What's Cooking in Curry Hill

Photo by myself on Lexington Avenue, around 28th Street.

I took this photo while crossing the street. You can see clear up to the Chrysler Building, at 42nd Street.

We were in the neighborhood called Little India or Curry Hill, so called because it is located in a sleepy neighborhood called Murray Hill. This short strip of stores and restaurants on Lexington Avenue lies between 30th and 26th Streets. There were cabs lined up on either side of the street; not a surprise, since many cab drivers are of Indian or Pakistani decent.

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This morning, Mark and I drove in for spices to make homemade dal, parking Clive, Mark's Mini Cooper, among the yellow cabs. We've been trying to cook Indian food for the longest time. So many curry recipes have turned out 'eh', we were convinced that Indian cooks hoarded their good recipes.

Then this morning Mark stumbled on a gaggle of guided Indian recipes on You Tube. We selected a couple presented by Manjula Jain, an adorable Indian woman, who shares all her home cooking secrets. We have her recipes to look forward to, as well as one Eva so kindly posted for me on her blog.

So tonight we cooked dal in the pressure cooker and an aloo gobi. Actually, Mark cooked both dishes, while I hid in the other room with my hands over my ears, convinced the pressure cooker would explode, lol.

All turned out deliciously, thank goodness.


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The Gowanus

Photo by myself, at the Gowanus Canal, in Brooklyn. (Pronounced 'Go-on-us').

There's a lot going on in this industrial location. A couple ramps head on to Manhattan. A scrap metal yard lies along one bank, where cranes load material back and forth. And an enormous bridge lurks overhead, covered with black paper and shiny metal studs.

The only time I hear about the Gowanus is on the traffic report. It's not much of a destination and is still a fringe area, lying between Park Slope and Red Hook.

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Pardon the last couple photos, which are lacking in people. It's been uncomfortably humid here in New York, and the last thing Mark and I want to do is walk around, never mind be remotely close to other hot, sweaty people.

Shuffling down the sizzling sidewalk in our flip flops today at high noon, all Mark could say (over and over) was, 'It is craaaazy hot out. Craaaaazy, crazy hot. Yeesh!'

We had no real plans for the day, except go to the hardware store, next to the Gowanus Canal. We bought some shades for the bedroom, which gets bright at 6 am. We spent the rest of the day huddled next to the air conditioner.

Luckily this afternoon the skies opened up and poured down rain. Temperature and humidity lowered to a humane level. You could see the relief on people's faces as they sauntered on the sidewalks afterward.

Whew.

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Green Wall

Photo by myself on the Upper East Side, around 80th Street and Lexington Avenue.

I caught a photo of a living wall, erected as a storefront above a yoga center. Various types of lichen and moss were trained to grow in the crevices of a concrete wall. The entire installation looked like a map.

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We've come to the end of another humid and busy week. TGIF!

Off to bed after a long day. We'll be back tomorrow, folks.

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Fashionista, Not

Photo by myself near Union Square, on University Place and 13th Street.

If this gentleman were walking toward me, he'd have one of those black bars across his face, as a 'fashion don't'!

Alas, you can't police everything.

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Looking through my photos each night, I've been stumped, recently. Nothing seems to excite me.

'Post something with people,' Mark says. 'People like looking at people.'

So I turn from the architectural shots and close ups, and try to find something halfway decent with a person in it.

Mark is convinced that it doesn't matter where a photo is taken. If it has an interesting person or people in it, a photograph will be interesting. So even if you take photos on the same street for days, your images will be interesting.

I'd love to know how people think about this. Is his theory right? Are architectural details boring? Would daily photos of any given street corner be enough?

This thinking reminds me of the movie Smoke, written by Paul Auster. The owner of a Brooklyn smoke shop contemplates the street corner outside his shop day after day.

Personally, I'm not sure. I'm still feeling my way through photography, trying to figure out what I like.


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Food, Glorious Food

Photo by myself in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Pizza is not the greatest thing for one's diet, with all that bread and cheese, but New Yorkers simply cannot help themselves. Pile on the toppings, or simply stick to the basics, like tomato and fresh basil.

It's delectable.

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Lately, I've been cooking more and bringing my lunches, to save cash.

My newest gadget is a pressure cooker, since I've been told by friends that these things save on time. You plop whatever ingredients in, seal it up, wait ten minutes, and presto, it's done. The only thing I have to get over is the fear of explosions.

Many New Yorkers just don't cook. Either their kitchens are too small, or their night lives are too busy or they're lazy or they enjoy socializing and getting out of the office.

