Shop 'til you drop

For a girl who loves her factory outlets, Woodbury Common is a scene of plastic fanatastic. Sunday was spent entirely at Woodbury Common, an hour's drive north of New York City, and home to a staggering 220 factory outlet shops.

The shops are stand-alone "shacks" in a bizarre ski-village type setting amidst the mountains. There are four giant parking lots and enough reduced tags to send any sensible shopper into an adrenalin-frenzy.

There was regular watch checking with reference to map movements (you really could get lost out here) and more than a couple of shopping bags were filled.

Monday involved another day trip, this time to Hoboken, New Jersey (now stop laughing New Yorkers). From what I can gather, New Jerseyans are oft looked down upon, mainly for their lack of driving skills in a population-bereft state (compared to New York).

The PATH train begins at the World Trade Centre, and we had a contemplative visit to the Twin Towers site beforehand. It's hard to fathom the events of that day and the timelines, people's stories and memorial plaques were all touching and sobering.

We had actually chosen to take a PATH train just so we could head through the World Trade Centre site, as the subway no longer stops at Cortlandt Street. There were some great views of the Financial District on the other side of the river in Hoboken, and we were pleasantly surprised by the wealth of eating options.

We found a fantastic wholefoods eatery, the Frozen Monkey Cafe, which makes all its own spreads, uses artisan bread and sources hand-made mozzarella. My grilled panini with arugula (rocket), roasted peppers, fresh mozzarella and pesto was divine, and I had the black bean soup which was thick, chunky and deliciously spicy.

Our freshly made blueberry pancakes were absolutely chockful of blueberries although we weren't so enamoured with our roasted almond fudge Tasty D-Lite ice-cream, which tasted of marzipan (bleargh).

Coming back to the World Trade Centre, we foolishly joined the Christmas crush at Century 21, the bargain department store for all New Yorkers. It was utter chaos and confusion. I have no idea what we were thinking!

The Met and GC Oyster Bar

A day at the Met today, a huge feat for any first-time visitor. The Met is huge. The information booth is manned by twelve staff members for pete's sake.

We checked in our bags and coats, only to return a minute later to relaim them again. Since the Met was open until late, we instead started off with a trip to The Cloisters, an hour's bus ride away in Fort Tryon Park, Upper Manhattan, and included in the price of our Met admission.

Devoted to the art of medieval Europe, there were sculptures, tombs, restored arches and jewellery, and an impressive series of unicorn tapestries.

Lunch was had back at the Met cafeteria, with a surprisingly tempting array of hot foods and help-yourself salads.

We did a whirlwind tour of the Met, concentrating mainly on Modern Art, Egypt (amazing Temple of Dendur), the Rara Avis costumes exhibition (from the eccentric fashionista Iris Barrel Apfel) and a fascinating exhibition on Spanish artist and architect, Santiago Calatrava.

A day of culture could only be concluded with a visit to the Grand Central Oyster Bar. I had the Grand Central Oyster Platter, a sampler of eight oysters which were unfortunately unlabelled and our waitress' eye could not be captured. The oysters, I could see from the menu, could have come from Massachusetts, Nova Scotia, Rhode Island or Oregon. In fact they had 30 varieties available on that day's hand-written menu.

The Oyster Bar is famous for its smoked sturgeon, trout and salmon, but for my main I had the Maine Lobster Roll, a dish which had always intrigued me (lobster in a sandwich?). The lobster was surprisingly tasty, a whole lobster tail torn into chunky pieces, smothered in a light sweet mayonnaise and served in a soft hot-dog like bun. The side dish sweet potato chips were wafer thin and crispy (a littly oily by the end of it) and the Jamaican coleslaw was an intriguing mix of shredded carrot and grated apple? methinks.

My friends had the New England clam chowder, the medley of shellfish, broiled Bluepoint oysters and the Coquille St Jacques (gratineed scallops).

Dessert was a shared key lime pie which was sweet and refreshing, although not as tart as I had anticipated.

Afterwards we checked out the Christmas window displays at Saks Fifth Avenue (would you believe we had to queue for about 10 minutes?) which told a story of individuality, harmony and peace. Then there was the mesmerising light show of giant stars on the Saks facade, illuminating and flashing in time to a booming heart-fluttering classical soundtrack (what was that tune?).

Down the block was the Rockefeller Centre, filled with shrieking whooping ice skaters under the giant Christmas tree. And wouldn't you believe it, we were there at midnight when a guy got down on bended knee. Awww... (and yes, of course she did).

The Girls Who Ate Everything

Meeting up with other food bloggers is always fun... you know you will have tooooonnnnnes in common: there'll be restaurant gossip, foodie musings, unashamed dessert pinings and whenever there's food, there'll be a simultaneous reach for the camera.

