a guide to finding the perfect spanish wine for all your dope occasions.
in brooklyn our lives are often defined by contradictions. we sleep in the shadow of the world’s most infamous skyline and the flickering streetlight outside of our too-expensive shoebox apartment that we share with 3 other people in bed stuy. we wear ripped jeans and red lipstick to invite-only gallery openings on our way to a bushwick afterhours party. we chase a beer-and-a-shot with a beer-and-a-shot before a five course meal across the street. we look to elevate our lives in the most grounded way we know how. we let our reputation precede us.
this is us.
and to find a wine that meets the demands of this lifestyle,the hipster sommelier tells you to drink spanish wine. in a country that is smaller than texas, the wines of the region are more dynamic and distinct than the neighborhoods in our finicky little borough.
here i offer you a bit of my own exploration. inspired after attending Spain’s Great Match event this week with my partner in crime in chelsea, and having taken it upon myself to drink wine all over that wonderous land, i offer you the perfect spanish wine for every occasion. pop it open, let’s start drinking brooklyn.
The Housewarming Party in Bed Stuy.
Martin Codax Burgán Albariño from Rias Baixas, $17
gentrification! i’ll drink to that. it’s no new news, we’re all moving east. and to your friends who listlessly scour craigslist with their map set on greenpoint, the ones who constantly ask you to ask your landlord if he has any empty spots, the ones who get down on one knee and propose to you, over and over, just to get an in to your apartment… they finally concede and head south on the G or east on the L and find a place bigger and less expensive than yours. good for them! good for fucking them. after a long search, bring a wine that spells “relief” a-l-b-a-r-i-ñ-o. it’s fresh and light and encouraging. it comes with a sense of hopefulness. it’s a new start and it’s a full-bodied white from the northwest region of spain. my pick? Martin Codax Burgán. oh and drop by bedford cheese for a nice wedge of manchego because it pairs well with fresh and distinct mineral nature of this wine, along with a certain stubborn pride that says “i swear i don’t spend all my money on rent, look at this nice cheese.”
The Launch of [insert dope endeavor here].
Anna Brut Cava from Codorniu in Catalunya, $13
ah the listless and awe-inspiring achievements of your Brooklyn peers. we are all always doing something, aren’t we? and that’s really why we live here – to be inspired by each other and to continue to move up and forward and dream fucking big. so when it’s time to celebrate those accomplishments – an app launch, a blog publishing, a gallery opening, graduating from welding class, going back to school to study biodynamic food science, a spot on the coveted 30 under 30 list (ahem, there isn’t much time @brooklynmagazine!!!), or a 30th birthday (which is an accomplishment in itself!), bring them cava. the first sparkling wine ever made (suck it, champagne.) comes from that region that i am quite fond of. and my favorite, of course, is the original. the Anna Brut Cava from Codorniu, the first cava winery, ever. it’s feisty and fresh, bursting with potential and it’s a steal for $15. pop dat bottle baby.
The one to drink when you want to pretend it’s still summer.
Muga Rioja Rosado from Haro, $18.
it’s getting colder outside and you haven’t gotten used to the awkward banging from your desperate radiator and your favorite sweater smells like last year’s lover and you aren’t ready to get back into it. so don’t. instead, close the windows, let the radiator spew it’s mysterious contents into the air. throw your hair up carelessly. play this playlist. put on waterproof mascara, i don’t know. why the fuck not. because if we believe it hard enough, maybe we’ll skip winter this year. chill a bottle of rosé, from the rioja region. not quite as light as it’s french neighbor to the north, this rosé is darker, bolder, and lingers… just like that beautiful summertime skin. my favorite is the Muga Rioja Rosado. you can’t go wrong with anything from this winery or anything from the beloved town of haro. chill, pour, drink, repeat repeat repeat until june.
The first snowstorm.