I'm more of the busy/lazy/get out of the office variety. I'm also tired of throwing money down the drain.

Eating out adds up, quickly. Say you get something at a deli. I'd say eight bucks is your average bill. At a restaurant, it could be anything, depending on how fancy the place is and if they have a lunch menu. Multiply the cost over five days, and you're out a bundle.

We'll see what happens with the pressure cooker. So far I've survived cooking lentils and a chicken dish (well, the chicken came out a little pulverized, but otherwise edible).


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Sleeping on the Job

Photo by myself in midtown, on Fifth Avenue in the 40s.

It's Tuesday and already the people around me seem worn out from the week. This gentleman must have had a tough day. Or perhaps he was a traveler suffering from jet lag.

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Well, the summer solstice has come and gone. The daylight time only shortens from here on.

Walking down the sidewalk, I hear people around me saying how the morning zips by or that time is standing still.

Happy Hump Day, everyone!

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Different Vistas

Photo by myself of the Manhattan skyline from Long Island City. I took this photo during this weekend's barbeque atop one of the new residential towers in Long Island City.

Even though it's been nearly eighty years since its opening, the Empire State Building still strikes a distinctive impression along the Manhattan skyline.

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This afternoon I went over to the job site on Central Park West, for a meeting.

En route there was some mayhem outside the Trump Tower at 60th Street, along the Park. A woman with two young kids asked a doorman, 'What just happened?'

'Steven Tyler just went into the building, ma'am.'

I kept walking, worried that I'd be late for my meeting. But all I could think was, there is a whole class of people like Steve Tyler, who live in these amazing apartments looking out on the world below. This is normal for them - the beautiful view, the throngs of people, the architects and decorators that cater to them.

And then there is the rest of us.

It shouldn't be such a new idea to me. There are loads of patrons of various degrees of wealth, after all. It must have been the circumstance - walking along the same pavement, visiting neighboring apartment towers.

It's funny how you can look out at the same view but see vastly different things.

Related posts: Location, Location, Location and Sublime and the Ridiculous, or Why I See Few Celebrities in New York.

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Damned Yankees

Photo by myself in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Mark is addicted to cookies from a bakery in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. He makes the 50+ block drive over for a batch, which he then stores in ziplock baggies.

This storefront belongs to a quaint Greek grocery store in Bay Ridge. You can see a reflection of a Greek flag in the glass.

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The past week was a busy one for both Mark and I. He finished up a shoot for a major corporate website.

He did such a good job, the client gave him four tickets to the Sunday Yankees game against Cincinnati (the Yanks won, 4-1).

We were all set to go with another couple, but were both pooped from the week. Friday we went to a rooftop party in Long Island City. Saturday we had people over for a barbeque of our own. By the time Sunday morning rolled around, all we wanted to do was stay at home and nest.

So he decided to forgo the game. Mark sold a pair on Craigslist. That left a pair left, at 10am. The game started at 1:30.

'Anyone with a Yankees cap, I'm going to see if they want em,' he said.

On the way out of the apartment, we ran into a neighbor, whose young son had a Yankees cap. Unfortunately, they had plans for the afternoon. Then we drove to Bay Ridge for cookies.

We ran into a couple on the sidewalk, one wearing a Yankees cap. They were surprised to be approached by strangers bearing free baseball tickets, but they were too busy to go. Finally, just as we were getting back into the car, a lanky young guy sidled by with a blue Yankees cap and a tatooed forearm.

'Hey bro, you wanna go to the Yankees game? Starts in 45 minutes. If you jump on the train now, you can make it.'

The guy had to work in the afternoon, but Mark pressed him anyway. Maybe he knew someone in the neighborhood? They shook hands and we left him there, a little astonished by the random encounter.

Before today, I never noticed how many Yankees cap wearers there are around here. Seeing three people within a half hour is a lot.

Hopefully someone enjoyed the seats!

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Sundays in the Park

Photo by myself in Central Park.

I'm not sure there is wireless in Central Park, but this guy was sitting on a bench the other day. Mark remarked to me later that this guy is a doorman. Hence the unusual suit. The gizmo he's holding looks too small for an Apple laptop. I think he's watching a movie on a dvd player.

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Thinking about technology sometimes is bewildering to me. It's incredible to think that there's no going back to the Stone Age.

There will never again be a day when we'll be at a loss for information, or someone else's opinion, even though they're across the country. There will never again be a time when we won't be able to find something within seconds.

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From the East Bank

Photo by myself, looking onto Manhattan from Long Island City.

