On Mermaids, Crowds and Drunk Russians

Some of the best times to be had in New York City come from unexpected places. Deviating from a pre-made plan often leads to amazing, singularly New York experiences.

Happy Belated to Me

In my adult life I have generally not bothered to celebrate my birthday. I've only thrown parties twice, never tell anyone in advance and in recent years have taken to removing my birth date from all of my social networks when it approaches. When I turned 23 I left town.

This year, however, I decided to throw a little something together. That little something ended up growing into a four-day extravaganza that spanned three boroughs and highlighted some of the truly great things that make living in New York meaningful.

West Indian-American Day Carnival/Parade: Culinarily Speaking

For most of my life Labor Day weekend, and Labor Day in particular, have meant a big backyard, charcoal smoke in my face, and the last day of official grilling season. From this day forward, however, my Labor Days for the duration of my stay in New York will likely involve trekking up and down Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn enjoying the West Indian-American Day Parade. It's the longest parade in New York and all told is about five miles of vibrant colors, dancing, bbq and fantastic jerk chicken. The entire length of the parade is flanked on both sides with stalls selling food, shirts, kitsch, and pina coladas in hollowed out pineapples. I forgot my camera so there won't be any pictures.

My eating adventure began boldly with some fantastic jerk chicken with rice and peas. The chicken was cooked perfectly with the tender meat almost falling off the bone. The skin had the perfect amount of char and the jerk rub completely saturated every part of the chicken. The extra sauce poured over added sweetness and a bit more spice - when added to the spice of the rub this gave the chicken the perfect amount of heat without overpowering the flavor. I'm incredibly glad I passed by several stalls before settling on this because this was probably the best jerk chicken I've ever had.

Roasted sweet corn was next (after some spirited parade-watching) and, discerningly, I picked the stall with the half-burnt corn. The sweetness still popped and, since I am a fan of slightly burnt food from a grill, the burn added a delicious smokiness. From the first bite I was instantly reminded that grilled sweet corn is, for me, the defining taste of summertime.

On the way out, after my sister bought her own jerk chicken and rice, I stopped at a cart selling mangoes. These weren't ordinary mangoes, however. These mangoes were dashed with salt, sprinkled with lemon juice and finished with hot pepper sauce. As a Filipino I like to think I know my mangoes and I'd go as far as saying they are by far my favorite fruit. The savory and spicy flavors added mingled perfectly with the sweetness of the mango creating a refreshing and comforting blend.

All in all, it's been one delicious day. Additional thoughts on the parade to come.

D.C. (and Brooklyn) for the Record

July has so far been an incredibly record-filled month. To recount in reverse chronological order, this past weekend I went to D.C. to visit a couple friends and, as we always do when we hang out, we hit a bunch of record shops. Four stores were on the bill within five blocks of each other in a sort of power triangle in Dupont/Adam's Morgan: Som Records, Red Onion, Crooked Beat, and Smash Records.

All very good stores with very different moods. Som was underground in a very literal sense as you had to walk down some stairs to get in, and once there we were greeted by possibly the smallest space we'd visit all day. A listen station - which I always like to see at used records stores, but which aren't always present - was set up at the front, 45s were decoratively pinned up on the red-painted walls and not a CD was to be found in the whole place. As Evan and Adam rooted through, pulling out various albums I thought I was going to manage to get out of there without buying anything, though I was sorely tempted to pick up a copy of the first Marginal Man record. Asian fronted 80s D.C. hardcore was not alluring enough, however. As the two of them were cashing out I thumbed through one last crate... and came across two irresistible finds in The Queen is Dead and Blood on the Tracks. For $16 total I couldn't pass them up and so I left the Som a few dollars lighter, but a couple awesome records heavier.

After dropping our loot of at the car we walked over - after a brief stop for beer and a snack - to Red Onion. A better lit place, Red Onion also had shelves of used books lining the walls. Not on the search for literature, the three of us dove into the stacks with Evan finding, among other things, an incredibly clean-looking copy of the fantastic It Takes a Nation.... Trying to really limit myself, I ended up passing on a brand new copy of Give Up but was halted when I found a new copy of the remastered (ugh, I know) Rites of Spring (aka End on End).

I actually managed to get out of Crooked Beat without buying anything as the store seemed expensive to me though the selection was decent. It's a good store, but probably my least favorite of the four we visited.

Smash Records was actually a kind of strange place. It was very much going for a punk/metal vibe and seemed, at first, like a sort of independently owned Hot Topic - a vibe reinforced by the clothes for sale including bullet casing belts and Doc Martens. The selection and pricing were good though, and it was probably the most rock-oriented store we'd been to. It featured a dedicated metal section though classic stuff was still represented as well. I didn't think I would buy much/anything as this was the final store, and yet I couldn't leave without picking up One Beat, Power, Corruption & Lies and In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.

Going back a couple of weeks to when the Flotation Walls were in town my friend Ryan and I hit up a record store in Brooklyn (and I selfishly won't be getting any more specific than that.) The store had no name, was down a flight of stairs in a basement, and was run by one of the nicest guys I'd ever met running a record store. The handwritten sign by the stairs indicated the store specialized in jazz, soul, funk and disco and my Johnny Mathis, The Miracles, Benny Goodman, Gladys Knight, and James Brown/Africa Bambaataa purchases backed that up. It's seriously a fantastic store, and has put my bank account balance in serious jeopardy just by existing.

It's been a fairly record-filled week and I'll probably have to let my wallet recover a bit before digging again.