Tag Archives: NYC

The NYC Food Film Festival, or How I Legally Yanked Food from a Truck

food, , , ,

Gastrocinephiles! So you’ve watched and rewound the opening scene of Eat Drink Man Woman multiple times? Your dreams involve recreating the timpano from Big Night? Then the NYC Food Film Festival is the place to be, celebrating the year’s accomplishments in food film, food documentary, and of course, food porn. In its fifth year of running, the Food Film Fest is attracting all sorts of attention from food media, filmmakers, and even Mayor Bloomberg, who kicked off the opening ceremony by declaring “Food Film Fest Day” in New York.

I was present for the closing gala, themed “Farm to Film to Table.” Held in the Varick Room at the Tribeca Theater, the city’s student filmmakers, publicists and chefs gathered for hors d’oeuvres and cocktails made from locally sourced ingredients. Chef and Food Network star Amanda Freitag spearheaded a menu of baked crab apples with pork belly in the core, butternut squash with curry and pepitas, and roasted sunchokes with red garlic. Most interesting was the edible dirt, a powdery concoction of mushrooms served with peppery arugula. The dirt, while tasty, would’ve been better if it were warm, so I actually ended up sprinkling some over a bowl of chili for highly satisfactory results. Continue reading The NYC Food Film Festival, or How I Legally Yanked Food from a Truck →

An Old New World: Arthur Avenue’s Little Italy

culture, food, , , , ,

When I left Italy in March, I’ll confess it wasn’t so much a graceful departure as a beeline to escape. I was tired of fighting bureaucracy in the Living Museum, missed the bustle of a proper city, and had eaten so much cured meat that my sweat stank with lactic fermentation. Italophiles may weep, but I’ll say it anyway—I was totally over Italy and ready to abandon la dolce vita forever.

But like a mosquito to bare arms, I couldn’t stay away for long. Soon, I’d gotten my fix of cilantro and tacos, and my kilo-block of parmesan had run out. Luckily, this is New York and you can get anything here—for a price—so I began discreetly scouting for new dealers.

They said Arthur Avenue was where I wanted to go. It seems that while the Little Italy of downtown Manhattan has long been overrun by tourists and Armenian restauranteurs masquerading as Italians, this little stretch of the Bronx still retains small town character and old men leisurely watching football.

Transportation to Arthur Avenue consists of taking the B/D train to Fordham, a solid 90-minute trek from Brooklyn. The surrounding neighborhood isn’t the greatest, but during the day, I didn’t feel uncomfortable at any point. After you leave the station, walk about seven blocks to the east along 186th St, then one block south on 3rd Ave, and another four blocks east on 187th St until you reach Arthur Ave. The Italian community is centered around this intersection, radiating 3-4 blocks in each direction.
Continue reading An Old New World: Arthur Avenue’s Little Italy →

Pride Parade: One Small Step for Humans, One Giant Leap for Human Rights

culture, ,

So you may have heard that the state of New York legalized gay marriage last Friday. Thirty days after the bill’s signing, homosexual couples will able to marry in NY, MA, VT, CT, NH, IA and DC.

The city’s annual Pride Parade was scheduled for Sunday, just two days after the historic passage. Cue thousands of signs being printed with the proclamation, “Thank you Governor Cuomo – promise kept!” A few marchers made not-so-subtle jabs at California’s repealed Proposition 8.
Continue reading Pride Parade: One Small Step for Humans, One Giant Leap for Human Rights →

Living in the Greatest Clusterfuck in the World

life, work, , , ,


Just another rental sign in NYC

Living in New York is like spoonful of Chinese medicine—intense, acerbic, unmasked. At the end of the day, you feel like you’ve gotten better, or at least tell yourself that you’re doing better, because otherwise the rent is too damn high to justify being here.

I’ve been away from Italy for about three months now, and get asked now and then on whether I miss it. The short answer is, no. The long answer is, I can get all the burrata and olives I want at the Food Coop, along with kombu, almond butter and sunflower sprouts. So no, I don’t find that I miss Italy at all.

