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Season to Thrive: Kabocha Squash & Sage Butter

By Filed Under: Park Slope Eater

For this issue’s seasonal feature, I’m sharing a wonderful fall squash recipe from Sustainable Table’s friend Brendan Brazier, also recognized as one of the world’s foremost authorities on plant-based nutrition.  Brendan is a professional Ironman triathlete, bestselling author of The Thrive Diet (Penguin, 2007), and just released a new book, Thrive Foods (2011, Da Capo), featuring incredible recipes highlighting his “Nutrient-to-Resource Ratio.” Brendan is also partnering with our EatWellGuide.org to provide resources for buying sustainable produce to create these earth-friendly recipes.  Learn more at BrendanBrazier.com.

Enjoy the harvest and the simplicity of real food and each moment.  Best, Destin

Recipe

In Thrive Foods, the goal is simple: get as high a level of health-boosting micronutrients from food, while expending the smallest amount of each natural resource to do so.  There are also 200 recipes in the book, including a few from Brendan’s favorite North American restaurants (New York’s Candle 79, and Jivamukti Café are among them), as well as a few of his favorite chefs (including Dirt Candy’s Iron chef competitor, Amanda Cohen and Tal Ronnen).  This is one of our favorite recipes from the book and the perfect fall meal, especially after a run or bike ride in the park.

To save time, make the rice and butter while the squash is cooking. Yams may also be used in place of the kabocha.  Time: 1 hour prep; 30–45 minutes for the rice.

Makes 4 servings

1 pound kabocha squash (about 1⁄2 medium squash)
3 tbsp melted coconut oil + 1 tbsp, divided
1⁄2 cup wild rice 1⁄2 cup brown rice
2 cups water
1⁄2 tbsp chopped fresh sage, packed
1 tbsp minced shallots
1⁄2 tsp salt

• Preheat the oven to 400°F. Cut the squash in half, then scoout and discard the seeds.
• Use 1 tbsp coconut oil to lightly brush the cut areas of the squash, and place cut side down on a baking sheet. Bake for 40–45 minutes or until soft when pierced with a fork.
• When cool enough to handle, cut into 1-inch chunks (skin may be left on for extra flavor and nutrition or disposed of). Keep warm.
• To make the rice, combine the rices and water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, and let simmer, covered, until done.
• Meanwhile, in a food processor, blend 3 tbsp coconut oil, sage, shallots, and salt until smooth.

To serve: In a large pan, heat the sage butter mixture over medium-low heat for 1 minute. Add the rice and toss to combine, and cook for 1 minute longer while stirring constantly. Remove from heat and carefully fold in the squash.

Draft Protection

By Filed Under: Dispatches From Babyville

My son was born on Thanksgiving, which meant that he was a newborn in the coldest weather New York has to offer. This concerned me. Since I was the first of my friends to have a baby, my go-to resource for parenting guidance was my grandmother and she has a thing about children and cold. Specifically, drafts.

I thought this obsession was unique to my grandmother until I stayed with some of her relatives one summer in Italy, and every evening at dusk, they’d patrol the house, slamming windows shut against the summer breeze. They had no air conditioning, incidentally. Once the perimeter had been secured and all chance of relief from heat eradicated, the Italians could relax. That’s when I started worrying that we’d asphyxiate in our sleep.

Obviously, my grandmother’s people in the Old Country are mad as hatters, and for all I know, they’re still using leeches to treat a fever. Me, I’m no hard-core crazy, I’m just highly susceptible to Mommy Guilt and I’ve got a grandmother who knows how to lay it on.

At the inaugural meeting of my new moms’ group, I showed up looking like an Arctic explorer and wowed the crowd by removing layer after layer of clothing from my infant son for a good ten minutes. It took a helluva lot of acerbic wit to convince the moms that I was cool despite my octogenarian tendencies.
Over the years, thanks to the counter influence of these mom friends, my views on most parenting issues have become more modern. But when it comes to dressing kids for the cold, I can’t shake the draft fixation. It’s a powerful and persistent pocket of insanity.

Luckily my son, known in these parts as Primo, couldn’t care less how many layers I toss at him. The kid, now 6, starts wearing long johns in November and doesn’t take them off ‘til we see butterflies in the spring. He’s also has the croup half a dozen times, scarlet fever, rotavirus and roseola. So you see how well that worked out.

My four year-old daughter, however, presents some stumbling blocks. Seconda, who makes it exceedingly clear that she is second only in birth order, is not terribly compliant to begin with, and especially not when clothes are concerned. I say “clothes” but I really mean “costumes,” because Sec doesn’t so much get dressed as dressed up.

As a rule, I happily hand over all creative control of Seconda’s ensembles to Sec herself. My mother exercised an aggressive veto power over my outfits – “That clashes!” “You’re mixing prints!” “You look like a hobo!” – and because I am still scarred from her scathing Project-Runway-type critique, I resolved to let Seconda, for now, wear whatever the hell she wants, as long as it doesn’t harm her or others. The problem is, she doesn’t usually know what she wants until she’s pulled half her clothes out of the drawers and had a full-fledged diva fit. Consequently, her morning wardrobe selection is a messy, maddening time-consuming process which most people would have to take a benzo to get through. It’s like the Devil Wears Prada every morning in our apartment.

“This has a zipper and I DON’T LIKE ZIPPERS!”

“No, no no, green is the worst!”

“Too tight!”

“Too loose!”

“I want it to come ALL the way down to the FLOOR!”

“Cinderella would never wear this!”

“Get this dreadful thing off of me! I LOOK LIKE A BOY!”

Once the temperature drops in the fall, the war zone of her closet becomes even more treacherous because if there is one thing you can rely on with Sec’s wardrobe choices, it is that she never, ever, wears anything weather-appropriate.

Our lowest point was the day in November she woke up and asked for her tortellini. I told her we didn’t have time to make tortellini for breakfast.

“Not to eat,” she sighed, “To wear.”

After years of practice, I’ve learned that the first step in troubleshooting these kinds of misunderstandings is: Caffinate.

“You want to wear tortellini?” I asked, sipping from my mug, “The pasta?”

“Not the pasta!” she exclaimed, “The kind of tortellini a mermaid wears!”

Clearly, this was a job too big for coffee. These are the moments when I wish I could appeal to my kid’s rationality and just say, “Honey, you know I love it when you get all creative, but can we put a pin in this? Save the loco for later?”

Regrettably, children never want to save the loco for later. They always want the loco now.

“Do you mean a tail?” I inquired.

“You’re not LISTENING to me!” she cried, “I said, TOR.TELL.LINI. What you wear on top of the tail.”

Instantly, the image of tri-colored tortellini strung on a piece of fishwire and tied around the neck of a green-haired sea-woman popped into my mind. But where had Seconda got this hare-brained idea? That was weird, and kind of unhygienic, even for Montessori. Also, I didn’t think I could whip it up in fifteen minutes . . .  unless I didn’t cook the tortellini and just strung them frozen. That could work.

Thankfully, Seconda spared me by offering some helpful information.

“I wore it yesterday!” she cried, “My pink tortellini! Did you wash it?”

I beelined to the hamper and began flinging dirty laundry into the hallway, in search of pink.

“NOT THAT!” Seconda shrieked when I held up pink tulle skirts and pink striped dresses, “THE TORTELLINI! WHY WON”T YOU GIVE MY ——–”

Then, suddenly, Sec emitted a shriek of delight: “THERE it is!” she exclaimed, running over to the pile of dirty clothes and tugging on a fuchsia string that poked out of the top. She stood, grinning, a pink string bikini clasped to her heart.

“Ahhhh,” I murmured, “A bikini.”

I was flooded with relief that now, we might be only minorly late, and that I would not have to improvise jewelry out of stuffed pasta. Then I realized Seconda was stripping down and putting on the pink string bikini.

“Honey, you can’t wear that to school,” I started, gingerly.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, its OK,” she assured me.

Instantly, I regretted not tossing the infernal bikini in the trash when I found it in a bag of hand-me-downs. Sec’s wardrobe is pretty hand-me-down heavy, which is part of what makes it so great for costuming, with all sorts of crazy, wonderful items – crushed velvet jumpers and straw hats and dresses featuring actual bells and whistles — thrown in. But you do find some head-scratchers, and when I saw that pink string bikini, I thought “For a four year old? Is that strictly necessary?”

However, since I am a borderline hoarder, I did not toss the bikini. And now I was sorry.

“It’s too cold outside,” I explained, “Much too cold.”

“I’m not cold,” she insisted.