Casa Mariol Vermut from Catalunya, $14.
well that didn’t fucking work did it. the winter arrives, after all. and let’s all admit it- the first glimpse of snow has us all a bit romanticized. we watch wide-eyed with our noses pressed against the foggy window. we run out and play in the street. we laugh and sing. we text our moms and ask to tell us again the rule about making snow cream out of the first snow. we say fuck it and put a bowl out on the fire escape anyway. we drink beers, lots of them, at all of our favorite neighborhood haunts that feel new again because everything outside has changed. and maybe we’ve changed a bit too. we toast and feel toasty and get toasted.
and then we hear it. the snow plow. it tears through the streets and into our hearts and turns all of the magic into a grey soupy mess that we’ll be trudging through until april. and so when the magic fades from the first few flakes, that is when we drink vermut. yeah. we’re drinking vermut. because in spain they drink it straight up, with ice or without. it’s warm and spicy. it’s dark and dangerous. like a new lover, embrace it and look deep into its soul but say nothing and give nothing away. it works out easier that way. my choice here is the classic Casa Mariol Vermut. pour it slowly and snuggle up.
For 808s 212s and heartbreak.
Petalos Bierzo, $20.
to comfort a friend who has decided to throw in the towel after her 111 tinder failure but is masking it as “girls night”. the irony is not lost on me. i delete and download dating apps more often than i log in to my bank account. we all love them and hate them and are really fucking exhausted by them. so bitch about it with your friends. drink wine, share stories… about the one who yelled at the server because the oysters were too big before offering you some cocaine. about the one who showed up in a ferrari but had absolutely nothing else to say for himself. at all. and wouldn’t let you drive. about the one who didn’t tell you his age and turned out to be nearly older than your father. about the actor who couldn’t afford to take the train so you rode him back to his place on your bike. about the one, the only one, who got away. and for all the ones who could never hold on to you.
for these nights, drink bierzo. this ancient region is the rising star in the spanish wine scene, located in the northwest and known for old wines with fresh flavors. it’s deep roots and with promising beginnings… not unlike your dating life. haunting and exotic, this red draws you in like a lover and hangs on to you just long enough. swipe right with the Petalos Bierzo.
For the friend who’s leaving the city.
Quinta Milú, Ribera del Duero, $11.
so a friend is finally saying goodbye to all that. to all this. it happens all the time, for one reason or another. maybe it’s for a person or from a person. maybe it’s the hustle that’s exhausted them. maybe they head west, or overseas, towards an opportunity and a promise or to nothing at all. a bittersweet celebration, always. for this you need a wine that hits your tongue and fills your mouth and lingers long after it’s gone, it’s substantial, it speaks of age and significance. it’s long finish, a bravado that speaks to a complex history. for this occasion, a ribera del duero. wines that are defined as such because they grow along the lush banks of the ribera river. it’s deep and abundant and flows oh so freely. my favorite is the ever-so-charming Quinta Milu.
Imperfect and shining. Cracked and resilient. Iridescent and strong. Take this feeling and momentum with you into the weekend, Brooklyn. Be more than you think you are, and always better together.
I’ve made a plan that I promise is all it’s cracked up to be. Come with me, won’t you? Your weekend guide is shining through.
The Wild Honey Pie’s 7th Birthday Bash at Union Pool, Williamsburg.
so i have a confession to make- i want to be the wild honey pie. despite my generally sweet and definitively unbridled nature, and my tendency to respond quite well to a little heat, cornstarch, and when enveloped warmly in flaky pastry, i still can’t get in there. so, i’ll go to this. where there will be cake and games and performance and high brew coffee will have free coffee and coffee-infused cocktails to equally liven up and generally confuse your desired thursday night high. i’ll agree not to mind if you do. $15 all info here, 7pm-midnight, 484 union ave at union pool- pool me once, no shame in that.™
Sensory Speed Dating, House of Yes, Bushwick.
