back (finally! no language barrier!)), so I responded, “It’s the yummiest place you’ll ever eat in this hood.” They smiled, and one of them said, deadpan, “You’re Southern.” At that point, I turned the volume up with “Howwwa on earth did you know thaaaat?”
Apparently, it was the way I said “eva” instead of “ever.” Killed me! Turns out, they were all from South Carolina, they had all gone to Furman University, and only one lived in the city now. We chatted almost until I had to leave. Pure moment upgrade. And just as they walked off... stage left… enter a couple from England.
As I took my final bite of that calorie-free (read: heavy-as-a-brick-bat and full of butter) cinnamon bun, a little old lady started honking her horn. Welcome to New York! Honks here mean everything: anger, SOS, a friendly “hey,” or, in her case, “Can someone direct me as I parallel park? I can barely see over the steering wheel!” The stares she got from passersby were brutal. At one point, I couldn’t help myself so I spoke up in her defense. That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Where are you from? Wait, wait — let me guess!” Before I could say a word, she declared: “South Carolina. Charleston?”
UMmmm, how on EARTH did she know that? (she had not been there for the southern girl exchange remember.) She explained she has, and I quote, “a thing for accents.” Then she went on to explain that she grew up in a town in England that looks exactly like Charleston. I perked up! “Wait… you mean…” and before I could finish, she named the exact town I was thinking of. Of course now, writing this dispatch, I can’t remember it for the life of me, but it’s a tiny seaport village in the UK, and the hometown to, get this, one of my friends, Rebecca, — who now lives in … wait for it… Charleston!!!
So… eeeeeep… you are never going to guess!!!
When I leave temple, NO JOKE, who do I have a message from? Rebecca! Is that wild? We haven’t texted in months. I’m talking we might text once or twice a year!! UN. REAL.
I couldn’t believe the synchronicity. I was telling Fiona about it on our walk to the bridge when — bam! — another one hit. Out of nowhere “AC!!!” was shouted on the street. Body electric. I was famous! Someone recognized me! It was Steven. Which honestly might be even wilder than the Rebecca story, because, hello, we were in Williamsburg! We were walking on Wythe and maybe South 3rd? A total random street. No real reason anyone would choose it over, say, Berry or Bedford Ave. It was around 2pm, which is typically when we should have been pretending to be trendy New Yorkers brunching somewhere that’s the hot-spot. But we weren't. We were all there. A 45 minute bike ride, a 44 minute subway ride, or a 153 minute walk from where Steven lives on the Upper East, and a 45 min walk from where Fiona (and I, this week!) live near Broome and Allen. Not even close to the block we were ALL cruisin at the same time.
I’m still regretting not taking a photo — it was all too shocking. But lawd was it an upgrade! I (the girl who doesn’t live here permanently) was spotted! Even this morning at La Cabra Bakery the man behind the counter asked gleefully “Where have you been?” confused because I don’t remember him (eek) like he must remember me (or more likely mistook me for someone he actually knows), I answered with “I’ve been looking for you!” Which isn’t not true. I’m always looking for situations like that – the ones with people who are enthusiastic to see me coming.
Bottom line, NYC feels huge-ish… until it doesn’t. Then it shrinks and your name gets yelled out left and right! Comme moi!!
Kris didn’t yell my name per se, I mean we did have a lady date scheduled so she was looking for me and wasn’t shocked enough to belt “AC!!” — but lawd did I still feel body electric when we locked eyes! I haven’t gotten my arms around her since our last date in April or May in Pareeee. She’s usually in LA but the stars aligned and she happened to be here, for work, on our favorite city island (sorry Île Saint Louis), Manhattan, while I was!!
She met me at The Whitney for the Amy Sherald show (sidebar: This exhibit was pulled out of the Smithsonian by the artist. If you want to read more you can, here) and then as she ducked out to take a work call, I perused until I had seen it all. Making a special stop by to pay homage to Selma’s, Gee’s Bend quilt. Felt necessary and exciting, especially after being told more about these ladies by my Selma gal this week, Erica!
Then, we did what we do best: walk, talk, café sit, and hunt for hidden gems. Here’s what we found: Gray & Davis, a jewelry shop that was (sigh!) closed on Mondays, but that Kris has insisted that I keep on my list, the Three Lives & Company book shop (where if I had to bottle its scent? I’d call it “School Supplies”) where I picked up the Pulitzer Prize Winner, James, and Keith McNally’s page turner, I Regret Almost Everything (which I’ve learned I also need to LISTEN to it since it should be read/heard in the voice of an English chap), then on to Fellini Cucina, a café, where we both ordered their matcha yuzu lemonade and took residence for hours. She is an upgrade! A pure serotonin upgrade in human form. I wish everyone had a Kris!
Tonight I’m off to take Fiona to Superior Burger for a veggie dinner and then over to Angelica East where we’ll queue up for a showing of The Materialist.
Until next week, find all my places below,
Xxo ac
PS: if you’re in the city and have a hankering for southern food (who doesn’t ALWAYS?), go stand in Erica’s Biscuit Line on Sunday, August 10th, in Jersey City. She’ll be sold out by 1pm I’d bet anything!