Only in New York.

So I know I usually write about travel, food, photography, etc. 

But this time I'm going to touch on a 'culture' of sorts, in my own city.

It's 2:54 and this is a true story, which just occurred.  

Crazy shit that happens after 2am: 

2:01am - Downtown 4 subway. NYC.  A seemingly intoxicated “grown-ass man” as he was later referred to, is thrown onto the floor from his seat as the train takes the sharp curve approaching Astor Place station, while his wife/girlfriend and friend laugh hysterically at his misfortune.  The rest of the car (myself & 4 others) are rather amused.  

2:07am - Gentleman to my left, a family man type who appears to have had quite a rough week, falls asleep and as the train comes to a halt at one of the next stops, tips over onto the bench until his torso and then head hit the seat & he jolts upright (yet, still with eyes closed).  His smartphone goes crashing to the floor despite his tight grip on the earbuds in his hand.  He doesn’t bend over to pick up his phone, but curiously digs into his pocket to reach for it.  Out comes his empty hand and accidentally a wad of cash that is evenly distributed on the subway floor around his feet.  He reaches down, grabs the phone, leaves the cash, and falls back to sleep.  The good samaritan across the way picks up all the cash & stuffs it back into the guys pocket. Surprised? As was I.  

2:11am - A strung-out, homeless, crazy, vagabond, type older man wearing dark Wayfarers and a christmas ornament dangling from the right arm of said shades, reeking like an ashtray, saunters into the train car.  He sits to my left and begins talking.  To himself.  He mumbles mostly - I heard something about the promised land and a desert.  But don’t get me wrong, this is no religious fanatic mumbling scripture - he’s definitely insane.  Just before his 1-stop trip on the subway expires he exclaims to myself & the girl across from me that he has found the jewel of the Nile!  He removes his hands from his dirty Jersey sweatshirt pockets and opens them - in his right, an obsidian rock, attractive, but certainly no jewel; in his left, a disco ball.  

Only in NY.  

Hanging out with Mies & Gaudi

Barcelona for the second time around was a completely different experience than the first.  Over four years ago I checked out this city for the first time fresh out of a few semesters of architecture so needless to say I spent a lot of time at Casa Mila, Casa Batllo, Parque Guell & La Sagrada Familia.  All beautiful and individually unique - however, there is much more to the city than JUST Gaudi works.  Last time I was there I didn't even get to check out Mies Van Der Rohe's "Barcelona Pavilion" built for the Germans at the 1929 International Exhibition.

Apart from the club partying, Las Ramblas, Paseig de Gracia, and architectural sites its a great city to just wander.  Simply stick a map in your pocket, get utterly lost, and then figure out where you are and how to get home.

I rented a scooter with an Aussie staying at the hostel (who had been in Barcelona for about 6 weeks) & we headed down the coast to Sitges, a small city about 40-50km from Barcelona.  On the way we stopped at a beach, a buddhist monastery, and a hilltop natural park overlooking the coastline.  Zipping around the country on a moped is definitely one way to feel like a local - the more I visit cities all over the world the more I enjoy seeing them from the day to day perspective versus the standard 4 day tourist trip.

Absinthe bar - Raval barrio, Barcelona

Estoy en el sol

Parc Garraf

coastal road down toward Sitges

Casa Batllo - Gaudi, by night

Crowds cross the street on Paseig de Gracia

Barcelona Pavilion - Mies Van Der Rohe

La Sagrada Familia - Gaudi (130 years into construction)

Here are some pictures!

Brussels - Munich - Salzburg

So, I am all over the map with this blog.  Literally and figuratively.  I’ve only written about 3 out of the 15+ trips I’ve taken this year; food stuff & adventures from my past outnumber the things I am currently doing.  I’m making a shift - time to discuss 2010-2011 travels before the year is over!  

all over the iPhoto map

Recently I headed to Brussels, Munich, and Salzburg to see friends, explore the cities, and drink delicious beer.  Brussels is a small city, and like it, this will be short and sweet.  Belgium is known for a few things: Chocolate, Beer, Frites, & Wafffles.  Oh, also hosting the HQ of the European Union, and NATO - no big deal.  

