My picks for summer events to do stag

Dynamite some rats? Not exactly. Take in some contemporary art? Exactly. And yes, I believe that would be the work of Banksy.

Two restaurants I’m loving for eating solo

Truffle egg toast at ‘Inoteca.

It’s not that I don’t like to cook, it’s just that I have a two inch strip of counter space for food prep. And I know I’ll have a good time when I go out with me.

These are two new-ish Manhattan restaurants, opposite each other on the island, that have been consistently amazing about accommodating this party of one.

(A quick reminder about my dining-out-solo habits: I almost always take bar seating or else I make a reservation, I tend to eat outside of the lunch and dinner rushes, I bring a good book, and I tip well.)

Gazpacho, or how I learned to stop worrying and love the avocado

How I learned to love avocado. Read on for my favorite summer soup in New York.

Growing up in my family, respect could be earned by making straight-As and liking weird food. My parents weren’t strict, as parents in the south go (because they weren’t from the south, probably), but we had to do our homework before watching television, and we had to try a taste of everything we were served. My parents lived in Hawaii early in their marriage, so my mom cooked a lot of Asian cuisine growing up. While I celebrated Shake ‘n Bake, I rejoiced over Thai curry.

I was actually the pickiest eater for most of our childhood years and arguably still am. (Today, it has to do with maximizing the chances that I’ll love my meal when I’m paying a lot for it, or when anyone else is paying a lot for it, and also with being sensitive to food politics.)

Being picky as a kid is to be expected, but as a teen, I was determined to develop a sophisticated palate. I weaned myself onto greens, bell peppers, eggs, grilled cheese sandwiches, tuna and chicken salad, hummus, tea, Mexican food, and finally beer, and now I love them all. Maybe a little too much. I refuse to get my Cholesterol checked on account of what I affectionately refer to as the Incredible Edible.

Avocado didn’t happen until I was 22, and I have gazpacho to thank for that. I can’t remember the first time I ate gazpacho –my mom probably made it, she made everything at some point– but I can tell you the two best gazpachos I’ve ever had.

J’adore New York au printemps

Afternoon lighting in Central Park…

Monkey Bar: The Empire Strikes Back

Reading about Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter’s new Midtown venture, Monkey Bar, situated in the Elysee Hotel, I was enticed. By some accounts, it’s his tour de force in Manhattan scene (if not cuisine?); by others, it seemed like a voyage to turn-of-the-century Bombay, an intriguing move, if of questionable taste. Ultimately, Ruth gave it the nod. And I love an adventure.

Tribeca Film Festival

After working for the Virginia Film Festival as a college student (and later a community volunteer), selling advertising for the Austin Film Festival, and staffing SXSW Film, it was a Very Big Deal to be able to go to the Tribeca Film Festival.

All of this I did on my own, of course–when have I ever invited people to see movies with me?–which means I also enjoyed dinner and cocktails in Tribeca as a party of one.

A new slant for the blog

I was having trouble deciding what to do with my blog since I left my travel job in Charlottesville, Virginia to move to New York City and pursue a career in… something.

New York checklist, week 3

I’ve been keeping a running list of restaurants, events, and activities I’ve covered in the past three weeks… when I’m not sitting on the couch applying for jobs (which is most of the time). There’s really nothing to this post, just a record for myself of photos from it all. Click for more, scroll for photos.

Observations on NYC

Just taking it all in. More after the jump.

A story

In January, a young lady decided to leave Virginia and drive up Interstate 95–exiting only for Exxon gas and Arby’s curly fries, and later a 5 Hour Energy that she, not a coffee drinker with exposure to that much caffeine, came to regret–until reaching Boston, at which point she would take Route 1A to Marblehead, Massachusetts and spend a snowy weekend with her grandparents, one more time, before a relocation that would render impossible such a visit indefinitely. There, she ate shellfish, drank pinot grigio, regaled her grandparents with slightly inappropriate stories, overcame a slight hangover to complete most of the Globe’s Saturday crossword, and attended her first hockey game–the Bruins, then enjoying a 30-7-4 record. (It was odd that it had taken her 25 years to see hockey live, especially as she kept figure skates in the trunk of her VW, with the jumper cables, under the cover for the convertible top.)

Instead of driving straight home, this young lady, heretoforth LMK, decided to stay in New York City on Monday evening.