“You will be,” I insisted back.

“I won’t, I promise!”

I would like to be able to shrug my shoulders, as other parents do, and say, “All right. It’s your choice. I’ll have your jacket if you get cold.” I’ve seen children in the dead of winter on the playground who’ve opted to shed their outerwear and experiment with frostbite, and whose parents stand on the sidelines, holding the jacket patiently, allowing their children to learn from their own mistakes. I get it and hey, I can get libertarian, too: I give Sec license to walk around barefoot on the playground and cover her hair in dirt from next to a tree that dogs use as a bathroom. But I have zero flexibility when it comes to bundling. That morning, I explained why to my daughter:

“If you wear that bikini to school, you will get very, very cold and if you get very, very cold, you may get sick, and if you get sick, who will be the one up all night, taking your temperature and wondering if we should go to the emergency room and having an ulcer? ME. And I don’t like doing that. So it’s out of the question.”

She screwed her face up so that all the features squished together in the middle. That’s her I-am-royally-pissed look.

“HOWEVER—” I went on, “if you want to wear it under your regular clothes, you totally can. No problem.”

“But then you won’t be able to see it!” she pouted.

Then her face lit up, a real Eureka moment and she shrieked: “Wait a second! Wait A SECOND! I have a great idea! What if I wear it ON TOP of my clothes?”
Was it the arrangement I would have chosen? No. Was I totally comfortable when Sec took off her down jacket and revealed to her preschool class that she was wearing a miniscule pink bikini bottom over polka dot leggings, and a skimpy bikini top over her sateen poodle pajama shirt? Not really. Did I feel a twinge of regret when I realized she’d be sporting the bikini-on-top outfit for the next 7-10 days, including at birthday parties and bedtime? Sure I did.
But I will tell you one thing: my daughter didn’t catch a single chill in that get-up. That outfit provided one hundred percent draft protection. And I, for one, will always feel a peculiar affection for tortellini.

For more of Nicole’s adventures in Mommyville, visit her blog, A Mom Amok, at amomamok.blogspot.com.

Teaching in the Slope

By Filed Under: Friends & Neighbors

We met two neighborhood teachers to learn what’s in store for Park Slope students this year and what makes teaching in our neighborhood unique.

The school year is now in full swing, and Park Slope’s many teachers have returned to their classrooms to begin a new year of lessons, games, and projects with their students. We met with two neighborhood teachers, Ilana Dogim from P.S. 321 and Chris Rochford from P.S. 39, to find out what’s in store for Park Slope students this year and what makes teaching in our neighborhood unique.

“I see my role as helping students fall in love with learning, themselves, and their community, from our classroom to the entire planet,” says Ilana Dogim, who has taught at P.S. 321 on 7th Avenue for the past thirteen years. “I am a huge supported of project-based learning. Students get much more out of their education if they get to actually ‘touch’ it and ‘create’ it for themselves.” Throughout the school year, Ilana’s classroom transforms into the Amazon Rain Forest, Plymouth Plantation, and a “Canstruction” exhibit, and her students get to experience life as everything from pilgrims to the Yanomami tribe. “These activities span the curricular areas through research and publication as well as measurement, painting, and community building,” she says, noting that in addition to keeping content exciting for students, it also allows her to meet the needs of each individual student based on academic levels and interests.
In addition to Ilana’s knack for making hands-on learning fun, she also knows the importance of the parent-teacher relationship. “I am in constant contact with parents via e-mail. I believe these communications are incredibly important to my students. Having them see their parents working with me as a team can make a huge difference when dealing with any obstacles that can come into play as well as giving students a stronger sense of the support around them. In the end, I believe my classroom is a family, and that family includes myself, my students, and their caregivers.”

Constant availability and communication between parents and teachers is also key for Chris Rochford, who teaches kindergarten at P.S. 39 on 6th Avenue and 8th Street. “It’s easy for me to quell a parent’s concerns when they’re thinking of them as opposed to having to wait a night or write me an email and I have to get back to them,” he says. Beyond being just an e-mail or phone call away, Chris also likes visiting his students and their parents at home. “When I was in first grade, my parents had my teacher over for dinner, and that’s such a vivid memory in my head,” he says. “I wanted to make that opportunity available for my students. I really enjoy it.”

Instead of keeping P.S. 39’s three kindergarten classes self-contained, each room claims a different learning space. “We’ve combined everything so we have a reading and writing environment, a math and science environment, and a dramatic play and social studies environment, and we switch with our class into the different rooms for the different lessons of the day,” Chris says. “It’s one way that’s great for camaraderie – they all get to see each other, and we really get to know everybody in kindergarten. So it’s really a fantastic setup.” The P.S. 39 building is railroad-style, so Chris says it’s a very close-knit community: “There are no hallways, there are doors that have been subdivided. It’s very different than going into your classroom and closing your door. I’m constantly seeing and interacting with my fellow teachers.” P.S. 39’s collaborate environment also extends into the community, and the students take field trips to Prospect Park, the Brooklyn Public Library, and local businesses ranging from ice cream parlors to print shops both in Park Slope and surrounding neighborhoods.

Both Chris and Ilana find teaching students to be both a rewarding and mutual learning experience. “Watching my students fall in love with learning, begin to discover their own unique strengths and weaknesses, and grow into more independent thinkers is incredibly rewarding,” Ilana says. “Being part of the creation of a safe and supportive community where students respect and support each others’ differences in addition to their similarities is also very rewarding.” As for learning from the students, Chris says the process is daily “because you’re constantly modifying your approach. You can make the best lesson plan in the world, but when it’s delivered, it’s all based on how the students receive it and their ability to follow that lesson plan. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it’s an absolute disaster – I mean we learn something, but it just didn’t flow the way that we planned, and then you regroup and you revamp. So I’m learning a significant amount from the kids, even in kindergarten.” Chris also knows the lasting impression he makes on his students and brings that awareness to his teaching every day. “That weighs on my mind with the way that I speak and the words that I use. I absolutely want to leave them with the happiest kindergarten experience. I can set the tone for their entire educational career – every teacher can.”

School has been in session for weeks now, but back in August, Ilana told us she was looking forward to countless things about her job as a teacher. “I can’t wait to create our messy art projects.  I’m eager to hear about my students’ unique interests and experiences.  I can’t wait to make them laugh for the first time.  I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they achieve something they thought was beyond their reaches.  There’s so much more I’m looking forward to, but I think this is a good start.”

Chasing Sanitation

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life

What you don’t know about Eric Morales is what he knows about you.

He knows you throw out a lot of nice furniture.  He knows that you’re big wine drinkers and faithful recyclers. He knows that your household goes through New Yorkers and W Magazine about as fast as you go through wine and/or diapers. He knows that you’re trendsetters. But what bugs him is how you bicycle around the neighborhood.

“Yeh, like how they squeeze between the trucks and parked cars! Like it’s not dangerous? And then some of them with their kids on a seat on the back – anything could happen!” He reminds me of the story a Sanitation Worker told us both about being sent to the emergency room after a bag full of glass and other debris exploded from the back of the collection truck in his face as he was working.  “Anything could go wrong,” and it bugs him out.
But during the Blizzard of 2010 and 40 days of straight snow and trash removal, the residents of Park Slope had his back.

“They were all good to us – telling us they knew we were working, and that it wasn’t our fault.  They took a lot of pictures too. A lot!  But for good reasons, you know?”  This was not the story for other SanMen and Women working in Staten Island, Sheepshead Bay, Canarsie, Jackson Heights, who daily fielded the insults of a cabin-fevered general public.

Eric Morales was raised on Strong Place in Cobble Hill and is now one of New York’s Strongest. He likes the recycling route. He has three daughters – 21, 15, 17 – and the face of a 28-year-old.  He walks to work in Park Slope every morning. His favorite music is freestyle.  He won’t let me tell you who his favorite singer is as he hasn’t been able to live it down with his fellow SanWorkers since the last time he let the cat out of that bag. Don’t matter – he’ll still rearrange his schedule for her. He’s tall and slim, sports the five o’clock shadow. He has a quiet way about him that hides behind a natural smirk of a smile.    When he wakes, he asks God to just get him through the day.

This is Eric.

Eric Morales.

He’s one of your Sanitation Workers, and he loves his job because of the people.

Eric is your people.

CHASING SANITATION: THE PROJECT & EXHIBITION

It’s because of Park Slope that we know Eric. It’s because of Park Slope’s respite demands that I walked home from the Tea Lounge to my apartment in Sunset Park one night at midnight and collided with the first Sanitation Worker, that set this whole thing into motion.  And it’s the stories of personal choice, daily decision and an irrepressible gentle humanity moving in the photos of them that keep this project going.

