For some reason, this day always seems more fun to celebrate than our own 4th. Maybe just because it’s foreign, but also I think because the French Revolution signified much more historically and on larger scale than our own. Anyway, I seem to have been eating a lot of French food lately (Nice Matin, L’Express, French Roast) because I have a bagful of little postcards announcing tonight’s celebratory feasts at those restaurants. If you’re in NY and you’re so inclined, I recommend Nice Matin.
Crazy day yesterday. I waited in line for nearly two hours to buy my Tribeca Film Festival tickets. The festival takes place April 23-May 4. Tickets went on sale to American Express cardholders yesterday, they’ll go on sale to downtown residents on April 18, and on the 19th to the general public.
I always love this festival. My dad is a big film buff, a would-be filmmaker really, and he’s gone to practically every film festival in existence. But I feel like this one is kind of my own; I feel a special fondness for it since DeNiro established it in the aftermath of 9/11 in order to re-charge the lower Manhattan economy. I worked two blocks from the World Trade Center and frequently hung out in Tribeca, and it took me a long time to get over 9/11. I remember sobbing while waiting in line to see a festival movie the first year, standing on an upper floor of the Regal Battery Park Cinemas, standing by a window overlooking Ground Zero.
Anyway, this year there are two movies related to dance — I mean, there are lots of great-looking movies, but two involve dance: “Whatever Lola Wants“, a narrative about a struggling NYC dancer who follows an intriguing man to Morocco, where she becomes enthralled with belly dance; and “Gotta Dance“, a documentary about the first ever cheerleading team for seniors.
Funny, but while I was waiting in line at the festival’s new Village box office for tickets, I ran into an old friend, Claire, from my former studio, Dance Times Square. She and her friend were waiting in line to buy tickets for all of their friends and family to “Gotta Dance,” which it turns out, they are in! She also told me she’s performing in the upcoming Dance Times Square student showcase, on May 19th, and that Pasha Kovalev and Anya Garnis are scheduled to dance a number or two as well 😀 It’s so wonderful of them to keep performing in these student showcases and local things, since now, they obviously don’t have to.
Another movie that I’m psyched about is “Elite Squad” by a Brazilian documentarian I really like, Jose Padilha. I’d really liked his “Bus 174” about a young man from the Rio ghetto who held a busload of passengers hostage. Like the best true crime literary journalists, his films have a way of finding the larger significance of a story, bringing out the human element without resort to sensationalism, and making you feel for all people involved. This one’s about police force corruption in Rio. Padilha co-wrote with Braulio Mantovani, writer of the famous “City of God.”, I walked around the corner to the Strand bookstore, and bought these three books. I’d gone for the new Pulitzer prize winner (the first for a Dominican author), The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz, which I can’t wait to read, but ended up not wanting to spend so much money, and these, being older, were on sale. I’ve been scouring NYC bookstores for anything written by Pauline Kael for some time now, and ridiculously haven’t been able to find a thing. She’s only just about the most famous art critic ever, right?! It’s been only seven years since her death and now bookstores are no longer bothering to stock her; horrible. Anyway, at least the Strand came through. And, I also got this book by Dominick Dunne, since apparently I’m into true crime lately, and Norman Mailer’s advice to writers. I guess I’ll wait for a 30% discount Borders coupon for the Diaz.
Last, I was so famished and with all that standing in line for the movie tickets, I knew I couldn’t make it home without passing out, so I ended up at “Buono Sera” on University Place. They don’t seem to have their own website, but here’s the New York review. The maitre d looks and talks just like Vincent D’Onofrio, which was fun, and they had a great small band playing in the back, near a little screen showing filmed aerial views of various parts of Italy — very interesting idea for a restaurant, showing video clips of the homeland like that. Service was excellent; I don’t think I ever had a water glass that wasn’t filled to the brim, and when I noticed the films projected on the back wall and turned around to watch, ‘Vincent’ apparently thought I was looking for the waiter and came over, apologized, and told me he’d take my order instead! I only wish their food had been as good as their entertainment and service. Actually, I shouldn’t say that. The wine was excellent as was the panna cotta dessert. The only thing I wasn’t in love with was my main dish — the gnocchi. It was fine and everything I’d expect from a plate of potato dumplings covered with marinara sauce, but there nothing extra special about it; it was just there, unlike the panna cotta. Also the foccaccia was hard on the edges and I wasn’t in love with the dipping sauce — just a basic marinara.