It's tough to say what's nicer, the views from Manhattan or the views of Manhattan. Many of the new condo buildings in Long Island City and Queens, just across the East River, are advertised for their cinematic views of the Manhattan skyline.

This photo is deceptive. The gorgeous modern United Nations, designed by Le Corbusier, looks to be next to the Chrysler Building, several blocks away. The Pepsi-Cola billboard actually lies along the edge of Long Island City, with the East River in between.

You can see the area better in an earlier photo of mine.

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Tonight Mark and I went to a rooftop party in Long Island City, also known as LIC.

We went to one of the new apartment towers, which had a beautiful roof deck. There were landscaped areas, freestanding barbeques and wood structures enclosing picnic tables.

Five or six separate barbecues were going on at the same time, without a problem. Each sheltered area was separated from neighboring areas by tall grasses. Someone brought an ipod and a couple speakers. We had a wine bucket and food from a nearby supermarket. The grill, maintained by the building, was ready to go. All we had to do was flip the burgers and enjoy.

There was also a petanque court, a swimming pool and dozens of lounge chairs. I can understand why LIC is advertising itself as the next Battery Park City, the cluster of modern buildings at the southern tip of Manhattan. The similarities are obvious - both are at the waterfront, both are littered with modern high rises and parks, and both have all the amenities people are willing to pay big money for.

The nicest thing about the rooftop was that it's environmentally friendly. A rooftop garden cools the roof, which is normally heated by sun during the day. Rain that normally runs off the roof is used for planting, and the plants themselves are great for the inhabitants and the environment.



Hopefully we'll see more urban amenities like this. I think everyone would love to have a garden and barbeque.

Lower photo by myself in Long Island City.

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Bridging the Gap

Photo by myself of the George Washington Bridge, around 160th Street on the West Side.

The 'GWB' spans across the Hudson River to New Jersey, beyond. I took another photo of the bridge earlier this year, when it was shrouded in fog.

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Broadway, that street that's associated with theater and performance, is a long, long street.

Sure, it's broad; for many blocks on the Upper West Side, the street is a couple lanes wide with a bus lane in each direction, separated by a planted median strip.

But really, it's long. It goes virtually from the southernmost part of Manhattan all the way to the northern end of the island. Then it crosses the Hudson River, to Riverdale and Yonkers, beyond.

Visiting New York, it's hard to conceive of the suburbs and towns around Manhattan. All you're aware of is the island itself, rather than the bridges and tunnels and edges that connect it to the rest of the world.

Mark and I noticed it most when we returned from Paris. There, the Seine snakes through the city, its banks well-trafficked. People venture down to the water for picnics and walks. Others saunter alongside at street level.

New York's edges aren't so obvious to casual visitors, who are instead swept up by the vortex of skyscrapers and streets. The edges are more obvious to city residents - apartments escalate in value with water views. Drivers whizz down the West Side Highway and the FDR along the East Side.

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Life in High Contrast

Photo by myself today on Sixth Avenue and 57th Street.

A homeless woman was sleeping with a pillow and bedsheet in the middle of the day. The area is upscale and highly trafficked.

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Today I went with a coworker to an apartment renovation she's wrapping up on Park Avenue.

It was really, really nice. There were the usual gorgeous details: custom furniture, expensive hardware, plaster ceilings and walls hand-painted by dedicated craftsmen. All the outlet covers and light switch covers were painted to match the walls, so they were barely noticeable. Heavy, silk taffeta curtains hung at each window.

It was not the interiors that wowed me, but the art. I've never seen so many Picasso paintings and drawings. There was an enormous Matisse in the Living Room that was about six feet high and fifteen feet long. It hung above the sofa in a spare, antiqued gold frame.

I've seen nice apartments with artwork, but this has to be the nicest one yet. The couple who live there are middle aged and successful. That both husband and wife came from established families did not hurt.

Recently, I've noticed many more homeless folks on the streets, subway stations and sidewalks. Perhaps it's a sign of the times, or perhaps I've become more observant, now that I take photographs.

I took today's photo while in a cab going to the ritzy apartment. It was around noon. The bouncer at Jekyll and Hyde, a few doors down, was pacing the sidewalk in costume. Tourists were casually window shopping. Taxis like mine were idling, waiting for the light to change.

Times are tough right now. I think everyone is feeling it, except for the very few, who live amongst the Picassos. No matter what the economy, it seems like these select folks remain untouched.

I'll leave off on a positive note. Mark and I are planning on doing some community work in the near future. He suggested a soup kitchen or an elder care situation. I agreed. I'd love to be more in touch with what's going on with people, rather than lock myself away in a protected tower.

