Too Long, but learning about Brooklyn

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Once again, I have allowed my blogging to lack.  Once again, I vow to be better about it.  Once again, you see through my false promises.

Anyway, I have pretty much fallen in love with living in Brooklyn despite the fact that I still get the occasional incredulous, "you live...there?!?" when I mention my address.  This is nothing new to me.  When my former roommate and I initially thought about moving into East Harlem, we got the "what are two white girls doing moving there?" Now, you should go and visit the place.  Restaurants and young, faces of various shades abound.

That has yet to happen in the LPG/Crown Heights neighborhood we've settled in. Admittedly, things would be easier slightly closer to the subway, or on the other side of the park or a few more stops towards the city.

Yet, it sort of feels like a respite - living a bit further away.  When I pass through my door, there is practically an audible sigh oozing from my body.  I feel myself relax in a way that I don't believe I did living in SpaHa.  We are more removed here - from work, from the busy nature of Manhattan, from all the things that annoyed us before.

 Plus, we can do things like grill.

It's also fun to discover places a handful of subway stops or a half hour walk or so from our pad.   A few weeks ago, Arthur and I randomly chose to go for a walk and get some ice cream.  That's when we discovered Blue Marble.  We were enamored straight away. They had all natural cherry chip and grape nut flavors that were to die for.  As we licked their sweet and creamy concoctions on a cone, walking through Prospect Park, it really felt like summer.  Also, thanks to J & Z for introducing us to Bark.   Amazing, fatty hot dog yumminess that was just perfect for the next day hangover.  JJ and I discovered Habana Outpost - a fun outdoor Cuban place where you get your food (amazing roasted corn with cheese, succulent cuban sandwiches) off a truck, sip your frozen mojito and listen to music.  

In any event, it is working for us so far.  I look forward to discovering more worthwhile places, possibly writing about them, but definitely delighting in them.  I won't even mind having to defend my 'hood's honor from those who ask, "why do you live there"?

    

Marriage Tax?

I filed my taxes today.  I meticulously entered all the numbers that showed my income and was excited to enter the deduction from my student loan taxes.  However, it turns out that when you are married and file your taxes separately you are no longer eligible to claim student loan interest.  Huh?  How does marriage have any bearing on student loans?  I am certainly still paying them every month and I certainly accrued quite a bit of capitalized interest.  Does my marriage somehow mean that I should have no money troubles in the eyes of the Federal government?

At first, I was angry.  It just doesn't make sense.  Now, I am not even sure what to say about it.  I am so used to institutions rewarding heterosexual marriage that I am sort if in a state of shock.

These Are the People in Your Neighborhood

Yesterday, after I completed The New York City Half-Marathon in triumph (well, 8232nd place) my husband, brother-in-law and I decided to take a trip to Atlantic Avenue to eat lunch and do some grocery shopping at the Pathmark there.  The cosmos must have been happy with our decision because we found getting there that the subway wait was surprisingly short.  We ate at Buffalo Wild Wings at of the need to eat quickly (you run 13.1 miles, go back home, take a shower, get dressed, wait for your family members to make a decision, travel for about half an hour and see how hungry you are).  It was somewhat unclean, very noisy and impeccably bad for us  - just what you'd expect from Buffalo Wild Wings.  I HATE the calorie information, by the way.  If I go into a to a place like this, I KNOW it is going to be bad for me.  

Anyway, after years of C-Town (AKA crack town)/Nasty and grumpy Associated/too expensive FreshDirect, I was excited to explore a real grocery store.  As I walked in and saw their produce section, I nearly came down with an attack of the vapors.  No, but it looked good.   Straight away, I went to customer service and filled out one of those applications for a discount card.  A girl needs a deal.  This was accomplished with little wait time. Again, thanks cosmos. 

 

We did our shopping and using a combination of our reusable Target bags (my hubby rocked the Target bags), my brother-in-laws' backpack and my market bag, we managed to get our goodies home in a decent amount of time.  

