vip in the city, page 29

It had been about half a year since we last visited Hong Kong Station, so when the time came to pick a spot for Thursday lunch, I decided on build-your-own soup-noodles on Bayard. There’s something about that giant noodle fixins bar I find just so appealing.

This time, mostly because I hadn’t had one in a long time, I even allowed the cheery cashier to upsell me on a cup of bubble milk tea — an add-on which effectively doubled the price of lunch, since the lai fun noodle base was $1.50, and additional toppings just $1 each. Hong Kong Station actually has quite an impressive selection of drinks of the variety one rarely sees at Chinatown noodle shops. In addition to the aforementioned bubble teas, they offer bean and fruit ices, Horlicks, almond drink, honey water, lemon Coke, lemon Ribena, lemon coffee (hmm… and possibly: ick) and “salty lemon 7-Up” (ditto.)

Chewy bubbles of fun!

Back in Astoria for the evening taping of “Power of 10,” the new CBS game show hosted by Drew Carey. In it, contestants win cash (starting with $1,000, up to $10… million… dollars) by accurately predicting the results of polling questions posed to Americans. As the prize dollar values increase by a factor of ten, the range within which the results have to be estimated decreases: from within 40% to win $1,000 to $30% for $10,000, to 20% for $100,000 to within 10% for the million dollar question. Studio audience members provide input and assistance by submitting their guesses on individual handheld consoles.

It was my first visit to the Kaufman Astoria Studios. Astoria Studios opened in the 1920s as a home for Paramount Pictures. After a period during which it was taken over by the U.S. Army Signal Corps, the space was expanded and renovated extensively in 1980 (under real estate developer George S. Kaufman), since which it has served as the shooting location for an illustrious list of clients including major motion pictures, independent film, television shows and commercials.

After the obligatory waiting period, we were led inside by a militant PA, who directed the audience members with an iron headset that left little room for arguments or questions. As she barked out orders and sternly pointed us to our seat assignments, we ended up with prime spots dead center, in front of the camera, facing the stage.

We were coached on how to be an enthusiastic studio audience by the resident warm-up guy – over-the-top cheering, and oohs and ahhs strongly encouraged – after which our host emerged to thunderous applause.

Carey was lured back to television after his successful runs on “The Drew Carey Show” and “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” by the prospect of being able to give away cash and prizes to ordinary folks. Before the taping, he indulged the audience by answering questions. One man asked about Carey’s new gig as the host of “The Price Is Right“. Another about his service as a Marine reservist. Others asked him to verify a couple of rumors: one story claimed that during his run on his eponymous show, Carey had taken an entire studio audience out to dinner (false); another that he had handed out $10,000 of his own money to audience members (false – sorta. The real story is that after one show taping ran particularly late, he rewarded the steadfast few who remained through to the end by giving them each $100, literally out of his own pocket – amounting to about $1500.)

Carey is widely acknowledged as a generous guy: his minimum tip whether for a burger, a cup of coffee or a single Amstel Light is reportedly $100, and he has been known to give away much more. And he is well-known as a steadfast supporter of libraries.

We didn’t get to benefit from any displays of Carey magnanimity this night, though there were plenty of t-shirts (hurled into the aisles like at baseball games) and assorted prizes raffled off. Although we didn’t score any Mets tickets, iPod shuffles or the Canon digital camera, we got to watch two contestants each vie for a million dollars, which was pretty exciting. In case you missed our star turns which aired on Wednesday September 12, you can check us out on the CBS website on the episode entitled: “Isabella & Mark Score Big.” We’re the shadowy, smiley blobs behind Carey’s right shoulder, just before the credits roll. Ha!

Got off this one blurry shot as we were being shuffled out of the studio at 10PM.

How would you have fared? The million dollar questions:

1. What percentage of Americans would rather have the power to read minds, instead of the power to fly?
2. What percentage of Americans think a person raised by gay parents has a greater chance of being gay?

Answers soon…

The Robert Indiana LOVE sculpture, one of the most celebrated works of the Pop Art movement, originated as a MoMA-commissioned Christmas card and was made forever famous by 320 million U.S. postage stamps. Indiana, however, neglected to obtain a copyright for his popular image, and this cultural icon has since been appropriateed extensively throughout the art world and in media, with and without the artist’s approval (or paid consent).

Other editions of this famous sculpture have found their home around the world — including in Vancouver, Bilbao, Tokyo, Jerusalem, Singapore, Vegas, Philadelphia, New Orleans and Indianapolis — where the sentiment has been translated into Spanish, Chinese and Hebrew. Also in a multitude of colors: while the edition on New York City’s Sixth Avenue is of Indiana’s most commonly rendered red and blue, other colored editions include blue and green and red, white and blue.

Tonight, I detoured home through midtown with my canvas sack bursting with freshly-harvested organic vegetables to witness “the first ever crushON.love experience,” a gathering of international artists whose mission is to “share the LOVE globally, act locally.”