Belgian chocolate is creamy and decadent and i’ve been devouring my stash since I got back.  The waffles were good, but honestly, you can get a good belgian waffle anywhere in the world.  Now the hard things to replicate: the fries & the beer.  There’s something about fries served in a paper cone you hold in your hand and eat with a toothpick fork that can not be copied elsewhere.  Best toppings on the frites were mayo & yellow curry - together - and it was absolutely delicious (and probably 1000 calories).  If you’re disgusted by this - go to a different restaurant.  

On to the beer.  As good as Blue Moon is here in the states, no matter how many times they say its a Belgian style white beer, its just not the same.  I spent some time in the Delirium Cafe in Brussels with my friend Brittany.  This place holds the Guinness world record for most beers on a menu with over 2,500!! Favorite beers out of the few (dozen) I tried: Gulden Draak, Hoegaarden Grand Cru, and St. Bernardus ABT12.  Wanna know more? http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/48/155

Quick flight down to Munich to meet up with my friend Svenja and we were off to explore the city & take it all in.  Englischer Garten (you can SURF in part of the river - how cool is that!), Marienplatz, Olympic Village, BMW welt museum und werk, Oktoberfest... oh, wait, I had to leave the day before it began =( 

Regardless, I explored the wheat based beverage scene of Munich as well - Belgian witbier and Bavarian hefeweissbier are my two favorite types, so I was really in all my glory for this trip.  Franziskaner & Paulaner stand out as frontrunners for me - though they are widely distributed, even the local or craft brews don’t compare in my opinion.  

The Olympic Village was something I didn’t get to see the first time I was in Munich, so I’m glad I made it there this time - still intact from the 1972 Olympic games, the architecture of the olympic housing now turned student housing is so interesting.  As a blank canvas to the students who live there, see the photos of what they turn their residence into!

We also took a day drive down to Salzburg, Austria.  What a great little city to just walk around and take in the sights.  A quick climb up to the top of the hill reveals a city scape with a river separating the old & the new.  And our drive home to Munich included a lakeside, sunset dining experience offering me the two dishes I wanted most while there: Schnitzel and Spätzle.  Veal cutlet breaded and pan fried in butter with a side of egg and flour noodles pressed through a colander into boiling water to achieve the mini-dumpling or “little sparrow” (the exact translation of spätzle) look.  Polished off with a delicious wheat beer, happy and full, we completed the trip back to Munich.  

Flights on this trip: JFK-BRU-MUC-FRA-JFK

Alaska... The Last Frontier

Did you know that tourist season in Alaska ends about mid-way through September?  Well it does.  Apparently it gets cold, quick.  If you go there planning on taking a short cruise to see the glacial cliffs, or a float plane to soar above the tops of the glaciers and swing around the peaks of the snow capped mountains, don't fly into Anchorage on a whim at the end of the month - because those things aren't available to you any longer.

However, what you will experience is pristine wilderness, crisp air, clean water, wildlife on city streets, breathtaking views, and the sounds of silence.  I have never felt so small in such a large place before.  There are more people in 1/8th of the island of Manhattan than there are in the entire state of Alaska which, in area, is nearly as large as the continental United States.  There are more float planes than cars, and more pilots than in any other state.  We explored Anchorage, took the Seward highway down the Kenai peninsula to Homer, Seward, and Whittier, stayed in a nice hotel in the city & car-camped off the beaten track.

my travel buddy, Melissa

We ate scallops and halibut and salmon that were caught within a few miles of the restaurant.  Captain Patties fish house in Homer was yummy, but the not-to-miss foodie spot is Snow City Cafe in Anchorage.  It was there that (PETA, close your eyes), I ate reindeer - and it was delicious.  I'll let the rest of the story be told visually.

Flights on this trip: LGA-MSP-ANC-MSP-LGA

A pertinent quote; stolen.