I met Robyn for the first time today, a New York City food blogger whose foodie adventures I've been following for some time. She suggested we meet at Economy Candy on Rivington Street.

One push of the door and sweet tooth heaven beckoned. Walls of shelving held jars of individual sweets, boxes of chocolate and aisle upon aisle of sucrose, fructose and chocolate satisfaction. There were old-school Lucky candy cigarettes (long outlawed in Australia), Pop Rocks, gobstoppers, giant one-metre Pez dispensers, Jelly Bellies and they even sell M&M's by individual colour!

I spotted Violet Crumbles and Crunchies here too, both Australian bars of chocolate-covered honeycomb. Robyn was spotted immediately and we headed out for a bite to eat.

After a brief meandering tour of Rivington Street, we finally found Robyn's restaurant of choice, El Castillo de Jagua, a specialist in Dominican cuisine. The dishes were unsurprisingly meaty. We shared two dishes: roast pork and an oxtail stew. Each came with gigantic plates of rice (we both chose yellow rice over white) and I threw in a last-minute side order of fried plantain bananas as well.

The papaya juice had been highly recommended and when it came out it was thick, frothy and somewhat painfully sweet. There was way too much food and even Robyn had to give up after valiantly consuming 2/3 of her rice. The rice was tasty. The waitress said it was only yellow from food colouring and nothing else was added, and although it looked like basmati it almost had the sweet sticky texture of short-grain glutinous rice.

Pork was meaty and the crackling was generous. The oxtail stew was tender and the plantain bananas were delicious at first, but the taste of lard started to coat my tongue by the third mouthful.

We rolled out of the restaurant bloated and replete. We could not fit in another thing... until the mention of dessert opened the emergency stomach.

Robyn led the way to her favourite dessert destination, Sugar Sweet Sunshine; an alliterative cafe name which begged the corners of the mouth to creep upwards in joyous anticipation.

There were plenty of things to crow about in the cosy cafe and bakery: a display cabinet filled with perfectly decorated cupcakes, a shelf of puddings, and an array of biscuits, slices and gourmet teas. It was enough to make you skip around the room with delight.

We must've spent at least ten minutes drooling over the choices... there was much pondering, deliberation, elimination and finally negotiation. We ended up sharing so we could double our dessert bases.

A slice of peanut butter ice box pie was had--a nutty gooey concoction of happiness in a sugar-encrusted buttery pastry base; as well as a pistachio cupcake, a delicate fluffy peak of perfection, swirled with pretty buttercream icing and sliced open to reveal genuine pistachio green within.

Our forks dug in greedily and as the last crumbs disappeared over mouthfuls of ginger and lemongrass tea, Robyn commented that "It's really bizarre but I feel like I could start eating all over again".

She was right. I felt exactly the same way.

The Lower East Side

New York's Lower East Side is packed with history. It's long been home to thousands of hard-working immigrants, and it's estimated that 80% of New Yorkers can trace their roots back to the LES.

We visited the Lower East Side Tenement Museum today, a fascinating look into the heritage-listed buildings on Orchard Street. A tenement simply means a building for lots of people, and in the 1870s they sprung up like wildfire here in the rapidly burgeoning garment district.

The rooms have been restored to different time periods and not only was it sobering trying to imagine 8 people living in a one-bedroom apartment, but the resourcefulness and resilience of the people here was much admired too. Leather-look wallpaper was achieved by lacquering potato sacks on walls, and the decorative plaster motifs on the walls are wonky because they were handpiped with a piping bag, rather than using a mould.

We attended both tours: "Getting By -- Immigrants Weathering Hard Times" and "Piecing It Together -- Immigrants in the Garment Industry".

Like most immigrant gateways around the world, the LES has come full-circle and what was once rundown and undesired is now hip and happening and escalating in rental prices. Much of this is apparent in the types of shops now proliferating the neighbourhood, but as always, I only had eyes for the food.

I loved the idea of Gus' Pickles, a shop entirely devoted to pickles, gherkins, sauerkraut and olives. The sidewalk was crammed with giant 5-foot-high pickle barrels and the friendly female vendor was more than happy to provide free samples.

We did some serious taste-testing at The Donut Plant, which offers a peek into their kitchen producing a mouth-watering array of both yeast and cake donuts. I had the vanilla bean yeast donut which was good but even better was their coconut cream donut--a square of yeast donut filled with milky coconut cream and dunked in a freshly shaved coconut encrusted glaze. Two sticky thumbs up.

