I've never been to Williamsburg, Brooklyn, but Figgy begged us for weeks to go with her good friend from Montclair to his graduation party there tonight. Five bands played at a space across from the old Domino Sugar refinery on Kent Avenue. Fig had asked to sleep over [as her friend was, with his friends], but we said no. So that meant that though they took the NJ Transit train and two subways to get to the party, we were picking her up.
Fig left Montclair on a 5:18 train, but we didn't drive in until 9 P.M. H. had hunted online and found a place called Aurora @ 70 Grand Street. It was enchanting. Little white lights and stylish people--twentysomething women in pleated or lacy dresses and summery wedge sandals, their hair in loose ringlets or chic layers. Men who looked like Martin Scorsese, with silver hair and black-rimmed glasses--and a couple of trim young bachelors [one in a collared check shirt] at the table next to us, visiting from Germany and then en route to Miami. I checked everyone out over their prosciutto and tiny white cups of espresso.
H. had the fresh pea risotto with shrimp and I had the best pasta ever, tender homemade agnolotti filled with burrata cheese and tossed with baby summer squash, pine nuts, pesto and ricotta salata, under a near-melty blanket of freshly grated cheese. The little pasta pillows vanished fast, but not without my noticing fresh-from-the-farm butter in the sauce. For dessert: An excellent cappuccino with a fluffy white cap and Bonet di Cioccolato, a chilled chocolate and Amaretto pudding, served by the slice with a petite scoop of vanilla gelato and a little wand of a homemade cookie. Lovely. At the end, we were talking to the general manager, Damien, about how much we loved the place. Turns out he grew up in Montclair, right around the corner from the high school. So funny--travel far and come home again.
My feet hurt now, since we were about 15 minutes from our car and I wore heels. But I liked driving over the Williamsburg Bridge and stepping into another, hipper world where people linger over dinner at 11, sipping wine and dipping bread. I liked seeing the flower boxes on the apartment window ledges and the bikes locked up for the night and the young women walking alone to their destinations. It made me think the neighborhood was safe, though to me, it was a foreign land and felt deserted in places. To me, it was unexplored territory. And we didn't head home until nearly 1.
Fig had fun, too.
Good night.
TCOY
Fig left Montclair on a 5:18 train, but we didn't drive in until 9 P.M. H. had hunted online and found a place called Aurora @ 70 Grand Street. It was enchanting. Little white lights and stylish people--twentysomething women in pleated or lacy dresses and summery wedge sandals, their hair in loose ringlets or chic layers. Men who looked like Martin Scorsese, with silver hair and black-rimmed glasses--and a couple of trim young bachelors [one in a collared check shirt] at the table next to us, visiting from Germany and then en route to Miami. I checked everyone out over their prosciutto and tiny white cups of espresso.
H. had the fresh pea risotto with shrimp and I had the best pasta ever, tender homemade agnolotti filled with burrata cheese and tossed with baby summer squash, pine nuts, pesto and ricotta salata, under a near-melty blanket of freshly grated cheese. The little pasta pillows vanished fast, but not without my noticing fresh-from-the-farm butter in the sauce. For dessert: An excellent cappuccino with a fluffy white cap and Bonet di Cioccolato, a chilled chocolate and Amaretto pudding, served by the slice with a petite scoop of vanilla gelato and a little wand of a homemade cookie. Lovely. At the end, we were talking to the general manager, Damien, about how much we loved the place. Turns out he grew up in Montclair, right around the corner from the high school. So funny--travel far and come home again.
My feet hurt now, since we were about 15 minutes from our car and I wore heels. But I liked driving over the Williamsburg Bridge and stepping into another, hipper world where people linger over dinner at 11, sipping wine and dipping bread. I liked seeing the flower boxes on the apartment window ledges and the bikes locked up for the night and the young women walking alone to their destinations. It made me think the neighborhood was safe, though to me, it was a foreign land and felt deserted in places. To me, it was unexplored territory. And we didn't head home until nearly 1.
Fig had fun, too.
Good night.
TCOY
- Boot camp in the park with Patsy & Co.
- Walked Sug around block twice.
- Bought 3-ring binder to start organizing health insurance bills/hospital bills and try to make sense of it.
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