I do miss having an apartment that’s large enough to swing a cat in. Going from a transoceanic long-distance relationship to a 200 sq ft studio apartment has required a bit of adjustment. Sometimes I can’t believe he refuses to touch asparagus; other times I never fail to act in a considerate and socially acceptable manner. Kidding. I have my flaws too, but at least I can blame those on PMS. And despite the fights and heated debates where words like Trust and Dependence and Trolling are thrown about, we’re making it work. Bedhead and morning disgruntlement have now become oddly endearing.

On the plus side, cleaning the flat involves about three minutes of sweeping the floor.

The job is still exciting, and I never get tired of telling people I work in the film industry and sustainable food advocacy. For an added ego boost, I receive emails semi-regularly about what great work we’re doing, how I’m a ray of light that is transforming the food system. I feel lucky that I get paid to do things I would do on my own time, and that I’m meeting like-minded movers and shakers. Last week, New Yorker editor John Donohue thanked me for reading and promoting his book. No John, thank you for giving me your number…can I send you some pitches?

With my director away on maternity leave, I also have a good deal of autonomy and decision-making power. It’s a funny tightrope walk, knowing that I have just enough rope with which to hang myself.

We’re hiring an intern now. Funny that just four months ago, I was that intern. And now I’m getting profiled on Good Food Jobs.

Park Slope Food Coop: Will Work for Food

food, , , , , , ,


Photo: Michael Nagle/NYT

“The co-op is worse than socialism. Because at least in a socialist country, if you know the right people, you can get out of it.”

“For a long time, the co-op member who lived furthest away was from—can anyone guess?—Ithaca, NY. Once a month, he would drive all the way to Park Slope, do his work shift, and then load up his car with groceries. There’s a food co-op in Ithaca too, but apparently it was still worth it to come all the way here.”

“It’s something between an earthy-crunchy health food haven and a Soviet-style re-education camp.”

Love it or hate it, the Park Slope Food Coop is undeniably the nation’s most notorious cooperative grocery store, a bastion of democratic ideals in one of New York’s most elite neighborhoods. As the name suggests, a cooperative is a group of people who work together in a jointly owned business. Most food co-ops in the U.S. have several tiers of members, where some members contribute labor to the co-op and pay less, while other members only shop and pay a bit more. The Park Slope Food Coop does not trifle with such distinctions—to shop at the co-op, every adult member of your household must work a 2 ¾ hour shift every four weeks. No exceptions. This is one of the strictest labor requirements in the country for a food co-op.

Which is to say, if you want to become a member, you will have to work very, very hard. No, I don’t mean the work requirement. I am referring to the sign-up process. To join the co-op, you must first register for an orientation session. Registration slots are available online, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, between 3 and 4 pm. For my first few attempts, every time I remembered to check online, all the slots had already been taken. Finally, I set myself a Google Calendar reminder, sat on the orientation page and hit refresh until I landed a slot.
Continue reading Park Slope Food Coop: Will Work for Food →

In the City that Never Sleeps: I Think I Have an Overemployment Problem

life, work, , , , , , , , , , , , ,


The sort of sidewalk message I pass on the way to work. I love Brooklyn.

Someone once asked me if I am like a shark—if I stop moving, will I die? Which is to say, I have never been one for being idle. But this time, I may have outdone myself. Right now, I am simultaneously a full-time student and a full-time employee. Score, I have created a monstrosity that will truly screw with BLS unemployment statistics.

The past couple weeks in a nutshell: on March 4th, section B of the UNISG Food Culture & Communication masters program had their last day of classes. Booze was drunk. Tears were wept. Food was deep-fried. I packed my bags and flew to New York on March 7th. The next day, I went in for a job interview with Fresh, whose blog I had been writing for the last month. After a few more discussions, I landed a job on March 11th. Work started on the 14th, and I’ve been a working stiff ever since, for eight hours a day. Did I mention I still have this thing called a thesis to write by May 6th? Good thing I thrive on time pressure.
Continue reading In the City that Never Sleeps: I Think I Have an Overemployment Problem →