Then, it was back to Atlantic Avenue for Arthur and I for a date night.  It had been a long time coming and   we were happy to discover that the BAM Rose Cinemas was an easy jaunt from the Atlantic Avenue Terminal.  We did walk right past it the first time around due to the lack of marquis.  The Peter Jay Sharp     building, in which the theater is housed is a combination theater, museum and cinema.  It is not a hi-tech theater with stadium seating, feels old and is very small, but I kind of like that.  

After using the Urban Spoon app on my iphone early that day, we discovered that Smith Street, located relatively close to the area of Boerum Hill (or is it in Boerum Hill?  I still don't know my BK neighborhoods that well yet) seemed to have a number of restaurants.  We could not decide at first whether to walk down Flatbush or get back on the train when luckily, we spotted the bus.  It took all of two minutes before we got to Bergen street.  We almost immediately happened upon the Cubana Cafe.  The decor was one I have seen before in other Cuban restaurants - that sort of colorful, we're pretending we're in old Havana look  As we sat down, we were given two glasses and a bottle of water in a wine bottle and served fried plantains topped with two types of sauces - one some sort of chimichurri sauce and the other some sort of salsa-esque concoction.  Yummy.  We gobbled them up.  Then I ordered a mojito and Arthur had a Dos Equis.  For dinner Arthur had pulled pork with black beans and mashed plantains and I had Picadillo Cubano with Turkey, black beans and rice.  They were both very tasty, though the mashed plantains had a strange baby food like consistency.  For dessert, we had tres leches.  That was just deliciousness incarnate.  

It was a lovely date night and it made us very happy that dinner and a movie was a pretty easy endeavor in our new neighborhood.  We are excited to explore some more in the warmer months to come.

Today, I decided to take it easy  - my only plans were to make beef brisket for tonight's dinner, go to the Brooklyn Public Library and get a little pampering done at a nail salon.  I can smell the brisket finishing up right now.  I adapted it to the slow cooker from a braised brisket recipe I found on epicurious.com.  My changes included adding leeks and a little red vermouth. 

 

I managed to go to the library and drop off the terribly boring Kristin Chenoweth autobiography, A Little Bit Wicked.  I borrowed it last week and I couldn't finish it.  Sorry, Kristin.  I loved you in Pushing Daisies!  Anyway, it is a small branch with an apparent heating system problem (so hot!) and a mecca for teenagers.  It doesn't have a lot of books and is really busy and loud (what happened to being quiet in the library?), but it suits its purpose.  I was feeling very productive when I went to the nail salon Zivales on East New York Avenue and Kingston Avenue.  I tried going last week around 6 PM and didn't stay due to the long wait.  This time, I arrived at a quarter to four and fully expected it to be empty.  Nope!  They only have two nail technicians working there and after they told the woman in front of me that they "had no time" right now and she would have to come back at four thirty, I decided to leave and try another nail salon on Kingston Avenue and Empire Boulevard.  

This other place has shades covering the windows and a room divider so women can put their stockings and shoes back on without others seeings them.  When I walked in, there was a discernable shift in the energy.  Immediately, the women looked down at my legs to see if I was Chassidic or not.  I was wearing jeans and Sketchers and not a denim skirt, tights and Uggs so I did not pass the test.  Then in a very Pretty Woman on Rodeo Drive moment, the owner asked, "Can I help you"?  I explained what I wanted and she said I would have to wait.  I decided not to stay and wait for the one person working to finish on the customer ahead of me.  I just wanted a little me time and feel a bit cheated. 

Brooklyn lessons learned this weekend?  Don't need to go to Manhattan for dinner and a movie.  Make appointments at nail salons.  Wear lighter clothing in libraries.  Beef brisket takes a long time to make.      

                          

Of Course, You Are!

A few weeks ago, on a regular Saturday morning in Harlem, one of my students' parents asked me how married life was going.  I smiled, as I unlocked the door to get class started, and said, "it is going well.  We're moving next weekend."  "Oh, where?" quizzed the long standing parent. "Brooklyn."  He laughed, "of course, you are!  That's what we did after we got married."  

This got me to thinking about the path we've taken.  When we decided to get married almost two years ago, we wanted it to be on our terms (as much as possible).  We didn't do the diamond; We walked down the aisle to Harry Potter and Star Wars music;  We went to Turkey instead of Hawaii.

