Happy Holidays: Always the Right Thing to Say

Soho shop window

Plenty of people hate the phrase "happy holidays," but after four years of living in New York, I've learned it's by far the best and most accurate thing to say unless you know someone well. There's simply too many people who don't recognize December 25 the way I do.

Perhaps they celebrate Hanukkah. Or perhaps the Orthodox Christmas in early January. Or maybe they celebrate nothing at all. But everyone -- even those in the latter group -- recognized New Year's Eve. "Happy holidays" is always correct.

Is using "happy holidays" one tool in a "war on Christmas"? I don't think so. There's still plenty of lights twinkling throughout the city, and it's difficult to walk half a mile without encountering a vendor selling trees on the sidewalk. There's no doubt it's Christmas in the city, no matter what you do -- or don't -- celebrate.

Pay a Visit will return Wednesday, January 4. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Or happy holidays.

Rockefeller Center tree, 2010

Diane's Top Books of 2011

After a few nights of endless typing, I finally had my spreadsheet.

Since mid-June 2004 I've kept several sheets of loose-leaf paper on a clipboard, neatly recording each book I've read, plus the author and the month I finished it. For nearly the last five years, I've read exactly eight books per month. Before then, it was sometimes more, sometimes, less.

Even with the handwritten list, it was difficult to keep track of what I had and hadn't read. I once reserved Washington Irving's "A History of New York" from the library, only to discover when I picked it up that the cover looked extremely familiar. Sure enough, when I took a closer look at my list, I realized I already read it -- less than two years before, in 2009.

So I now have a neatly organized spreadsheet, searchable by title, author and month. I still have my clipboard because, honestly, that's often easier to scan. And that's what I used to look over the 96 books I'll have read by the end of the year.

I noticed a theme this year: new books. In the past year or two I've made a concentrated effort to read new bestsellers and critically acclaimed books, ones that might be the classics of tomorrow. In 2011 I still fit in classic authors like Charlotte Bronte, Graham Greene and Evelyn Waugh, but my fastest reads and favorite books were from living authors:

• Haruki Murakami: "1Q84"
  
• Jeffrey Eugenides: "The Marriage Plot"
  
• Paul Auster: "The Brooklyn Follies" -- my introduction to Auster and the only book I needed to read to tell me that I'll be reading many more
  
• And even Steve Martin: "An Object of Beauty"

You may also remember that in July I read what I then considered my eight favorite books. While the entire list didn't live up to my expectations, it did convince me that I should be rereading many of the books I checked out 10 or 15 years ago. To start with, I reread "1984" in October, and I have "Brave New World" waiting for me on the shelf. I also want to dig up some Edith Wharton next year.

Do you have suggestions on what I should read in 2012? Please let me know in the comments!

Or are you looking for more books to read? Check out my favorites from 2010 and 2009. Or ask me for tips. After all, I now have a spreadsheet of 700+ suggestions.

Origami Tree at the Natural History Museum

Everyone knows about the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, but you can escape the crowds and see a much more unconventional tree by visiting the American Museum of Natural History's origami tree.

About 500 origami objects decorate the tree. Look closely and you'll find insects and dinosaurs, as well as animals from the zoo and under the sea. Personally, I like the sparkly silver stars that seem to float around the branches.

The tree is on display this season through Jan. 2, 2012 in the museum's Grand Gallery.

My First "Nutcracker," My First Ballet

How any little girl goes to the ballet and doesn't leave wanting to be a famous ballerina herself, I'll never know. I left my first ballet Saturday with dreams of pirouettes and plies, and I'm 30.

And starting out with "The Nutcracker," as I did, would make it even tougher on a girl. After all, a good quarter of the dancers on stage are young enough that they may still believe in Santa. It all looks so accessible. That is, until you see the grace and discipline behind the art, and then see the world-class adult ballerinas on stage with them, with the same qualities amplified.

New York City Ballet's performance of "The Nutcracker" was amazing. Tchaikovsky's score was magical, Balanchine's choreography beautiful and the costumes sublime. I left Lincoln Center convinced that I've simply wasted the last four years in New York -- not to mention the previous eight years in Columbus -- never having been to the ballet.

"The Nutcracker" was a perfect ballet for a newbie like me, there more for the pixie dust than the technique (although plenty of the latter was on display as well). Paul had seen the show as a boy and remembered bits and pieces, but we were both surprised by how much of the music we recognized --more from mayonnaise commercials and the like in my case than anything more than a passing familiarity with classical music.

Needless to say, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I'm not ready to get season tickets, but I am ready to return to the ballet, and soon.