If I'd had more room I would've investigated the pomegranate donut (with a crown of ruby red jewels), the Valrohna chocolate donut, the custard one, the sticky bun, the .... drool. The donuts are a little pricey at about $2 but hey, welcome to New York right?

Two doors down was Kossar's Bialy, maker of the bagels little cousin, the bialy. A small circle of chewy goodness encrusted with enough garlic to repel all of Transylvania. Guaranteed vampire security for only 50 cents. Bargain.

We had lunch at Broomedoggs, a nifty hot dog joint with a long benchtop of DIY fixin's. I had the bratwurst pork sausage in a bun, a modest-looking affair served in a square cardboard box. Getting $5 worth was easy, piling my bun high with mounds of sauerkraut, pickle slices, chopped onion, and lashing of relish and mustard.

Did someone say mustard? There was mustard relish, ketchup relish, spicy mustard, honey mustard, cajun spice, chilli flakes, celery salt, sriracha chilli sauce, potato chip dust (crushed up potato chips!) and pineapple cumin mustard. And damned if I didn't manage to get every single variant onto my sausage in a bun (the pineapple cumin mustard was the clear favourite by far).

This was knocked back with a bottle of genuine root beer and followed up with a visit to Il Laboratorio del Gelato. Oft worshipped by NYC foodies for their scientific approach to innovative flavourings, we were disappointed to find that their famous dark chocolate gelato wasn't on offer today. I had the grape sorbet which came in a goregous deep crimson colour, and the toasted sesame, which tasted much like a sesame snap converted into ice cream. Both were very tasty.

My buddies sampled pear, mango and the honey lavendar as well. The lavendar flavour really came through although eating lavendar always makes me think I'm nibbling on a perfumed drawer liner, but maybe that's just me.

There was a pit-stop too at Babycakes as well-- a pretty cupcake parlour with gluten-free goodies. And you think that was it? Ha. I had yet to meet up with Robyn. You think I eat everything? She eats more.

Chelsea Markets: Better than Disneyland

I wandered around Chelsea today, originally intending to check out the Greenmarket Farmers Market, but alas had neglected to notice that it only runs on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, and not today, Thursday (doh!).

Happiness was restored in the form of City Bakery, funny because Robyn had only just mentioned it in an email to me that morning. Suddenly it appeared before me and I had little choice but to go in. City Bakery is a help-yourself eatery where salads, vegetables, hot food and pastries are weighed for payment. The food here looked sensational though - fresh, tasty and with plenty of vegetarian options.

I couldn't resist a scoop of the Greenmarket pears poached in walnut maple which were pear halves in a sweety caramelly thick syrup. Plagued by a sore throat of an incoming cold, I bypassed the chocolate cookies for the oatmeal and raisin cookie which was Delicious. Chockful of raisins and with plenty of sugar and butter to give it a crisp but chewy texture.

Their other specialty seems to be their hot chocolate with homemade squares of fluffy white marshmallow. Alas the sore throat prevented this option, but another time perhaps.

There was a quick detour via TJ Maxx, that hardcore bargainers' paradise where you must devote at least two hours to scouring through racks and racks of hangers. I had whiled away many a hour in this store in Croydon, London but attempting to browse whilst holding a heavy winter jacket in a heated store was all too exhausting.

Instead I had much more fun at Chelsea Markets which should really be called Food Porn Markets. Within the giant converted warehouse are about two dozen food shops which not only have tasty wares, but have glass-walled production kitchens for maximum window-steaming action. Watch the bakers knead artisan breads, look at the giant vats of simmering soup, admire the cupcakes coming out of the ovens.

There were giant black and white cookies and beautiful red velvet cupcakes from Ruthy's, gourmet brownies from Fat Witch (as seen on Oprah!) and fishmongers handpicking lobster at The Lobster Place. I stared with unabated lust at the candiest snowiest gingerbread houses of joy, watched the soup men add giant blocks of butter to soup, and admired the swift precision of the pizza guys in action.

This was better than Disneyland.

A quick subway ride was made to Peanut Butter & Co, a sandwich shop which sells all manner of peanut butter snacks and sandwiches. Forget ordinary PB&J (peanut butter and jelly). Here you can have a PB with: pineapple jam and chicken; cream cheese and apple; marmalade and almonds; and cherry jam and coconut.

Their best one is apparently the Elvis (PB with bananas, honey and optional bacon) and you can buy their mixed spreads (PB with chocolate, raisins or chilli) in supermarkets too. Cute concept but a pricey one with sandwiches starting at US$4.50.