After the wedding, we knew that we weren't going to stay in our little East Harlem apartment forever.  It had served its purpose for two years, but we wanted more space.  We were willing to look in Queens, the Bronx, etc., but for our price range Brooklyn seemed to come up again and again.  When we saw this place, we just had to have it.

Side note: My body has not quite adjusted to the amount of space we have yet.  I still find myself taking up only a little area of our bedroom.  I've also not quite got a handle on where the light switches are and always seem to hit my hand against the wrong side of the wall.

Anyway, I don't necessarily think that the area of Brooklyn that the parent I mentioned above had moved to as a newlywed is the same area of Brooklyn that Arthur and I have chosen (though I can jog past those neighborhoods since we're close to Prospect park).  I can't imagine this parent living in a neighborhood bordered on one side by the Chasidic community and the West-Indian community on the other.  All the bagels and jerk chicken you can eat!   

 

We've moved to Brooklyn for the roominess and an improvement in the quality of our life despite our less than extravagant income. We've moved here because we deserve to have a space that is a respite from work, from weather, from disappointment, from the sometimes harshness of the day.  We moved to celebrate our new life, our new family in a place that allows room to move, to entertain and to grow.  Manhattan doesn't allow for that at the present time.  

And to be honest, I don't think I'd care if it did.  

So even though, to some, it may seem that we've taken the expected next step in the scripted road map of marriage, we've done what we needed to do in order to feel that we are moving in the right direction.  That direction just so happened to be across the river to the east. 

Marital Bliss… For Him Anyway

Marital Bliss… For Him Anyway

Out with the Old and in with the Eggs

One day, last summer, as I was jogging around my parents' neighborhood, I noticed a number of garage sales. One of them marketed itself as a "wedding fundraiser." I thought, "what a great idea." I mentioned it to my parents and we decided to throw one this spring.

This is significant because if any of you know either Arthur or me you also know that we are extreme procrastinators. My parents agreed to come into the city yesterday to take some our for sale items and put them into the Hyundai. This helped force us to do a significant amount of inventory, clearing out and throwing out. In fact, a number of Arthur's toys and haven't worn in over two years accessories were removed. Never fear though, we are still holding onto not only one, but two hanging monkeys with the velcro hands. Or is it paws? Anyway, we were able to pack up some of our books, a few kitchen supplies, an air conditioner, a microwave and my 19 inch tv/vcr combo set that I have had since college and send them back to Holbrook.

Before we could muster up the strength to rummage through our material goods, we needed to have a protein packed breakfast. We didn't have much in the apartment, but I managed to create what I calling my tortilla frittata from random things in our refrigerator.

Recipe as I can remember it: 

Ingredients: 

1small onion, chopped

2 cloves of garlic, minced

2 teaspoons of olive oil

5 eggs

A splash of water

A pinch of cumin

A pinch of chili powder

A pinch of kosher salt

A pinch of black pepper

Half a cup of grated parmesean cheese (could've been more, I inadvertantly dumped a massive amount in), and two tablespoons reserved.

A pinch of cumin

A pinch of chili powder

5 small corn tortillas

1 tablespoon of butter
2 slices of light swiss cheese (would probably be really good with cheddar cheese)

Approximately 8 oz. of frozen broccoli (I say this because I used what was left in a 17 oz. bag), thawed

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees

 

Sautee onion on medium high heat until they soft slightly.  Cover sautee pan and cook for about 10 minutes to caramelize.  Add garlic, a bit of salt and a bit of pepper.  Continue to cook for one minute.  Remove from heat.  Grease a pyrex pie pan with butter.  Discard any left over butter.  Overlap tortillas to line bottom of pie pan.  Place swiss cheese on top of tortillas.  Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together eggs, water,  1/2 cup of cheese (I recommend using a spoon, as I learned my lesson the hard way), cumin, chili powder, salt and pepper.  Add broccoli to onion and garlic medley.  Pour onion, garlic and broccoli on top of swiss cheese, making an even layer.   Pour egg mixture on top.  Place in oven for about twenty minutes or until eggs are almost set.  Put oven on broil.  Remove pie pan, sprinkle remaining cheese on top of  the eggs and place under broil until eggs are set and cheese is golden brown.   Serve immediately.