Paul's Blue Ribbon Birthday

Blue Ribbon is one of a long list of restaurants that we'd always sort of been meaning to try but never quite got around to.

Paul has friends who rave about the restaurant, and he was more eager that I to see what all the fuss was about. That made Blue Ribbon his obvious choice for the birthday-meal-he-gets-to-choose-without-any-complaints-from-me.

And so on a recent Saturday night we found ourselves at the door to the original Blue Ribbon restaurant in Soho. (The restaurant has several spin-offs in both Manhattan and Brooklyn, some specializing in sushi and baked goods.) The space was small -- there couldn't have been room for many more than 50 diners -- and every table was occupied when we arrived at 9 p.m., and the bar/waiting area was packed. Two hour wait, we were told. We could go to a nearby bar for an hour and then check back in. Maybe something would open up.

We did as we were told, but we still had an hour wait when we returned. We were seated just a few minutes before 11. This is the second year in a row that Paul chose a restaurant for his birthday that doesn't accept reservations for parties of two. I sincerely hope this doesn't become an annual tradition.

The birthday boy chose the appetizer -- beef marrow and oxtail marmalade. It started the evening's trend: fatty, rich foods. A white glob of marrow the size of a pencil eraser went a long way paired with the meaty richness of the marmalade, sprinkled with sea salt and layered on toast. (Apologies -- the restaurant was dim, so the photo quality is low.)

Paul ordered the fried chicken. It was good, he said, but the accompanying collard greens stood out for their almost crunchy texture. I got the roasted duck club sandwich. It was too fatty for my taste, but the raisin nut bread the sandwich was made with was delicious, and the side of crispy sweet potato fries was amazing.

So while Blue Ribbon isn't my type of restaurant, I can understand what makes it a favorite -- decadent comfort foods that make you feel warm and sleepy, just like on Thanksgiving afternoon. Unfortunately, we were eating this meal at midnight, a time when I normally already feel warm and sleepy. We left at 1 a.m., full and thirsty.

Home vs. Apartment: Cold Weather Edition

Sometimes I love living in an apartment. Earlier this fall was one of those times.

That's when water started seeping into the bathroom, just in front of the toilet where the wall meets the floor. FYI: That's not the part of apartment living that I love. Please continue.

After the bathroom rug got soaked once, I replaced it with sections of the newspaper to try to track where the water was coming from. For a few days the bathroom felt (and looked) a little like the bottom of a birdcage.

The water definitely wasn't coming from the ceiling, and the toilet didn't seem to be leaking either. We thought maybe it was caused by the sink or the dishwasher in the kitchen, on just the other side of the wall. However, sometimes the floor would be completely dry even after we washed the dishes.

We couldn't figure it out. But then, we didn't have to. We called our landlord, who called a plumber, and voila. Problem solved. (And if you're curious, it wasn't the toilet, sink or dishwasher causing it. It stemmed from a problem elsewhere in the building.)

But sometimes I definitely miss having a home of my own. More particularly, I miss having control of a thermostat.

In this apartment, we're at the whim of the landlord and the outside temperature -- he's programmed the heat to come on when it reaches a certain degree outside. I don't know what that degree is, but I do know it's too cold. And the heat's sporadic. Sometimes it'll kick on just before I get up in the morning, raising the indoor temperature to a lovely 73 degrees before I leave for work. But when I get home, it'll be 66 degrees, with no sign that the radiators have been on for a long time.

So there's pros and cons. I sometimes wish again for the control that homeownership provides, but it's nice not having to worry about repairs and home values, too. But then again, since we still own our house in central Ohio, it often seems we have the worst of both worlds.

Paul's Oatmeal Stout vs. The World

Remember in June when I wrote about Paul entering his first Knights of Bruklyn homebrew competition? He didn't win that one, but I failed to note on this blog that he won second prize at a subsequent contest in October. That meant he was permitted to enter the Knights' annual competition open only to the winners and people's choice awardees of the previous three contests. Wednesday, Paul's birthday, was the big night. He takes it from here ...

 

My entry into the Knights of Bruklyn's annual finals at Union Hall in Park Slope was an oatmeal stout, and I think that it turned out pretty well. I might have spent longer making the label, however, than actually brewing the beer. This was the first time I made a custom label for one of my beers, so I feel like I passed some kind of important milestone in a homebrewer's life.

 

Paul's label: Obama drinking a stout

I was very proud of my label and used three different photo editing programs over the span of many, many  hours (ask Diane) to create it. I wish I had called the beer "Oatbama" since that would have been the obvious choice with the label's blue and red color scheme from Obama's famous "Hope" poster. When my friend Boris suggested this after I entered it under the name "Stalwart Oatmeal Stout," it was a real forehead-slapping moment.

