eatwritewalk

i’ve spent my last few days secluded in my sanctuary. futile attempts at completing a long abandoned chapter of my manuscript have left me a little frustrated. my wishes that the creative styles trapped away in the books on my shelves would influence me by proximity have gone unanswered.

it’s no wonder that i can’t concentrate on the harsh glare of the blank screen in front of me. with any spare moment that i have, i distract myself by flipping through old pictures of my time away. i analyze every pixel in an effort to relive the moments that i captured. and with any friend that mentions an upcoming trip there, i’ve found myself planning their schedule as if the act of recommending where they should go would be enough to quench my desires to be back there.

i once thought it would be too cliched to credit a city for inspiring me, but i now understand that it can do just that. my mind was more playful when i started my days by sauntering through the streets of the west village. my senses were sharper when i devoured meals that were prepared with pristine ingredients.

and because i would love for anyone passing through new york, be it for a weekend or a lifetime, to leave with the same appreciation, i’ve decided to publish my input of all that i tried on this trip.

click here to download your weekend guide through new york.

or here for a comprehensive list of my new york 2013 experience.

and if while you’re there, you see something that i’ve missed, please come back and leave a note in the comments below so i’ll be sure to sample it when i go back.

p.s. a big thank you to the guys at immaculate infatuation. the app was the most valuable resource that i had in discovering the culinary side of the city. and thank you to rakan ammouri, from lazy looz, who pointed me towards it.

i’m waking up this morning to the soft pounding of rain drops against my window. it’s a welcomed change from the sand paper noise that usually screeches against the walls. of course no one mentioned to me there’d be renovations here this week. the gloom from outside is confusing me. is dawn just breaking or am i halfway through my day already?

i stretch out my arms, partly to release the muscle aches that cover my body from endless walks around the city, but mostly to reach out to the clock. as soon as my eyes settle on the time, i’m filled with enough excitement and energy to jump out of bed, throw on my sneakers, and rush out the door.

it’s 6:45.

a.m.

even by my standards, this is early. too early to be rushing out of the house on a day where my to do list has three completely unimportant line items scribbled down. but it’s the only way i can sample the one dessert i haven’t been brave enough to wake up for yet: the cronut.

i beam with optimism as i step into the rainy streets thinking i’m going to be alone in my endeavor. after all, how likely would it be for people to wait for hours in this rain? surely i’ll be one of only a few hyperactive eaters crazy enough to do this.

i lose myself in thought long enough to step into a deep puddle of water that collected in a small nook between the sidewalk and the street. my socks are soaked and my bright pink trainers transform into an unappealing purple shade. i make a quick pit-stop at starbucks, thinking that my usual double-tall-non-fat-no-foam-latte will be enough to sustain me in my upcoming wait.

my optimism is quickly challenged as i turn the corner from sixth avenue onto spring street. still more than an hour away from opening, and the line of other early risers, crazier than me, is turning around the block. i feel completely unprepared as i notice anxious patrons camped out with tarps, umbrellas and beach chairs on the curb. two police officers are standing in the closed glass doorway. i’m not sure if they’re there to protect the bakers from the hungry crowd, or if their presence is just another cop-and-doghnut joke waiting to happen.

i do a quick scan of the crowd to measure my chances. i count 140-sh. the ‘ish’ is important. if i missed a dozen people, i’ll have no chance of tasting one of the 300 freshly baked marvels. so i scan again, and resign myself to the back of the line.

i turn to the friendly face in front of me as she offers to split the shelter under her umbrella. we watch patiently as people give up waiting and walk away, and we begin forming an alliance. if there are only two cronuts left, she promises not to buy them both and let me have one instead.

the line behind me grows and i feel less overwhelmed now that i’m no longer the last person standing there. friendships begin forming as would-be-patrons discuss how far they’ve come from. they all mock themselves for falling prey to hype, and every conversation ends with a sigh as they tiredly mutter “i want to see what all the fuss is about.”

discussions turn to more serious topics, too intense for this time of day. i still feel myself waking up as i overhear strangers discuss babies and commitment, family members suffering from grave diseases, addictions and heartache. i start to feel the city wake up, too, with sounds of trucks rushing around corners, steel slightly scraping against asphalt , honking horns and buses passing by.

hours have passed since i got here. and finally, i begin to inch closer to the door. they’re taking in groups of 10 at a time, and the closer i get, the longer the wait seems to last between waves. with no indication of how close they are to running out, someone from the bakery begins passing around warm and scrumptious mini madeleines. i wish i had more coffee left in my cup, they’d go so well together.