because it seems now that dating decisions are decided by impulsive reactions based on 5 photos followed by the very few nerve endings in our fingertip as it swipes right. house of yes, as always, offers us a refreshing and edgy alternative to anything in our normal lives. thursday’s events welcomes a more obtrusive yet let judgmental dating option. that you want to do, just close your eyes and stick out your tongue and trust me. it’s sensory dating. rely on none of your senses, just your perception. described in such better ways here. (hint: hold on to the blindfold) $25-30 2 wyckoff ave AT house of YES, there all senses say YES.™
Spanish Oil + Vinegar Tasting at Eastern District, Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
let’s be honest. there is always time for spanish wine because it’s always time for spanish wine. every waking hour. so when then do you make time for spanish olive oil and vinegar? eastern district in NoGreePo has our answer. thursday night, 5-7pm. free tasting of the aformentioned but oft-neglected delicacies. come interested, leave intrigued, then let’s all go get 2-for-1 or 4-for-2 G&T’s at el born to finally satiate or spark our spanish desires. 5-7pm at eastern district, 1053 manhattan ave. 5pm-toda la noche at el born, address. because you were el born this way.™
Glamdammit presents The Brats, at Gold Sounds in Bushwick.
to live in brooklyn is to live vicariously throughout so many decades of influential music and wish we could forget fashion statements. well let’s just embrace all of them, friday night. our funky fresh favorites at glamdammit! bring us the brats, contemporaries of blondie and the ramones and the new york dolls and kiss, to say the least. jam the fuck out and forget your age and the year and remember, only, the beat. and of course that time is fucking relative. free, all other info here. 11am-4pm, 44 wilson ave. at gold sounds, where silent isn’t golden.™
Salsa Fridays at Subrosa, Meatpacking, Manhattan.
subrosa, literally beneath the rose, which is so everything that this club is and will be as soon as you arrive. just beneath the simple sweetness it exudes. stunning rhythm and subversive beats, and then your intentions will become nothing but hips and sweat and button downs. just go with it. live music, no cover. i’ll cover for you the next day. just DM me and express your need for an alibi. all info here. free every friday in november. 63 gansevoort ave.
Closing Week at Rooftop Reds at the Navy Yard.
this is the last week for open hours at rooftop reds. which, if you haven’t been reading or paying attention or altogether drinking wine at subpar altitudes, you need to be there. the only urban winery in the greatest urban area, and the wines, even without all of this, would speak for themselves. add hammocks and sunsets and ladder golf and corn hole and it all adds up to no excuses. they’ll be open friday 4-9pm, sat 2-10pm. plus there’s a damn goo dsale on wine. all info here, find them at 4th st at the navy yard.
NY Adventure Club ventures into Jamaica, Queens.
all of new york is always just at our fingertips. even the hidden parts, the ones that seem completely unattainable… you just have to seek them with an open heart and mind. and as chance favors those who are prepared, prepare yourself for this event with (none other) than the ny adventure club. venture to the absolutely breathtaking and aptly spanish-inspired loews valencia wonder theater, in jamaice queens. all info here, 11am-1pm. 16511 jamaica ave.
the second time i was in paris, i remember how audacious it felt to purchase the flight. i’d already spent time in paris, a few years back, but the city had been pulling at my soul since i left. it jad settled into a part of my heart that i didn’t know was there, much less vacant and seeking. it was filled, immediately, with a first glance of la tour eiffel, lit up and sparkling. with my first ascension up the tight spiral staircase of the arc de triomphe to reveal the city of light, illuminating my face, staring back at it. the first time. my first promenade down the rue de montparnasse, my first glass of wine in a dark and hidden bar in montmarte, my first full day wandering around the palace and gardens of versailles. my understanding, finally, of the inside-out centre pompidou and all the treasure held within it. my first real baguette.
paris had more than charmed me, it had changed me. and so the first trip i planned with my barely-there paycheck upon moving to spain was to a place i had already been. and i was in love of the audacity of it all. after i landed, i navigated my way by bus through a drizzly evening from charles de gaulle and sat with my face glued to the window. paris. i was back in paris.