I've always wondered what it's like when regular bar patrons happen upon our homebrew tastings. It must feel like walking into a meeting of a secret society with our "Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade"-style fezes. (I think that's the plural for fez, or maybe it's fezei or something like that.)

The beer didn't win, but I really appreciate that so many people came out to cheer me on and try some beer. I am happy to announce that my brewing and running friend from the neighborhood, Mike, won the people's choice award, which scored him a free bike. The people's choice is an informal vote by anyone who attends, though, so I think that he may have used some Russian-style democracy techniques ....  

Paul and friends

Sadly, neither Mike nor myself won the grand prize, which was a private dinner for 30 friends at Union Hall featuring your beer as brewed by Sixpoint Brewery in Brooklyn. I have to hand it to the club -- they recruit actual brewers from local breweries to decide the winners (they were from Sixpoint and Kelso Brewing this time), so there's no concern of ballot stuffing for the top prize.

I'm looking forward to the contests next year and will continue to invite everyone out for free beer, beef jerky and local cheese. Thank you to those who came out to cheer me on. And to those who didn't, if free beer, cheese and beef jerky don't entice you to come to Brooklyn, I'm not sure anything will.

Yes, Paul spent waaaaaaaaaay too long making the label for his beer. Read his own blog at Presidents by the Book.

Paul's Birthday + Making Friends

Happy birthday to my husband, Paul, who turns 33 today. (Yup, born on Pearl Harbor Day. I've frequently wondered whether a couple of generations ago that was the equivalent of having a 9/11 birthday nowadays.)

This is his fifth birthday we've celebrated in New York, and it's interesting to see how things have changed. I don't remember what we did for his first birthday here, but it must have been just the two of us. We'd only been in Brooklyn two months at that point and knew barely a soul. Even the next year, his 30th, we went on our own private birthday pub crawl. We were friendly with people by this point, but not necessarily friends.

Making friends has always been tough for me, and I suspect the same thing of Paul. I have a handful of good friends, mostly from college and the newspaper where I used to work, and it took a while to add any New Yorkers to that list. I considered it a big accomplishment when we could fill our apartment for our first (and now annual) winter party.

Gradually, however, we've picked up friends here and there -- mostly my coworkers and his, friends of friends and Paul's running buddies. Now we have a nice circle that leaves me just as busy as I want -- certainly not out every night (or every week), but with options. And those options include a happy hour drink or even just some witty banter on Twitter.

But back to Paul's birthday. We'll be spending this evening in a way that's completely different than in birthdays past -- cheering Paul's homebrew on to a victory in the finals of the Knights of Bruklyn competition. He won second place in a preliminary competition a couple of months ago and will be duking it out tonight, surrounded by a whole new set of friends.

A Visit to Central Park's Belvedere Castle

Central Park is easy to get lost in, and never more so than if you're new to New York or just here for a visit. Even after four years in New York, there are still nooks and crannies that I haven't explored.

Now, however, I have my favorite Central Park spots. Toward the top of that list is Belvedere Castle.

We came across Belvedere Castle our first spring in New York. Then (as we often still do now) we explored Central Park almost at random, finding the closest park entrance to whatever subway line we happened to be on, then choosing a winding path and turning right or left whenever the mood struck. And that's how we found Belvedere Castle.

From one angle, the castle rises majestically on a cliff above a body of water. From the opposite way -- the way we first came upon it -- it's more abrupt. Path, then pow -- a castle.

It's not a castle in the traditional sense, unless all you need for a castle is a turret. It's certainly not fit for a king -- although it is bigger than many New York City apartments. The most appealing part of Belvedere Castle, however, is the view from the top. Two spiral staircases drop you off on the first and second floors, providing lovely views of the park and the city skyline.

Fun fact: Belvedere Castle is also the location where Central Park's thermometer is read for the National Weather Service.

It might be more fun to come across Belvedere Castle as a surprise, but it's pretty easy to get to as a Central Park destination, too. It's in the middle of the park at 79th Street, easily and equally accessible from both the Upper West Side and Upper East Side.

View from second floor, looking onto first floor balcony and just outside the entrance

The Freedom Trail: Bunker Hill and Old Ironsides

Boston's Freedom Trail ends with a walk across the Charlestown Bridge and visits to two of its most dramatic sites: the USS Constitution and the obelisk commemorating the Battle of Bunker Hill.