"For if every true love affair can feel like a journey to a foreign country, where you can’t quite speak the language, and you don’t know where you’re going, and you’re pulled ever deeper into the inviting darkness, every trip to a foreign country can be a love affair, where you’re left puzzling over who you are and whom you’ve fallen in love with. All the great travel books are love stories, by some reckoning—from the Odyssey and the Aeneid to the Divine Comedy and the New Testament—and all good trips are, like love, about being carried out of yourself and deposited in the midst of terror and wonder." 
- Pico Iyer, Why We Travel


(borrowed from a food & travel blog of a friend of a friend of a friend that I stumbled upon some time ago... Just A Pinch of Salt)

Six hours in N’awlins

When you work for an airline and three of your colleagues also have off on a random Tuesday, what do you do?  That’s right.  You take the 7am flight from New York to New Orleans, spend the day in the Big Easy, and take a 6pm flight home.  

So we get into New Orleans at around 10am, grab a cab, and head down to the Garden District.  Our “plan” (if you can call a 5-minute conversation about what we’ll do today, a plan), was to walk the Garden District, admire some architecture like the mansions on St. Charles Ave and the hard to find shotgun houses (typical of the less wealthy suburbs of the city) in this district.  

Prytania Street, Garden District

Next we took our cabbies advice and grabbed the trolley car to take us into the French Quarter.  It’s an interesting place yet unexpectedly empty, albeit noon on a tuesday, for the raucous crowd we expected to see on Bourbon Street.  So beads in hand, we took to the street stopping in bars for two-for-one drinks all day.  

Jackie & I 

Hunger strikes and it’s suddenly my favorite part of the trip - a table for four at Emeril’s Restaurant.  I wanted to try his NOLA restaurant, but word to the wise, they only do lunch on weekends!  Creole marinated calamari with olives, smoked tomato sauce, and parmesan - the tentacles were perfect, and though the rings were slightly rubbery it was still toward the top of the list for great calamari appetizers.  

Creole Calamari

My entree was perfect in every sense of the word - the Andouille crusted drum (a white fish with a mild flavor) was enhanced by grilled eggplant and shoestring potatoes accented with a delicious creole pecan meuniere sauce.  

Andouille crusted drum

Other dishes I tasted include the sweet barbecue glazed salmon with andouille potato hash (excellent!) and a chicken and waffle dish which was even better than the 'chicken and waffles so good they’ll make you want to slap yourself' I shared in Memphis.  

Sweet barbecue salmon

Chicken 'n Waffles

So while we were eating we found out from some of our awesome and attentive coworkers back home that our return flight direct to NY was cancelled due to eastern seaboard thunderstorms.. so we had to leave about an hour and a half ahead of schedule and re-routed through Atlanta - which was fine with me, seeing as I got a first class seat because of our connection ;) 

NOLA, I’ll be back. (On a day when it’s not 105 degrees).

Marzo... a story that restores my faith in humanity

Midterms have come and gone and it’s now time for spring break.  WOOO Spring Break PARTY! CANCUN!...... no.  

I’m in Italy, one of the richest cultural and historical countries in the world.  I’m not wasting my time partying on the beach for a week.  Some of our friends headed down to the Canaries, a small grouping of Spanish islands off the coast of Morocco.  I saw their pictures and it was beautiful, but I was in the mood to take in as much of Italy as I could.  Will, Amy, and I headed north from Tuscany to Liguria and the rugged coastal cities that make up Cinque Terre, or “The five lands.”  From La Spezia you can take the local train to the five towns - Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso.  The best thing I could suggest for any able-bodied person to do would be to hike the trail that runs amongst all five towns.  It will take you from one adorable coastal city to another, and while you walk (in some places hike and climb) from one to the next, you can see the towns down below, the waves crashing against the breakers, steep farmland on the hills, and if you time it right, a beautiful sunset over the Ligurian Sea.  To hike from the first to the fifth takes a good 5 hours, depending upon your ability.  Walk the steep and narrow “streets” (aka stairs) that meander through each town, you’ll find unique homes and friendly locals (if it’s not tourist season).  Next stop for us is Genova and to be honest I don’t remember much of the city other than the fact that every shop sold Pesto & there’s a sizable aquarium in the city.  

