Destination: Brooklyn

Sunday, June 30, 2013 – Destination: Brooklyn

Just back from a quick but very productive trip to New York.  Unlike previous visits, I spent most of my time in Brooklyn.  Although I lived in the New York area for the first eighteen years of my life, I moved to the Long Island suburbs when I was three years old, and I can only remember being in Brooklyn twice during my childhood.  I have a vivid memory of my seventh birthday, when my family went to the aquarium in Coney Island and then to Nathan’s for hotdogs.  The other time may have been even earlier.  My grandfather had a brother who lived somewhere in Brooklyn and we went there once to visit him and his wife.  That experience stuck in my mind and formed the basis for my impressions of Brooklyn:  block after block of prison-like red brick buildings; a dim apartment with dark mahogany tables and tatted antimacassars (never thought I’d use that word!  If you’re under the age of 60, you’ll probably have to look it up.) on the chairs and sofas; elderly relatives nibbling on dry cookies; the combined smells of cigar smoke, my great-aunt’s Arpege perfume, and last night’s stuffed cabbage dinner.  Since it was a world I had no desire to revisit, I avoided Brooklyn for decades. 

Then a few months ago, Elisa and Christian informed us that they were looking at potential wedding sites in Brooklyn.  Once they settled on a specific venue in the Carroll Gardens neighborhood and confirmed the November date, I decided to go up and see this area for myself.  Since I knew so little about the borough, one of my first tasks was to study a map.  Names I’d heard before, like Bensonhurst, Brooklyn Heights, Crown Heights, Brighton Beach, and Park Slope, stared back at me. 

It was with great hopes that I hopped off the subway at the Carroll Street station last Friday and started my exploration of Carroll Gardens, Boerum Hill, and Cobble Hill in western part of Brooklyn.  My primary goal was to scout out hotels where wedding guests might want to stay.  Over the course of a few steamy hours, I traipsed along Union Street, Smith Street, Court Street and countless side streets.  Along the way, I discovered that Smith Street is home to trendy new restaurants, cafes, bars, and shops.  Court Street is still lined with old-time Italian bakeries, restaurants, and coffeehouses.  It’s also where I found the upscale Union Market grocery store.  While charming row houses abound on many side streets, I found that walking a few blocks east, past the infamous Gowanus canal (reportedly quite toxic), brought me to grimy clusters of high-rise apartment buildings, warehouses, and other less attractive industrial sites.

Back on Smith Street, it was hard deciding where to eat lunch.  The French café sounded tempting, as did all of the wood-burning pizzerias.  But in the end, the heat and humidity made the decision for me.  Instead of eating a real lunch, I settled for a tall iced coffee at an Italian coffeehouse where the aroma of freshly roasted beans was heavenly.  When the weather cools off, I’ll definitely be back to sample the restaurants.  

A French bistro on Smith Street (Brooklyn)

As for my day’s work, by 2 p.m., I had identified two hotels in the general vicinity that would acceptable for the wedding guests.  The first was a boutique hotel on Smith Street just above Atlantic Avenue, within easy walking distance of all the action on Smith Street.  The second, a little further north, was a Marriott with all of the expected amenities that some guests might prefer.  With that mission accomplished, I could relax and spend the remainder of the afternoon at play. 

A short subway ride from Borough Hall brought me to the doors of the Brooklyn Museum of Art.  The light and airy entrance area, filled with the sounds of Brazilian jazz, was the antithesis of the stuffy Upper East Side Metropolitan Museum of Art.  I joined a tour focusing on links between creation stories and art in various cultures, and learned about Northwest Coast Indians, ancient Egyptians, the Dogon people of Africa.  One contemporary piece the guide showed us was an Aztec-influenced disk by a Central American artist.  It’s made entirely of corn kernels and includes some very modern objects, such as Coca Cola bottles.  The guide also mentioned that the BMA has one of the world’s finest collections of Egyptian antiquities.  After the 45-minute tour, I continued exploring the museum on my own.  I was mesmerized by a temporary installation of large-scale sculptural pieces by the West African (born in Ghana, lived in Nigeria) artist El Anatsui.  These dazzling works are made entirely of recycled scraps of metal trash, held together by twists of wire.  

A contemporary piece at the Brooklyn Museum

Sculpture by El Anatsui at the Brooklyn Museum

It was back to Manhattan for dinner with Elisa, Christian, and my brother, who took the train down from Westchester.  Crave Fish Bar on Second Avenue, just above 50^th Street, was crowded and noisy, like many New York restaurants, but the food was imaginative and delicious.  Grilled octopus was meltingly tender, and the halibut with preserved lemon and delicately spiced chickpeas was equally impressive.  For dessert, I noticed something called affogato on the menu.  I thought I was ordering some Spanish cookies (later, I remembered the word was alfajores), but my language skills are a bit rusty.  I was really surprised when our server brought out a short glass that contained a scoop of vanilla ice cream and then poured a shot of espresso over it.  It was a rich and satisfying dessert, but the caffeine kept me up well into the early morning hours. 

Nevertheless, I managed to sleep late (until 8 a.m.!) and was full of energy for a Saturday excursion to Brooklyn.  Elisa, a friend of hers, and I had an ambitious goal, i.e. to find a wedding dress for Elisa.  None of us had ever gone bridal gown shopping before.  (About a month before my wedding in 1983, Elliott and I went to an antique dress shop and I found a simple 1930s dress of unbleached muslin that I wore as a bride.)  Elisa had been doing some online research and had some pretty firm ideas about what she wanted.  The shop where she made the appointment was in Brooklyn, but nowhere near the areas we were familiar with.  A 30-minute cab ride from the Lower East Side took us over the Manhattan Bridge and along Ocean Parkway, through completely unknown areas with what seemed to be a large Orthodox Jewish population, until we reached Avenue U in the Sheepshead Bay neighborhood.  Here, many of the store signs were in Russian, with plenty of Chinese and Vietnamese mixed in.

Looking through the racks of wedding gowns at Lotus Bridal Salon was an eye-opening experience.  First of all, I was nearly blinded by all the sequins, rhinestones, and other glittering objects sewn onto the fabric.  Even more shocking was the weight of most of the gowns and the complexity of their construction.  How could a bride even feel comfortable wearing one of these, I wondered, as I sat back and waited for Elisa to appear in the first of the dozen or so gowns she’d selected.  Not surprisingly, she looked lovely in several of them, but it was clear right away that one gown was very special.  When she put it on for a second time, she didn’t want to take it off.  Seeing her in it, seeing her truly transformed into the bride, was an indescribable and magical experience.  And amazingly, it took less than 90 minutes for Elisa to find The Dress!      

Getting back from Brooklyn was even more challenging than getting to Brooklyn.  Since there are no yellow taxi cabs in Brooklyn (hard to imagine), we had to call Uber, a car service.  When we got back to the Lower East Side, Christian joined us for a walk to the Hester Street Market and then a quick bite to eat at one of their favorite Greek places.  I had to rush off by cab for my 6 p.m. bus back to DC. 

Elisa, Christian, and Elizabeth at Hester Street Market

While I was away, Elliott managed quite well.  He had dinner out with Matt one night, and dinner out with Marshall another night.  Not surprisingly, the broccoli I had cooked was still in the refrigerator.  Elliott had no problem keeping occupied during the daytime hours.  As soon as I left, he started dismantling our bathroom.  I came home to find a hole in the wall (dating back to the installation of the bathroom in the 1960s) and the floor strewn with tools, pieces of cabinetry, and plumbing fixtures.  But he’s eager to go up to New York with me later in the summer.  And I’ve promised to share “my” Brooklyn with him.