Anyway, okay enough blabbering. I have to go read my books.
Today, Ariel and I went to the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, which is currently celebrating its 200th anniversary. The church was founded in 1808 when it separated from a larger demonimation because of racial segregation.
But today Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater was also celebrating its 50th anniversary, today’s event part of its faith-based honoring of the spiritual heritage of Mr. Ailey’s life work, which took place in churches throughout New York and the country, including Rogers, Texas, Alvin Ailey’s own hometown. We were very lucky: at our event, Judith Jamison, artistic director and former dancer extraordinare with Ailey attended and gave a brief speech about Mr. Ailey’s roots in the church. I also spotted a couple of Ailey dancers in the audience, including the illustrious Renee Robinson.
It was a blast! Former Ailey dancer Nasha Thomas-Schmitt, who heads the Ailey Camp outreach program, giving dance lessons to inner-city youth, trained several children in the congregation to dance the opening of “Revelations” — the “I’ve Been ‘Buked” section (pictured above; also see video here, beginning section). So as the choir sang that song, the children walked down the aisles, dressed in the same styled costumes as the original Ailey dancers, up to the pulpit, where they danced — doing everything perfectly! I almost started giggling when the tallest boy in the center reached upward with his arms, leading his “flock.” It was adorable, and he was right on!
The choir also sang “Rock A My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,” my favorite song in “Revelations” (see the last section of that above video). There was no music here; rather the different choral sections provided the harmony, and the melody. They sang repeated choruses, in so many different chords; it was amazing.
The regular minister, Dr. Rev. Calvin O. Butts, allowed one of the junior ministers, Rev. Eboni Marshall, to give the sermon, since she had previously danced with Alvin Ailey. Her sermon was themed “The Show Must Go On,” the message being mainly that no matter how bad things get for you, your show’s not over and God is there for you. She talked about what being a member of Alvin Ailey had meant to her. She said it “taught me, first of all, to stand up straight.” The audience cheered. She said Ailey also gave her a solid work ethic, self-respect and discipline, and taught her that no matter what happened, no matter how much her body ached, no matter how many last-minute set problems the troupe encountered, etc., the show simply had to go on, no excuses.
This was my first time at an African-American church, and I just have to say, it was so much more lively (to make a huge understatement!) than any white church I’ve been to (at least in Arizona). Rev. Marshall spoke theatrically and emphatically, and the audience was very participatory, shouting “Oh Yes!”‘s, and “Um-HUMS!”, and “Oh, He’s coming!”s throughout, fists pounding the air. It was great! Back home, people sit there in near complete silence and the minister talks in the droning pitch of a shrink.
Afterward, Ariel and I went around the corner to a small but down-home-looking restaurant for southern food, called Miss Maud’s SpoonBread. We were going to go to the famous Sylvia’s, but then I realized I was hungry and wasn’t in a mood to wait in a huge line with other “Harlem tourists” and pay a bundle, and small local joints are often better anyway. I’m glad we decided on Miss Maud’s because they had a nice spacious booth, the likes of which I haven’t seen in Manhattan, and it was just a cozy little place. I had my first brunch of fried chicken and waffles, which was delicious, albeit enormous. They had biscuits, just like the biscuits ‘n gravy I’ve had in North Carolina visiting Mom, but these were tiny and shaped like hearts. I thought they were cute, so I had to snap a picture… Anyway, it was a most excellent day!
A little over a year ago I attended a panel discussion hosted by Media Bistro on authors who got book deals from their blogs. After being introduced to the panelists, I looked up all the blogs on the internet, and was particularly taken with this one, by author Robert Rummel-Hudson. It was about his daughter, Schuyler, who was born with an extremely rare neurological condition known as bilateral perisylvian polymicrogyria, which makes it impossible to move certain facial muscles, resulting in the inability to speak. The blog, and the resulting memoir, follow Schuyler’s journey learning to speak through other means, and the lessons she teaches Rummel-Hudson along the way about being a father.
