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Tag: brooklyn

New York Minute


Way out in Brooklyn (those who come from Brooklyn know just what I’m talkin’…)

New York Minute


If you are ever in Carroll Gardens stop by Esposito & Sons. I lived in that neighborhood from 1996-2000 and was a regular at Esposito’s–their pickled eggplant alone is worth the trip. Plus, John and George are Yankee fans.

I was happy to see this:

Esposito’s Pork Store, Brooklyn from Brinda Adhikari on Vimeo. [Photo Via: South Brooklyn Post]

New York Minute

I lived in Brooklyn from 1994-2000 and I remember this bookstore. Odd dude ran it, smoked cigarettes–which was kinda nice, really–but the place was closed all the time. Never knew when you’d stumble past and it’d be open. Still, glad to see it’s still there.

Picture by Bags.

New York Minute


Humans of New York is on my Tumblr feed so I’m aware of their work, which is almost always cool. Last night, I see this picture and I stop cold because…it’s my cousin Loo from Brooklyn.

“She picks out her clothes all by herself.”

Go figure.

New York Minute

Way out in Brooklyn…

Those who come from Brooklyn know just what I’m talkin’…

How to Be a Retronaut. Again and again.

New York Minute

Do you want to know a secret?

Here’s a good one via Kottke. Picture by Geoff Manaugh.

Taster’s Cherce

Nah, I haven’t been to Four and Twenty Blackbirds in Brooklyn yet.

But I aim to change that in the near future.

Taster’s Cherce

All I wanted was a slice, is that too much to ask?

I got off the R train at Union street in Brooklyn and walked up to Fifth avenue. But the pizza shop on the corner–Fifth Avenue Pizza–was closed. So I turned left, in the direction of Flatbush avenue. Four-and-a-half blocks later I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t passed a Pizzeria. On a commercial street chock full of restaurants no less. 

I didn’t want to keep moving away from Union street, where I was eventually headed, so I doubled-back, crossed over Union Street and continued on, figuring, again, a pizzeria would be a stone’s throw away.

Nope. Nada. Bubkus. I was apoplectic, hating hipster Brooklyn like never before, when I finally found a spot, on 3rd Street just off Fifth Avenue called Villa Rustica. I went in and ordered a couple of slices and sat down to eat.

Now, unless I’m at a fancy pizza shop, one of those places that claims to be “the best,” I’m not overly picky. What I’m looking for is a representative slice. Something I could offer an out-of-towner as an example of a good New York City slice. (Talk about a new spin on VORP–value above replacement pizza!) Well, the slice at Villa Rustica was just that–and better than any of the local pizza I have around my way in the Bronx.

It wasn’t spectacular, didn’t re-invent the wheel, but it was satisfying and delicious and it made my anger go away.

Ah, the restorative powers of a good, representative, New York City slice.

[photo credit: akuban]

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"This ain't football. We do this every day."
--Earl Weaver