We had dinner at Junior's in Brooklyn, home of the best cheesecake in New York apparently. This diner is huge and was filled with families, couples and even a 30-member work function. My Southern Fried Chicken meal was a lesson in American excess. I enjoyed my basket of a bread roll and a square of cornbread (tastes so cakey!) and a small bowl of salad (ack, there are so many dressing options here!). Then came my plate of chicken: a wing, a leg, a thigh, a breast, indeed half a chicken battered and fried to a finger-lickin' golden brown. Then a plate of steamed vegetables and wait, don't forget the whole baked potato which arrived with a paper cup of sour cream.

All this for a moderate US$13.25. I think I managed a little over half of it. The chicken was good though. Tasty and surprisingly not too oily.

We made emergency room for the cheesecake and alas, I was somewhat disappointed. I didn't realise though that Junior's is famous for its ultra-light cheesecake, whereas I am a big fan of the heavy dense so-thick-you-need-a-hacksaw baked cheesecake. Junior's still bake their cheesecake but it's deliberately light and fluffy and almost tastes Continental. And for non-Americans, we Aussies call cheesecakes either Continental (meaning non-baked and set with gelatin) or American (meaning baked and usually involving lots of cream cheese).

The Americans I've spoken to here find this concept weird as they love a light cheesecake, whereas most Australians associate a New York Cheesecake as being extra dense and heavy. And apparently most New Yorkers don't even like cheesecake, even though it's much lauded everywhere else!

We concluded our evening in style... watching a performance of Beethoven's complete Opus 18 at BargeMusic. This unique venue is on an enclosed barge on the Hudson, moored at the Fulton Ferry Landing in Brooklyn. The quartet of performers were highly accomplished musicians and listening to Beethoven against a backdrop of a gently bobbing Manhattan skyline was pretty spesh.

Even better was the surprise display of fireworks which generated a gorgeous rainbow of reds and yellows over the city's skyscrapers in the distance. Noone knew who had arranged them but it was a spectacular 20-minute display, and a fitting finale for Beethoven's date of birth.

Pumpkin, pudding and Prada

It was a day in the Lower East Side today, starting off with brunch at Balthazar, a popular semi-classy bistro. Service was extremely efficient, starting off with beautifully fresh slices of artisan breads. I had the New England clam chowder followed by the pumpkin ravioli with walnuts in burnt butter. The ravioli was divine, plump and soft with bright orange pockets of smooth creamy pumpkin. The walnuts were toasted and gave a pleasing bitter crunch to every mouthful.

Next stop was Rice to Riches, an eatery which sells every variation of rice pudding imaginable. Flavours included apple cinnamon, rocky road, caramel, white chocolate, gingerbread and white chocolate. The rice puddings are set out in sunken tubs much like an ice creamery and can be topped with granola, nuts, choc bits, coconut etc. I had the gingerbread rice pudding, warmed and topped with walnuts. The decor is clean, crisp and funky but it seems like New Yorkers haven't yet caught onto the rice pudding craze (despite being recently lauded by Ellen DeGeneres on her late night chat show).

We wandered around Soho - the flagship Prada store was amazing. It's set in the old premises of the Guggenheim and remains much like a museum with a spectacular cascading slope of wood that greets you, and modern art installations throughout. The clothes, shoes and handbags seem much like an afterthought and although it's all completely over the top, it's a cool place to wander.

Full of ravioli and rice pudding, I could only browse and drool inside Russ and Daughters (the smell of smoked fish is incedible), Katz's Deli (giant deli of When Harry Met Sally fame) and Yona Schimmel's Knishery. I did take home a sweet potato knish and an apple strudel from here. This knish definitely had a pastry coating (unlike the takeaway street version I had previously) and flecks of sweet potato throughout the mash gave it sweetness. The apple strudel had nice fat chunks of apple too.

We finished up with a tour of the Essex Market, a covered market area which is primarily populated by Spanish, it seems. Plenty of cheap vegetables, meat and seafood and I am constantly amazed that here you can buy a stack of 25 tortillas for only 99 cents!

Brooklyn

We returned to New York about 9pm to bitter coldness. DC was so mild and temperate that the reacquaintance with a New York winter was doubly harsh. The crush of people, the traffic, the bright city lights, was also a stark reminder that we had indeed returned to the Big Smoke.

Today we headed to Brooklyn, checking out the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens and stalking every squirrel we could find (no, we don't have squirrels Down Under). Much of the gardens were iced over (including the Japanese lake looked over by an elegant pagoda) but it was still a pleasant wander.

Afterwards we had pizza at Grimaldi's, candidate #1 as New York's best pizza provider. Grimaldi's sits underneath Brooklyn Bridge, with red and white checked tableclothes, plenty of Hollywood photos on the walls and very cool metal stands to hold your giant 18" pizzas. The pizza was good. A thin crispy base topped with plenty of fresh mozzarella slices and adorned with a handful of fresh basil leaves.