Well, the memoir just came out and last Wednesday Media Bistro threw a book party for Mr. Rummel-Hudson. Ariel and I went and I finally got to meet him. I’d commented on his blog a few times, so he knew of my blog, and has been reading it a bit as well. Well, he told me on Wednesday that Schuyler really enjoys all the pictures I post of dancers, and she’ll often go dancing about the house, imitating their poses. As for right now, she wants to become a dancer herself 😀 I swear, this almost made me cry! I bought his book, which he signed, saying, “thank you for giving Schuyler some dancer dreams.” Aw!!!
Anyway, here are a couple of pictures. I didn’t want to scare anyone with a flash so they’re grainy.
This is Rob in the background (in the brown suit) signing books and chatting with people, and Ariel is in the foreground boozing it up. Haha, just kidding, she only had one glass of red wine and only because of me :S
And here’s Ariel again at a restaurant we went to afterward, called Banc Cafe, which we both loved. Her mom sweetly treated us, albeit from afar. Because Ariel had recently been sick, and, since Ariel now lives in NY far from her family in Alabama, her mother felt badly not being able to comfort her with some good home-cooked meals, so she directed Ariel to take herself and me out for a great dinner. And great it was! This is obviously the dessert portion — Ariel is having apple pie and I an enormous chocolate mountain thingy and chocolate martini. Thank you Mrs. Davis!!! Lovely lovely night 🙂
Thursday night I got together with several friends and we went out to a great restaurant in Soho / Nolita, FR.OG (standing for “French Origine”; starting from left of table is: Allison, Marion, me, Kathy, and Alyssa). Dishes combine the flavors and spices of North Africa with French culinary style and technique. Though it was a bit pricey, and not something I’d do but for a special occasion, I found the food excellent.
I had the duck leg pastilla, delicious diced duck meat combined with what tasted to me like Moroccan spices in a light pastry shell coated with honey and almonds, along with lightly-dressed baby arugula side salad. Only thing was, no way could I eat even half of it, and it didn’t heat up so well the next day — the pastry crust was soggy by then and I could no longer taste the delicious honey-ed bottom. Why do restaurants serve such blasted big portions!!! Marion, from Ireland, said this was the first thing she noticed when she arrived here — American food portions are off the scale… I tasted her cigare of chicken, by the way, though I’m not usually a fan of chicken. But it was really unexpectedly juicy and the skin was crunchy and flavorful — the best chicken I think I’ve had.
And they had an excellent cocktail list. Frozen hot chocolate martini, mmmmm.
Maybe too excellent a cocktail list… Of course we HAD to try everything! And the drinks were so delicious you couldn’t really tell they contained any alcohol, until you stood up…
By the end of the evening we were a bit tipsy… and we suddenly somehow found ourselves downstairs near the kitchen trying to meet the chef. This was partly because we’d so enjoyed the food and were interested in knowing how it was prepared and where the chef came from (Queens, as it turned out), but also because, admittedly, a few members of our party were drawn to the restaurant because of the chef’s very attractive profile on the website 🙂 Poor man was more than a bit weirded out by all these women pawing at him and asking him questions galore. And I learned that a couple of my friends are apparently more cynical and untrusting even than I: because he seemed so stunned at all the attention, they suspected perhaps a line cook had been sent out to entertain us in lieu of the real chef. But I don’t think so — the guy in the middle above looks like chef Jarret Brody, right?… (If you aren’t taken to his pic on the link, click on “a place to eat”)
Anyway, fun night out with the ladies 🙂 If you’re ever in SoHo / Nolita, there’s lovely food to be found here. And you can request to meet the chef and see if you get the same guy…
I didn’t get around to going to the real Carnival this year, so this weekend I went with a couple of friends, Kathy and Alyssa, down to the Lafayette Bar & Grill in Tribeca for a little end-of-Carnival Samba party. It was hosted by a Samba meet-up group I joined a while ago but whose meet-ups I never had the courage to attend, owing largely to an insane experience I had in Quenia Ribeiro‘s Samba class at the Alvin Ailey extension.