nervous whispers begin making their way through the crowd that the stock of the day is dwindling down. i begin to admire the people that showed up at 5:30. in the end, their wait time will be just as long as mine, but they’re sure to secure their bounty. my fate of uniting with a cronut is questionable.

finally, my three hour wait comes to an end. i make it through the doors of the bakery to hear that i’ll be having one of the last batches for today. my clothes feel a little drier and my feet are a little warmer. i pile a few more creative concoctions onto my order and walk out the door.

i bite into it expecting to be completely overwhelmed with flavor. but i quickly realize that the experience of the cronut is more in the wait, the game that you’ll play in your mind to justify the time amongst strangers. it’s in the whimsical and random conversations of a soho morning. the challenge of waking up early enough when you have nothing else to do that day. the serenity of seeing new york while it’s still sleeping.

the coconut cream filling oozes out, and as i lick the overspill from my clumsy fingers, not wanting to waste a bite of this treasure, the sugar rush kicks in. the flavors are getting more intense, the texture of the buttery layered flakes is settling comfortably on my tongue. the crispness of the glaze is tingling the edges of my mouth and i instinctively half-smile to myself.

tomorrow i’ll sleep in. comfortable that a second serving awaits me in the fridge.

something has happened to new york since i was last here. the flaming heat and steam-room-like humidity have disappeared. maybe i imagined it all before. maybe i brought a bit of the west coast here with me. maybe, i’m just luckier now.

whatever it is, it’s making me wake up feeling completely relaxed but also too comfortable to want to spend the day exploring. but it’s in me. in my nature to want to walk through new streets and alleyways, to start and stop new conversations. and to feel that each day has given me something more.

and so i find myself walking. my intention was to head towards central park. where else could i go on a day when the sun is so inviting, so gentle in its rays? i can think of nothing better than to throw a towel on the grass, and bask in the afternoon light with a magazine and a panini; i could waste the day away in a tiny corner of the giant park.

but somehow, i find myself on the other side of town. i didn’t decide to walk to the lower east side this morning, as i have on many other days. i didn’t head towards anything specific.

there’s nothing i particularly love about this area, except the food. i’ve had the most fantastic french toast and pancakes, and a phenomenal burger with a deep fried bun. naturally, then, i continue my walk straight to the corner of avenue a and houston street waiting to get my hands on the famed pastrami sandwiches of katz’ deli.

even with my intense love of food, i know this won’t be enough today. the thick cuts of meat smoked with mustard seeds are phenomenal, almost melting the instant i bite into the sandwich, but within minutes the affair is over and i need to move on to something else.

and so i find myself walking, again. my eyes catch a glimpse of a sign directing me to the manhattan bridge and i blindly follow it like a pilgrim heading towards plymouth. confused on how to ascend the pedestrian path, i turn to a street vendor that looks like he’s been selling squashed avocados and mangos for a lifetime, but he has no idea where to send me. he is oblivious to what is around him; he only cares about how many oranges his neighboring cart sells.

finally, my phone helps me figure it out. thinking this might be the most glamourous of the three bridges connecting manhattan and brooklyn, i soon realize the name is deceiving. the bridge itself is littered with unattractive graffiti on the small pathways. there’s nothing artistic in the spray painted works, they look more like visual noise than creative bursts.

but then the view from atop the bridge forces me to come to a stop. an uninterrupted horizon reaches out to the magnificent manhattan skyline. on this clear day, with only a couple vanilla colored cotton candy like clouds passing above, the east river is glittering as if the kohi noor and the cullinan diamond are fighting for attention at the bottom of the banks. steel structures are bursting into the sky. they were built to be appreciated on days like this.

and so i ignore the single dirty sock in the corner and for the rest of the two mile walk, all i can see is blue, sharp and piercing silver hughes, and traces of green parks reflecting into the water and sky. my eyes are feasting on this sight as i try desperately to capture it in my memory. words don’t do it justice, and neither does the lens of a camera. the apex of nature converging with someone’s imagination brings to life a new kind of beauty that i haven’t felt before.

i walk into the streets of brooklyn and leave it all behind me. i blink my eyes shut for a brief moment, to realize the feeling lingering is forever inside me now. i need to make this serenity last longer and so i continue the rest of my day on foot, walking, finding myself in new areas, and finding… myself.