View of Vernazza from the cliffs

train tunnel in cinque terre

Cinque Terre

There’s a really cool but incriminating story that is attached to our arrival in Milan.  I was a last minute addition to Will & Amy’s trip through Italy, and I’m grateful for their invitation!  The hotel we stayed at in the city didn’t really allow three people in a room - so after they checked in and I found out what floor they were on, they made their way to the elevator, and I headed up the fire escape ;) 

Half of the cathedral in Milan, the lower half was under renovation

I’m not a die-hard Dave Matthews fan, but to those of you that are, you’re going to hate me for this.  They had tickets for a Dave Matthews acoustic performance at an opera hall in Milan that sat maybe 800 people.  For those of you who know him well, it’s not uncommon for Dave to play to outdoor crowds of 40,000+ people - so this was a rather intimate gathering.  Since I didn’t have a ticket, I went with my friends anyway intending to buy one on the street, but decided it would be far more fun to just sneak into the show.  Mission accomplished.  

After Milano I head south with Trenitalia to Pesaro & Urbino, where my friend Erica studied Italian.  Urbino is a very tiny medieval fortress type city - extremely hilly, and vastly different from any other Italian city I’ve seen.  Great people, great food, great gelato, great little city.  

Urbino

Now! For the moment you’ve all been waiting for: my restoration of faith in humanity.  

It’s the festa della donna, a day to celebrate the achievements of women.  I’m on the train from Pesaro on the east coast of Italy, headed north through Bologna, to connect south to Florence.  Pain in the ass trip.  And to make it even better - the Italian transportation workers go on strike at 9pm mid-way from Bologna back to Florence.  I don’t know what city I’m in, how far in miles, kilometers, or hours to home, and I don’t speak Italian very well at this point.  Not good.  Fabrizio, the 50-or-so year old gentleman sitting across the aisle is on the phone with his wife relaying the news of the transit strike to the passengers nearby.  Michelina, the nice young italian girl across from me, is trying her best to translate for me in English.  Fabrizio invites the woman across from him, Michelina, and myself to join him in a cab to go to Prato, his hometown (which I found out later its just outside of Florence).  Michelina assured me it was a good choice, and my other option would probably be to sleep in the train station, so I said what the hell.  Fabrizio would not accept a single Euro from any of us for the ride - he said it was his way to recognize the Festa Della Donna .... e l’uomo Americano... 

Not only did Fabrizio pay for the cab to Prato, but he also offered myself and Michelina a ride into Florence, all the way to Santa Maria Novella, the main train station!  But first, we were to stop at his house, because he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  Food is very important for those of us with Italian stomachs.  We were introduced to his wife and kids, and the dogs came around to greet us as we were invited to partake in some wine & cheese, torta, focaccia, olives, etc.  Then, Fabrizio and his wife got back in the car and drove Michelina and I to the city - we walked to the Duomo and parted ways, thankful and happy that such hospitality exists in any country, and in people still today.  

Someday I will find a way to properly thank Fabrizio and his family for their generosity.  

For the following week, my girlfriend at the time Kaitlyn came to visit and we had a blast.  Explored Florence like tourists - we climbed to the top of the duomo, went to the Academia to see the sculpture of the David, and explored all the open air markets that the city has to offer.  We also ate at Il Latini, a fantastic restaurant on Via dei Palchetti that is family style - when you attempt to get in, tell them how many people you are and that you want to try everything!  Antipasti, primi, secondi, contorni, dolci, e vini.  Lots and lots of food & wine.  You won’t regret the pounds you put on.  At the end, the price per person for the table varies based on how much fun you had, how much italian you speak, how cute you are, and how much you flirt with your waiter.  The several times I went we paid anywhere from 25 to 40 euro per person.   

And finally, later in the month a group of us headed down to explore Rome.  I need to go back there because we didn’t spend enough time exploring or eating our way through the city.  We did your basics - The Coliseum, the Pantheon, the Roman Forum, the Trevi Fountain, St. Peters Basilica and of course the Sistine Chapel.  

