Erika's parents just stayed with us for a few days, and it was delightful. Mostly because I got all of that extra attention, but Erika enjoyed it not only because she actually likes spending time with her parents, but because she got to do all of those things that we only do when tourists are in town.
Mostly we just went from meal to meal - there is nothing Erika enjoys more than partaking in and showing off the bounty, variety, and high quality of eating out in New York City. After a valiant effort to cook and stay in on Saturday (with the exception of a brief visit to Katz's Deli for a pastrami sandwich), the rest of the visit was about eating out. Starting with Jack's coffee and delicious muffin/bagel/scone/pain au chocolat almost every single morning. On Sunday we had Dim Sum at our new favorite place (Ping's - thanks Wendy) followed by green apple, grapefruit, and ginger gelato at Il Laboratorio del Gelato AND a Viennese torte with plenty of whipped cream at the Neue Galerie to fill in the gap before an amazing dining experience at Gramercy Tavern in honor of Erika and Martin's 1-year wedding anniversary (thanks Parents!). Erika's favorite part of that meal - the diminutive "pre-dessert" serving of panna cotta with fresh nutmeg and rhubarb. That was the course BEFORE the main dessert and the "post-dessert" truffles. Monday we restrained ourselves and just grabbed a burrito during a quick lunch break from shopping at Century 21. In reality, we were saving ourselves for the Best Steak Ever at Peter Luger's in Brooklyn. That place knows how to cook meat like nothing I've ever tasted. By Tuesday we were looking for something a little lighter, so we stopped by the Dosa Man's cart in Washington Square Park for a little al fresco south Indian dining. At dinner we showed equal self-restraint, dining in the garden at our local southeast Asian place - Cafe Asean.
There was art, too! We didn't just eat. The Tiffany show and "From Gaudi to Dali" at the Met - always a treat. Van Gogh and his Austrian counterparts at the Neue Galerie - equally fantastic. And we fit in a few galleries as well. Erika's favorite was Tim Hawkinson's brilliant, funny and whimsical works at Pace-Wildenstein. That guy never ceases to amaze and elicit a giggle or two. And, of course, there was shopping. Erika introduced mom to H&M - her wardrobe will never be the same.
So, consider this an open call for visitors! We need an excuse to go to the top of the Empire State Building, take the free ferry to Staten Island, see a show or two...and, as Erika is starting her New Job on June 4, I will need extra attention to make up for being alone all day long. Summer is a lovely time to be in New York City - we look forward to more guests.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Step Two
So, we were quite excited to move into our new apartment AND get all of our boxes of Stuff from Portland, but then we realized that we had gotten rid of all of our furniture and had nothing to unpack the boxes *into*. And so began step two of the move: The Grand Furniture Acquisition. I have already found my favorite spot, in the corner of the bedroom, overlooking Jefferson Market (see pic). Nothing much has changed in my corner besides the addition of some cat grass (Erika decided I wasn't getting enough roughage in my diet). However, the rest of the apartment now looks completely different than it did a week ago. We have a new pot rack, sofa, reading chair, desk, dresser, kitchen island (still needs to be assembled), and while Erika was out assisting at the culinary school last weekend, Martin painted 2/3 of the apartment yellow. By the time Erika's parents arrive on Friday, we are hoping to have 90% of the boxes unpacked, the art hung, and maybe even a new coffee table or lamp. It's starting to look like home. Erika cooked our first meal chez nous last Saturday - steak, asparagus, and new potatoes, all from the Farmer's Market.
In employment news, Martin has found some new and interesting challenges at work, which has him smiling a little bit more as he hops on the PATH train to Jersey City each morning. Erika has been thoroughly enjoying working at the culinary school office and occasionally in the kitchen (Chocolate! Bisteeya! New Basics!) but this, like all good things, must end. And rather soon, it appears. She has received a bona fide Job Offer for a job that actually pays money, instead of just rewarding her with all of the free cooking classes she could ever possibly want to take. Ironically, this company is located just a few doors down from Martin's building in Jersey City. On the good side, it appears to be a job that she will not hate. It even boasts a fancy new title: "Relationship Manager". On the very good side, this particular Fortune 10 company has offices in 130 countries, including the Czech Republic! Stay tuned...
For those of you who have been wondering what happened to the plans of raising goats on a communal farm somewhere far away from subways and taxi cabs, fear not. We are still on this path (and I don't mean the train to New Jersey). It's just been moved out a few years, in the interest of earning some money to fund this lovely rural dream. Erika is busy taking lots of food business classes and getting to know the farmers and foodies of the Hudson Valley to figure out where the gaps are. Martin is circling in on his Plan B, which this week involves a school house in a small town where local teenagers learn how to divide 307 head of cattle into equal parts.
Oh - the best thing about our new apartment (besides the fact that we no longer need to own a clock): Lassi, the Indian take-out shop located IN our building, run by a delightful former pastry chef.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Home!
