Tag Archives: Brooklyn

A New York Minute (16)

22 Feb

February 22, 2012

This is your Famous Original New York Minute.

The Flash Mob is reading The Hunger Games in the book club and while I’m not reading it I am kind of hungry. What do I want? Pizza. Who doesn’t love pizza? Seriously, if you don’t love pizza then go to your kitchen and munch on a Quiche for the next few minutes because I am going to be talking about the most American of foods.

Sure, I know that pizza comes from Italy but like bagels and Gordon Ramsey, America has embraced pizza and made it its own. And not just anywhere in America, but New York. Think about it- New York City, Little Italy, ’nuff said.

How many pizzerias are there in New York City? I’ve been a little too busy to go out and count them, but some internet research yields numbers anywhere from 1,000 to over 3,000. Whichever number you go with, I think it is too low. Where I live in Bensonhurst, the pizza capital of Brooklyn, there are over a dozen within a 15-minute walk. And I am not counting chain shops like Domino’s or Papa Johns. I’m talking about neighborhood places where you can go in and order a slice and a soda.

One pizza place that is not near my home is Ray’s Pizza, and if you live in New York you know how odd that is. Ray’s pizza is not a chain, it is simply the most imitated name in the city. Stroll around Manhattan and you will see store after store after store with some variation of Ray’s Pizza.

Famous Ray’s Pizza
Original Ray’s Pizza
Famous Original Ray’s Pizza
World Famous Original Ray’s Pizza
Ray’s Pizza of Broadway
Not Ray’s Pizza

That’s just the tip of the iceberg. For the most part, none of these places have any connection with each other. 

While there are close to 50 Ray’s pizza places in New York, you won’t find the first. The real original Ray’s Pizza, which opened in 1959, went out of business just before Halloween of last year.

But the original Ray, whose name was not Ray at all, but Ralph, can rest easy knowing that he spawned a true New York legend.

Now before all you Chicago pizza people start yelling, I’ve been to Chicago and eaten your pizza. It’s good. New York’s is better. Get over it.

This has been your New York Minute. I’m off to the Flash Mob on Facebook where I am sure The Great Pizza Debate is about to erupt. After all, that’s the place where we still go gaga over Canadian vs. American candy.

I’m just looking to stir up a little trouble this week.

An audio version of this legend recently appeared (or is about to!)  in the amazing FlashPulp website. Check them out for awesomeness and goodies!

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Not By The Hair Of My Chinny Chin Salad

8 Feb

February 8, 2012

You may recall that last week my friend Saarah and I had an interesting dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings, where the silverware was apparently sold to pay the wait staff and the cherries were going for $45 per pound on the black market. Undaunted, (seriously, we refused to be daunted) we decided that this week we’d give sushi a try.

Since we both live in Brooklyn and there are more Japanese restaurants in Brooklyn than you can shake a stick at, and believe me I tried, we decided to find one in our area. Or more accurately, it was decided that I would find one in the area. I knew of three nearby and one of them was out- Saarah had had a fight with a waiter there. I found reviews online for the other two I knew. One of them had mixed food reviews but the decor was excellent, with a rock garden and waterfall in the lobby and booths where you take off your shoes and sit on the floor. The other one had better food reviews but standard decor. I left the choice up to Saarah and she picked the one with the Japanese booths.

She had a half-day of work so I met her there in the evening and we went in. I was very excited. I even wore clean socks and washed my feet. You never know when the mood to play footsie might strike.

It was close to 6 o’clock on a Friday and the place was empty. Literally. We were the only two customers. Hmmm, that should have been a sign. The waiter brought us to a booth and we took off our shoes and sat down with some difficulty. Rather than sit on the floor, there was a pit for our feet so we could sit normally, albeit at floor level. The difficulty was maneuvering our legs beneath the table which was very low and left only a small space for us in which to sit and tuck in our legs.

The maneuvering accomplished we ordered and before long our food arrived. I was starting with miso soup and Saarah got salad. Not just any salad, but a Japanese Surprise Salad.  I’m sure you know what a Surprise Salad is. It is a salad with a hair in it.

A long one.

And that was it. Saarah shoved the hair with the salad (it was no longer a salad with a hair) at me because it was me who picked the restaurant so of course it was my fault. (And if you read the second paragraph above and thought “Hey, she picked the restaurant!” we’ll just pretend that never happened. She certainly did.) The waiter took his time coming over and when he did he seemed neither concerned nor surprised. He asked, unbelievably, if Saarah was going to finish the salad.

At this point she had her shoes back on and was putting on her coat to leave.

I got up to leave, the waiter walked away, and in the background from the kitchen we heard “where are they going? I’m cooking all their food!”

Not an apology, not a word as we walked out.

The rest of the evening? Grilled chicken salad at a pizzeria, arguing with a Chinese tea salesman, and vegetable shopping.

And now, last night.

Saarah and I found ourselves at Applebee’s and as she was eating her French fries what did she find?

A hair.

Her hair.

For the record, Applebee’s had zero part at all of the hair ending up in her food. Saarah was playing with her hair and it fell in.

Not that it was any less disgusting.

Next time we go out, I am going to insist that she, I, and everyone involved in the making and serving of our food wear one of these:

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