i inevitably missed what i thought was my stop and realized that i was terribly lost. i got a cab to the address i had of a friend of mine from years ago. i knew i had 2 hours before he’d be home, so i wandered down the champs elysees, through the christmas markets, that even 6 weeks early seemed so so timely. i indulged in a rather shitty styrofoam cup of mulled wine. i shamelessly didn’t hold back tears. i was so, so happy. when my pack got a bit too heavy, i wandered into a bar along a side street. it was small, crowded. audaciously devoid of intentional decor and exactly the type of cafe you expect in paris. i loved it. as i tried to awkwardly make room for my travelers backpack, my overstuffed leather tote, my distinctively unchic pea coat, the felt hat that i thought was a good idea and now realized really wasn’t a good idea… i was tried to be as inconspicious as possible when someone gleefully shoved an antique looking juice glass into my hand. i looked up. “le beaujolais nouveau est arrive!” i looked noticeably dumfounded, confused. he repeated himself, in hesitant english “uhh, the new wine has arrived!” i was more confused. the new wine? didn’t i come here for the old wine? he didn’t bother explaining, just toasted me with intention and motioned for me to drink up. i did, and almost immediately the bartender was there filling my glass over the brim. everyone was dancing and singing, sipping and spilling. no one seemed to notice the spanish flag patch sewn onto my backpack or my obvious lack of any knowledge of french. it was all “congratulations!” and two kisses and wine. wine. wine.
i spilled out of the bar and onto the street, late now to meet the friend i was staying with. i hailed a cab. on they way i caught a glimpse of the eiffel tower lighting up, again, and began to cry. paris! my god the beauty of it all.
when i arrived at my friend’s apartment, i asked him what was happening. and he laughed when he told me, “oh of course, the new wine!” the explanation he went into was brief but with enough passion to make me realize that this would be my favorite reason to celebrate for the rest of my life.
during the rest of my stay in paris and consequently as the jubilant weekend wore on, i learned that the legend of “beaujolais day” and was captivated even more. the story, as i heard it, is as follows.
In a land where wine is held so sacred and for good reason- Chablis, Champagne, Bourdeaux to name a few, Beaujolais was virtually unrecognized and not nearly revered. so the winemakers of the region set off to charm and fool everyone in the frenchest of ways, by letting their reputation recede them… provided they successfully outran it. one bold winemaker picked and fermented his grapes. aging it for exactly one week, he raced into Paris and announced that the parisians would be drinking that year’s vintage Beaujolais before anyone else in the world. And it would be up to their discerning taste and opinions that would mark that wine’s character and reputation. He risked a non-existent reputation and the hope that the Parisians wouldn’t ever want to appear foolish or not en-vogue. and the people of paris embraced it, they beheld it, they drank it. The next year, more winemakers decided to join, racing against each other on the third thursday of November to declare their Beaujolais Nouveau the first of that year. And from that vintage on they continued to do so, and the people of paris began to embrace it and revere it more and more, in spite of themselves. And so they made it a holiday, a jubilant weekend-long celebration, a commemoration of a bold marketing ploy and when something so unfrench became something oh-so-French.
And this is why we travel. For the wonder and bewilderment of that initial arrival, for discovering such a beautiful tradition in a foreign land to embrace, forever, as your own, and for that irrepressible feeling and adventurous spirit that is forever us. because you and I and le Beaujolais nouveau have all arrived.
we are all feeling just a bit cooler these days, so let’s embrace it. fall brings a fluctuation of temperatures and an unpredictable rhythm. a quickened beat, out of necessity and desire, that we are hastened to keep up with. your fall playlist has arrived and it’s all this and just a tiny bit more. LISTEN HERE. and shake that chill off baby.
when love is a whisper and hate is a roar it feels hard to know how to speak again, how to move again, how to be again.
no matter what side of the coin you fall on, we’re divided and it hurts and it’s hard to know what to do now. but the important thing is to hold on to this energy. to embrace our anger and concern. to move, to breathe, to demonstrate, together. and we can start in so many ways but the first is within our communities and our cities. get out, get going. don’t hide in your homes within the safety of your opinions. have every one of those conversations and maybe a laugh or two. see the other side or have a healthy debate. understand that there’s more that unites us often than divides us so let’s figure out how to do this together.
as with every week, i’ve found the best options in the city for doing just that. so hold on to me and hold on to each other and let’s feel better and make better and do better, together.