Well, I am happy to say that this time, though I was nowhere near perfect, or even good, I did much better! Or at least I felt much better. The meet-up group’s founder, Marizete, who is from Brazil, began the evening with a little class. She first taught us the steps, which were so much more basic and easier than anything I’ve learned in ballroom Samba and certainly than Quenia’s class. Quenia’s class was more focused on Bahian Samba, or Samba Reggae, which seemed more African and even a little hop-hop infused than what I was used to with ballroom. But Marizete taught only the Rio style, whose steps are smaller, and, to me, more basic than Bahian style. And the emphasis is more on sexiness, attitude and just overall style than on detailed traveling movement patterns, difficult isolations, and changing rhythms. The basic is simply, crossing one foot in back of the other, sliding the other foot a little bit forward and then bringing the back foot up to meet the front with a little hop. And then added with that were some pelvic rolls while standing, pelvic rolls while bending knees and going all the way down to the floor, then pelvic rolls while turning slowly in a cirle, and, at the end she added some pretty arm movements.
Here she is showing us how to roll our hips. It was a lot of fun, and way way way the hell easier than the Bahia / Reggae style, for me. I just look like such a goof trying to do African dance, although I’d really like to be good at that some day. The only thing so ridiculously hard for me to master in Marizete’s class was doing so many things at once — I’m so uncoordinated! I was fine with the basic, fine with the pelvic / hips rolls, but once we started trying to turn in a circle doing the pelvic rolls, I just couldn’t seem to manage both at once. And once the arms were added, forget it. I was going in the wrong direction, bumping butts with poor Kathy, whacking the guy on my other side with my arm, moving my hips in the same direction I was turning in instead of opposite, which I think was the way it was supposed to be… I was a mess! Thankfully there were so many people on that crowded floor, I don’t think anyone really saw me making mistakes galore. Most of the people were not experienced (unlike those crazy Ailey students) so I didn’t feel like that much of an ass. And, I think with practice this is something I could actually do okay.
Here she is trying to teach us the arms.
After the class, we all sat down and had some drinks and dinner, and listened to a Bossa Nova / jazz band, which was lovely. Of course they performed some samba too, in honor of Carnival. And there was some general dancing. I watched Marizete dance with several guys and it was really interesting to see they way they partnered. They were connected and maintained the normal frame, like in regular partner dancing, but they each kind of did their own thing; it wasn’t formal ballroom at all. The guys would just kind of lead her in a certain direction and she would do the Carnival-samba basic with her regular cute bouncy hop, even though the guys weren’t doing the samba basic but just kind holding her and walking her around the floor. There was another woman there who was very good, who was doing the same thing only way faster. It was like watching a Carnival dancer going at her own pace, but maintaining connection with a guy who was just kind of going at a quarter her speed and then not even doing the same footwork. So it looked very asymmetrical, but it still somehow worked. I so want to dance like Marizete and the other woman I saw.
During the band’s breaks, Marizete played some tapes she’d brought of recorded live music at past Carnivals in Rio. Everyone got out on the dance floor and just bopped around to those. Even people who couldn’t really do samba, who’d missed the class or forgotten the basic got out there; we all just did our own thing. Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, the rhythm just gets you!
Then, at the end, a local band, “Manhattan Samba,” played, and they were fantastic! They were all percussion like a regular street band, and had a leader bearing a whistle around his neck blowing out directions. Marizete came out dressed in a Carnival costume and danced a few numbers.
Here’s one of the band. They were having a blast, as were we just listening to them. There is nothing more infectious than a Samba percussive band; nothing!
To Marizete’s left is one of the guys she was dancing with, whom I think she’s taught. I wish she would teach more formal lessons. She seems to create such a nice, fun, social, very informal atmosphere, which for me, is so much more conducive to learning than being around already-perfect dancers, like I found at Ailey. Although Ailey was more challenging and I’d like to go back to Quenia’s classes when I’m better, I need something more basic for now, until I have more confidence.