After MUCH drama, we have arrived in our new home in the West Village, and it appears that our things will arrive from Portland at the end of this week. PHEW!
The timeline went something like this:
4/26: Erika tries to pick up the keys and is told by the super that the apartment will not be ready for "2 or 3 months". Panic ensues.
4/27: Building owner and super cannot agree on our move-in date. Building owner refuses to sign our lease. We are told to call back on Monday (4/30 or the last day of April) to find out if we can move in on 5/1.
4/28 - 4/29: Erika and Martin tour Brooklyn, find a *lovely* home in Clinton Hill for 2/3 the West Village rent, find decent BBQ in Williamsburg (Fette Saue) and feel slightly better with Plan B in place.
4/30: After some wavering over whether or not we even want this West Village apartment, Erika and Martin venture down to the leasing office to get the news. Building owner calls super and confirms that we can move in to the West Village apartment and signs the lease at the end of the day. We pick up the keys from the super that evening and all is well. We spend the night at a sublet in the East Village after Erika, Andrew, and Martin make a few trips up and down the 5-story walk-up to move our few things in to the apartment.
5/1: Erika moves me and my things into the apartment, getting a parking ticket in the process, and promptly locks herself out. The super's wife cannot open the door. The handyman cannot open the door. The property manager cannot open the door. I panic, hearing Erika on the other side of the door, and begin meowing desperately, which makes everything worse. Eventually, after many trips up and down the 5-story walk-up to retrieve various sets of keys, the handyman goes up on the roof, down the fire escape, through the window, and opens the door from the inside. Erika bursts in, relieved, until she realizes that I am nowhere to be found and the window is wide open. Real panic ensues, with Erika, the property manager, and the handyman racing all over the house trying to find me. Just as the handyman is climbing out onto the fire escape, Erika opens the cupboard door under the sink to find me cowering silently in the corner. The property manager had inadvertently closed the cupboard door as I hid.
All in all, the apartment is lovely. It is a corner, top-floor unit that receives an abundance of sunshine. The clock tower on what we call the "courthouse" (apparently this building (Jefferson Market) has served as a courthouse, branch library and even a women’s detention center at one point in the early 1900s) is visible from every room, so we always know what time it is. The building itself is set back from the street, so we get very little street noise. The noisiest thing around is the birds who inhabit the trees that grace each window. The five flights of stairs will take some getting used to, but Erika and Martin needed some sort of fitness regimen anyway. All we really need now is furniture.
The timeline went something like this:
4/26: Erika tries to pick up the keys and is told by the super that the apartment will not be ready for "2 or 3 months". Panic ensues.
4/27: Building owner and super cannot agree on our move-in date. Building owner refuses to sign our lease. We are told to call back on Monday (4/30 or the last day of April) to find out if we can move in on 5/1.
4/28 - 4/29: Erika and Martin tour Brooklyn, find a *lovely* home in Clinton Hill for 2/3 the West Village rent, find decent BBQ in Williamsburg (Fette Saue) and feel slightly better with Plan B in place.
4/30: After some wavering over whether or not we even want this West Village apartment, Erika and Martin venture down to the leasing office to get the news. Building owner calls super and confirms that we can move in to the West Village apartment and signs the lease at the end of the day. We pick up the keys from the super that evening and all is well. We spend the night at a sublet in the East Village after Erika, Andrew, and Martin make a few trips up and down the 5-story walk-up to move our few things in to the apartment.
5/1: Erika moves me and my things into the apartment, getting a parking ticket in the process, and promptly locks herself out. The super's wife cannot open the door. The handyman cannot open the door. The property manager cannot open the door. I panic, hearing Erika on the other side of the door, and begin meowing desperately, which makes everything worse. Eventually, after many trips up and down the 5-story walk-up to retrieve various sets of keys, the handyman goes up on the roof, down the fire escape, through the window, and opens the door from the inside. Erika bursts in, relieved, until she realizes that I am nowhere to be found and the window is wide open. Real panic ensues, with Erika, the property manager, and the handyman racing all over the house trying to find me. Just as the handyman is climbing out onto the fire escape, Erika opens the cupboard door under the sink to find me cowering silently in the corner. The property manager had inadvertently closed the cupboard door as I hid.
All in all, the apartment is lovely. It is a corner, top-floor unit that receives an abundance of sunshine. The clock tower on what we call the "courthouse" (apparently this building (Jefferson Market) has served as a courthouse, branch library and even a women’s detention center at one point in the early 1900s) is visible from every room, so we always know what time it is. The building itself is set back from the street, so we get very little street noise. The noisiest thing around is the birds who inhabit the trees that grace each window. The five flights of stairs will take some getting used to, but Erika and Martin needed some sort of fitness regimen anyway. All we really need now is furniture.
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