The Day of Heavenly Cheesecake and Sore Feet

Ah, this morning was fairly uneventful. Just working and pacing trying to get J to leave his frenzy of work to go out for some fresh air and exploring. We did manage to finish the laundry, so it’s been productive even though we stayed in. I spend the ancy time writing up the Brooklyn walking tour from one of our guide books so that we won’t look like pathetic tourists while wandering aimlessly (which cannot be avoided, but for some reason, having a little piece of paper absolutely covered with street names and numbers seems better than whipping out the guide book).

We decide to take the subway to Brooklyn, explore, then walk back over the bridge so that we can enjoy the Manhattan skyline on the way home. We start off in Brooklyn Heights, wandering past the brownstone of Truman Capote, and out to the promenade, which overlooks the East River and big city skyline across the way. We always take note of the clean sidewalks in upscale areas – and we can tell that this neighborhood is very nice even without looking up at the beautiful homes. We are again surrounded by ladies pushing around babies who are obviously not there own, but this neighborhood feels much warmer than the UWS nannyland. After wandering a bit, we start to notice the growling in our stomachs and end up digging out the guidebook for a recommendation for lunch. We walk down under the bridge to Grimaldi’s Pizzeria and eat a huge pizza that perhaps was meant for a large family but just satiates us enough to keep us going. This is thin-crust NY-style pie that is covered in real mozzarella, then a little sauce, then the toppings. Although I think J still prefers Dominoes, I thought this stuff was pretty good.

The salty pizza gets us in the mood for something sweet, which is perfect, because next on my agenda is Junior’s cheesecake (voted best cheesecake in NY and highly recommended by the guidebooks). Without realizing that I’ve messed up our directions, we walk for a couple of miles in the wrong direction through downtown Brooklyn and the Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens neighborhoods. There are all types of people here, and it is bustling without the manic feeling of Manhattan. When we finally realize that we are way off track, we cut back to the Fulton Street Mall toward Flatbush Ave and our reward of cheesecake. Walking down this pedestrian mall is an incredible experience, as we are truly the only white people that I either of us can see. Although a very different feeling, it felt in no way threatening or even like we stood out. Everyone was doing their own thing and couldn’t have cared less about what anyone else, including two wide-eyed and lost white folk, were doing.

We finally find Juniors and get a three-fruit cheesecake to go, as we were still full from the giant pizza. J did have the forethought to grab two forks in case we got hungry on the trek across the bridge. Good thing – after walking all the way back to the bridge and halfway across, we determined that there was no better spot to sit and eat dessert. With tourists gawking at us and commuting bicyclists yelling at them, we sat and enjoyed what can only be described as pure heaven. I must say that no one should go their entire lives without trying this cheesecake – there just are no words for how good it is.

While walking home, we contemplated what felt so different between our lack of comfort in Morningside Heights and the feeling of complete comfort in downtown Brooklyn. The only thing that we came up with is that the current encroachment of yuppies into their neighborhood somehow results in tension between the Morningside Heights residents and those who are not from their neighborhood. We’ll have to see how we feel in Harlem and the other boroughs…

We enjoyed the view from -- and J contemplated trying to climb up the handrails to the top of the towers of -- the Brooklyn Bridge, and reached the Manhattan side still relaxed, so we decided to walk the rest of the way home. Although it was a pleasant walk up the calm Hudson Street, we realized too close to home that we probably had bit off more than we could chew and should have taken the subway from the bridge. With aching feet and legs, we arrived home only to realize that we had 5 minutes to change and race uptown if we wanted to catch a Broadway show (which had been our plan for the night’s event). Having barely made the walk up the stairs to our apt, it seemed unlikely that we were going to make it, and decided instead to sleep for a half-hour, then head to a local comedy club.

Getting up after sleeping for 20 minutes is incredibly difficult, but not as hard as it is to put on heels after walking for more than 10 miles…but we’re only here for a little while, so we sucked it up and raced to catch the 9 o’clock show. Of the six comics, 3 were really funny, 2 were kinda funny, and only one bombed. It was entertaining and relaxing to just sit and laugh and drink our requisite two drinks each.
We decided to cap off the night with a pint at the speakeasy that J found with Frank over the weekend. I was truly amazed at the place, as J and I walked up to an unmarked door on a sidestreet, then waltzed right in. You have to go upstairs, through a curtain, then downstairs to get in, and the place feels like it hasn’t changed since prohibition. I love places like this and I’m so excited that my enthusiasm is undeterred by our not-not-nice waitress and a stout that tasted a little like feet (J’s bitter was good, so I just made a poor selection). We’ve decided that there are three categories of waitstaff in this city: nice, which are rare and can do you harm with too much wine (see earlier entry about Little Italy dinner); not nice, which are considerably less rare and are inexplicably rude considering that they’re supposed to be serving you (isn’t that their job?); and not-not-nice, as in aloof but not really in-your-face unkind. Anyway, back at the pub, it was an early last call, and although J was fired up to drink many pints, we decided to call it good and collapse at home. Now if sleep will just heal these aching toes…