Anyway, very fun night. The only drawback was the wait-staff at Lafayette Bar & Grill. So nasty. First our waitress was very annoyed when we asked her for a bit more time deciding on our order. Later, when asked for more water, she basically reprimanded us, telling us she “can’t be walking around with the water pitcher.” We waited about twenty minutes until we were able to get the attention of a busboy. At one point another waitress crashed into me, then instead of apologizing harrumphed; apparently I was standing in her way trying to take a picture. About half an hour before the show was over, our waitress threw down our check saying gruffly, “show’s gonna be over soon.” When we looked at the bill, it was more than we’d expected. When I added it all up, I realized they’d already added a $12 “service charge.” This was in addition to the cover charge we paid to get in, so I assumed it was a mandatory tip. While I understand why they do that for large parties, we were only three. I think if they’re going to host special events there, they should train their wait-staff a bit differently…
Originally uploaded by swan lake samba girl via mobile.
Mmmm. Delicious on a cold winter day. This restaurant is always insanely packed, owing largely to the movie “You’ve Got Mail.” I’ve never much cared for their main courses or even their desserts (most of which I find too sickeningly rich). But their specialty is definitely their cocktails, and this is their latest — mulled hot wine with a big cinnamon stick scrumptiously spicing it up. Worth the noisy crowd … once in a while at least. Also worth it to see cute Ariel all giddy about finally being in the place, being new to NY and a lover of that film 🙂 We’d tried to go over the summer, with the wonderful Mr. Terry Teachout, who very graciously met up with us to give us career advice, but the crowd was out the door and all over the sidewalk, so we went instead to his favorite place, the cleverly-titled Good Enough to Eat, around the corner.
I’ll just make this into a foodie post: I must take back what I said earlier about Magnolia Bakery‘s somewhat flavorless frosting. I recently had another mini-cake (okay, two) and the frosting was divine. Must just have been opening day jitters.
First Candace married Charles, then Baryshnikov graced the TV show with his majestic presence, and now yummy Magnolia Bakery, whose original West Village location was popularized by the same (Sex & the City, that is, not Misha 🙂 ) is opening a new location just a few steps from Lincoln Center. Should make for an ideal after-ballet snacking ‘n chatting ground. Ariel and I, who were in the neighborhood, went to check it out today, since I’d heard it opened its doors yesterday, but unfortunately it’s only been available for private parties for the last two days. Tomorrow is its official public opening, 11 am sharp. Cupcakes for breakfast!
Last night Alyssa and I went to a tap dance performance at the Julia Miles Theater in west midtown. I’m writing a formal review of it for Explore Dance, which I will link to when it’s up, but, since the show’s only on for two more days, I just want to say now, I loved it. Andrew Nemr trained with Gregory Hines, and it shows in his expressiveness and style. “Cats Paying Dues” is a very young troupe of up-and-comers (my favorite was 17-year-old Orlando Hernandez — wow!), and the performance was charmingly low-key, no frills, no fluff, no pretentiousness (praise the lord), just very good, immensely musical dancing, and excellent jazz band. If you’re in NY, for $39, I think it’s a great value. Go to telecharge (or 212-239-6200) for tix.
I saw a new friend there (a very nice guy whom I met from Apollinaire), Brian Seibert, who writes for the New Yorker — only famous people like Goddess Joan have bylines there, but Brian is a very good writer; here is his brief but well-written piece on Nemr and CPD (you have to scroll down a bit).
