Walking around Union Square.
It seems like most of my life in New York was centered around this area. Traditionally, this is where downtown ends and uptown begins. I almost always lived below Union Square, but worked above it, and it seemed to be the hub of my social life for a good long time. As soon as I walked into the Greenmarket and saw all the thoughtful, brooding artesian pickle makers and the snarky rooftop honey producers, I felt like I was back with my people.
We get so many varieties of apples in France, and winesaps are not one of them as far as I can tell. I happily munched my way through a whole bag of them while I was stateside.
Every November, a holiday vendor village gets set up in the square where the skateboarders usually are showing their boxers shorts to the world.
I sniffed out some good food pretty quickly. I seem to have a knack for that.
The waffels at Waffles and Dingles put anything I've ever had in Belgium to shame.
Pork buns! In Paris, they call them "brioche" and I haven't had one that didn't taste like porky hockey pucks yet. Here, even at a street vendor, they are pillowy and soft, with sweet BBQ pork oozing warm in the center. It's enough to make me cry.
As soon as the sun starts to set (which is thankfully not too much of wait in winter) I headed over to my favorite local place, Old Town Bar.
They make a generous cocktail, and they make the gimlets with gin, as they should be.
As good excuse as any to meet up with the multi-talented Silent James.