Live Reading from The King of Greenpoint, TBD Bar, Greenpoint.
to know where you came from and where you’re going… new york is by definition a melting pot. and we are stronger and so much more intelligent because of our smattering of cultures and heritages and beliefs. but this place we have descended upon has a story and a heartbeat too, other than ours. so let’s hear about it and listen to it thursday night, at TBD bar. author geoffrey cobb reads from his book the king of greenpoint (of course not to be confused with the king of the bears of greenpoint). come learn about the life and reign of peter j mcguinness. a night of stories and beer and wine. free. 7-8pm, 224 franklin st. at TBD, where everything has already been decided for you we just know how much you like suspense™
Southern Tier benefit for Homeless Pets, at Rosamunde Sausage, Williamsburg.
i have shed quite a few southern tears for homeless pets, even to go as far as to adopt one. which i wish he would remember… but alas. let’s instead concentrate on ingesting some southern tiers thursday night, and maybe a sausage or two at rosamunde in williamsburg. yep it’s a sausage and beer benefit, proceeds going towards in our hands animal rescue. come through and eat well and be merry. and save our furry little friends. more info here, 6-10pm, 285 bedford ave at rosamunde sausages (or did you say hostages?)
i want to shake the hand of whomever is in charge of making thinking up the events at videology. no fo real, who’s doing this? because i want to shake your hand. because i’m positive, ghostwriter, that it’s everyone’s favorite 90s series, errr, 2nd favorite3rd favorite4th favorite ok one that you remember! ish! and HEY it was actually filmed in fort greene, so come get really really close to where it all started and celebrate this epic cinematographic movement at videology thursday night.308 bedford ave, 7-9pm, $5 at videology
Mortified at Littlefield, Gowanus
mmm. the only thing more therapeautic than talking about your most embarrassing moments is living vicariously through someone elses (you know waht i mean… we were all obsessed with that section of YM magazine…) hear it in real life, the-moth style, thursday night at littlefield. all info and tickets here. doors at 7, shows at 8. tickets, $10. 622 degraw st.
Rubblebucket at Manhattan Inn, Greenpoint.
spike hill. glass lands. cameo gallery. aviv. manhattan inn. something in that list doesn’t belong, yet. which totally, totally, totally fucking blows. manhattan inn is closing and that means what we are losing one more of the complex and beautiful threads that weave this beautiful tapestry that is the reason and the lifeline of this people we call brooklyn. rubblebucket promises to send them out in style friday night. tickets you should get immediately RIGHT NOW HERE. ill be there. show starts at 630 and your RSVP DOES NOT EQUAL ENTRY. arrive early.
ROOTS Cafe Poetry Series, Park Slope
there is nothing better than the warmth of shared verse among virtual strangers. come to roots cafe’s monthly poetry series and feel enlightened, rejuvenated, inspired… and perhaps a bit more grounded (that was a root pun!) contributors and observers welcome. 8-10pm, 639 fifth ave. seek, here.
Adult Friction, Indie-Alt Dance Party at Over the 8, Williamsburg.
we young people are energized by a few things, but mostly friction on any level. the one that leaves us feeling empowerd and impassioned by a charged political atmosphere, and the one that consists of button downs and heat on a friday night. make friday night be a perfect storm of both, plus [tunes spinning from] LCD soundsystem and basically all the dope artists they’ve inspired. it’s an indie-alt dance party. get in there and let it rub off on you. at over the 8, 594 union ave,
Free Fridays at Subrosa, Meatpacking District in Manhattan.
we live in this city to embrace culture and be embraced by said cultures. notably, on friday nights in basement clubs with sweat and hip movements and live bands and alive hands. and things like that. yep. it’s subrosa friday nights, and they’re free all month and yours for the taking. plus it’s your only reason to cross the river this weekend so cruciamos. party starts when you get there… but basically at 10pm. all info here. 63 gansevoort st.
so a little thing is happening this weekend that i like to call MY BIRTHDAY.
i wanted to take this perfectly lovely fall weekend to show you how to spend an ideal birthday weekend in new york. with all of your best friends and like maybe your dad or something doing all of my favorite things but not aging a bit, of course. so come along and i dont know, maybe bring a gift that i’d like or something. (seriously, you’re invited.)