It's all too easy to shelter yourself from reality.

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Gizmos We Live With

Photo by myself from the train crossing to Brooklyn. The Brooklyn Bridge and Lower Manhattan skyline are in view through the smudgy glass.

To be sure, there are easier ways to take photographs of the Brooklyn Bridge, than hanging from a subway pole.

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Speaking of poles, have people outside of New York taken to the idea of pole dancing?

A sweet, unassuming former coworker reportedly took such a class. I'd never imagine her draped around a chrome pole, never mind wearing a mini skirt. Apparently, some of her fellow dancers had poles installed in their apartments so they could practice.

None of the projects I've worked on has ever had anything so unique.

Mirrors that raise into the ceiling, to reveal hidden flat screen televisions? Sure. Outdoor fireplaces? Of course.

But no floor to ceiling pole dancing poles. Yet.

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Back to the Basics

Photo by myself last week around high noon, around Park Avenue and 40th Street. The sun was straight up in the sky, and people searched desperately for shade.

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Was it hard to wake up this morning or what.

Last night, Mark and I arrived late to JFK. The flight was a small disaster - LAX was disorganized and glutted with people. At JFK, our bag didn't hit the carousel for over 30 minutes. Mark had smoke coming out of his eyeballs.

Of JFK, La Guardia and Newark, the airports servicing New York City, I prefer Newark for efficiency and La Guardia for proximity. Sometimes, though, you don't have the luxury of choice.

While waiting for the bags, we spotted character actor Wallace Shawn, looking patient and well groomed. Shawn is best known for his excited role in The Princess Bride.

This morning we were awakened early by a hungry cat. Then I scampered off to work. The day was long, and at the end of it Mark and I dined at our favorite Italian place, talking about our day over glasses of Chianti. Exciting life, eh?



Since I have lost all my brain cells, I'll have to leave off for now. Above, a photo of my brother's wedding cake, that served the 200+ guests. Everything was done up amazingly for the ceremony, but I was much too tipsy to enjoy it.

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Home, Sweet New York

Photo by myself of the Manhattan skyline from the Brooklyn Promenade, in Brooklyn Heights. I took this earlier in the year, when it was cooler outside.

Believe it or not, the Brooklyn Promenade cantilevers over the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway (BQE). There are a few lanes of speeding traffic below.

It's a nice urban planning gesture. Busy traffic is located efficiently along the waterfront, while preserving the view and real estate above.

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We're back home in New York after several days in California. I wish I'd had more time to write there, but our schedule was hectic.

This was my first time in LA with Mark. He's been there many times for work, filming car commercials on the twisty mountain roads, and knows the neighborhoods better than I do. He showed me his favorite hotel, his favorite cafe hangout, his favorite drive through the Hollywood Hills.

Friday, we toured Melrose. I was so swept away with the area that I didn't take photos of the eclectic, rock and roll vibe. There were tons of clothing stores, skateboard shops and tattoo parlors. I was reminded of New York's East Village, only spread out along one long street.

At one point, Mark was admiring everything - the weather, the lush surroundings, the houses. Out of nowhere he said, 'This place is unbelievable. Don't you want to move here someday?'

'What?! I'm not mentally prepared to talk about moving.'

'No, I mean when we're 60 and we don't feel like fighting for a spot on the subway.'

He was referring to the lushness and abundance in California. Life seems easier there. We ventured into one supermarket that was the size of two Fairway Markets put together. Only a handful of people were milling around. There were no crowds, no glut of carts, no harried little old ladies inspecting produce.

A day later, Mark had second thoughts. We'd driven through many beautiful neighborhoods. We hadn't encountered any trash, any crowds, any problems finding a parking space, or any hardship greater than highway traffic.

'Life is easy here,' Mark said. 'I'm not sure I like it.'

'See, that's what I'm afraid of. Your brain turns to mush.'

He and I agreed to keep the West Coast a distant possibility. I'm sure there'll be a time when we no longer want to live the sometimes workaholic, semi-anxious existence that New Yorkers are known for.

No offense to Californians. I'm sure 99.9% of the population would move out there in an instant.

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More Notes from the Left Coast

Photo by myself on the Santa Monica pier.

I've been posting photos from California for the last few days. Mark and I are here for my brother's wedding, near Santa Monica.

We'll be back Sunday night. Photos of New York will resume Monday morning.

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My photos from our drive around Hollywood hills didn't come out as well as I'd hoped. Since we live in New York, it's rare to take panoramic shots. I'm sure there's some trick that I'm just missing.





