Lawn Guy Land & LoHo

The theme of the weekend was Decadence.

One of the great things about living at 209 was that my flatmates shared the same joie de vivre for food. Sure, lots of people say they like to eat, but with us, it was more like we lived to eat. (See: driving an hour to Binghamton just to get pumpkin pancakes at IHOP.) Megan has been reading 1001 Things to Eat Before You Diet, so armed with recommendations from that, we descended upon Long Island and the Lower East Side.

Long Island is renowned for its pizza and bagels, so our first stop was at a pizza place listed in the book. It wasn't the best pizza I've ever had (that honor goes to fried calamari pizza from Jersey), but my cheese slice, crisp and eaten folded in half, was still a refreshing change of pace from the deep-dish pervasive in Chicago eateries. Later that night, we grabbed ice cream from Magic Fountain in Mattituck. The guy behind the counter loved us, and kept offering more samples before we finally committed to carrot cake, cranberry, gingerbread and apple pie.

At this point, we were disgustingly full, but that didn't stop us from driving to the American Legion bar...to hang out with Megan's dad. See, Megan's dad was (is) definitely quite the popular guy back in his day, and just because he's not in his 20s any more doesn't mean he doesn't know how to have a good time, no sirree. In the span of an hour that afternoon, he was hopping to about 3 holiday parties. Sheesh, I don't think I've ever had 3 competing parties to attend. Megan is understandably not so keen on hearing her dad's tales of bar brawls with the boys, but hey, Tommy's not going to let a wife and kids get him down, right?

At the American Legion, we were greeted by Megan's dad, and his chums at the bar were thrilled to meet Tommy's daughter and Tom's daughter's friend (me). Seriously, if we'd wanted to get schwasted for free, we could have easily gotten free drinks from everyone at the bar. Many back thumps and group hugs later, we extricated ourselves from the bunch of rowdy 40-year-olds. It's funny to think we were basically at a frat party, except with people who have kids our age. (Fear not, T-Fizz opted to walk home instead of drive.)

For the rest of the weekend, we explored the Lower East Side, which is filled with neat ethnic eateries, tenements, and hipsters. (All the better for avoiding tourist hordes in midtown Manhattan.) The area loosely encompasses everything from Chinatown and Little Italy to the East Village. The Lower East Side Tenement Museum offers tours of the neighborhood, so we stopped by for a crash course and to see an old tenement. Historically, the area began as a center for German and Irish immigrants, with more Irish than the city of Dublin in the 19th century. Then, as these immigrants became wealthier, they moved out and were replaced by Italians and Eastern Europeans. In turn, these populations have largely been supplanted by Chinese immigrants, and today, the historic heart of Little Italy is filled with bustling Chinese shops. It's funny to think that perhaps a century from now Chinatown will be gone, and will be replaced with Little Ghana, or something to that effect. Will Chinese food stop being cheaply ubiquitous, and become more upper-crust, like Italian cuisine?

Though most of the Jews have since moved away, there are still a number of historic Jewish establishments in the area. In short order, I tried hard salami and roast beef at Katz's Deli (there was a sign indicating "This is where Harry met Sally."), a sweet potato knish from Yonah Schimmel's (simultaneously rich & savory yet light), chocolate babka, fruity rugelach, halvah (mm, sesame-flavored chalk), a full-sour pickle (pickled string beans & celery, anyone?), a chestnut donut (technically not Jewish but still amazing), a bialy from Kossar's (similar to a bagel, but not boiled), and a bagel with lox, capers, red onion and tomato from Russ & Daughters ($8.50 and 45 min in line later, it was worth every cent/min). I found myself humming "Hava Nagila," as shop workers shouted Yiddish over the telephone. My stomach was working at ludicrous speed.

The highlight of the trip came when we randomly strolled into a Tibetan restaurant for dinner. Dinner was good, albeit not terribly exciting, but on a lark, we ordered dessert and this turned out to be the best thing since sliced bread. Tsampa is a traditional Tibetan staple, made of ground roasted barley, somewhat similar to rice pudding. This version came flavored with honey and dried cranberries, and it was LIFE. With the hope of recreating the dish at home, I looked up tsampa recipes, but they require esoteric ingredients like yak butter. Bummer.

I can't wait to do it again in Boston.