 

Makes 4 servings. 

I recommend this dish to fortifiy onself when preparing to carry heavy things down five flights of stairs, followed by walking up the stairs and repeating said process multiple times.

I wonder what we'll use as fuel next weekend when we actually move.   Stay tuned!

We're Moving to Brooklyn

After more than 12 years living in Manhattan (minus my year in London) and more than 10 years living in East Harlem, I will be moving to the PLG in less than two weeks. That's Prospect Lefferts Gardens in Brooklyn for those of you not in the know.*



It is a very exciting venture. The apartment is absolutely beautiful. There are 1700 square feet. It has everything you could possibly want - from a dishwasher to a washer/dryer to OUTGOING mail. The neighborhood feels fine and from what I've heard and read it was up and coming and is now more sort of at a stand still. Hence, why we were able to get this apartment for the price we did.

We are moving in with my brother-in-law and his lovely girlfriend. When I tell people that they tend to get all weird and wide eyed about it. It makes sense for us, though. Did I mention the two balconies?


We will pay less money then we are paying now in East Harlem for an apartment one quarter the size. At this time, we're in no position to buy anything or to rent out a beautiful apartment like this by ourselves. Compromises have to be made and at age 34 and 35 respectively, we deserve an adult apartment.

Am I a little nervous about it? Sure. I'm nervous to live with other people. I've only had one roommate and a boyfriend/fiance/husband since college. We are all reasonably relaxed people (I'm probably the most difficult of the four). There will be the ocassional tiff or two, but we'll work them out. I am also a bit nervous about my new commute. It is straight on the 2 train to Harlem, but I have to admit that knowing it will be over an hour on a good day scares me a bit. After I get used to it, it will be ok. Won't it? And besides, I think it is going to be more than worth it as I feel our quality of life will be greatly improved. Did I mention that there is a fully furnished roof deck?

Yesterday, we bought bedroom furniture - complete with a headboard and a footboard. Arthur has never had a bedroom set and it has been a long time since I had an actual bed (not just a mattress, a box spring and a frame). It makes me happy to think that we are doing something together that moves us in the direction of building a home. Did I mention the two sinks in the kitchen and a refrigerator that makes ice?


*I was not in the know until about six weeks ago. Also, I am pretty sure it is really Crown Heights.*

Romance Visited

I am not a very romantic person. Remember that Sex and the City episode when Carrie is dating the Russian and he reads poetry to her by the fire and she wonders why she is so jaded about romance? Well, I can totally relate. For years, I devoured romance novels with gusto. I will drop everything to watch romantic period pieces. I enjoy a well-done romantic comedy. Yet, when it comes to romantic moments in my own life, I tend to avoid them. I giggle nervously or crack a joke or change the subject.

Last night, avoidance was not an option.

For our first Valentine's Day as a married couple, Arthur surprised me the night before V-Day at the monthly stand-up show he produces at Occhi's lounge in the basement of Comix. As I usually do at these events, I plopped myself down, along side a few friends and thought it would just another night of guffaws. As Arthur was hosting the event, he got up on stage several times.


Then he began talking about Valentine's Day and how he was thinking about what to do for me that would be special. When he said, "and then I realized I have a stage and a microphone and an Irish guy with a guitar," followed by said Irish guy getting his guitar and starting to strum, I realized that this would indeed be special. Arthur didn't sing to me. What he did do was pour out his emotions for three minute. My face flush, my body sweating and my heart beating quickly, I listened from outside my comfort zone as he spouted his love, his wonder, his gratitude and ocassionally his jokes. Speckled with humor, he painted a canvas of his love for me in front of friends, colleagues and strangers. It was beautiful. It was nothing I had ever experienced before and certainly the most romantic guesture I had ever witnessed.

