Not content with being the second least atrocious $1 slice spot in the East Village, Joey Pepperoni has gotten into the taco game and is now operating a taco stand within a pizza joint named Joey Guacamole.
Don’t get it twisted: the tacos are not $1. They’re $4.99 a pair, BUT you can get them topped with mozzarella. Which is crazy exotic for a taco. (The logo on the flyer describes Joey as “Authentic Mexican” while the logo in the restaurant describes it as “Authentic N.Y. Style.” Who knows.) More →
“Double Alaska” opens with Ben Seretan standing alone in an abandoned steam-power plant. The guitarist tunes his instrument, steps on a pedal, and a warm drone sounds out. The screen shifts to a series of images he shot on a handheld camcorder over the course of seven weeks in southeast Alaska: waterfalls, sunsets, lakes, mountaintops. More →
One look at Alex Gabriel McKanze and it’s obvious he’s a musician: the tall, lanky 22-year-old has shoulder-length brown hair and a tattoo of the solar system on his right arm. But he isn’t your stereotypical Bushwick rocker: raised in the Paris suburbs by an American father with Cherokee blood and an Italian mother with Gypsy blood, he’s fluent in five languages (and knows a little Portuguese and Latin, to boot). And as a freelance tour guide for Great New York Tours, he’s a walking encyclopedia. Even with a hangover, he can tell you that Henry Hudson discovered the Hudson River in 1609 (adding snidely, “Because the Native Americans obviously never saw it before”). More →
City Reliquary, the NYC-obsessed cabinet of wonders at the corner Metropolitan and Havemayer, isn’t usually a foodie destination — but it’ll celebrate two of life’s sweetest indulgences next week.
Dec. 7, the museum kicks off its latest exhibit, “Keep Your Eye Upon the Donut,” with a “grand donut soiree” featuring glazed samples from local shops like Peter Pan Donut, the Doughnut Plant, Dough. Plus, donut-inspired games from “How to Run a Successful Party.” The 1940s booklet (just one of the items that self-described “donut ambassador” Julie Thomson has culled for the exhibit) promotes donuts as “morale boosters,” and who can argue with that? More →
What better way to raise money for the victims of the typhoon that struck the Philippines earlier this month than by hosting a six-course Filipino dinner party? None, argues Yana Gilbuena, who was born and raised in the island nation. Her pop-up dinner series, Salo, landed in Greenpoint yesterday, contributing 30 percent of revenues to those in need. We joined in, got our hands dirty and heard more about Gilbuena’s plans to take her pop-up nationwide.
As you can probably tell from the fact that you’re reading words I’ve put on a page, I’m a writer. And if you know something about the state of writers in general, and in New York in particular, then you know I’m poor. Luckily for me and the city’s taxpayers, I’m not yet food-stamp poor (I checked, I don’t qualify), but I’m cash strapped enough that if I’m out to dinner with a friend, I’ll make sure she pays the extra dollar she owes instead of splitting the check down the middle — because, after all, that’s why I got the PBR and not the glass of house wine.
All of this is to say that I can’t afford to just hand out money to strangers on the street, especially when it comes in the form of paper and not coins. Yet, despite the fact that I’ve lived in New York off-and-on for more than 12 years, that is exactly what I did a couple of weeks ago. I handed $30 to a scam artist. More →
Williamsburg has a Santa Claus, and its name is Rubber Tracks. Not only does Converse’s Williamsburg recording studio exist just to offer free sessions to up-and-coming bands on a year-round basis, but it’s really getting into the giving spirit these next weeks — with free shows, music workshops, and beer. More →
I live above a barbecue restaurant in Williamsburg called Fette Sau. It offers meats that have been sugared, smoked, and roasted until they are soft and sweet, like candy. It’s a popular place.
When my fiancée and I moved in, we were worried about the noise, since our apartment is directly above their outdoor seating area. Our bedroom window, in fact, is only 50 feet away from the active mouths of the patrons, and while smoking is not allowed, drunken storytelling certainly is. We go to bed early – I’m a school teacher, and she’s a medical resident – and for the first few nights we lay awake until midnight, grinding our teeth with rage, wishing death on these people and their stupid stories, these people who could stay up late drinking bourbon and eating ribs on a Wednesday. More →