Dessert was had at the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory on the pier (their famous vanilla ice cream was a little sweet for me, but I've always been a fan of Blue Ribbon buttermilk) and a spicy hot chocolate (with chipotle chilli and spices) from Jacques Torres (a former pastry chef turned master chocolatier).

Jacques Torres has a whole dentists' retirement of sweet stuff with handmade chocolates as well as chocolate coated peanut butter pretzels, crystallised ginger, graham crackers and ever cheerios! There's a window too to watch them in production, but when we were there they were only packing boxes =(

I see D C

Friday morning saw us wake up at 6.30am to a heavy dump of snow. The stairs outside had a thick carpet of white and the bannister railings were iced heavily as well. As we opened the door to head outside, thick fat flakes of snow swirled down lazily from the skies, looking just like a Hollywood Christmas movie.

Filled with childish snow-deprived glee, we stomped our way through three inches of snow, giggling as our hats, scarves and backpacks collected shavings of ice. Entering the subway involved dusting off small mountains of white, as we jumped on the subway to Penn Station.

It was only as we emerged at Madison Square that the stark realities of snow became apparent. Snow in the city doesn't stay fluffy and white. It gets churned up into sludge, becomes dirty and grey and melts into ankle-deep puddles that you don't spot until your shoe is already in it.

Umbrellas sound silly but when snow melts as it hits you, it is pretty much rain. My love affair with snow was officially over.

Thankfully we found a bus that was heading to Washington DC fairly quickly. This level of snow (and cold) was unusual for New York, especially at this time of year. Lucky us.

Bus trips between DC and New York are extremely popular. A return trip can be had for US$35 when a train will cost you US$75 one way.

Washington DC is nothing like the Australian capital Canberra. There are less people than New York, sure, but there is still a city feel to the place with its city population of 550,000. What I never realised before was that DC is restricted to the central hub of town. Once you jump on the subway for a couple of stations, you cross borders into the state of Virginia.

There is much to see and do in DC. The National Mall stretches for over 17 blocks and contains museums and galleries galore--almost all of them free. We happened to be at the White House just as Bush was arriving home. A swarm of security staff swatted at the tourists like fleas, offering nothing but scowls when asked why were being shooed away. Ten minutes later three helicopters loomed overhead: one descended onto the lawn as the other two kept guard.

We checked out the National Air and Space Museum which had lots of fun hands-on activities and the Freer Gallery of Art. The Peacock Room by James McNeill Whistler was stunning, covered entirely in peacock green embossed leather and gilded with gold.

The Smithsonian National Zoo was also free and the recent born panda cub has resulted in rampant panda fever. We saw Papa Bear Tian Tian who put on a good show for us with plenty of stretching, scratching and yawning. There were the usual tigers, lions, giraffes and elephants, and we did get excited watching the beavers, prairie dogs (so cute!) and even the hippo (he eats just like Hungry Hungry Hippo, munching constantly without pausing for breath). We felt rather sorry for the emu who seemed much out of place in the sub-zero weather. DC is much milder than New York (at times it felt like Sydney in winter) but even that's too cold for an emu surely.

The Washington Monument is a giant obelisk with two creepy red blinking eyes which turn on at night, looking much like an alien communication tower. We saw the Thomas Jefferson Memorial and visited the National Botanic Gardens as well. Here we were able to sample cacao pods, yes the stuff of chocolate production. The cacao pod contains a cluster of beans which are individually coated in soft white flesh. The flesh was somewhat reminiscent of mangosteen, but not quite as sweet. Of course it's the beans which are dried and roasted to create cocoa butter, but it was fun to try cacao flesh anyway.

We also joined a tour of The Capitol which meant a long list of prohibited items (no food, drink, knitting needles or sharp objects; the list even had to reassure the public that pens and pencils were allowed). The series of security checks was as long as the tour itself (thirty minutes each) although the inside of the Rotunda was pretty spectacular with the painting on the domed ceiling involving figures 18ft tall. A trompe L'oeil circles the room and depicts a timeline of key moments in American history. The Rotunda is deceptively high and apparently the Statue of Liberty could fit inside here and still not reach the ceiling.

Foodwise we didn't get up to much in DC. I tried a Philly cheeseburger which, as far I can work out, means a hamburger with Provolone cheese, mayonnaise and sauteed green peppers (capsicum). I also had the pleasure of cheesy fries, consumed only for research purposes. A decent handful of lard-encrusted fries are drenched in two ladles of orange-yellow gloop which tastes like salty melted plastic. And yet they were strangely irresistable in a sick kinda way.