Chasing Sanitation: Falling in Love with New York’s Strongest is the collaboration of photographer Liz Ligon and myself – writer/producer – to capture the strength and personal stories of the Sanitation Workers of New York.   For 2 ½ years, Liz and I have Chased Sanitation Workers in all five boroughs, photographing them as they work and then interviewing them later, off duty, asking everyone the same 25 questions.  The result is a photo book website and winter public exhibition that was generously covered by Marie Claire and Glamour magazines, the New York Daily News, the New York Times, NY1 and NBC’s Nightly News with Chuck Scarborough.

And we met here in these pages of the Park Slope Reader in the summer of 2007 – when Liz was the managing editor and hired me as the New Wave columnist.  Her energy and talent were compatible with mine and I had been looking for a photographer for this SanProject I’d been researching. I took her out for fried chicken at Sidecar restaurant on 5th to pitch it to her.  “It’s a BIG project,” she said enthusiastically but couldn’t commit for a couple of months.  Then I get an excited email from her a couple of months later, we went on one shoot in Sunset Park and it was over – we knew we’d be shooting and writing for a while together.

In the summer of 2010, we went public – launching our website and Kickstarter campaign in order to produce a public exhibit in Noho for New Yorkers and all of Sanitation. Sponsored by the Local 831, DSNY Columbia Association, Duggal Visual Solutions, Himmel + Meringoff Properties, Todd Strier – Sanitation Lawyer, and 172 Kickstarter Backers nationwide, the Exhibition attracted 650 passersby, Sanitation families, local artists and families, current and former Sanitation Commissioners, one entire Union board and one Oscar-winning screenwriter – John Patrick Shanley – in its two week run.

We opened on Valentine’s weekend, in the middle of the snowiest season in recent memory to bring back some love into the press and back into Sanitation.  Survivors from the 9/11 recovery effort drove in from the boroughs and upstate New York and told us their little known stories. Wives and children saw their breadwinners in a whole new light.   Passersby found themselves in conversation with Sanitation Workers about myths around recycling and the dangers inherent to the work.  Big men and small women broke down in tears in front of the photos and stories.

It’s not only working with Liz and the Sanitation Family that made this project successful and salient. It’s the what-you-don’t-know-by-looking-at-them that lurks in every interview and photo. It’s the people – the choices they make and they live by, thereby validating our choices – Liz and Lisa, as Brooklyn artists – in shedding a little light on this essential part of New York City.

PARK SLOPE’S ROLE IN IT

It’s because of its current wealth that Liz and I found each other, a project and happiness here.  It fits our groove for our personal and professional lives.  We both wanted to know our neighbors.  We both wanted to tell personal stories with our skills. Here, we found a good fit for our need for access to the Gritty City as well as to Sesame Street.  We had the accessibility to each other to keep our rapport strong, our production costs low and our creative energy high as we juggled all of our part-time and freelance gigs.

Gentrification always will leave any of us natives or transplants confounded by its ultimate misgivings and unifications.  But this one story of a couple of Tennessean ex-pat transplants and a couple of thousand Sanitation Workers is one story made good.

WHY SANITATION WORKERS?

Because they’re everywhere! They’re gorgeous! They’re a racial microcosm of the City! And Gotham’s Green Nation stands tall as a role model for public works nationwide.

This past April, the Daily Beast published a photo gallery listing Sanitation Worker as seventh most dangerous job in America.  Wedged between Roofer with a salary of $41K and Public Transportation Operator at $35K, Sanitation Workers are at it every day for up to eight hours on 6,000 miles of New York streets. That’s 16 tons of garbage per truck of thrown out glass, needles, paint, bricks, blood, guts, road kill and spoiling food, not to mention all the radioactive tech that becomes obsolete the minute you get it home from Best Buy.

So I asked former Sanitation Commissioner and Deputy Mayor Norman Steisel, a long time Park Slope resident, out to Fornino to get the real deal on how these contract talks might go down in this charged climate.

Collective bargaining is being irrefutably threatened.  Steisel tells me it’s going to be a lousy year for labor unions.  “The City will undergo its own round of difficult talks.  The Local 831 has been historically generous in granting the City tremendous amounts of productivity advancements,” he offers.  Many state governments are looking at the bottom line and making individual decisions on keeping an open dialogue with them or not.  Having served as Deputy Mayor under Dinkins from 1990-94 and Sanitation Commissioner from 1979-86, and currently helming up a management consulting firm for government-regulated industries, he’s been there when Sanitation wasn’t as proud or as regimented as it is now.

He’s confident, even now, in his City’s ability to overcome the current financial hiccups.  “They’re a pretty inventive lot,” he says of the Local 831 Uniformed Sanitationmen’s Association, “I’m sure they’ll work it out.”

Meanwhile, unions across the country are organizing voice-of-the-people rallies in Connecticut, Wisconsin, Memphis, New York – trying to keep workers rights loud and alive.  It’s the middle class that’s getting pitted against each other – private sector vs. union member. Meanwhile, the slow and steady destabilization of a municipality begins – a glance of which we saw this past winter when a snowstorm was mismanaged from the top down.  No one calls the Post when you don’t get your mail for a couple of days, but the snow and garbage start piling up – out come the politico and bottom-feeders.

Our project turned out to be a timely antidote for the political snowstorm that raged last winter and the current national debate.  And now that Irene has passed through New York, and New York’s many leaders pulled up its bootstraps and looked her right in the eye, maybe our municipal employees won’t have to fight so hard to prove their value.  It’s right there – on the streets.

WHAT’S NEXT?

There are a few more chases and a few more shoots and interviews that need to get done.  And a book proposal. And a book deal.  You know the drill.
In the meantime, I interview SanMen and Women when I can, update the photo site, and write the story of the Chase.  I just can’t sit still on the Love of Labor that makes me cry, laugh, think and love. More. Than I did the day before.  So much work – theirs, Liz’s, mine – an amazing journey filled with the most raucous jokes and the most sentimental of histories. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever been a part of.

When I ask Eric what’s your worst day on the job, he’s reluctant.  “I love my job, you know?  You wake up trying to have a perfect day and then things happen and then you get to the end of your day and look back and think, ‘That wasn’t so bad.’   Ninety percent of your day is your partner.”

True for Chasing Sanitation, too. I found my partner in grime in a dress sporting a camera in Park Slope.    You never know when your best day is going to hit you until you’ve had it. I’ve had a few in Park Slope.

You’d never know by looking at me.

Want to Chase Sanitation yourself?

www.ChasingSanitation.com
www.ChasingSanitation.Photoshelter.com
www.DSNYOralHistoryArchive.org
www.EveryDayTrash.com

Evidence of Autumn

By Filed Under: Reader Recommendations

The air is crisp, the leaves are colorful, and we found a whole new crop of items and activities to peek our interests.

THE STREETS ARE ALIVE

Atlantic Antic
Sunday, October 2, 2011 12:00 – 6:00 p.m.
Atlantic Avenue: Hicks Street to Fourth Avenue

This year marks the 37th annual Atlantic Antic.  On October 2nd, Atlantic Avenue is closed to traffic from Hicks Street to Fourth Avenue.  Instead, the streets are filled with food vendors and live music.  Spanning over one mile, it is the largest festival in New York City.  As the weather gets cooler, it provides the perfect chance to sample some new foods from around the world and indulge in traditional favorites while you take in the neighborhood and meet your neighbors.  How often are you presented with the opportunity to stroll Atlantic Avenue, the ever-changing thoroughfare that unites various Brooklyn neighborhoods?
This year, in addition to food from local and international vendors, the festival includes an entire block devoted to children’s activities.

The Atlantic Antic is presented by the Atlantic Avenue Local Development Corporation, a not-for-profit agency committed to the economic development of the Atlantic Avenue area from Fourth Avenue to the Brooklyn water font. It’s a true Brooklyn tradition.  The Beastie Boys even give the festival a shout-out in their song “Shadrach;” and if that isn’t a Brooklyn endorsement, I don’t know what is.  You can learn more about the festival by visiting www.atlanticave.org.