UK photographer Suzannah Pettigrew, best known for her concert photos of such music artists as De Le Soul and Timbaland, was in town to capture the spirit of the scene as it unfolded. Using a fixed tripod, Pettigrew took one photograph every minute for one full hour, as random people gathered around the LOVE sculpture — some aware of the project in progress, most not. The photos were later compiled and edited into a 4-minute slideshow set to music.

The stunt reminded me of the Complacent Nation exploits which foster spontaneous (i.e, permit-less) artistic expression in public spaces – albeit on a much smaller scale. And unlike those wildly chaotic, grassroots undertakings, this event appeared to have the backing of corporate sponsorship: a list-regulated afterparty at nearby Amalia – hey, weren’t we just there? — hosted by Christiania vodka.

Is it ironic that I ended up having to work on Labor  Day?  Or is it more ironic that most people spend this day doing anything but, while bemoaning the close of summer?

The sun struggles up another beautiful day
And I felt glad in my own suspicious way
Despite the contradiction and confusion
Felt tragic without reason
There’s malice and there’s magic in every season
— Elvis Costello 

Visited the Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market, which was quite a bit more lively than the last time I was here in the dead of winter, despite the holiday weekend.

A sign at the entrance on Ninth Avenue advertised a $1 shuttle ride to the market’s affiliate location at The Garage on 25th Street, but no time for that trip this afternoon. I found a pair of cool, retro-looking chairs and some great, if pricey vintage jewelry, but ultimately left empty-handed. Maybe I’m just all flea-ed out.

The markets always something of a gamble, but in the past, I’ve found the selection here more interesting than at some of the other markets around the city… at least ever since the dealers who once occupied the series of parking lots from 24th to 26th Streets in Chelsea were shuffled out to make way for high-rise, high-priced condos. No rugelach in Hell’s Kitchen, though. But at least now I know where to go if I ever need a full suit of plate armor.

Check out the rest of the pics on flickr. This market even has its own blog: FleaSpeech.

After much discussion, our annual sojourn to the Cape was postponed by a few months and moved to more tropical climes to accommodate the family’s increasingly tangled web of vacation schedules. This left us with the city almost entirely to ourselves this weekend, as most of the locals were out of town to celebrate summer’s last hurrah.

Each September for the past 30 years, the outdoor plaza at Lincoln Center is converted into a high-end craft market. Applicants are screened by a jury of crafts experts for the approximately 175 slots open for each of two weekends the Autumn Crafts Festival runs.

I spent some time exchanging beach tips for restaurant recommendations with a couple of ivory vendors (whale and mammoth, mostly) who traveled all the way from Hawaii to sell here. I was a bit surprised that a trip from so far away would be worthwhile, until I scanned the application (.pdf) vendors submit to sell at Lincoln Center, which claims that average sales per booth usually exceed $6,000 per weekend.

Six thousand dollars? That’s a load of crafts!

When KD first called to tell me he was going to be leaving our city for a great new opportunity in San Francisco, I could hardly believe the news. It was difficult for me to imagine the born and bred Brooklyn boy abandoning New York for a place of chilly summers, blankets of fog and intermittent earthquakes. Not to mention restaurants that close at 10 and blueberry bagels? Oy gevalt!

None such atrocities to be found here on the Lower East Side, where KD was hosting his send-off soiree at Essex. During its heyday at the turn of the 19th century, this neighborhood was the heart of New York’s Jewish community, the great majority of whom were from Russia and Eastern Europe. In 1940, Mayor Fiorello H. LaGuardia created the 15,000 square foot Essex Street Market in an effort to clear the already congested LES streets of the pushcarts he found so unsightly.

It was part of LaGuardia’s larger effort to reduce the city’s street traffic overall, and during this time several indoor retail markets were erected throughout New York City, including La Marqueta in East Harlem and the Arthur Avenue market in the Bronx.

Over the years, the vendors expanded their businesses to form permanent neighborhood fixtures where locals flocked to find food and services with a personal touch, and at affordable prices. Demographics shifted in the 1960s and 70s, as did the shopping culture, as consumers began shopping at grocery stores and supermarkets for their produce. By the time the city’s Economic Development Corporation took over ownership of Essex Street Market in 1995, conditions in the market had deteriorated to the point that it was all but abandoned.

But in the past five years, though, as the neighborhood underwent another resurgence, so too did the Essex Street Market. In 2001, the market was only 60 percent occupied; these days, over two dozen food vendors now occupy every square foot of available space. The EDC receives applications for new tenants on a weekly basis, owing in large part to the influx of more prosperous neighbors and the low vendor rents; at $27 a square foot on average, these food retailers pay less than a third of the standard price in Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn.

The restaurant had arranged for platters of lox and sushi, cuban sandwiches and empanadas – a veritable smorgasbord of tasty ethnic bites to send KD on his way to California.