Tours of the frigate -- probably better known as Old Ironsides -- are free, although you do need to show a form of identification, go through security and get your hand stamped. Tourists are allowed onto the boat in large groups and can wander the deck at will. Tours are also conducted below deck, but we headed off to Bunker Hill instead.

The 221-foot-tall Bunker Hill obeslisk looks exactly like a miniature Washington Monument. When we arrived, we realized you can go to the top. The catch: there's no elevator, only 294 steps. I was breathless by the time we reached the top but was rewarded with views in four directions. The space, however, was little larger than a hot tub. I won't be making that climb again anytime soon.

The red line of the Freedom Trail leading to Bunker Hill

Walking the Freedom Trail's 2.5 miles took us about 5 hours, but that included long stops for lunch and shopping along the way. We took our time, leisurely falling into place behind the hundreds, if not thousands, of other tourists making the pilgrimage on this Thanksgiving weekend. It was a lovely way to spend the day. We saw parts of Boston we never would have wandered into if it wasn't for the red line winding along the sidewalk telling us where to go.

Walking Boston's Freedom Trail

Old North Church

Boston is by far the most historic U.S. city I have every visited, and I wonder if it's the most historic U.S. city, period. Sure, there's Jamestown and Richmond and Gettysburg, and perhaps you could make a case for Savannah or St. Augustine. But visiting Boston was like walking into my elementary school social studies textbooks. Never have I seen so many historic buildings and sites in a single afternoon.

And it was so easy! The major stops are all along the Freedom Trail, a 2.5 mile path marked by a thick red line along the sidewalks and crosswalks. It starts at Boston Common (conveniently just a few blocks from the hotel where we stayed) and ends across a bridge in Charlestown, with a visit to the USS Constitution and Bunker Hill.

I had a map of the Freedom Trail in my pocket, and we even downloaded a Freedom Trail app onto our phones, but neither was absolutely necessary, and both were rarely used. The red marker on the ground was easy to see and follow, and the sites had clear markers explaining their historical significance. The trail does, however have a nice website if you want to learn about the sites before you visit. I'll cover some of the highlights below.

The Massachusetts State House was difficult to miss with its gleaming gold dome. Unfortunately it seemed to be closed for the long holiday weekend, so we didn't get to go inside.

The nearby Granary Burying Ground was beautiful in the morning sun. The cemetery was small, but lots of tourists wandered the trails, stopping especially to see the stones for Paul Revere and Samuel Adams.

Paul Revere's stones

Faneuil Hall was the site of many important meetings (Sugar Act and Stamp Act protests, for example), but now the area seems to draw crowds for the nearby Quincy Market restaurants and stores. The crowds certainly were thick on Black Friday, but I managed to find a Christmas ornament and try a cup of Boston clam chowder.

Also, statues.

We also saw Paul Revere's house, but more interesting was the Old North Church and its famous (though rebuilt) steeple. "One if by land, two if by sea," anyone? The inside of the Episcopal church was nearly as interesting. The pews were arranged in boxes surrounded by shoulder-high white walls to keep out the drafts.

Paul and I both agreed that the Old North Church was our favorite stop of the trip. The Charlestown section of the Freedom Trail was a close second for me. More about that on Friday.

Boston for Thanksgiving

Boston Common

Instead of stuffing myself with turkey and cranberry sauce, my Thanksgiving platter consisted of Malaysian pad thai and a lychee drink. No, Paul and I weren't in Asia, but we also weren't in New York. Instead, we spent the holiday weekend in Boston.

In particular, we spent the evening of Thanksgiving in Boston's Chinatown, one of the few places we knew would have a nice selection of restaurants open when the rest of the city had shut down. After the sun had set, we stumbled out of the cold and into a lovely Malaysian restaurant. We had already had a full day. We left our apartment at 10 a.m. (so I even got to watch the first hour of the Macy's parade at home!) and headed straight for Cambridge, arriving at 2:30 p.m.

There weren't many restaurants open, and even fewer stores (none that I could see), but there were plenty of people on the sidewalk taking in the Harvard views and filling up the few food establishments that were open. We took a look around and grabbed lunch, heading back to our car and finally to Boston proper when the cold got to be too much.

The main thing I wanted to do in Boston was walk the Freedom Trail, but it was far too dark and deserted to do that by the time we checked in Thursday afternoon. (I'll be writing more about the Freedom Trail on this blog on Wednesday and Friday.) In fact, the only other thing we managed to see Thursday was Chinatown. But on Friday and Saturday we fit in a few sites aside from the historical.

Friday evening we went to the Bull & Finch Pub, the model for "Cheers," which then remodeled parts of its own building to better resemble the TV show. We ordered drinks and a big plate of cheesy fries at the upstairs replica bar. Paul got Frasier's corner stool.