THE SCHOOL YEAR AT A GLANCE

NYC School Calendar iPhone App

I’m still getting used to the multi-functionality of my phone.  And although a round of Angry Birds and wacky ring tones are fun, I’m more interested in the applications that make life easier.  The NYC School Calendar App for the iPhone does just that.  Merging the school calendar with your own, it’s fantastic for planning vacations, play dates and appointments.  The app adds the NYC School calendar to any other calendars you have on your iPhone, allowing you to view everything at once.  The schedule downloaded by the app is complete with school holidays, vacations and half-days.  The calendar is comprehensive, but you can delete and add dates as you like.  Instead of inputting these dates manually, it does the work for you.  If you prefer to keep your calendars separate, you can just use the app on its own to keep track of the school schedule. Get the NYC School Calendar app.

MONSTER MASH

Puppetry Arts’ Haunted Halloween Carnival
Saturday, October 29th 11am-4pm
1st Street Recreation Center of PS 372 between 3rd and 4th Ave

Don your spooky apparel and join Puppetry Arts for their Sixth Annual Haunted Halloween Carnival.  Modeled after the community Halloween events Tim Young experienced as child in South Carolina, this event includes a wide array of activities.   You will find all everything a carnival could offer:  raffles, giveaways, a bounce house, and kid-friendly haunted house.  What makes the event unique are the creative activities offered.  They include fishing for healthy teeth with the House of Orthodontia monster shadow puppet game, and making “pizza monster puppets” and crafty masks.  The carnival focuses on artistic and imaginative aspects that make Halloween so much fun.  In addition  to the activities, Brooklyn Cyclones mascot Sandy the Seagull will be in attendance as well as every one’s favorite Star Wars droid, R2-D2.  Be sure to allow enough time to explore before the costume contest commences at 3:30pm.

FEELING GRAVITY’S PULL

ModKat

Modern design has finally met the call of your pet’s needs.  The logic is pretty simple: allow your cat the privacy to do his or her business while reducing the amount of litter that gets tracked into your home. A great amount of thought has gone into every aspect of the design of this high-concept litter box.  First of all, the entry point is on the top.  On the lid is a hole that your cat can climb through; the texture is grated so that any stray litter falls back into the box below.  Standing 15 inches tall, the “rooftop” is easily accessible.  The design also acts to keep kids and other pets out.  It’s sleek and colorful and can actually blend into the décor the rest of your home.  Or it might just make your cat feel very stylish.  The goal is to bring together form and function.  It is also environmentally friendly as the liner is reusbale.

ModKat is available in pet stores throughout Manhattan and can be found locally at Loving Pet Food at 145 Smith Street, as well as online.  You can learn more by visiting their website www.modkat.com

Photo courtesy of Oliver Forge & Brendan Lynch Ltd.

THE PATH OF THE GENTLE WARRIOR

Vishnu: Hinduism’s Blue Skinned Warrior
Brooklyn Museum
200 Eastern Parkway, Brooklyn
Now through Oct. 2nd

It’s always a pleasure to take in a beautifully curated art exhibit.  Somehow the enjoyment gets enhanced when the art involved possesses a religious context.  The blending of artistic energy with spiritual devotion creates an element of action in the story-telling.  Characters come to life with feeling and complexity.  Not that this isn’t true with secular art, but religious art has the benefit of the back-story, of heroic deeds, life-changing decisions and the conflict between good and evil.

The exhibit Vishnu: Hinduism’s Blue Skinned Warrior focuses on one single deity, compiling art from around the world, to create a comprehensive collection of Hindu art.  The exhibit is divided into three sections, the first dealing with Vishnu, the gentle god.  The second part examines his avatars, representations of him on Earth, as well interactions with his cohorts Rama and Krishna.  The third section focuses on Vaishnava (Vishnu worship), with images of temples and ritual objects.  It is the first exhibit of its kind, including over 170 images, sculptures and icons.  It’s an eye-opening, spiritual exhibit in which you not only take in art, but learn about a culture.

The exhibit is on display through October 2nd.  For more information visit www.brooklynmuseum.org.

BECOME A CULINARY MASTER

Purple Kale Kitchenworks

Autumn offers an incredible bounty when it comes to food.  With all of the colorful produce available and the cooler weather, it seems that Mother Nature is reminding us that it’s time to eat up for the winter months ahead.  It’s the perfect weather to spend strolling farmer’s markets and orchards, bringing home the seasonal bounty. The dilemma I always encounter is what to do with all of the good food. Coming up with creative treatments for the ingredients isn’t my strong suit.  Luckily, Purple Kale Kitchenworks provides the solution. The mission of this culinary school is to assist “the home cook who loves food but wants to put better, less scripted meals on the table, and do so efficiently and with little waste.”  Their workshops teach the basic skills used by professional chefs; techniques that make cooking less arduous and more enjoyable.  They also offer more specialized classes in vegetarian cooking and a “parent only” workshop that invited participants to share solutions for feeding a family.  Each workshop is intimate and improvisational, allowing participants to get involved and work with new ingredients.  Continuing the food conversation is their 2 Minutes to Dinner blog, which shares recipes and includes behind the scenes photos from previous workshops.  You can learn more about Purple Kale Kitchenworks by visiting their web site, www.purplekale.com

THE EVOLUTION OF A NEIGHBORHOOD

The Invention of Brownstone Brooklyn:
Gentrification and the Search for Authenticity in Postwar New York
by Suleiman Osman [Oxford Press]

The act of buying a brownstone to fix up and convert to a single-family dwelling is not a new one.  In his book, The Invention of Brownstone Brooklyn, Suleiman provides a detailed history of “brownstoning” in Brooklyn starting with Brooklyn Heights in the 1940s and moving through Boreum Hill, Fort Green, Carroll Gardens and Park Slope, he chronicles how these neighborhoods were transformed.

There were growing pains and community clashes, but the book proves that Brooklyn is not only dynamic, but filled with people who want to maintain a character different from the suburbs and New York City.

The book is interesting as it provides history of the rebirth of neighborhoods through gentrification.  Vivid descriptions of Park Slope in the 1950s detail a neighborhood in turmoil, which is hard to imagine now.  Neighborhoods have changed dramatically over the years, but it’s also interesting to find that some things remain the same.

Veggies On Top

By Filed Under: Community

I like to think I have an open mind. So last Spring when The Edible Guy called to pitch veggie-centric gardens I didn’t blow him off completely.

“I have this gardening idea. Sorta a response to the urban farm culture .” He began.

“Great, I only have a couple minutes though,” I said. “It’s Spring after all.”

“People want to interact with their gardens more … have you noticed?” he asked. “That’s why this happened. They don’t just wanna stare at a pretty shrub from afar. It’s like their agrarian ancestors are coming back, or The Food Co-Op’s got to them, or something. They want a relationship.”

“Not enough to look beautifull?” I deadpan.

“Nah.” he said. “Not anymore. You know,” he went on, “everyone’s hunched over their computers for hours on end. Now everyone has a hankering to connect with the Earth. All that’s missing is access. That’s where we come in. So what if all they have is a little balcony, rooftop thing? Its not about how many string beans. Its about having the sustenance that is string beans at your beck and call. Along with the heirloom tomatoes, and zuchini of course.”

“Of course,” I said, trying hard to sound neutral even as I decline interest in preparing for his urban farm movement. “What will you grow exactly?” I ask, drifting back to the site plan I’d been working on.

“Something besides boxwood,” he blurted and hung up

I had all but forgotten our conversation when fate intervened. By now it was winter and Julia, a friend and potential client was on the line.

“Can you come over and look at our rooftop?”

So in December I went to her home and we started piecing together a plan for her Boerem Hill rooftop .

“I want vegetables.” she said firmly, as if to stop me before I got too far. “Lots of them. It’s really important to me that I feel connected to this. I don’t want a garden that we just look at, you know?”

Unfortunately, I did. Adding a few herbs is one thing, but a garden focused on edibles does not a low-maintenance, rooftop/balcony make. My brain was whirring, “If this happens we’ll end up with a high maintenance mess and she’ll blame me.” Further, the space was small. Once the patio chairs and table were out there wasn’t much room left. Julia and her husband were two of the most reasonable people I knew. Could it be that The Edible Guy was right? Was this “desire to connect” thing larger than reason? Surely once Julia understood the pitfalls she would scale back her plan.

A week later I came back again to help her line a planter box. As we cut plastic tarp I leaked my concerns bit by bit.

“The tomatoes need to be tied up every couple days…” I started.

“Uh-huh” She said.

“You will need to spray for bugs, fungus, that sort of thing regularly, and the zucchini vines are insane, they’ll grow everywhere. Okay?”

“Okay, Just tell us what to do,” she cheerfully replied.