Tonight's wedding ceremony was a little surreal. I'm having trouble thinking of my younger brother as a married man. His new wife is gorgeous and down to earth, and I'm excited to have her as a part of the family.

They had a huge number of guests and it went off without a hitch. Mark and I left with my parents around midnight, just as the dancing started. I'm sure everyone else stayed til the sun came up.

Anyhow, Mark and I are due to fly back tomorrow afternoon. We'll be sad to leave my parents, but promise to return soon. We have invitations from several of my parents' friends, for dinner next time we're in town.




Photos by myself in Hollywood Hills and on the beach in Santa Monica.

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Not So Wild Horses

Photo by myself in California.

Mark and I encountered these horses calmly enjoying the sunshine on our drive through the California Hills.

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Seems like Mark and I have been running into a lot of critters out here.

The above photo is from our drives in the Santa Monica mountains Friday, which are covered in red rock and brush. Twisty turny roads weave along, making for dramatic views. Mark has been there many times to film car commercials.

On Saturday, we drove into Hollywood Hills, and saw a bunch of amazing houses. I haven't cracked open the photos yet, but hopefully one or two came out all right. I'd taken some shots of the view from the hills to downtown LA, below.

We fly home Sunday night. It's been a short trip, but as always, a good one.

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California Dreamin'

Photo by myself on the Santa Monica Pier.

I ran into this fellow New Yorker on the Santa Monica Pier today. He was scampering around with his buddy, who was a brownish version with an LA Dodgers visor.

Both fellas shuffled by me, while another woman and I chased after them for photos. I suppose they must get this kind of attention all the time.

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Greetings from much too sunny California!

After an early flight, Mark and I drove out to Santa Monica to hang out and walk along the beach. It was incredibly sunny and beautiful. There were people wading in the ocean, people selling their artwork, people taking lessons on a trapeze, people playing volleyball and people playing chess.



There was an amusement park with a ferris wheel, a carousel and other rides as well. Screams would spill out from the kiddie roller coaster every minute. This was all happening at ten thirty on a Thursday morning. I'd love to know what all these folks do for a living, and if they're hiring.

By 7:30pm California time (10:30pm New York time) we were zombies. After a brief dinner out with my parents, Mark and I called it a night.

We don't have anything specific planned for tomorrow, most likely toodling around Santa Monica, before the rehearsal dinner for my brother's wedding. I can't wait to continue to walk around with the camera.

At least we can count on it being sunny and nice outside.






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Food on the Brain

Photo by myself outside Fairway on the Upper West Side.

Every week or so, deliveries arrive at this popular supermarket. There are boxes and boxes piled along the sidewalk, wrapped in plastic. This location on the Upper West Side at Broadway and 74th Street is just one location for this small New York chain.

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Tomorrow (Thursday) Mark and I have to leave early for California. Our flight leaves at 6:30 am, where we're going to attend my brother's wedding.

But tonight, it was the season finale for Top Chef. We still had to pack. We still had to figure out the cat situation. We still had to sleep.

Mark kept pacing about. 'What are we going to do? It's the finale!'

And there we were, sitting on the couch, debating soup versus foie gras, whether Richard choked or not, who was the best chef, and how a decision could possibly be based on one meal.

I'll be bringing the camera and computer to LA with us. I can't promise any wedding photos, but I'll certainly take some images of the beach.

Hopefully it won't be so doggone humid.

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A View from the Streets

Photo by myself on a typical street corner in New York.

During rush hour especially, the street corners are packed. Cars whizz by and the crowd will move forward slowly, stepping off the curb and tempting fate. Then the light changes and *poof*. They're off.

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In the summer, a lot of women walk around the city in flip flops because it's so darned hot.

There are two types of New York women. One type wears flip flops. Sometimes she changes into dress shoes at work, sometimes not, depending on office dress code.

Then there are the non-flip flop wearers. These folk think flip flops bring you too close to the street and all that touches the street. I'm the first type. I wear flip flops because they're comfy. I can move quickly and it's cooler than confining shoes.

Women wear backless sandals, too. So all summer long along the stairs to the subway, all you hear is 'thwack, thwack, thwack' of flip flops or sandals hitting the steps as each woman descends. It can be pretty percussive.



So there I was on the sidewalk the other day when I noticed a woman with bright magenta hair, wearing a green dress and carrying a red purse.

I was caught off guard, but I dug my camera out of my bag. She was walking down the sidewalk and I was thwack thwacking behind her, desperately trying to adjust my camera.

She got pretty far along. Then I'd catch up to her and take a few photos before she get ahead of me again. And there I was, left to thwack thwack after her.

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