On this day, we ate.
We took a tour with Famous Fat Dave (who started out a decade or more ago calling himself famous and who, in the meantime, has become a bit famous, racking up appearances on Food Network and so on). Anyway, we chose a private, four and a half hour tour and Famous Fat Dave (FF Dave from here on out, to differentiate him from Dave) focused on Brooklyn.
We met FF Dave at the Jacques Torres (the famous French chocolatier who has relocated his base of operations to New York City) chocolate shop in the West Village. Our tour started with a frozen hot chocolate, which was like an icee crossed with a chocolate malt. While we sipped on that, we got into the cab and headed across the Brooklyn Bridge to a Polish restaurant, Teresa's, in Brooklyn Heights. While we waited in the cab ("That way they won't tow it--but if you get out, make sure you roll up the windows before you close the door because if you don't, they get off track and I have to take the door apart"), FF Dave ran into the restaurant and picked up a half order of blueberry blintzes.
We drove out to a dead end street and walked up a short path. We sat on a bench and had our blintz and took a few pictures of the city across the river and the Brooklyn Bridge.
When we got back to the car, FF Dave took a handful of group photos, including this one:
The old school cab in the background is a 1983 white Checker cab--decommissioned, of course. (It still gets a lot of attention though.)
Our next stop was a small restaurant in the Mexican part of Brooklyn that is run by a woman from Puebla, Mexico. FF Dave had called ahead, apologizing to us (he knew we were from New Mexico) for his Spanish. Then he told us about how the waitresses at this place didn't really like him and he could never figure out why. (After hearing his Spanish, I could probably figure out why.)
We sat at one of the tables outside and split a delicious pierna adobada torta. Sitting among Mexicans and listening to Spanish being spoken is, of course, not exotic to me (the way it might be to tourists from other cultures), but it was nice. (So often when I travel, I feel conspicuous for being brown--but not just for being brown, for lots of other reasons, too.)
Our next stop was nearby.
Bordering the Mexican neighborhood is a Chinese neighborhood.
Yun Nan chinese dumplings from Yun Nan Chinese Garden. (This place started out as Yun Nan Flavor Snack, a hole in the wall, FF Dave informed us, just a counter that did take-out. As the owners earned a little success, they moved into a bigger space and changed their name to Yun Nan Chinese Garden. Of this place moving into its bigger digs FF Dave said, "It made me realize that I can't keep New York City small and crappy for my own purposes.")
The dumplings were amazing, hot and spicy and vinegar-y, with the strange and lovely perfumy addition of cilantro. The Szechuan pepper in them made Dave's lips go a bit numb. We split a bowl of twelve, but I could have eaten a bowl of them by myself and followed them up with another bowl of the same for dessert.
The people running the restaurant were incredibly polite, but I knew it was time to go when FF Dave had gone off to retrieve the cab and Dave had gone to the restroom and I, sitting alone at the table, suddenly found myself seated among strangers who were being given menus.
From dumplings to Italian espresso and a stop in Gravesend.
Just beyond the flags (next to a Chinese grocery) is an old-school Italian coffee place, Caffe Caggiano, where we went for iced espressos (Dave and FF Dave) and Italian ice (me). We sat out on the sidewalk in the shade of the tree, on plastic lawn chairs, and chatted with the other patrons for a few minutes.
As we left the coffee place, I took this picture of the Italian grocers across the street. ("There's nothing good to eat in there, but good stuff to take home," Dave said.)
We walked up the block to a kosher deli, Jay and Lloyd's, where we had the most amazing pastrami and rye bread and pickles with Russian dressing and a celery soda (which was surprisingly ok).
I mean...
From chatting with the staff, we learned that the number of kosher delis left in NYC is fast dwindling. There are a lot of Jewish delis, but only a handful are kosher.
After we finished our plate of pastrami, the guy cutting the meat sliced us off some tongue (which I love) and we ate some of that. I was starting to get full, but I didn't say anything because we still had a number of stops to go.
I don't know what to keep saying about the food we had except that it was generally very, very good.
Our next stop was a place called Brennan & Carr, a place known for its roast beef.
The place is kind of a throwback, all dark brick with a standing counter at the front (as well as a counter that opens to the sidewalk, in case you just want take out) and tables at the back. In the afternoon, the place was being run by a group of sarcastic and hilarious young men in their late teens or early 20s and one very large middle-aged man in a cashier's booth near the front door.
Dave and I stood at the front counter and shared a Gargiulo burger, which is a burger topped with roast beef and onions and then soaked in beef broth
Like all restaurants, Brennan & Carr was slow in the middle of the afternoon. Two young waiters stood around dressed in their white coats, like old school soda jerks. The guys behind the counter were in white with aprons. They passed the time slinging good-natured insults at each other in that classic Brooklyn accent. (One waiter called back an order for two cups of soup and one of the guys from the kitchen brought up one, carefully balancing an overfilled cup on a small saucer. He was followed by a second guy, carrying a second overfilled cup carefully balanced on a small saucer. The waiter smirked and asked, "What, do yous guys gotta bring dese one atta time?")
By the end of that sandwich, I was ready to tap out. But it was time to head to the beach.
And eat some more.
Our beach picnic tidbits included marinated fresh mozzarella, Turkish pastries, and a sesame bagel (which was a hasty addition after I mentioned that in all my visits to New York, I have never had a bagel).
Were we finished? We were not! There was still one more stop: L & B Spumoni Garden for pizza and spumoni!
I was beyond full, but we split a slice and Dave had some spumoni. And then, since I was so taken with the pizza, I got a slice to bring back to the hotel.
It was a four and a half hour tour, so aside from the food, there was a lot of chatting. FF Dave is as friendly, knowledgeable, opinionated, and outspoken as any NYC cab driver. So we talked a lot of politics. He's also very knowledgeable about the history of New York City, so we got a lot of that. And we talked about his taxi and about his history and about the food and the restaurants and the people who run them.
Both Dave and I agreed that we would do the tour again, only focused on a different part of NYC, Harlem most likely.
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