Fall Colors Picnic in Central Park
the leaves they are-a-changin and they’ll all be bare and gone before we know it. so let’s embrace that giant piece of nature and magic that the ancient gods of the city placed before us and have a real autumnal picnic in central park. and do those little boats that i love. bring wine and cheese and everything else you want to be there. starts at noon.
Virginia Tech plays Georgia Tech
my team is 7 and 2 folks. it feels like the good old days again and we are all hopeful and passionate. and ready to ramble some wrecks from georgia tech. come join in the spirit of american college football and beer drinking at keg and lantern. kickoff is a 330.
Tapas and Paella at El Born, Greenpoint.
yep. when people have birthdays, especially of the decadian significance, they want to share good foods and great wines with the best people. and maybe pretend a little bit that they are in spain. have all of this and so so much more saturday night at el born. hear me gush about it here more than a piping hot croqueta then come. 8pm. 651 manhattan ave.
when love is a whisper and hate is a roar it feels hard to know how to speak again.
we are mad now and hurt. our fabric has been torn apart. our ceiling wasn’t broken and left us broken on the floor and weeping. searching for an exit or an answer. listening for the voice we thought we had.
and now while it’s tempting to seek an exit strategy i also feel that i need an introduction. to a place that i don’t know. to a country that i thought was stronger and bigger. one that is accepting of all people and all races and all genders and one that was activelyreaching towards a brighter day and a greater hope for everyone.
but just as fear has prompted this reaction, of isolation and contempt and anger and separation, we must notalso hide. let us not seek comfort in the mundane. let us never be pleasantly complacent. let us stop seeking solace in a bubble of perceived acceptance. let our distraction not become our destruction but be a vehicle for change and for unity and for progress.
because our voice is still here. and I hope that when we regain it, our voice will be strong and dignified and unwavering.
you know you are going to be drinking this weekend. and right now. and yesterday. and although we are all tempted to do so alone in the dark corners or our safe(ish) shoebox apartments, instead let’s do it out, in public, together. and let’s talk about this shit. and let’s do it at alameda, in greenpoint. why? because the name of this place itself means “tree-lined street” in spanish, a simple word that exudes a feeling of growth and prosperity, of shelter and strength, and that maybe, just maybe, spain, in all of its linguistic and cultural complexity, is the answer. read here, drink now, book tickets later. #vamos
because after this week, i know what you need, brooklyn. you need comfort and gin in unabashedly uneven proportions. you need unironic vintage decor that appears to have happened by accident. you need a bar that speaks for itself because you’re sick of every one piping in. you need the smallest of small plates that tempt you to share ever so graciously or have no shame in not sharing at all. you need cocktails cocktailscocktails a bit of food and cocktails. and you want to not feel bad about offering such sanctity to a place because it’s clear they feel the same way. a bar that lets the bar and the drinks take center stage.
i’ve found your place. it’s alameda in NoGreePo and it’s where you’ll be drinkign this weekend. a fantastic list of cocktails. fancy deviled eggs. fancy devlish people. and a bar of whom’s integrity they felt so strongly about they built it inside the structure itself, backing a concrete truck in ever-so-graciously and pouring it right in. yeah, you have to see this shit. and drink this drank. and be everything that is alameda. with me, if you’d like.
what not to miss
the shiso painkiller or the moon balloon are my favorites. a spruce goose for your gin fix and any of the spanish wines for everything else.
it’s 70 glorious degrees in november. the 90 year old curse of the goat has been broken. i have a lotto ticket that i haven’t checked yet but the bodega cat winked at me on the way out and it looks like (maybe!) this election hell will be over soon. what does this all mean? it’s the FIRST WEEKEND OF NOVEMBER and anything can happen. and as chance favors those who are prepared, let me get you started brooklyn. right here, right now.
come along, won’t you?