Afterward, Alyssa introduced me to this new(ish — it opened last May) lovely little wine and cheese bar around the corner, called Casellula. (They also have a blog, “Spread the Curd”.) Their wine list is amazing and delightfully inexpensive (compared to other nice wine bars), and they have an absolutely enormous list of cheeses, many locally produced, and a fromager to help with your selection. We shared the most scrumptious — and original — duck confit salad I’ve ever had — the finely shredded combo of meat, celeriac, gruyere cheese and apple gave it this deceptively simple “hash”-looking quality — and it was topped with dulcet pomegranite seeds, and baked duck-skin croutons to die for – and I mean die for! Alyssa and I were wondering where we could get more and how unhealthy it would be to eat a whole plate?… Shared desserts were flourless chocolate cake textured with finely ground chocolate chunks and soaked in a light cream that effectively countered the cake’s richness, and coconut crepes oozing with lemon filling and topped with a mound of fluffy, coconut-textured whipped cream. Serendipitously, pastry chef Allen Stafford, who’s in the picture with us, is a former stage designer with the Atlanta Ballet and a big Paul Taylor fan. Funny because when we first walked in, I could have sworn I recognized him; still not completely sure from where but likely some Paul Taylor or other dance performance. He also made the artwork in back of us. It looks like a painting from afar, but when you approach, you realize it’s made all of aluminum wine bottle closures. Very cool! The restaurant is just around the corner from the Alvin Ailey studios as well, so if I can ever get my lazy butt back in gear and start up with classes again, will make the perfect after-workout lounge.
I saw a documentary last night at New York City Ballet’s State Theater that I really really loved. AND it’s going to air on PBS on April 8th, so everyone can see it! Don’t worry, I will definitely be reminding you all closer to April 🙂 It’s called WATER FLOWING TOGETHER and is about the life of recently retired and widely beloved New York City Ballet dancer Jock Soto (pictured above after the showing speaking with photographer / filmmaker Gwendolen Cates — whom I’m told is related to Phoebe, though I don’t know if it’s true — and a moderator whose name I didn’t get).
There was some real hype over this, and I’m always ready to pounce in such instances, but in this case the hype was deserved. Although the film gets off to a slow start, it quickly gains momentum. I think what makes it so engaging is Soto’s interesting background and wonderful personality. He’s part Navajo, part Puerto Rican, and he grew up on a reservation in New Mexico, before moving to Phoenix (!) for ballet school. The film’s title is the name of his mother’s clan. There’s some great footage of the West, and my favorite parts of the film are (in addition to clips of his rehearsing Christopher Wheeldon’s tear-jerking duet “After the Rain” with the equally engaging Wendy Whelan, who is interviewed as well) those about his Native-American roots. (This could be partly because I have a Native American great-grandmother — Blackfoot to be exact — though I know next to nothing about her since, sadly, she’s been all but erased from my family history). Anyway, Jock’s mother was an artist and used to make Katchina dolls (how I miss Arizona…) and ceramic bowls, and he and his brother used to make and sell Indian Fry Bread (how I SO miss Arizona…) when they were kids. After he retired from NYCB in 2005 he went to culinary school and he and his partner, professional chef Luis Fuentes, have just begun a catering business, so I guess those foodie roots were always there!
Another thing that struck me: Jock’s homosexuality has always been accepted by his mother’s side of the family. American Indian culture, she says, holds homosexuals in high esteem because of their difference. (His paternal Latin side: not so accepting; aunts and grandmas keep asking when he’s gonna get married and, because his father hasn’t said anything, he feels uncomfortable revealing his sexuality to them). But interestingly, Indian society is also matriarchal. So, where women are valued, so are gay men.
And, like his longtime partner Wendy Whelan, Jock has such a sweetly endearing personality and a great sense of humor. He laughs easily at himself. Upon entering his apartment (which he openly tells you is a typical NYC dancer shoebox that he nevertheless pays $1,850 for) there’s a sign that reads, “No liquor served to Indians after 6:00 p.m.” Later, while preparing for a performance, he says, “as I put on my makeup and my costume and do my hair, I think, what a strange occupation for a 40-year-old man,” and at another point, trying hard to conceal his fear of and heartache about permanently leaving the stage says, “well, June 19, 2005 will be the last time I’ll ever have to dress in drag.” At one point, he actually lets loose and cries over his eternally pained body and his pending retirement. The scene makes him human and vulnerable and it really drives home that it must be so awful for a dancer to have to leave what he’s lived his entire life for at such a young age.