The next morning we started the day with a Samuel Adams Brewery Tour. It was 10 a.m., but the tour still had a good 30 people on it -- it's 5 o'clock somewhere, and the free drinks at the end were cheerily sampled.

A "party trolley" runs every 15 minutes between the brewery and Doyle's, a local bar that was the first to sell Sam Adams. The inside of the trolley had benches along the windows, two poles, lights and a fog machine (neither in use) and a small deck in the back. Since we watched Ohio State get beaten up by Michigan at the bar, the trolley was the last jolly thing we experienced for a while.

Traveling anywhere in the Northeast in November is a gamble -- it could be snowy or sunny or both. It was cold on Thanksgiving itself, but the skies were bright and warm, near 60, on both Friday and Saturday. We got the best of both worlds: warm weather and holiday decorations.

Boston

Cambridge

Happy Thanksgiving!

Bay Ridge, along New York Harbor

Since Pay a Visit won't resume until Monday, you have extra time to add a comment to this post. And in keeping with the spirit of the Thanksgiving holiday, why not make it about what you're thankful for?

I'll start.

I'm thankful for small-town scenes in a big-city setting, things that remind me of home even with big bridges and bodies of water in the background.

Near the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge

Canstruction Constructions in Lower Manhattan

It's practically an everyday occurrence to hear about some exhibit opening somewhere in town.

There's the museums, of course. But then there are the out-of-the-ordinary exhibits that pop up and take you by surprise, like those revolving around peanut butter or giant balloons.

Canstruction falls into the latter category. It shouldn't have really come out of the blue, however -- this is New York's 19th annual competition to design and create something, anything out of cans. Afterword, nearly 60,000 New Yorkers will be fed by the art supplies.

The 25 creations are deconstructed today, but Paul and I went to the World Financial Center (basically a shopping mall-lite) in Lower Manhattan to take a peek a couple of weekends ago. Here are a few of my favorites.

One World Trade Center Takes Shape

As I exit the subway station a couple of blocks from work, it's extremely common to see a camera or two pointed in my direction. They're not aimed at me, but rather what's over my shoulder: One World Trade Center.

Nowadays it seems that the Ground Zero site is changing on an almost daily basis. It probably always was, except now those changes are easy to see. The glass panels are higher, the footprint is bigger. According to Wikipedia (not my favorite source, but it's hard to beat for up-to-the-minute information), One World Trade Center's "steel has risen to the 90th floor (1,118 ft), with glass panels reaching the 62nd floor, and concrete flooring rising to the 80th floor" as of Sunday. When it's supposedly done in 2013, Wikipedia says it will be the tallest building in the U.S. at 1,776 feet (get it?).

With stats like those, it's hard to miss. And, with Century 21 practically across the street, the Occupy Wall Street gang just a few blocks away and, of course, the new 9/11 Memorial nearby, both New York City tourists and residents have more reasons than ever to visit Lower Manhattan ... and they do.

An Afternoon at the Peck Slip Pickle Fest

A Sunday afternoon spent in the company of pickles was a highlight of last fall. So when the days began to get shorter, my mind once again turned toward cucumbers and I found out when the next pickling festival was to be held. That's how we ended up at the New Amsterdam Market on Sunday for the Peck Slip Pickle Fest.

Last year's pickle festival was on the Lower East Side, in the heart of the city's pickle district. This year it was incorporated into the aforementioned New Amsterdam Market, a farmer's market near the South Street Seaport in Lower Manhattan, in the shadow of the old Fulton Fish Market.

The pros: In addition to all the pickled goodies, there was the typical farmer's market fare of vegetables, meats and other treats.

The cons: There was less space for the pickle purveyors, or else they were cramped so closely together it just felt smaller. Some of our favorites from last year didn't seem to be there -- was this because of space constraints, lack of interest or the distance from their brick-and-mortar stores?

Still, we managed to sample enough pickled cucumbers, beets and even carrots to keep me satisfied for at least another year. Not so for Paul. He walked away with his own jar of pickles.

Paul's lunch of a hot dog topped with relish and spicy mustard kept with the pickling theme, but I went to the other side of the market and picked out a cheese-and-onion bialy. Turns out a bialy is just a bagel that's not boiled, topped with condiments where the hole in the middle normally would be. It kind of looked like a cheese danish.

The most interesting item I ate, however, was this: a whole pickled green tomato. You eat it just like an apple, except not even a core remains. It wasn't my favorite thing in the world -- a little too sour for my taste -- but I did feel thoroughly brined after my last bite.