“And you’ll have to water twice a day,” I tried again. Then, pulling out the stops. “Look Julia, if we plant too many veggies it’s gonna look wild and cluttered. Nothing will look framed, or anchored, there will be no color palette, no context – it will basically be a big mess .”

“That’s okay. It will be fine.” She smiled.

So it was. Veggie or bust.

A few days later I started my “research.” All over the blogoshpere were pictures of oddball Brooklyn veggie projects. Not only on roofs, but inside trucks, even boats! Encouraging, but not what I needed. Thinking I’d better get some real help , I visited Lis Thomas at Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. The resident veggie expert at BBG, Lis carefully explained the importance of choosing heirloom varieties instead of hybrids and helped me weigh the pros and cons of starting from seed.

Like me, Lis had previously grown rooftop veggies, and undoubtedly with a lot more success, so that was comforting. That I was asking her about this as if it were a novel idea wasn’t. It reminded me a lot of the The Green Roof phenom. Ten years ago everyone said Green Roofs were the next big thing. Eventually I succumbed to peer pressure on that one as well. Today only a handful exist around Brooklyn and to date I’ve only installed one. Cost is one problem but there is another: they’re unattractive.

Then I realized something. As much as the edible rooftop chatter had taken off, the installations themselves hadn’t much materialized. At least not beyond a few pots or the occasional planter box. Julia was the only one I knew trying something more ambitious.

Edibles aren’t unattractive but they have lots of unattractive habits. Further, using them en masse forces the basic tenets of design to take a back seat. When this happens, for example, a Japanese maples’s cascading elegance matters less than whether or not there’s room for beets in its container. Likewise, a Skyrocket Juniper’s stately appeal is a moot point unless a clump of thyme can go at its base.

Some of this was bound to happen. The nearly ubiquitous application of a small group of plants may be one reason people went looking for radical alternatives. Manhattan, for example, is the single largest consumer of a species of boxwood known as “Green Gem.” It’s a rather spindly dwarf cultivar and despite a host of more attractive substitutes its used for hedges everywhere.

In some ways the excitement over edibles is precisely because of their bad habits. It’s a backlash against the idea that gardens need be structured. The most spectacular images in nature are those accidental meetings between structure and chaos. One doesn’t exist without the other and neither idea should ever be struck down.

Joseph Schilling is the owner of Woodland Landscapes and a judge for the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens’ “Greenest Block in Brooklyn Contest”.

With Friends Like This…

By Filed Under: Politiki

Congratulations! Job Well Done! Go Seals! Yeah Obama! You got Osama bin Laden!

But, the Pakistanis, they have been very naughty!

Pakistan was taking our money. That gives us the right to be critical. Not that we need a financial stake to legitimize in our own minds our right to the high moral ground and to imagine that we’ve been called on to speak from the mount.

What we we’ve been ostensibly paying them for, is to fight terrorism.

Meantime, Osama bin Laden was living there in “plain sight.” More precisely, he had a large home in the town of Abbottabad. He was not far from a military academy. All those proto-officers should have spotted the #1 on the FBI World-Wide Most Wanted Listed. It’s just thirty-five miles from Islamabad, the capital, and tenth largest city, so close it’s frequently described as a suburb.

First, let’s put the “Pakistanis shoulda, coulda, hadda know” theory in at least physical perspective.

Imagine that Glenn Beck is a terrorist in hiding. He’s holed up on the third floor of a big, ugly McMansion, up a dirt road near the Highland Country Club in Garrison, just across the river from West Point. He never venture out, not even down to the second floor. He just sits up there smoking weed, watching porn, sometimes visited by one of Rush Limbaugh’s ex-wives.

Would we expect our cadets, as alert and valiant as they are, to spot Glenn?

Although it’s 35 miles from Islamabad to Abbottabad as the crow flies, the cars don’t take that route. According to Google Maps it’s a two-hour trip along a winding road through barren hills. The time it takes to get the 100 miles from New York to Woodstock.

This is not meant to get Pakistan off the hook. It’s just to get a better notion of what “in plain sight” means. Still, the intelligence services were supposed to be actively looking for bin Laden. It raises what appears to be a legitimate, and a pretty good, question. Were the Pakistani intelligence services colluding? Or were they just incompetent?

…given the choice between pleading incompetence or complicity in bin Laden’s years-long stay in the garrison city of Abbottabad, Pakistani authorities have opted for the former. It is an explanation that strains credulity for many international observers, including U.S. policy makers, who have demanded an investigation into whether Pakistan sheltered the al-Qaeda leader.
Karin Brulliard, Washingtonpost.com, May 4, 2011

If we’re going to hold the Pakistanis to that standard – it was important to get bin Laden, he was right there, we gave you a lot of money to find him, so you’re either screw-up or traitors to the cause – are we going to hold our own intelligence and military services to the same standard?

At a bare minimum, American intelligence services have been watching Osama bin Laden since at least 1995, when he became a CIA special project with it’s own team.

Bin Laden was indicted for murder in American courts as far back as 1998.

By August, 1998, he was on that exclusive list: Wanted, Dead or Alive.

There is a certain amount of debate as to whether Bill Clinton issued an order that said “We don’t need no stinkin’ badges,” or one that said, “Try to arrest, only kill him if there’s a problem.” However, on August 20, US Navy ships launched 66 cruise missiles at an Al Qaeda training camp in Afghanistan in the belief that bin Laden was there. According to the axiom , “actions speak louder than words” that’s a clear statement, “shoot first, ask questions later.”

The next year the CIA organized a team of sixty Pakistanis commandos who were supposed to go into Afghanistan to “capture or kill” bin Laden. But Musharraf ’s coup that year, put a stop to it.

In May, 2001, the Federal Court in New York sentenced four of bin Laden’s associates to life in prison for crimes in which he was implicated.

When the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were attacked, the FBI and the intelligence services knew instantly that bin Laden and Al Qaeda had been behind it. And they said so.

In 2001, after three years of moderate attempts to locate, capture or kill, the hunt became super-charged and super-sized. And it still took ten years for the biggest military and intelligence services in the world to get bin Laden, “dead or alive.” What did it cost?

The U.S. government spent $2 trillion combating bin Laden over the past decade, more than 20 percent of the nation’s $9.68 trillion public debt. That money paid for wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as additional military, intelligence and homeland security spending above pre-Sept. 11 trends, according to a Bloomberg analysis.
bloomberg.com/news/2011-05-12/

Now, that’s an indictment.

If we follow the logic of the critiques of the ISI (Pakistan’s Intelligence Service), then we have to say that our intelligence services were protecting bin Laden (while taking trillions in US government money) or they are the most inept intelligence services on earth.

If you’re a conspiracy theorist, you will happily take choice #1.

The evidence is as follows. When Afghanistan was invaded, our best intelligence – we’ve been told – had it that bin Laden was cornered in the Tora Bora mountains. The Bush administration refused to send in enough troops to seal him off.

Was there ever any intention to get bin Laden?

The invasion of Afghanistan began on October 7, 2001. Just five months later, in March, 2002, George W. Bush said, “I don’t know where he [bin Laden] is … I truly am not concerned about him.” (www.youtube.com/watch?v=apLVd7_66ds).

Instead, the Bush Administration shifted to regime change. Out with the Taliban, in with Karzai. Then there were trumped up stories about WMD’s in Iraq and false connections to Al Qaeda, so our armies marched off to institute regime change there. .

In 2005, Bush shut down Alec Station, the team that had been hunting bin Laden for ten years. That was when bin Laden was building his compound in Abbottabad.

Double, double conspiracy theorists will say the response to 9/11 was part of the Republican plan to destroy the New Deal, Great Society, socialist, Marxist, government of the United State, by going to war while cutting taxes and running up debts that would turn America into a house of cards.

Bloomberg News points out that the hunt for bin Laden, the War on Terror, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Homeland Security account for 20% of the national debt. That we are paying $45 billion a year in interest alone on those debts.

Non-conspiracy theorists are, sadly, tragically, silent.

Because ineptitude is probably the right answer. It’s a little bit complicated, because there are two flavors of f**k-up wrapped on one stick, like a creamsicle. There’s the plain vanilla institutional problem. How can a set of intelligence services with a budget of at least $40 billion a year (best guess, ca. 2008), but probably closer to $80 billion a year (published amount, 2010), not be able to find one man for over ten years?

Wrapped around that, for eight years, was the special bright orange incompetence of a the Bush Team. They had a special inability to plan, carry out, or win a war. Yet in the days after bin Laden’s death, we were greeted by a parade of failed Bush Administration officials on television taking credit for what they didn’t do it. And, while they were at it, claiming the invasion of Iraq was necessary and justified, and that torture is the way to go!

