Welcome to Brooklyn

Tillie’s in Fort Greene is my coffee and Wi-Fi spot for now.  While I’m sure it’s just one of many caffeine serving gems, it’s the place B brought me first and the coffee and grub is fantastic.  I wasn’t starving and on recommendation went with a slice of zucchini quiche.  YUM.  Built upon a delicate, perfectly brittle crust, my medium sized triangle of cheesy, egg-y greatness hit the spot.  The zucchini was still crisp, to boot!  B went with a slice of Brooklyn Blackout Cake.  DUDE!   Moist, rich and thick, she dug through and ate around the chocolate slabs that separated the layers of actual cake which were gone in moments.  I ate the leftover chocolate pieces which reminded me of actual Hershey bars—DIVINE.

We peddled around that afternoon to get a feel for the neighborhood.  Diverse and friendly as expected, the Clinton Hill/Fort Greene area is a proper mix of families, college kids, independent business owners and commuters.  It is extremely bike friendly (zero hills—WOOHOO) and I can’t wait to call ‘next’ at one of the three basketball courts we came across.  While the competition level is most certainly higher than the Eastwoods pickup game back home, they seem to only play 4on4, half-court games, which makes it easier for us speed and handle-challenged folks :)  While making B watch at least twenty-five minutes or so of pickup games, I immediately noticed that EVERYONE can ball up here, which isn’t surprising.  I’m talking short, fat, old, young, black, British, Asian, Puerto Rican.  People were hoopin’ and I can’t wait to bring Texas to the muphuckin court.  _m/

We decided to grab dinner at the Five Spot on Myrtle Avenue (formally coined ‘Murda’ Ave) just two blocks from our apartment.  Advertising ‘SOUL FOOD’ on the side of the building, I was excited.  However, we aren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto, and while the food wasn’t really bad, it definitely wasn’t great (especially for the price).  I had meat loaf which was blackened by design (great flavor, yet a little dry and in need of more sauce) and the collard greens, which were downright bland.  When I asked for hot sauce, I was brought a plastic ramekin of what I guess was Tabasco (I guess theses brothers are worried about customers stealing the bottle? I though it odd, but then again maybe it’s like that everywhere up here).  I then learned that Long Island fries are what we southerners call ‘steak cut’ fries.   My beautiful cohort had thinly fried New Orleans’s catfish strips (ummmm, not really).  They were mostly breading and very fishy--she couldn’t bear them.  I cleaned them up with ketchup because I refuse to waste food.  The absolute best item was the cornbread.  DAYUUUUM!  It was of the sweet variety (my favorite) and thicker than the slice of cake from earlier.  It was chewy, yet not doughy in the middle and maintained its fluffy consistency through the morning, when I had it for breakfast with a glass of milk.  There was a ‘DJ’ at the Five Spot, but hell, he was beyond terrible.  He sat down in front of a laptop and used the space bar to attempt to blend mega-mixes of pop dancehall and reggae-ton tracks.  I didn’t appreciate one single mix or song, and yes, I’m difficult to please.  I did return the next day for happy hour though.  The folks there are friendly and a $3 pint of Brooklyn Ale (my new Fireman’s 4) is hard to pass up.

We enjoyed an early evening of nothing in our apartment.  We found that we need curtains if we’re ever to sleep past 7 am.  We’re on the fifth floor and the sun came-a-shining bright!  It felt wonderful though, to be in a new place with new opportunity, starting a new life  J

The next day started off shitty, as the first bike repair shop we took my 20” to (the brakes were somehow damaged in the move) tried to hustle us.  We were still without tools at that point and I knew it was an easy fix.  However, this dude looked at me and then the bike and then started saying I needed new brake pads and that maybe the wheel wasn’t aligned.  I was shocked.  I looked at B and we both knew we were being lubed-up.  He then said, “Well, if you’ll give the clerk your name and information, I’ll take a look at it when I can…”  yeah fucking right.  We bounced and were pissed.  I was having to maneuver the bike on its front wheel only around the city.  The next spot was completely different.  We walked in and I let B do the talking this time (maybe I just look like a dumbass) and this Italian fellow stopped working on the bike he was tending to.  He grabbed a wrench, loosened the pad, shifted the cable and said “that should do it.”  We gave him $5 dollars (that he didn’t ask for) and I was so joyous.  That was the kind of service we’d become accustomed to at East Side Pedal Pushers back home!  And now we BOTH had wheels again!

