Oh, New York

I'm sitting here in Betsy's kitchen in Brooklyn, in her historic one-bedroom pad, drinking a glass of pino while she makes mushroom risotto. She and Olav, her boyfriend, have a pretty big one bedroom place considering this is NYC. The place is ancient and amazing. Their landlord has restored the maple floors to their original look and feel, and in the lobby you can see all sorts of ornate detail in the molding and ceiling. The stairway itself is incredibly narrow and that alone makes you feel like you're walking back in time. Lugging my suitcase up that narrow passage was no fun.

Their street in Brooklyn is occupied by families and eclectic Brooklyners (what do you call people from Brooklyn?). A few blocks down, a bakery makes fresh bread daily, and the smell floats down the street, guiding you in. Random clothing stores, vintage wine shops and sidewalk cafes give this place color and personality. I like it here.

Yesterday Betsy had to work, as did Ricer, so I took the train in to Manhattan to catch Free Fridays at MoMA. The line wrapped around the building; the turnout almost made me suffocate. But the museum is neat; a great solo outing. Afterwards, I had just seated myself at a bar near Radio City Music Hall when Betsy called me and I left in a hurry to meet her in the lower east side at Barmarche for dinner. Tasty pesto mashed potatos, bistro salads and wine.

More later...time for some risotto action.