Blue Plate Special: Meatball Night at Archestratus in Greenpoint.
call me. right now. because it’s meat-a-ball-a-thursday and i’m promising every reader who calls i will answer the phone and say, dramatically, “mama mia! that’s a one a spicy meat-a-ball-a” …yeah. i’m going to do that for you. as a really weird promotional stunt for this event. and they don’t know i’m doing it (until now?) so call me then show up from 7-9 with a hungry belly and a craving for some really fucking good sicilian meatballs, made by the lovely paige lipari at her bookstore-experimental kitchen-meeting place-cafe in NoGreePo. things you might need to know here, 7-9pm 160 Huron St.
Beach House plays Kings Theater in Flatbush.
this synth-tastic dream duo from the land of the crabs brings all of their slow rock harmonies and only vaguely beachy vibes to the theater of kings friday night. tickets, $40, can be purchased here. 1027 flatbush ave.
SLUMBER, a choose-your-own-adventure Immersive Performance at House of Yes, Bushwick
halloween may be over but that odd and too-oft latent desire to have the shit scared out of us remains. which can be a difficult thing to satiate and still err on the side of as-cautious-as-possible in this sprawling metropolis. once again, house of yes has the answer. this edgy performance from the hideaway circus follows a breathtaking girl squad of circus performers on the last night of their lives. it’s sexy and raw and suspenseful and there is blood. lots of it. this choose-your-own-adventure horror-performance is like nothing you’ve ever seen. go this weekend. tickets, $45, on sale here. 730-9pm 2 wyckoff ave at house of yes, where slumber is only an option thursday night.™
Spaghetti Eastern at Bushwick Public House, Bushwick.
in the midst of our electro-fest paradise of a weekend, this emerges. nyc-based guitarist, keyboardist, and singer sal caltaldi, aka spaghetti eastern plays tat bushwick public house for a night of eastern-stringed enchantment played over his own funky beats and (sometimes!) accompanied by belly dancers. there will be no noodles, despite the name, but their will be long, languid harmonies and saucy mixes guaranteed to warm you up. the show is free and is from 8-10, 1288 myrtle ave at the bushwick public house.- where lies feel damn good.”
Rooftop Readings at a rad rooftop in Williamsburg
it’s like so far sounds, but with words. and free beers. and only 50 lucky attendees each event SO RSVP HERE RIGHT NOW. so what is it then? an underground-aboveground reading series that puts readers and writers in front of a setting sun (those are their words, not mine… and i like them much better.) come see and be inspired by some of our boroughs greatest writers. 7-9pm address will arrive in your inbox upon rsvp.
Birthday Party at Brooklyn Kitchen, in that bermuda triangle between Williamsburg and Greenpoint.
oh hellllll yeah. everyone’s favorite school and kitchen store is turning the big 1-0! which means two things- they are also scorpios (#dope) AND there are sick events going on all weekend. head here directly from work friday for FREE beers from bk brewery, a very special specialty cocktail from allen katz of new york distilling company, snacks from samesas, raw bar provided from our shellfishy friends at greenpoint fish and lobster. there will be cooking demonstrations, there will be cake. and there will be festivities all weekend long. so start friday. all info here, birthday party is from 630 to 930 at 100 frost st. at the brooklyn kitchen,
Mr. Little Jeans at Rough Trade, Williamsburg
i’ve been obsessed with this artist ever since seeing this super rad oversized knitting video that i found via need supply. (and now can’t find anymore… if you know what i’m talking about, leave it in the comments.) this norwegian artist by way of california comes to the intimate back room at rough trade and this show is going to be absofuckinglutely amazing. listen here, then buy tickets here. doors at 8, show at 9. 64 North 9th st.