We’ve questioned Social Security. We’re trying to dismantle Medicare. Both because they might someday, maybe, according to projections, bankrupt us! Those are successful programs. Yet we don’t question the existence and structure of our intelligence and military services, which have been astonishingly unsuccessful and are already leading us to bankruptcy. According to a fictional president on the TV show 24, Alexis de Tocqueville said, “In every democracy, the people get the government they deserve.” American politics is the greatest mini-series on TV. It’s scripted for drama, not for reason.

Anger Management

By Filed Under: Hypocrite's Almanac

I’m a mother. I try to hide that fact from you because, well, it softens my edge as a hypocritical life coach. You want a certain amount of command from the person you get advice from whether you pay them or not. You want to know that when the going gets tough your guide (me) will put a knife in her (my) mouth and carry you and your backpack across the river.

Knowing that she (I) cut out paper dolls and ball gowns and swimwear attire all weekend challenges that image. It shouldn’t. Weathering motherhood is nothing but character building. Enduring five-hour airport delays with children who have earaches only to return home to battle bouts with the new breed of monster lice that drinks Pantene for breakfast should make anyone worthy of giving other people bucket loads of personal advice.

So as a mother, you experience a lot of different and very intense emotions. Certainly I know that the variety and intensity of feelings are available to all humans, regardless. It’s just when you’re taking care of something a good part of the day and night that has no regard for your time, belongings or emotional status, you can be pushed to the brink more often then say, if you have a super-challenging boss. (I’m going to assume your boss doesn’t wake you up at 6am on the weekends or pee on your new bedspread. If s/he does, you, my friend, are in need of a new job.)

One of the more unpleasant emotions is anger. Anger is something I’ve been dealing with lately. I’m not going to go into why or how much, okay? So, get your nose out of my business. Stuff happens, people get wronged. Perfect innocent people who were just trying to help get caught in crossfire and it doesn’t feel good. Seriously, I’d love to tell you what set off the anger because I love to gossip. But the problem is, I hate the fallout of gossip. I hate being confronted with: “Someone told me you wrote a column about me behind my back.” That feels really crappy. So, for the most part, I try to not say anything unless it’s a matter of national security. If you see something, say something and all that. I’m totally into that. Yesterday I saw a woman wearing a stylish skirt and matching blazer made of Duane Reed bags that she had taped together. She also had a squirrel on her head, but that seemed secondary to her impeccable tailoring job. But I do acknowledge that I have to tell you something about the anger-producing incident so I don’t lose you to a competing network. Last week, a mother of a kid in my kid’s class implied to several people that I had lied about something. I hadn’t. It was something that she didn’t want to hear because it put her in an unfavorable light. And I, like everyone in the tri-state area, hate to be falsely accused. I was steamed. Being falsely accused sucks. Yet, with great effort I unpuffed my chest and backed away instead of engaging. Now like most little sisters, I am an unskilled yet scrappy fighter. I will grab anything that’s near and start swinging it if I’m enraged. But fortunately, I’ve learned over the years when to fight and when to back down. This one, I quickly judged, was not worth it. I backed down, but the anger didn’t and I, for one, don’t like to walk around with a fresh heap of burning hot anger stuck behind my sternum.

When you get really angry, what do you do? First, I tried a bunch of pathetic crap I won’t go into now for the sake of embarrassing myself, but nothing worked. I needed some insight and since I’m not in therapy at the moment, I went to the library.

It just baffles me that libraries exist. I mean, c’mon, there is a place that will let you borrow almost any book that’s ever been published? Really? Borrow for free? How does the publishing industry let this institution survive? Imagine there was a place you could just borrow a car if you only promised to return it in a reasonable amount of time. The good people at Toyota and Ford would not sleep until they crushed this establishment into a fine powder. Libraries are modern miracles. That they haven’t been taken away from us by now is inexplicable. I am filled with glee every time I walk into my local branch.

On this particular trip, I remembered a book that I saw when I was a new mom: Buddhism for Mothers. I kind of gave it the snub thinking it was probably too reductive for me. I am by no means proficient in Buddhist studies, if there is such a thing, but I do appreciate the scholarly aspect of anything and I pegged this book to be a little too “Idiots Guide.” (Although the knowledge I gleaned in Idiot’s Guide to Haircutting continues to save me hundred of dollars a year.) After I returned it, I ordered it from an independent bookstore in my neighborhood. Can you tell it had an effect? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was in danger of losing some of what makes me so charmingly hypocritical.

Buddha must have gotten really upset. That guy knew anger. The cool thing about Buddha’s free advice on how to deal with it is that he says to try whatever works. He gives options—like a baked potato bar. Sure, you want to try sour cream and bacon bits first but if that doesn’t work, there’s a totally different way to go. Can you say broccoli and cheese? I can. I can even say Fruit Loops and turkey gravy if it gets my anger out of me.

Here are Buddha’s tips as explained in the aforementioned book. They are pretty self-explanatory but I’ll add a little of my drivelings to make sure you fully understand what the fat man was getting at.

1. Dwell on the positive. I think this means you can examine the positive in the situation that has upset you OR you can just let in the wonderfulness around you at that very moment. Is there a crack in the sidewalk that looks like Fran Dresher? Is there a breeze passing by that smells like Febreze? Soak it up. It might lift your mood. Staying in the present is, in general, a great way of dealing with unpleasant emotions. The past and future are full of some stinky, stinky feelings. Be here now, right?

2. Consider the result of our thoughts. Angry thoughts tend to bring on angry actions. Do you really want to deal with the fallout of those actions? When I used to get angry, I would get violent. I wouldn’t stab anyone exactly but I would throw crap at the walls. And then I would have to sweep it up and replace whatever I smashed. Gradually, I learned to throw softer things, plush animals and socks being the favorites. In those early days of mothering, I would whip stuff only when the kids’ backs were turned which resulted in some hilarity that often snapped me out of my fierce mood. “Mommy, did you just see Winnie the Pooh fly over the TV? He flew very, very fast. He must be hungry.” Know that if you hurt something or someone you are going to end up feeling even worse.

3. Distract ourselves. Although dramas on daytime TV are dwindling, Netflix streaming and pay-per-view offer a wide array of distractions. Of course, there are other things to take your mind off the inciting incident. Just know that the distraction must do exactly that: distract. You’re not going to feel better if you decide to finally wash your sweaters. Your sweaters will be clean, yes, but you will be angrier. Trust me, been there.

4. Consider the alternatives. A lot of our negative emotions come from our perceptions of events. Ask yourself if there is an easier way to think about the whole thing. Do you need to take the whole thing so darned personally? C’mon. Is it really all about you?

5. Willpower. Tell yourself to shut up. Or if you want to be nicer, tell yourself that it’s not doing anyone any good just playing the event over and over again in your head. Cut it out. Really. Be tough. Don’t let up. You’ve got to stop looping the tape of what happened that got you so steamed in the first place.

For my situation I chose 3. And 5. I’m not going to lie to you, although it kind of worked, I still found the need to throw Fashion Fairytale Barbie at the back door. It made a very satisfying sound and no harm was done. And I felt better after all that. But then something magical happened that Buddha didn’t mention was even a remote possibility. Four hours after the accusation came an email: “Hey, Sorry about earlier. I was upset. Thanks so much for looking out for my kid.” Man! Aren’t apologies awesome? Occasionally people come to their senses and see they’ve been jerks and apologize. And nothing is more powerful for turning around a situation and making people move on with their lives. Won’t you apologize to someone today? No? Alright then, forgive someone, even if they apology hasn’t been offered. No? Then, adopt a puppy. You’re a grouchy one.

And the weird thing is, after a really good apology, you can actually feel better than before the whole thing started. You’ve been through something with another person and worked it out without getting a lawyer or acting like someone on a reality show. I suppose a good apology is the platonic form of make-up sex— it’s invigorating and memorable and you didn’t really think it was ever going to happen.

Take-aways: Be here now. If you’re a thrower, throw soft stuff. If you see something, say something. Support your local library, they desperately need our help. See you next time.

Midsummer Night’s Dream Vacation

By Filed Under: Dispatches From Babyville

One summer in my early twenties, I dated this i-banker who wore designer shoes, owned a gorgeous two bedroom in Chelsea and drove a red convertible. After a few weeks, he floated the idea of us going on a weekend getaway somewhere – the Hamptons maybe?