Anyway, it’s an excellent film and I left out a lot: his meeting and befriending Andy Warhol (I wish Cates had actually gone into a bit more detail on this); his ruminations on his coming to NY at only age 14, living without his family and dropping out of school in the 7th grade; and a lot of amazing dancing, including some great footage of him flying all over stage with his young little sprightly teenage body! Please do watch it on PBS in April, though they have to chop a good twenty minutes off for TV, which seriously frightens me since PBS seems to have a knack for making everything they show as bland as possible. If they cut any of the parts I just mentioned, there will be hell to pay!
It already seems this film is a slightly different version than that others have seen. In her lengthy review, Tobi Tobias mentions several classroom scenes where he’s teaching students at the School of American Ballet (from which aspiring NYCB dancers must graduate), which seemed to be missing from last night’s version. And smartly so, I think: “Classical ballet being the last bastion of chivalry in our disheveled era, Soto works continually to encourage a worshipful attitude in the gentlemen toward their ladies.” Considered the quintessential “manly” dancer though he may be, something about that line kind of makes me want to vomit.
Sometimes it can start to feel a bit stiflingly cliquish inside the State Theater if I’m there for too long, but I had a nice time hanging out before and after with Philip and Ariel, whose reports are here and here.
A while ago I posted about a new bakeshop that recently opened on Wall Street. Well, I haven’t yet had a chance to make it over there (not so much because I’m lazy as that it’s been freezing and often rainy or sleety or slushy outside and it’s about 10 blocks away from my office, a lot farther than I’d hoped). So, to make up for my steadfast resistance these last couple of weeks, I dragged Alyssa with me to this lovely little event last night! (Author Rachel Kramer-Bussel is a MySpace friend of mine and she’d posted about it there; read the MediaBistro write-up here.)
It was splendid! Alyssa and I each had four cupcakes apiece. My favorite by far was this mini chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (being the chocolate lover I am), but most excitingly, surprisingly delicious was the middle. When you bit in, a creamy vanilla center just oozed out, flooding your mouth. I loved it! To me, the worst thing about cupcakes is all the cake — I like the frosting and will often half the cake height-wise and only eat the top. So, very happy was I to find a big mound of frosting smack in the middle of the bottom half! Alyssa’s favorites were the very popular red velvet, and a peanut butter-flavored mini. I didn’t get a chance to try that one apparently because I was busy placing my drink order when they were whizzed around.
It was a fun night. They had three raffles, giving away a stationary set bearing a cupcake design, a necklace with a cupcake pendant, and grand prize was an apron and oven mitten set featuring embroidered … guess whats! Apparently, the blog has a meet-up group which gets together every so often to try the City’s various new cupcakeries and learn cupcake design, etc. Hmmm…another group for me to join? Only if I promise myself to go to at least some of my Sambazina events.
The meet-up was held at the Beauty Bar on East 14th Street, which I’d never been to before. Walls were covered with vintage posters of women being coiffed, but what surprised me was that they actually have little manicurist booths where you can have your nails done whilst boozing it up with friends! Cool idea.
Afterward, after four cupcakes and a glass of red wine I was feeling my blood sugar soar a bit, so we headed to Veselka, the East Village’s 50-year-old Ukranian deli, and forced ourselves to eat things that are good for us (ie: borscht and stuffed cabbage). When I very first moved to New York I lived on 9th and Avenue A, the heart of the East Village and just around the corner from this homey little place, and I haven’t been back to the area much since, so it was kind of nostalgic.
Anyway, on the subway ride home I ran into an old acquaintance from my studio who accusingly asked me where I’d been. “Saving money,” I told her. Seriously, I’d meant to sign up for groups this month, but had other things going on on Monday nights, when my favorite instructor teaches. I really really really must sign up for January’s classes though. Especially now…
Thanks to my wonderful friend, Kathy, who knows what a horrendous sucker I am for anything containing substantial amounts of sugar, for alerting me to the fact that a new piggery, Crumbs, is opening tomorrow in the Financial District. They will be giving a complimentary cupcake of choice to the first 1000 patrons. Woo hoo! Because I didn’t just learn yesterday at the doctor’s office that I have now gained 9 pounds during my dance hiatus or anything…