This was long, sorry. 

Until next time!

Not your mom's hummus...

Once upon a time I wanted hummus (who am I kidding, I want hummus every day), but on such a particular day there was a little snafu in my plan to make my own - I was out of tahini, the sesame paste that makes hummus so damn delicious.  So I kept my chick peas, garlic, and salt, but did away with the lemon, olive oil, and other goodies.   I decided that instead of making traditional Mediterranean hummus, I'd make it Asian style because I had all the right ingredients: Lime, red chili, ginger, etc.  It was creamy and spicy, but something just wasn't there...


I USED THE WRONG BEAN!  Call them what you will - chickpea, ceci, chana, garbanzo... these little guys are traditionally mediterranean, found in the region dating back thousands of years and pair well with other mediterranean ingredients - not southeast asian additives!  Edamame, on the other hand, are immature soybean pods from the far east and their flavor profile is far better suited to the taste I've been trying to accomplish.


Today my craving for a unique hummus hit once again and I wanted to do it Asian, and do it right.  The ingredients you see below (plus a few secrets) comprise the new and improved Sweet & Spicy edamame hummus.  I'm pretty sure this recipe is good enough to sell - anyone have a contact at Sabra?

Walkin' in Memphis

What I noticed first was the open space. There is just SO much space. Nothing is piled on top of other things, the highway entrance ramps are full clover leaves and not misshapen ovals that force drivers to drop down to speeds in the teens.  There were farms - lots of them.  The forecast said 88 and thunderstorms but the sky was free of clouds, yet somewhat hazy. My first glimpse of the Mississippi river - it is the color of coffee: light and sweet. 

Thanks to Hertz for Melissa and my sweet $26 Toyota Yaris, we drove around and explored Riverside drive's beautiful homes before hitting the Peabody hotel for the march of the ducks. Yes, not penguins. Ducks. They live on the roof of the hotel in the duck palace (I'm still not joking), and come down every afternoon from 11-5 to be cute, play and swim in the fountain, entertain guests, and be a general spectacle. It's basically slave labor if you ask me. But I'm no PETA advocate, so well, I don't care. 

We hit Beale street: memphis blues and rock 'n roll cafe's and eateries. We had fried chicken and waffles that we were told, are "so good you'll want to slap yourself."  That was some damn good chicken but let me just say I kept my hands to myself. 

Did some walking along the river and jumped into the mississippi!  Kidding: I would never put my body in that water but I had to touch it. So I did stick an appendage in - add it to the list! I have a list, you'll see it soon. 

We sat by the river and chatted, drove and walked some more of the city, saw the Lorraine Motel here MLK Jr. was assassinated, got an awesomely interesting tour of Sun Studios where none other than Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Johnny Cash recorded hit albums, and headed to Overton park for a walk in the woods.  On our way to dinner we dropped by 1372 Overton to check out the place where "Lucero," Melissa's favorite band practiced, and it was also the location of Elvis' dojo for karate lessons. Bet you didn't know that. 

Ending our day trip at Marlowe's Restaurant, as seen on Guy Fieri's "Diners, drive-ins and dives," we had some ribs, and by some I mean a 20+ piece full rack, BBQ brisket, refried beans, saltly slaw, and biscuits that were more like zeppoles or doughboys depending on your neck of the woods.  Delicious ribs.  These babies were dry rubbed then smoked for 12 hours before a slathering of house made BBQ goes on top!  Well done Marlowe.  Well done.  

Head back to the airport to fly to our respective homes: NYC + BOS. 

On the descent, the blanket of cloud cover so thick above new York city was glowing a mixture of charcoal and orange, almost as if the entire city below were on fire.  The aircraft skimmed along above the clouds like the pilot was waiting for an opening to dip through. When we finally dropped in, and made our way through, we exited the clouds (or from the ground you'd have called it fog) and were at most 100 meters above the runway. Crossing over the grand central parkway, we touched down brilliantly. Thanks for a smooth ride, cap'n. (That's what she said)