Many nights I’ve sat with KD at this very bar: after our infamous holiday party, years before the engagements, his marriage, the birth of his twin girls. We’ve come a long way since then. Fare thee well, my friend.

Later that night, I glanced up at the Bryant Park transfer point, right into the glittering windows of the New York Public Library.

Ten emerging artists from New York exhibited their photography at The Living Room at the W Times Square as part of the “UnScene” mobile gallery tour by California-based art purveyor Wall Kandy.

The show is curated to showcase the “un-scene,” unpostcard-y images of life in the ten cities the tour hits: their architecture, cityscapes and denizens. The artists are similarly unseen; most of the photographers whose works were chosen for the exhibitions have never appeared in a gallery, so it was a fine opportunity to discover new talent.

As we circulated among the low, white banquettes — not so easy with drink and camera in hand! — I spied a few great images. I especially liked the ones that showed a glowing, mythical-looking Astroland at dusk.

Yes, that actually does say “Wuv”. It’s been observed that I have a higher tolerance for puns than most, and even I had to cringe.

Took a break from what was to be a late night at the office to pop in on the Gothamist mingling event at Whole Foods Market Bowery. It was my first time at the immense Lower East Side location, which opened to great excitement back in March.

When not playing host to various dot-com fetes, New York’s Whole Foods are known for their thriving pick-up scenes; the Bowery’s hip location makes it more popular than most. (“The gelato bar, the upstairs café, the chilled, private cheese room, and long checkout lines are where flirting is most rampant.”) Not this night, though, at least not for the ladies: strikingly, almost hilariously, the females handily outnumbered males by a factor of 9 to 1.

“Hey, no photographs inside Whole Foods!” (Sorry.)

Upstairs at the cafe, vendors set up fold-out tables along the windowed perimeter from which we could sample their wares. Their company’s wares, I mean. Mixed drinks from Stirrings, candy bars from Chocolove, Jackson Heights-inspired Mangodesh (mango ice cream spiced with cardamom) from 5 Boroughs Ice Cream, and a nice, refreshing Champagne sorbet, courtesy of Wine Cellar Sorbets, a venture launched by a pair of childhood friends from Queens. The sorbets are made from finished wines, and are 5% alcohol by volume (Yes: ID required to purchase in stores.)

A sip here, a bite there… then back to the salt mines.

I’ve had Korean fried chicken on my mind ever since missing my opportunity the night of JL’s birthday dinner last month and then driving past the Northern Boulevard outlets last weekend. So for tonight, as S, J and I were considering our usual K-town haunts, the choice seemed obvious: BonChon Chicken! (Not to be confused with Bon Bon Chicken downtown on Chambers.)

Shortly before 8PM, despite being armed with the restaurant’s address (314 Fifth Avenue), I very nearly walked right past it. BonChon rather unusually occupies the second floor of what appeared from the sidewalk to be an office building. (Throughout Asia, in cities where space is at a premium, such set-ups are not unusual at all; in Hong Kong’s Times Square, fully the top four floors of the high-rise complex are restaurants.) Once I established that I was indeed in the right building, I entered through a nondescript lobby, up a flight of narrow, rather dingy stairs, and opened the heavy door to thumping beats and a neon lit bar.

S and J arrived soon after I did, and the three of us co-opted a small seating area with a low table in front of the dining room window overlooking Fifth — more lounge than restaurant, really — as we waited for the rest of the party to show. Through the glass we could see directly across the street into the swankily-lit Third Floor Cafe, another similar hidden spot catering to a predominantly Korean clientele. ($12 AYCE/AYCD happy hours? Can that be true?) As we perused our menus, we were struck by how different it was from every other Korean place we’d been. Here, the offerings seemed better suited for grazing than for a full meal. The rather pricy drink menu (beer, wine, soju, cocktails) was extensive, and seemed to encourage heavy imbibing; the menu reflected that as well: to supplement our platters of fried chicken: dried fish and squid, rosemary fries(?), nachos(??) and spicy rice cake (dduk boki) with… cheese(???) That last, J surmised, is something like the Korean version of Chef Boyardee. We ordered it anyway, of course, and the plate that arrived did look to me suspiciously like baked ziti.

True to the bar food experience, the chicken is available as wings, drumsticks, or a combination of both, in a choice of either soy/garlic or spicy sauces. The accompanying cubes of pickled radish went a long way toward cooling our tingling mouths after hearty samples of the latter, which was probably our slight favorite of the night. Likewise, the steel bucket with which we were provided made a considerate vessel for the copious bones, picked clean of their deliciousness.

Despite not being nearly drunk enough to best appreciate this cuisine, we all found BonChon’s chicken quite good: crunchy, flavorful, and about as ungreasy as fried chicken can be. The effect is achieved by frying the lightly dredged pieces in two separate stages, at relatively low temperature, which renders the skin fat into a crisp, paper-thin coating.

The low lights made photographing our food nearly impossible without employing the ambience-destroying flash, so if you simply must get a visual, check out some other people’s shots on flickr.