I begged the broker to take me to a place better suited for me, and he showed me a respectably sized studio on West 75th.  The entire thing could fit into my bedroom in Brooklyn.  But it was quiet, and everything worked, and there would be no crazy landlord spying on my comings and goings.

Ryan pointed out that Gael Greene lived close by, on the Upper West Side as well.  I asked the broker where I could sign up. Unfortunately (these sorts of things always have an “unfortunately”)  the paperwork didn’t pan out, and I found myself back on the train to Brooklyn.  ”Drats,” I thought.  ”Homeless.”  I had had such high hopes for the apartment-scouring trip.

As I approached my decrepit old mansion in Brooklyn, I spotted my landlord outside, applying packing tape to the shards of glass on the front door.  A few weeks earlier, my sister cut her hand on the perilous entryway.  Well, a raging lunatic might still easily break in, but at least now his appendages would be safe from sharp edges.

I’d told my landlord yesterday of my plans to move out.  It didn’t go well.  Feeling discouraged about the day’s fruitless effort and exhausted from the blocks and blocks walked in heels (note: don’t wear heels when looking at apartments), I was in no mood to argue about the nuances of the lease.

I hovered at the corner for a few minutes, waiting for her to finish the job.  She continued to tape, so I ducked into the bar two doors down.  It was awfully busy for a Monday at 4; all around me, men played lottery, watched a game on television and drank Blue Moon out of glasses.

“Hi sweetheart,” the barkeep said.

“Hello,” I said with less of a smile than I usually share.  ”Do you have St. Germain?”

He laughed.  ”This isn’t Manhattan, on the East side!” he said, chuckling all the way through.

“Hm,” I acknowledged.  ”Then I’ll just have a gin and tonic – with lemon, instead of lime.”  

He handed me a squat glass with a wedge of citrus, and I thanked him.  I sipped and slipped my shoes off, dangling them from my toes.

The man to my left noticed my ever-present FCI textbook and asked me about culinary school.  I was a food writer, I told him – even though I was beginning to wonder if I wasn’t really just a writer writer.  He asked where he could read my writing, and for the first time after being asked that question, I lied.

“I just write for myself,” I said.

“Ah, that’s good,” he said.

“Yeah, it can be.”

I finished my gin and asked the bartender how much I owed.

“Three-fifty.”

I almost had a heart attack – not even in Syracuse could one buy a drink for that price!  

The man to my left waved me away as I fished through my wallet for the change.  ”I’m buying it for you.”  He said it in such a way that made me feel like a friend, not a potential conquest.  That was nice.

I snuck into my apartment as quietly as I could, so as not to alert my landlord to my presence.

Later, I sat on my bed, packing boxes of the memories I’ve accumulated in my three months in Windsor Terrace.  I’d miss the space, the beautiful 5 P.M. light that coated my walls like butter.  I’d miss the friendly neighborhood, the cheap drinks and the quiet lull of trees at night.

But I had to leave.  My time was up, and I wasn’t going to be left in the dust over a few pangs of nostalgia.  Besides, I thought, wrapping the picture of myself at age 5, on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, there is sure to be St. Germain.

]]> http://rochellebilow.com/2009/09/moving-to-manhattan/feed/ 2 http://rochellebilow.com/2008/10/a-hodge-podge-day/ http://rochellebilow.com/2008/10/a-hodge-podge-day/#comments Tue, 14 Oct 2008 02:51:00 +0000 Rochelle http://rochellebilow.com/2008/10/a-hodge-podge-day/ [read more ...]]]> Top Row, L-R:
cinnamon praline, menage a trois (hmm), pistachio marzipan, grand cru
Middle Row, L-R:
hearts of passion (passion fruit and alize liquor), love bug (key lime ganache), wicked fun (ancho and chipotle), chai tea
Bottom Row, L-R:
ginger, fresh squeezed lemon, caramel nut noir, earl grey tea

I mean it.

It was so perfectly beautiful.

In fact, it was so gorgeous, that every five minutes, I had to stop in my tracks, look up at the sky (which was oh-so vibrantly blue), and proclaim out loud how beautiful it was. It got a little old, but the weather certainly didn’t.

My sister and I took the opportunity to spend the day exploring and shopping, eating our way all the way from Brooklyn to SoHo.

After a morning run and tea (it would have been coffee, but my sister doesn’t keep a coffee maker in the apartment, and I figured the tea’d be better for me anyway ..), we headed down to dumbo for some adventure.

We strolled a bit, and ran smack-dab into a farmer’s market. A small one, but so fantastic. The stalls selling fresh fruit were offering samples of everything. I tried a piece of asian pear and adored it, then subsequently tried 2 more. There were apples of all varieties, heirloom tomatoes, enormous radishes, fresh breads, fat brussel sprouts, and herbs. Oh, the herbs. I stuck my nose into a bunch of fresh mint, then thyme, breathing in the intoxicating scent.

After purchasing a few apples and the last of the late-summer corn, we were on our way, wandering a bit aimlessly.

We stumbled right into Jacques Torres chocolate. I don’t quite remember this, as my eyes glazed over and heart rate raised to a frightening pace, but I’m quite sure it was everything I’d dreamed it would be. It was adorable and witty in its confections, with something for everyone. In addition to individual candies, oversized baking bars, and bags of sugared nuts, there was a cocoa cafe. I was tempted by the smell of hot chocolate, but decided instead to purchase a box of 12 miniature squares. After my sister selected a dark chocolate bar infused with chiles, we reluctantly left the store and ventured back into the streets. (The streets in the area, by the way, are so pretty, all cobbled and uneven, and very charismatic).

Having completed the ever-important impromptu mission, we went in search of lunch. We walked until we found Grimaldi’s. Our mouths were watering, but the line stretched long and deep – and pizza by the slice wasn’t available.

We ultimately stopped into a small bistro type place, Pete’s. It was almost empty when we arrived, shortly after 2, but by the time we left, there wasn’t a free seat in the house.

I ordered a chicken caesar salad, and my sister opted for a bowl of pasta fagioli. The salad was decent, but the chicken was out of this world. I have never (and I know that’s not saying too much) had a piece of chicken that moist and juicy. It was just brilliant. The warm meat was a nice addition to the lettuce, jazzing up a dressing that definitely could’ve used more anchovy and lemon flavors. But the chicken. Oh, wow. I liked that it came as a whole breast; I cut it myself and added it to the salad. It was clearly roasted well, and to order. I wasn’t entirely expecting that, and so it was a nice surprise. The pasta fagioli was pretty, with a few pieces of fusilli and a nice-smelling broth, though I thought the portion was a little small. Oh – and the waiter was having so much fun with the electronic pepper mill, I think he would’ve been disappointed if we’d refused it.

The meal came with bread, and though we both ordered lattes to go, I was still a bit unhappy with the price. I mean .. the chicken was good. Just not that good. But, I reminded myself, it was a beautiful day, I was spending it with my sister, and it was a weekend to relax – not worry about petty things. And so, with lattes in hand, we wandered.

After looking at the waterfalls, we found our way to the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge walkway, and hopped on. Might as well, we figured, and with that, we strolled over the speeding cars, over the water and sailboats, into the most perfect city of Manhattan.

A bubble tea for Sasha, an espresso for me (Finally! Coffee!), and we were set for an afternoon of shopping. In addition to another pair of shoes (I needed these ones, honest …), I purchased the most adorable little rabbit-shaped miniature spoon. No, I haven’t the faintest idea what I’ll use it for yet.

As the sun sank into the river, we scurried back to the apartment to ready ourselves for an evening of Thai food …