First Friday Nachos at The Diamond, Greenpoint.
oh you dirty little nacho eater… i knew there was something i liked about you. maybe it was your shameless nature. maybe it was your affinity for elevated bar snacks and session ales. and maybe it was just those eyes, reflecting those nachos, reflecting those eyes. baby. whatever it is, this is how it does. first fridays. nachos. flame torched right before your eyes right before our hands holding just below the bar. are you creeped out ok good. see you there. 43 franklin st at the diamond.
before we start this review, let’s get a few things straight:
barbecue is a food – pulled pork. there are plenty of variations on this subject, however, it is and can only be pulled pork. you cannot attend pulled pork. you are not invited to pulled pork. you crave it, you seek it, you smother it, you eat it. and repeat.
a cookout is an event, with a grill. common foods found at a cookout include burgers and dogs. there can be barbecue at a cookout, but it must be accompanied by a smoker. the outdoor meat-making machine, not a nicotine-addicted or solely socially-inclined attendee. barbecue from the smoker, burgers and dogs from the grill. with the presence of a smoker makes this a fancy cookout.
please allow me to illustrate a scene for you where these mixed-up meanings led to plenty of confusion when the winds of my vagrant sails blew northward for the first time…
scene: waiting patiently at the grill for your burger to be done, at a cookout.
a northerner appears.
Northerner: “hey where is the barbecue?”
SouthernExpat: “ah i don’t think there’s any here! i didn’t see a smoker.”
Northerner: “”i’m a social smoker. what does that matter.”
SouthernExpat: “not at all man.”
Northerner: “so then what are you waiting online for?”
Northerner: “yeah what are you waiting online for?”
SouthernExpat: “i wasn’t even using my phone, just waiting for my burger to be finished.”
Northerner: “exactly, so you’re waiting online for the barbecue.”
SouthernExpat: “no i think i’ll be filled up enough with the burger, i’m not going to get pulled pork on seamless or whatever. what’s the point of a cookout then?”
Northerner: “i guess to have a cig.”
NOW that we have all of that cleared, let me say that i take my barbecue quite seriously. although carolina and tennessee tend to make their names pretty well-known in this realm, if you haven’t noticed, the old dominion is right in between the two. and it very proudly boasts some of the best smoked pork goodness you can find around. so to say that you can find such a southern delicacy this far north of the mason dixon line was surprising even to me.
we were all here for the city’s big brisket bonanza, when the cheap beef cut swept the city in a multitude of representations, from the delicate yet unbelievably satisfying brisket sandwiches that sold out weekend after weekend at mighty quinn’s stand at smorgasburg, to the no-frills mounds by the pound served with a side of white bread at BrisketTown. it’s still here and still smoking strong, but we’ve evolved as an urbanspecies to demand something more dynamic. we want the whole event. the fancy cookout, if you will. the barbecue.
and we find it, unsurprisingly, in the quaint little village of red hook. which more and more feels like an artist town by the river in VA than a part of south brooklyn.
you’ll smell hometown barbque before you see it, with at least 4 smokers (and a few smokers!) milling outside, preparing the day’s meats. inside is a perpetually smokey ambience settles to reveal simple picnic tables, brown paper menus adorning the wall, and a perpetual but swift-moving queue. snag a drink from their immaculately stocked bar to drink while waiting IN line, but drinkers beware, the moonshine is ONLY for the brave at heart. and even for those of us, it is fucking humbling.
get your food. choose your poison by way of a smattering of sauces. pay no mind to the napkins, let nothing get in between you and the unbelievable meaty experience that is about to take over your entire body. i dream about this place. it helps quelch? my hunger in between long bouts when i can’t head south. it’s an oasis, it’s my mecca, it’s hometown bbq in red hook and it’s where to eat this weekend. and all of those other weekends too.
what not to miss
the pulled pork sandwich. the brisket tacos. the fucking lamb belly banh mi my god. and the wings! what are these wings! pure perfection. yes get all of these things. get all of them.