We checked out Georgetown which is the posh end of DC, with pretty architecture somewhat reminiscent of London or Europe. Dinner was had at Vietnam Georgetown which was what our clogged arteries craved.

There was shopping at Macy's, wonderment at the giant malls they have here (think Westfield Miranda x 3) and much supermarket spreeing at Harris Teeter. Oh and we tried out a number of self-check out registers too, which are much more painful than you could ever think possible. Good for buying one or two items but any more and you'd be much better off waiting for a human. Take a frustrating automated telephone service and add humiliating grocery dance actions for maximum hairpulling hilarity.

We did like the countdown pedestrian signals which let you know exactly how many seconds you had left to cross the road. Running to make the lights was never so much fun!

We discovered the unused crypt in The Capitol, intended for Washington but never utilised as George died a year too early and his relatives demanded his body remain undisturbed.
And of course we couldn't deny the inevitable giggle whenever we saw the signs for the suburb of Foggy Bottom.

K-nish? It's de-lish!

New York is one big rush. But it also gets hungry and like the vending machine drink havens found all over Japan, satiation is never too far away.

As I battled the crowds along 5th Avenue the other day, the stomach rumbled and the eyes lit up at the prospect of visiting a street vendor. The mobile silver carts here serve everything from pretzels to roasted chestnuts, gyros (yeeros) and hot dogs. The smell of caramelised peanuts beckoned but I only had eyes for a knish.

My first ever knish (say ker-nish) involved me nodding at the offer of mustard, and watching fascinated as the man unwrapped a foil package, plunged a knife deep into its core, and then squirted a generous slather of mustard within. $1.50 in quarters was handed over and after a series of discreet photographs on the street (of course!), I inspected my knish at close quarters.

What is it? A great big wad of mashed potato. Compacted into a squat tear-drop shape and coated in a thin layer of what seemed like breadcrumbs. Usually this Yiddish snack is encased in a light pastry dough, but this street version seemed to have been fried in breadcrumbs and the bottom was slightly burnt. But I like burnt, which just means overzealous caramelisation in my book, and the steaming hot parcel of portable comfort food was gobbled with shivering delight.

Have I mentioned the weather? 0C is cold. -10C is just plain ridiculous! That's 32F and 14F. Entering and exiting subways and shops means a removal of hats and gloves and the unzipping of oversized jackets. A lot of New Yorkers wear ear muffs which looks rather cute, and North Face seems to have the market cornered in black puffa jackets.

We checked out the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum which features the world's fastest aircraft, the A-12 Blackbird which can reach speeds of mach 3.6 (more than 3 times the speed the sound). Across the road we sampled blueberry bagels from the H&H Bagels factory. I weep for the bagel withdrawal symptoms I will experience back in Sydney.

H&H bagels are perfection. An almost tacky crust and a soft fluffy inteior which is divine eaten untoasted with just a smidge of cream cheese. H&H bagels are probably the priciest (US$1 each) but they are worth every divine mouthful. We were also intrigued to watch the baker shaping the bagels, stretching a mound of dough into a donut shape by poking his fingers in the middle.

We wandered through Hell's Kitchen now being re-marketed as Clinton. It's not particularly dangerous looking although I did notice a number of cars in the carpark doubling as housing. A community market garden had giant pumpkins growing and I became pathetically excited when I spotted a friendly-looking snowman in the corner.

We had lunch at Tehuitzingo, a much-appreciated culinary tip-off from Sean. A cluttered grocery shop out the front gives way to a tiny counter out the back that seems straight out of Mexico. I could not resist trying the huitlacoche quesadilla. Known euphemistically as mushroom corn, huitlacoche is actually fungus-infested maize, perceived as a pest by Americans, but much lauded by Mexicans as an expensive delicacy.

The corn was a disconcerting black colour, but the taste was nutty and slightly sweet. I would eat huitlacoche again, and the food here was a bargain too. My quesadilla was only $3 and we watched a Spanish version of Jerry Springer as we wolfed down our meal.

Tomorrow we head for Washington DC. Not known for its cuisine but the home of the free museum. Now we really like the sounds of that!

South Street Seaport

I'd been urged to visit South Street Seaport with nodding encouragement from well-meaning New York relatives saying "You should go; all the tourists go there".

The terrible T word should have been warning enough but I was in the area so I meandered on down.

There's not that much to see really. A couple of historic tall ships, old warehouses and yes, preserved (but non-edible!) 18th and 19th century buildings. It reminded me a little of what Sydney's Darling Harbour used to be like ten years ago, barren and lifeless amidst the gaudy tourist shops in bright shiny decor.