Valentine's Day - the day, as my beloved husband reminded us last evening, that began in carnage - has always seemed a superfulous day for me. And when I was not with anyone, Valentine's day seemed either a terrible reminder of what was not in my life at the moment or an excuse to go out to dinner with friends and drink a lot of wine. I still dislike the Hallmark/make single people feel lesser/pressure to do something grand/made up holiday in theory.

However, last night I was the proud, mesmerized receipient of more romance than anyone probably has the right to. That critical, overly analytical part of me stepped aside and welcomed my Valentine.

Rehearsing? Sort of. Eating? Hopefully!

After the lovely day spent with the wonderful women in my life, it was time to rehearse our exchange of nuptials and then, of course, eat!

Arthur had been freaking out a bit prior to the rehearsal dinner because he, his brother and his mom had gotten a bit lost making the trek out from New York City. I think the idea that he was really getting married started to hit home. He is usually not prone to nerves, but I could hear it in his voice as he called, saying, "I have no idea where we are or if we'll make it." Now, for all you Long Islanders out there, you must be thinking, "you can't get lost on Long Island." I thought the same thing. In any event, they managed to piece the puzzle together and arrive at the Three Village Inn with time to check in and change.

When I arrived wearing my Jessica McClintock (hello, 1992 prom) dress, the whole of the wedding party was awaiting my arrival. It felt a bit odd to be one of the guests of honor and I found myself shaking a bit. I was immediately handed a glass of wine by someone (I don't remember who you are now, but THANK YOU). Little did we know that a wedding was going on that evening and in order to rehearse, we going to have interlope slightly on the other's festivities. This made for slightly awkward moments and bumping into wait staff. My grandfather's temper flaired slightly conjuring up my fear that words would be said that would embarass me, but things calmed down as soon as we were able to move and walk into the room that would be where we got married if it rained (it was NOT going to rain despite the forecast saying that there was a 90% chance).

The rehearsal itself was fun and our offiant and my high school friend, Dan, did a fabulous job of moving things along and working out our kinks.

Next stop: Food Where? Why the Rib City Ale House, of course! It was a great prix fixe deal with decorations and a cake included. However, it turned out that because we had slightly less people than we had originally indicated to Frank, the owner, we were no longer able to sit in the semi-private room. Instead, we were put in the room next to where the band would be playing. This was just fine until the band started playing. Our relatives - old and young alike - had a hard time hearing with the loudness of the whole thing. Arthur's mom began feeling unwell half-way through the meal, which some might say could be attributed to seeing her...no strike that sitting across from and staying in the room next to...her ex-husband for the first time in years. One of my lovely best women offered to take her back to the hotel though and the next day she was fine.

The wine and beer poured, our food ordered, we anxiously awaited our food. And we waited. And we waited. We asked for bread. It was still baking. And we waited. Apparently, they were not prepared for all the people they had that night. Unfortunately, there was barely even an apology. The actual servers did there best, but the management was no where to be seen.




But then we had a great surprise! Arthur's best friend, Tom, after missing his first flight, managed to make it to the dinner mid-way through. Arthur and I were both thrilled by his presence after not seeing him for such a long time.

We then said a few words and handed out the gifts to the Friends of the Wedding and to my parents. Our offiant received the biggest bottle of Jack Daniels we could find. I shopped at Satya Jewelry for the best women, women of the wedding and the flower girl. The best women received lotus earrings. The flower girl was given a butterfly necklace and the women of the wedding received stretch bracelets in different stones. The men of the wedding received a flask, a pocket watch and a lighter with their respective initials engraved into them. The Ultimate Experts received engraved beer mugs. My parents received a gift certificate to their favorite local restaurant.

We ended up having a nice time and it was really great having all of our closest in one room together.

Review of Rib City Ale House: The food was ok, the service was eh and overall we were disappointed by the experience.

Review of our rehearsal evening: It was a great pre-cursor to what turned out to be a perfect event.

Determination

I am bound and determined to finish this blog's first purpose, which was to discuss issues, moments and thoughts regarding our wedding. I know that I have been remiss and I won't dwell on the reasons why.

I do plan to continue blogging about married life after we finish the wedding part.

I hope you can stick with me, but if you don't/can't/could care less that's fine too.