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These 4 Food Fests Are Here to Plump You Up

The NYC Wine and Food Festival returns in October, but who the hell wants to pay $195 for a chicken tasting, even if its hosted by Whoopi Goldberg? Opt for these homegrown fests instead.
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Taste Williamsburg Greenpoint
Sept. 18, 1pm to 5pm at East River State Park, 90 Kent Ave., Williamsburg.
If you haven’t been keeping up with the North Brooklyn scene, this ticketed block party offers the opportunity to sample from 50+ local establishments, including cocktail hideaway Fresh Kills, French favorite Le Fond, Spanish spot El Born, wine bar The Camlin, and the Museum of Food and Drink. In addition to these relative newcomers there’ll be neighborhood fixtures like Maison Premiere, Pies’n’Thighs, Brooklyn Star, and Anella. If nothing else this is a chance to get a taste of the highly lauded Lilia without having to beg for a reservation– while Blonde Redhead plays, no less. See here for the fest’s full lineup as well as tickets, which range from $24.50 (four tastes and two beverages) to $70 (12 tastes, 6 beverages).

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Food Fests That Don’t Bite: Taste of Bushwick and Grub Street Beats & Eats

Taste of Bushwick 2015 (Francisco Bravo)

Taste of Bushwick 2015 (Francisco Bravo)

Sure, Smorgasburg used to satiate your eccentric food cravings, but, like everything else in this city, popularity got the best of it and now it’s a crowded, sweaty mess, populated with frat boys, tourists and out-of-town parents scrambling for the last bite of $12 truffled ramen burrito and fighting for a table in the shade. If you’re looking for a chiller place to sample an array of drinks and creative new eats while hanging outside with your besties, maybe one of these summer food fests will do the trick. Just don’t bogart the okinomiyaki on a stick.

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Farewell to Josh Ozersky, ‘King of Avenue C’

When I read that Josh Ozersky died Monday while in Chicago for the James Beard Awards, I was shocked not only by the sudden loss of a true dynamo, but also by the news that he had recently, “quietly” moved to Portland, Oregon. The self-described “Walter Winchell of the restaurant world” didn’t really do anything quietly (when chasing scoops for Grub Street left him with no time to get to therapy, he occasionally took sessions over the phone, in the tiny office we shared), but I wouldn’t be surprised if leaving New York was the one thing he was discrete about.

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