Measuring my life in espresso spoons

I wanted to do something fun after my trapeze lesson so I stopped into the nearby Stumptown Roasters café at the Ace Hotel and enjoyed a tiny, precious macchiatto made by a cute young hipster dressed like a dandy. It's been fun seeing (and tasting) how people make espresso drinks now that i know how to make them myself. Stumptown takes their beans oh-so seriously and this guy was a craftsman; he may have been friendly, but his product was all snobby artisan. Now, I always do my best as a barista (my colleagues recently named me Most Improved Foamer!) but my efforts are not nearly so highfalutin: If Stumptown beverages are like coddled Italian Greyhounds, mine are like big dumb yellow Labs. But both have their appeal! 

Meanwhile, that twee little cuppa blew a caffeine shotgun blast right through my sternum. Shazam!!

That coffee is for me, by the way

I'm about three months late on this but it was fun making a Mad Men avatar this morning. 

I've never seen even one episode, but I like the samba playing on the site. 

Dude, I'm so Baked

It's funny how your life can change. A few weeks ago I was looking around in Dean and Deluca, and deciding I wanted a treat, I randomly picked up a  "Sweet and Salty" brownie. I don't usually go for a brownie, but it seemed interesting and cost as much as I wanted to pay. I didn't even look at who made it, I just stuck it in my purse and took it home. 

And then. 

Oh, sweet Jesus, the goodness. Having had this brownie, I will never be the same. I'm a fan of chocolatey/salty from way back before Obama made it so and I was eating a perfectly-textured combination of rich, fudgy and tangy. Now I was interested in the label: it was made by Baked, and a quick google search told me they were in Red Hook, Brooklyn. 

Thus, a field trip was born. How was I going to get there and what was I going to have? 

I went on late morning Tuesday, to beat the crowds and because I can. I had an open mind, but I really wanted to try a cupcake, maybe that same Sweet and Salty, maybe the Malted. My recent trip to Cake Man Raven was holding me for Red Velvet, so I would leave that alone. I took the F train to Smith St./9th and took the B77 bus from there. I got off the bus prematurely when we got to Van Brunt St., but the bus drops you right across the street. Look in the right window, you can see my reflection, in the blue coat. Hi!

It was full but not crowded, and everything they had displayed looked delicious. The young man working behind the counter was extremely friendly, I told him I wanted a cupcake and he walked my through my options. From left to right: Sweet and Salty, Aunt Suzie's pistachio, Malted, chocolate with vanilla buttercream [back], chocolate with chocolate buttercream, Red Velvet, vanilla with chocolate buttercream, vanilla with vanilla buttercream. 

He was very enthusiastic about the Sweet and Salty, and of course that was the combo that had brought me here in the first place, so that's what I chose, with a regular coffee. The cute plate was a nice touch:

Yeah, it was stupidly, head-rollingly good. Moist cake with a pleasantly crunchy crust, a salty ganache center, and frosting that was lightly whipped but densely flavored. It packed a punch but was petite enough to encourage seconds; I gave serious thought to a Malted, but erred on the side of the better health choice. Not a problem, I'll definitely be back. 

Ch ch ch, wah wah wah

Jason, we hardly knew ye. I'm sure I'll watch at least five minutes of at least one of these movies today. 

Red Shoes, red hots

I went to see the restored print of The Red Shoes this afternoon 

with a bag of red hot candies in my purse.

Mo' Brooklyn

I've got the time to explore, I'm taking it. Today I walked over the Williamsburg bridge for the first time. 

After my trapeze lesson [that's another post] I took the L to Williamsburg, walked over to Caracas Arepa Bar, [I've been dying to try this place but the East Village location is tiny and usually packed, last time I tried to get in the hostess was a jackass and it put me off trying for awhile. The Brooklyn location is definitely better.] had a delicious lunch and chatted with the friendly waitstaff. The guy behind the bar gave me directions to the bridge, he said he went over almost every day on his bike or skates, with his Venezuelan accent this sounded like "back or skets." I found it easily and had an extremely pleasant stroll over to the Lower East Side. 

Arepa, with beef, beans, cheese, and plantains. Delicious! 

Heading across: 

Manhattan side view: 

Brooklyn/Jersey side view: 

Back home! Great day! 

Brooklyn from 6 to 9

I went out to BAM last night to see the 1962 Agnès Varda film Cleo from 5 to 7. A few weeks ago, on a friend's recommendation, I'd seen Big Dance Theater's Comme Toujours Here I Stand, which was based on the movie, so I was excited to see the original. 

The story is simple: a beautiful but vain and spoiled singer travels around Paris for 2 hours while she waits for hospital test results that will tell her if she has cancer. There are fabulous costume changes and kittens and singing and a bedroom swing, but ultimately it's about mortality and living in the present. I loved it. 

Traveling around Fort Greene in my own present, I got my BAM ticket early then paid a visit to a new independent bookstore that opened recently in the area, Greenlight Bookstore. It was clean and very well-lighted place, beautifully stocked with friendly staff, and I had a happy browse. 

My next stop was to Cake Man Raven to sample his famous red velvet cake. I thought I'd eat my sweet while I watched the movie, but it was too crowded to publicly chow on such a large wedge comfortably. Really, it's a huge piece, my seat neighbors did not need to see or smell me working on this:

I had a few bites before I went in [and texted my friend J. a review: "delicious!"] and then saved the rest for home. I gobbled up half—total yum—then dumped the leftovers. It was a gift to myself for that night only. 

Lattes of love

I am procrastinating about working on a post about my first 6 months of unemployment. Please stand by.

 

Because it would feel negligent to not use at least some of my now-copious free time for good, I've started volunteering at the Housing Works Bookstore. I'm a barista in the café for four hours a week, a pretty glamourous gig as far as free work goes. I've been taught how to use their old espresso machine [I call it Fredo], I'm working on improving my foaming technique and not scalding myself repeatedly. Every time I make a customer a cappuccino and they don't spit it out, it's a victory. 

I like the customers. The bookstore itself is a charitable organization, the books are all donated and the staff is almost entirely by volunteer. Thus, visitors to the café are generally pretty chill, relaxed about services and product rendered. We're in Soho but we're not in "Soho," and everyone who comes to my counter seems to understand that. Of course I'll give them my best, but for me, the relaxed vibe presents the opportunity for a more social interaction. Remember in The Wrestler when Mickey Rourke goes to work in the supermarket deli and he just comes back to life being around people again? He flirts with the old ladies and makes football jokes with the guys, being in service gets his light shining again. 

That's me in the café. It's so fun to play with people and flirt and make them happy. I haven't become a hermit since i've been out of work but I've missed how much I can shine when I'm working with others, when I can perform a service and make someone smile. Here bubbie, have a brownie, we just made them. Let me bring your espresso to you, sir. The Wifi password today is "danceparty." I've started wearing red lipstick for my shift, it makes me feel that much yummier, and for four hours I can be a lush and happy dispenser of sweets. I'm doing good, and it's doing good for me.