It was winter though and I'm sure the place is swarming with monied tourist folk during the summer, but I had more fun watching the seagulls:


Seagulls on Pier 17 at South Street Seaport

As I walked past the silent and sorrowful Fulton Fish Market, I deeply lamented its demise. The markets were forced to close down in 2004 after trading on the site for more than 130 years. It's opened up in spectacularly new and modern surrounds at Hunts Point in the Bronx (which alas I never got to) but markets just ain't the same unless they're grimy, grotty and echoing with voices of decades past.


Dismantled concrete pylons

And as I walked past Peck Slip, I couldn't help snapping endlessly at the majestic elegance of the Brooklyn Bridge. The bridge looks old and brown, but mesmerisingly so. Resilient gothic towers and a spiderweb of precise steel cables had me clicking away at this 1883 masterpiece.

Murray Hill Diner, New York

I'm always up for a bit of gastronomic experimenting, but when I'm tired and hungry after a hard day's sightseeing, the adage "When in Rome..." is the one I stick to in a new and unfamiliar eatery.

Thank goodness.

My second diner meal in New York took place in Murray Hill Diner, a fairly large establishment which looked busy (good), affordable (yay) and with a free table available (get in!).



One dining companion ordered the spaghetti marinara but was crestfallen to receive this:


Spaghetti with marinara sauce US$5.95 / AU$7.90
(with free soup or salad)

In Australia, spaghetti marinara entails a medley of cooked seafood in a tomato sauce. I've since discovered that this is a curiously Australian assumption, and everywhere else a marinara simply means a simple tomato sauce.

So in hindsight our tableside indignation and sorrowful pouting was actually without cause, but after visions of mussels, octopus, prawns and fish fillet, the huddled squelch of tart tinned tomatoes could do little but disappoint.


Salad with Russing dressing on the side
(free with spaghetti marinara)

It's true that in America, the relentless decision-making from a wealth of choices can indeed be taxing. A simple meal unleashes a barrage of questions: What type of bread? Did you want any mustard? French fries or salad? What type of dressing? Would you like any sides?

Even worse is not knowing the options. Asking "what type of dressings do you have" elicits a huff of "the usual". Further naive wide-eyed prompting causes the eyes to roll skyward, the shoulders to drop and a sigh of exhaustion before a succession of options is rattled off with a robotic drone.

We were intrigued by the sounds of the Russian dressing but it tasted much like sweet tomato sauce with mayo, which, in fact, it is. It used to incorporate caviar (yes, that makes it Russian) but these days it's a mix of mayonnaise or yoghurt, with tomato sauce (ketchup), pimentos and chives.


Stuffed peppers US$8.50 / AU$11.25
(served with free cup of soup)

My other dining companion chose the stuffed peppers which were a little greasy on the tongue for her liking. The puddle of seeping oil did little to allay her fears and the mashed potatoes tasted of a high-quality cardboard (buff white or beige, we couldn't be sure).


Chicken soup with crackers
(free with stuffed peppers)

I, on the other hand, went for the safest option: a burger with chips. And look, they have buffalo as well. Novelty value and low in fat!



There more than a few envious glances as I tucked in with gusto. The patty was thick and tasted much like beef, really. Coleslaw arrived in a small paper cup and the fries were fresh from the fryer, hot and crisp.


Deluxe Canadian Northfork buffalo (bison) burger US$7.25 / AU$9.60
Served with coleslaw, salad and fries

Sometimes the simplest things are often the best.



Murray Hill Diner
222 Lexington Avenue, New York, NY 10016
Tel: +1 (212) 686 6667

Cross street: at 33rd Street
Subway: 6 to 33 Street

Open: Mon-Fri 6am-10pm, Sat-Sun 6am-8pm

Menu

Note: Add about 8% for sales tax
Expected tipping in New York is 15-20%

Like a geeky tourist

A tourist surveys the view from the top of the Empire State Building

Much of today was spent shivering on the observation deck of the Empire State Building. It really felt like -20C, standing outside 86 floors up, and we had to rush back into the warm environs of the gift shop to thaw out on more than one occasion!

Despite wearing jackets, gloves, hat and scarf, I couldn't feel my fingers after ten minutes in the icy winds, and my cheeks were so frozen I could barely move them to talk!


Magnifying viewer points toward the Chrysler Building

Geeky Australians find potted Christmas trees on the sidewalk endearingly cute. And look, genuine snow too!



Times Square beckoned with reassuring familiarity. Giant billboards, lots of scrolling text, lights flashing... a little like Shinjuku, Tokyo but without the tinny high-pitched Japanese female spruikers!



Of course my eye was immediately caught by the sight of a huge Hersheys sign, just off Broadway.