We rode all over the city again that afternoon.  Watched a few more basketball games and grabbed our first slice of pie.  It was only $2.50 and gigantic!  I forget the name of the place.  Better than ninety percent of the shit from back home, but still no Stony’s!  The absolute best pie back home HANDS DOWN!

So, almost every person you see in BK has admirable fashion sense.  I haven’t even been to Williamsburg yet (the oh-so-hip, or so I’ve heard).  I have seen some crazy kicks that seem super custom.  You see a pair of Jordan’s nearly every two minutes.  I’ve seen the II’s, III’s, IV’s,  VIII’s and  XII’s just around our neighborhood alone.  I’m so jealous.  I have a decent collection of shoes, but have decided to quit collecting (at around forty pair) unless they’re Jordan’s.  I formally decided to do so before moving up here, and upon arriving, have been even more motivated to capture my favorite J’s.

We decided to go to Woodwork, a sports bar in Prospect Heights, to watch game three of the NBA Finals.  There weren’t many people there to see the game, which I guess isn’t surprising seeing how Lebron James DID NOT go to the Knicks or Nets, yet to South Beach.  My Mavs had a chance to win and missed.  The series is 2-1 now, with the Mavericks hanging by Dirk’s shoestring and in need of some other laces to help tighten up a winning pair.  Woodwork, like many places in the area is ‘cash-only’.  We assume that businesses don’t want to pay the credit card fees, so they don’t.  The dimly lit bar had three forty-two inch screens, only one of which displayed the basketball game.  I was craving a bloody mary and was excited when it arrived in tall pint glass with tiny sweet pickles and olives poking out of the top.  However, once again, Toto  was me.  It tasted carbonated and had entirely too much sour kraut (is that even legal?) The pieces were getting stuck in my teeth with every sip.  I first thought I had hair in my mouth.  Seriously!  AND once again, I wasn’t going to waste a drop at $8, so I patiently sipped and waited and hoped that someone else would order one so that I could eyeball the bartender.   Finally, I hear someone boasting about how tasty the bloody mary’s were there.  I watched the bartender (back turned) prepare the cocktail.  And then came across the most peculiar sight.  She topped off her concoction with a sizeable pull of Guinness draft!!!!  I’m still a little concerned as to who the hell thought this would be a flavorful addition to all that is supposed to be spicy and ripe with veggie flavor.  Anyhow, that’s how they do it at Woodwork.  I wasn’t mad.  Maybe some people think it sounds tasty, but I couldn’t enjoy it.  I instead was happy to find that Tecate was only $3!  B was starving and decided to order a veggie sandwich.  Eat your heart out Bouldin Creek Café!  This scrumptious, soon-to-be staple began on a perfectly toasted French baguette and was generously stuffed with slightly grilled squash, red peppers, onions and zucchini, smeared in garlic humus and topped with tapenade, a creamy, palatable blend of olives, capers and anchovies.  It was easily the best food we had tasted in the first two days.  We are going back to the bar for Game 4 partly because of the sandwich!  I was now hungry, after only tasting the sandwich and depending on the bloody mary to fill me up (barf).  When I told B that I wanted to eat the half Cuban sandwich the guy next to me was about to throw away, she replied with “BABE!!! Nobody here knows you that well yet.  When we find OUR ‘spot’ you can pull that shit!’’  I really love that woman!  J

We instead devoured the Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Bread Pudding that was garnished with apple spears and drizzled with Nutella.  It was warm and splendid!  #nextlevelbarfood

Other first day observations: 

-The $2.20, half pound package of fresh fruit I purchased at the grocery store.  There was literally kiwi, raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, cantaloupe, oranges, blood oranges, grapes and apples packaged in Styrofoam and wrapped up with a plastic fork!  And for just over two bucks!  There is nothing of the sort that cheap and healthy back home! I didn’t even finish it all in one sit-in at breakfast the next morning! 

-I am finally in the presence of ALL my records and pair of Technics again.  I am so happy to have access to my vinyl and the ability to mix whenever I want.  Be on the lookout for smiznO to make an eventual BK appearance.  I also need to start a band, find a job (I may say fuck it and be a bike messenger) and continue networking.  I know so many people up here and have only contacted one of them.

THANKS for reading.  I’m O-U-T.