“You know what would be fun?” I replied, “If we drove ‘til we got tired, pulled over at a Motel 6, ate pizza and read Tolstoy all weekend. Doesn’t have to be Tolstoy. But pizza, for sure.”

He laughed. I hadn’t been kidding. We never did take that weekend trip.

A year or two later, I found myself at an EconoLodge off the interstate eating Dominos in bed and reading The Sound and the Fury alongside a tall, tattooed Southerner with wire-rimmed glasses. Turns out, it was his dream vacation, too. Which is convenient now that he’s my husband and we have two kids, little-to-none disposable income and a desperate need to escape the confines of our apartment.

I’m not saying the motel trips are what they used to be (Tolstoy was the first thing to go) but with a few adjustments, we’ve made the Middle of Nowhere Overnight Getaway into something the whole family can get behind.

Young children are a colossal pain to travel with, but the upside is that they are entertained by the smallest things, and a little change in scenery goes a long way for them. I learned this the summer we went to San Francisco and the highlight of the trip was this worm the kids played with for an hour in Golden Gate Park. Wormy is what they remember from that expensive and exhausting vacation, not the Japanese Tea Garden or the newly-renovated science museum that we were on our way to visit when we stumbled upon the most charming worm in the USA. Every place has a Wormy equivalent, no matter how unexciting it is, so it doesn’t matter where you go.

As long as the hotel in that unexciting place has two-room suites.

By that, I mean accommodations where the bedroom is separated from the living room, and its fold-out sofa, by a door. I have found it’s important to get this specific because the term “suite” is open to various interpretations, like the word “bedroom” and “dining area” in New York real estate. This became clear the time we stayed at a Marriott in Virginia which used the word “suite” to refer to the mini kitchen in the corner of our single, undivided room.

I don’t need a kitchen. In fact, it’s the last thing I need when I’m on vacation. What I need is a heavy divider separating the space where my children sleep from the space where I sleep. Doesn’t have to be a door necessarily – a steel curtain or large boulder would work just as well. It’s not that David and I have any exciting plans in the bedroom, apart from sleep, which I find to be the most exciting thing ever, and which only happens when we disappear after the kids are tucked in. If the kids see us, they torture us. Hell, they torture us anyway, but at least, when we have a separate bedchamber, we can refuel in between grueling runs back to their bedside.

Plus, it is nearly guaranteed that Titanic will be playing on the hotel TV, and though I’m not particularly fond of the flick, it is precisely what I want to view in the Middle of Nowhere in a borrowed bed. And listening to the gasps and shrieks which indicate my kids are being permanently scarred detracts from my enjoyment..

Two-room suites are the solution to all our travel problems. So imagine my delight when a Mommy friend mentioned that she’d recently stayed with her kids at a business hotel in the Middle of Nowhere, New Jersey, which had an indoor swimming pool and great weekend rates.

“Does it have suites?” I asked her, my heart skipping a beat, “A bedroom separated from the living room with a door?”

“Yeah,” she said, “and they’re about $100 a night.”

A few weeks later, David and I strapped our six year-old, affectionately known as Primo and our four year-old, Seconda, into the backseat, and were off to the Middle of Nowhere, New Jersey to embark on the following itinerary:

• 2-2:30pm: Take inventory of free stuff

“They gave us shampoo! To keep forever!” shouts Seconda from the bathroom, “SO MUCH SHAMPOO!!!”

“Mommy, come quick – there’s a coffee maker” yells Primo, “And they give you your own coffee! And sugar! And SPLENDA! Did you ever try it? It must be SPLENDID!”

The enthusiasm is contagious. “There are tea bags too,” I exclaim. “Herbal tea bags, so you can drink them! We can have a TEA PARTY!”

Once we discover everything we’ve been gifted in the room, I call the front desk to see if there is more stuff they can give us for free. I don’t even need anything; I just want to continue the high. Getting extra shampoo bottles and sewing kits is my closest approximation of what it feels like to roll around on a huge pile of cash, like people do in the movies.

“Do you have a DVD player you can send to the room?” I ask.

“No.”

“What about free wireless?”

“No.”

“Do you have a hairbrush? Or toothpaste?”

“No.”

“Can we have a few extra blankets?”

“We’ll bring them right up.” I hang up and tell David, “OK, we’ve got everything. Let’s hit the pool.”

• 2:30-4:30pm: “Swim”

Nothing says vacation like not having to bring your own towels to the pool. We spend a good two hours splashing around: Seconda inciting widespread panic as she cannon-balls herself into the deep end without warning, and Primo training for the Olympics in water treading.

“I think you’ve got this covered,” I assure David before dropping myself into the hot tub.

• 4:30-5pm: Explore hiding places

It is a little-known fact that hotel rooms are ideal sites for Hide and Seek, what with all the empty wardrobes, empty under-the-sink cabinets, and empty spaces under beds, coffee tables and armchairs. The kids can never play Hide and Seek in our place because every square inch is crammed full of crap and the trouble it takes to carve out a space for their little bodies just isn’t worth it.

• 5- 5:03pm: Check for bedbugs

“We should inspect the bed,” I tell David, “For bedbugs.”

“Ok,” he says, “how?”

“Weeeell,” I ponder, “you just pull off the sheets . . . “

He does so. “And look for smears of blood. Human blood. And bugs. Or bug feces.”

“I don’t see any bugs, bug feces or blood, human or otherwise.”

“Although I think, to be effective, we need a black light?”

“Great. I’ll just run back to the car and get ours, the one we borrow from the FBI,” David says, “Can we be done now?”

• 5:03-6pm: Wreak havoc in the lobby

I can’t in good conscience feed the kids Dominoes. Big Anthony’s Pizza, however, will do quite nicely. The children get their kicks by experimenting with the half-dozen seating options in the lobby – leather couch, velvet couch, armchair, bench, coffee table, plant stand – while I turn a blind eye in order to pore over the pizza menu. For once, we have all the time in the world to fully weigh all pizza options – is today the day we try mushrooms? Finally say “yes” to anchovies? When I notice Seconda pulling the leaves off a plant and hiding the evidence in her leggings, I decide to beat a hasty retreat and wait for Big Anthony’s in our room.

• 6-6:30pm: Ice, ice, baby

I don’t know why hotels don’t highlight the unlimited access they provide to ice machines as a major amenity (All you can chew ice chips! Ice machine guaranteed on every floor!). My kids find this the single-most exciting aspect of a hotel stay, and I, too, can not help but thrill at the gratifying sound of an ice machine surrendering its bounty to my empty bucket. A girl could keep champagne chilled all night long! Could keep a twisted ankle from getting swollen! Could enable a little boy’s ice-crunching habit! The possibilities are endless.

• 6:30-8pm: Suck it, crappy hotel TV

Hotel television offers a great many delights, but not to the under-18 crowd. Of course, we don’t go to the Middle of Nowhere to watch TV! We go to watch Youtube, on my Iphone. Clips from The Little Mermaid sequel, Thunder Cats episodes, Charlie Bit My Finger – sure, why not? Eat a bucket of ice chips while you’re at it. there’s plenty.

• 8pm: Bedtime

One bath, several chapters of Harry Potter and countless screams of “SHE’S PUSHING/ KICKING/ PUNCHING ME!” and “I”LL STAB YOU IN THE HEART YOU EVIL BROTHER!” later, the children are asleep, though not in the same room. When they really won’t stop threatening each other with bodily harm, we discover a third bedroom in the suite – the antechamber to the bathroom which has doors leading to the living room, bathroom and the bedroom. There is a very cozy patch of carpet under the sink with Seconda’s name on it, and plenty of blankets to pad it with. David and I watch Leonardo Di Caprio go down with the ship, again. Bliss.

Three bedrooms, one swimming pool and unlimited ice chips, for $100 bucks a pop. Who needs the Hamptons?

A week later, back in the Big Apple, I surveyed my empty fridge, full sink and pair of children throwing Legos at each other, and gave David a pathetic look which clearly said “Calgon, take me away.”

“Its OK,” he said, “We’ll always have South Jersey.”

 

For more of Nicole’s adventures in the Middle of Nowhere and beyond, visit her blog, A Mom Amok at amomamok.blogspot.com.

The Park Slope Eater

By Filed Under: Community

This summer is poised to be an exciting time for food lovers in Brooklyn, but does that really surprise you? Whether you want to eat, drink, or shop, here’s what the innovators of the industry are up to around the borough.