It's really just a giant Hershey's marketing opportunity with every variant of Hersheys available for sale as well as giant syrup bottle money boxes, Reeses hooded sweaters and even Hersheys pillowcases.

But they scored brownie points with me when I was handed a free chocolate with a smile as I entered. Sure the cynic in me spots the subversive motives of piping in the smell of melting chocolate, but ha! free chocolate! Woohoo!



I wandered a little around Broadway. There are so many theatres here it leaves London's West End for dead. And even though I'm not the biggest fan of Letterman, it was still embarrasingly exciting to recognise the theatre and signage =)



Even more exciting was spotting the stereotypical New York City scene--steam rising from a drain. Steam is sold and piped to various buildings in Manhattan by Con Edison for heating and other purposes. The escaping steam that tourists =) get excited over comes either from leaking pipes, or where water has come into contact with the hot steam.



The sun goes down at about 4.30pm, but at least when darkness falls, it means the pretty lights come on, and that's all good too.


Christmas lights on Fifth Avenue


Empire State Building at dusk

Tom's Restaurant

My first meal in New York City was at Tom's Restaurant, immortalised first in Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega, but probably more popularly known as the diner hangout for the characters in Seinfeld.

I was feeling a little lightheaded as I entered my 26th hour without sleep but I was excited about eating in my first ever diner... from Seinfeld!

It was about 6pm as we came in from the freezing cold, a shivering 0C / 32F (hey, I'm from Sydney!) and the cosy atmosphere was much welcomed. The windows were festooned with Christmas tinsel, carols were playing, and the entire diner had booth seating (these things impress Australian females).

I noticed, bemused, as three solitary diners at the counter picked at their plates, eyes glued to the breaking news on the television behind the server (see? It's just like the movies).



A stout but friendly waiter arrived as we sat down, bearing glasses of iced water (we don't get this in Sydney--the instant free water I mean) and then brandishing a pen held aloft over a thick notepad. We had to send him away as we removed coats, jackets, hats and gloves, and it took me a while to realise that the posts between booths were deliberately high so as to accommodate hooks for such wintry paraphernalia (see what Australians notice?!?).

The menu was long (six pages!) and comprehensive but I chose the Reuben, a uniquely American concoction I had read and heard much about. My friend had the Lumberjack, an all-day breakfast feast.


Lumberjack $6.50
Two pancakes, two eggs any style, one sausage,
two strips of bacon and toast

The toast came as ordinary supermarket slices of bread and the eggs arrived more like an omelette than scrambled. I was fascinated by the bacon, which were super thin and fried to a crisp in a corrugated pattern. It was like it had been cooked in a pattern sandwich press perhaps?

My Reuben was preceded by a complimentary bowl of soup. I chose broccoli over vegetable, and I found the accompanying crackers a novelty thing too (we always have bread rolls back home, and yes, I soon realised that in the States, soup always comes with crackers).


Broccoli soup with crackers


Reuben sandwich $6.50
Corned beef with swiss cheese and sauerkraut on rye bread
with French fries and a cup of soup

The Reuben was delicious. I do like corned beef, and the sauerkraut, cheese and toast combination was like a morph between a meal and a hamburger. Kinda homecooked yet fast-foody at the same time.

Fries were crispy albeit a little lardy in texture (another tongue-coating feature I would have to get used to in the States). The sauerkraut helped offset some of the grease.

Paying for our meal elicited a giggle of delight as I spotted the cashier sitting on a stool by the exit. Using an ancient manual register, he methodically punched in the price of our meals, causing the 1920s-style white-on-black numbers to whir to a sales tax calculated total (grr... sales tax).

It's fairly obvious that Seinfeld-wise, only the exterior shot of the diner was used (and yes, the producers removed the word "Tom" from the signage in later episodes to avoid paying royalty fees). The inside set-up is nothing like the show, although there are plenty of signed caricatures from Seinfeld staff (plus a copy of The Kramer) adorning the walls.

But as a first foray into the world of diners, I like it! The menus are so comprehensive (about 100 choices!), the food is cheap and the atmosphere is low-key and casual. It's a convenient option for solitary diners, plus you get to watch TV while you eat! And the staff all wear little white paper hats! And the bell rings when you push open the door!

Cheap and cheerful.

Tom's Restaurant
2880 Broadway, New York, NY 10025
Tel: +1 (212) 864 6137

Cross Street: 112th Street
Subway: No. 1 to 110th St-Cathedral Pkwy

Open: Sun-Wed 6am-1:30am, Thu-Sat 24 hours

360 panorama
Menu

Note: Add about 8% for sales tax
Expected tipping in New York is 15-20%