Dean Street is a Place to Call Home

Dean Street (755 Dean St) may have only opened in January, but if you spend just a few minutes at this restaurant and bar in Prospect Heights, you’ll feel like you’ve been going there for years. Maybe it’s the homey atmosphere created by the wooden tables, vases of flowers, and dark brown leather. Despite having completely renovated the building when co-owners John Longo and Rob Gelardi bought the place in the Fall of 2010, they have taken care to infuse the décor with nods to the building’s 120 year old history through exposed brick, Fleur de Lis wallpaper, and copper pipes. Even the smallest details have a retro vibe, from the jukebox in the corner to the reclaimed bowling lanes rescued from an old alley in Brooklyn that are now used as the counters for the café and prep stations.

Or, maybe it’s the community that makes you feel right at home. Longo and Gelardi grew up together in Long Island and now, after having worked their way through the restaurant business as waiters, bartenders, and bar owners, decided to open up a restaurant of their own. They are committed to supporting the local food scene, and have filled their space with professionals that have been working in the industry for years. Chef Mike Franzetti brought his French-Italian taste to the pub-fare of Dean Street from Stuzzechiera in TriBeCa, and has worked at Chestnut, Lupa, Washington Park, and Palladin before that. Their in-house baker, Ann, has worked around Brooklyn and now creates breads, scones, and muffins for the café. On tap at the bar is all local beer, including three types from Kelso, brewed a block away. Their organic ingredients are sourced from no farther than Pennsylvania, including their meat which is free from hormones and antibiotics.

The building has been a beloved neighborhood hang-out through its past three reincarnations as a restaurant since 1990, and its latest iteration as Dean Street stays true to the role this corner has played for decades. Open nearly twenty-four hours a day, it attracts a low-key crowd of locals seeking out its reasonably priced food without sacrificing quality. The day starts at the café at 7am, where patrons can enjoy Stumptown coffee, baked goods, and standard lunch items like salads and burgers starting at noon. Happy hour starts daily at 4pm and lasts until 8pm, where drafts and well drinks are only $4. Dinner begins to be served at 6pm, where you can choose from hearty entrees between $12 and $20 like chicken with mushroom gravy, trout with collard greens and cranberry beans, or beer braised short ribs with polenta. Or, enjoy classic bar snacks with a twist like corn dog poppers, crab cakes with lemon aioli, and fried cauliflower. An especially nice touch is that happy hour starts again at midnight and lasts until 2am with the same deals as the traditional time. Stay until 4am and then head home for a quick nap before starting over again, because that’s about the only thing Dean Street doesn’t offer.

Because Regular Old Booths Are Just So “Manhattan”

Brooklyn is already home to the Brooklyn Flea, Grand Army Plaza Farmers’ Market, and hundreds of independent food entrepreneurs, but what if you wanted to have access to all of these things in one place? While you’re at it, could you throw in an extra dose of creativity and transform an eyesore into an innovative micro-city? These may sound like lofty requests, but the answers to both of these questions lie within UrbanSpace’s latest project, Dekalb Market, coming to downtown Brooklyn at the end of the summer.

Inspired by their previous ventures of Container City, Old Spitalfields Market, and Camden Lock in London, where the organization turned downtrodden areas of the city into bustling marketplaces, UrbanSpace saw potential in the supply of unused shipping containers throughout the city and the space of the former parking structure of the old Ablee Square mall at Flatbush and Dekalb. They have been recruiting favored shops and vendors from around the borough, like SourPuss Pickles, Robicelli’s cupcakes, Dalaga, and 3rd Ward, to set up shop in a container of their own to create a main thoroughfare of retailers as the anchor of the market. Surrounding them will be small-scale restaurants serving takeaway meals, a performance space, and even an incubator farm that will supply the food vendors with ingredients. The entire operation will strive to be as sustainable as possible, using efforts like rainwater collection and green electricity.

Along with being another place to shop and eat, Dekalb Market wants to set itself apart by becoming an educational community center. Not only will the auditorium serve as a venue for local bands, organizations, and events, but they are asking all of their participants to try and create an educational component to their booth. The farm will be at the forefront of this by teaching guests about urban agriculture, providing cooking demos, and hosting various activities for kids. 3rd Ward’s plot will be an interesting experiment on how to bring together design, technology, and farming in new ways. Joe’s Coffee is also getting in on the fun by giving barista classes.

The community was even sourced for the creation of the market. In the Spring, UrbanSpace held a contest to design a container that could be featured in the space. The entries were narrowed down to five finalists by a panel of specialists, including representatives from Etsy, BAM, Cool Hunting, and Good.is, and were then voted on by the public. The winner would receive a container license rent-free for six months, a $3,000 construction budget, a one-year membership to 3rd Ward and the Brooklyn Chamber of Commerce, and free consultation and building materials. After a tight race, the winner ended up being BBox Radio, an independent broadcasting station that would celebrate the creative, entrepreneurial nature of the market and its neighborhood.

All of the efforts of Dekalb Market will be building on their core values of entrepreneurship, quality, community, and sustainability. Brooklyn is already pulsing with these qualities, and this will be an opportunity for its people to learn even more from one another and experience what the city has to offer. The market will essentially represent the rapidly growing desire to do-it-yourself and get back to the land, but its leaders discourage looking back to the previous movement of the sixties and seventies, of which this current push is so reminiscent. Instead, they want to focus on the modernity of this time around, and how the resources and cohesiveness available today are setting us up now for success and a hopeful future. Keep track of the exciting developments at dekalbmarket.com.

When Vanilla Won’t Cut It

“I eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” says Sutheera Denprapa while sitting in her weeks-old ice cream shop and restaurant, Sky Ice, in Park Slope. A few years ago, she turned her love of ice cream into a hobby by making creative new flavors with an old-fashioned machine in her Queens apartment. After taking six months to perfect the recipe, she thought she stumbled onto a hit with her Thai Iced Tea flavor, so she started selling it to restaurants around the neighborhood. When one of her friends raved to her about this great new ice cream she tried, unaware that she was speaking to the creator herself, Denprapa decided it was time to expand. Having worked in Cobble Hill, she was familiar with Park Slope and figured its open-mindedness and kid-friendly vibe would be a good home for her creative pursuits in desserts.

Sky Ice has many things to offer, but it’s best to start with the ice cream. The shop serves sixteen flavors at a time, with about six rotating daily as Denprapa comes up with new ideas. There are always sorbets and vegan options, and everything is made in the tiny kitchen with all organic ingredients, no corn syrup, and no artificial flavoring. The result is smooth and creamy, but very light. For the less adventurous, there are some excellent stand-bys like salted caramel, mango, and coconut pineapple, but what makes this particular ice cream store special is its more exotic flavors, particularly the ones that are inspired by Denprapa’s Thai upbringing. Tropical fruits like lychees, papaya, or even durian –the notoriously stinky spiky thing you can sometimes find on Canal Street- make for a lovely treat, for example. Or, if you’re feeling really brave, why not try some of the savory options? Basil is particularly refreshing, and black sesame seaweed or even mixed vegetable are both surprisingly tasty.

Denprapa’s playfulness with her flavors extends to the rest of the dessert menu, where she offers a number of different variations of ice cream treats beyond the boundaries of a cup or cone. The sushi plate may look like lunch, but it’s created entirely out of sweet ingredients. The “seaweed” is rice paper roll surrounding sweet coconut sticky rice with a center of kiwi, strawberry, and lychee ice cream. A scoop of black sesame ice cream takes the place of wasabi, while a dollop of green tea chocolate sauce is made to look like soy sauce. There’s also the snowman with two scoops of ice cream, coconut flake snow, a face made up of almond slices and chocolate chips, and fruit leather for a scarf. Or, there’s the fish soup, with a scoop of ice cream floating in apple juice with gummy fish swimming around it.

It’s easy to get distracted by the inventiveness of Sky Ice’s dessert, but their dinner menu shouldn’t be ignored. They use rare, imported ingredients and traditional techniques to create healthy twists on Thai favorites. Their non-fry fried rice is all steamed with no oil, and gets its flavor instead from fresh water chestnuts, pineapple, raisins, and peas. They also have a non-fried version of curry puffs, and offer a green curry with rice noodles dish. If you feel inspired to try Thai cooking at home, you can find a small selection of groceries with hard to find ingredients like curry paste, fish sauce, and seaweed.

Check out what today’s flavors are on Facebook (facebook.com/SKYIcenyc), and then stop in the cozy shop on Fifth Avenue and St. Marks Place. Th e funky vintage décor makes a perfect spot to relax for an afternoon during these hot summer days.