Chain stores and restaurants continue to overtake Manhattan. One of the reasons I wanted to live here was to escape places like 7-11, T.G.I. Fridays, Bed, Bath and Beyond and Trader Joe’s, but now you can spit in any direction and hit one of those generic stores. One of the latest places to invade the city is an IHOP on 14th street. So far, I’ve avoided walking by the place and was pretending it wasn’t there, but I’ve been inspired by the movement on Wall Street and I knew one thing had to be done: Occupy IHOP! And I’m not going there alone. This whole thing was suggested by fellow EV Grieve commenter and blogger, Lux Living and I’m meeting him and his partner in front of the Blarney Cove for pre IHOP drinks, so let’s be on our way.
And we're off, it's a straight shot down 14th Street to the Blarney Cove. A path I've walked many times in my life.
And here we are at the Blarney Cove. I met Lux and his partner in front, but they didn't want to be photographed because: A. They're camera shy. B. They’re wanted by the law. C. All of the above. D. None of the above. E. Nobody told me there was going to be a pop quiz here today, this sucks!
They don't like you taking pictures in here, but I snuck this shot. The bar was pretty empty since it was Sunday night.
After a few drinks we made our way to IHOP. As you can see, they're not shy about signage on the block.
Inside the dining room has a brightly lit, interrogation room/shiny abortion feel to it.
And here's the booth we chose to occupy, Gumby is the first to take hold of the booth.
And the protest begins!
Corporate pancakes suck! Telling it to the man!
Huh?
Aaaahhhh!
As long as we were occupying the booth, we decided we may as well look at the menu. Yikes, someone get this stack of pancakes a Tampon before they bleed all over the eggs!
Lux ordered the Philly Cheesteak sandwich and onion rings, which we guessed is nothing more than a well-decked sandwich made up of Steak Umms and processed cheese. I do want to take a moment here and note that our waitress, April and all of the people that work here are super nice and friendly. It doesn't make up for the food or the fact that an abortion like IHOP is here, but whatever gods are out there, please have mercy on the staff of people that have to work here. I ordered a pancake...
Live, from New York, it's Cheeseburger Saturday Night! Tonight's host is Neptune in the East Village with special guests, The Duncester, Sarah, Doug and Corrine and featuring the Ready for Prime Beef Player, Marty Wombacher. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome, Neptune!
Man in kilt alert!
Man in kilt alert two! There must be a convention in town or something. Nobody ever tells me anything!
And here we are at the Neptune restaurant. I'm meeting some people here tonight, but I'm about a forty minutes early so I can take some pictures before they get here. I've learned that when you socialize, it's easy to forget about pictures and the blog can suffer, so I'm here early to give you a pre-dinner tour of the place.
Here's some of the specials of the night. I think I'll pass on the pigs knuckles, I had them for breakfast.
Here's the front dining room.
And here's the longer dining area off to the side.
And there's a nice counter area in the back, where I thought I'd have a beer and relax before everybody shows up.
And just like magic, the lovely Evalina pours me a beer.
I got a bottle of Zywiec beer. It's a Polish beer and it's delicious and loaded with alcohol. Perfect for a Saturday night! I decided right then and there to have several more.
Signs for take-out specials and juices hang on the wall behind the counter.
This man is grilling onions on the griddle and I have to admit, I'm very entertained watching this.
And poof, like magic, it's dinner time. From left, Doug, Yours Fooly and The Duncester, who's made a couple of appearances on MAD in the past. It was a great dinner and the conversation topics ran from Paul Revere and the Raiders, to the Fugs, to Ballet, to jail and everything in between. Thanks to the Duncester for orchestrating the get together. Sarah and Corrine chose to stay out of this picture. Look at those three mugs, can you blame them? Thanks to everyone for meeting up for dinner, I had a great time!
Oh, I almost forgot, it's Cheeseburger Saturday Night, so I need to show my weekly burger. I got the turkey burger with cheddar cheese and it was delicious, read the review below. Goodnight everyone and see you tomorrow after dark.
My Meal I got the turkey burger and it was delcious. It was topped with cheddar cheese and I always say that the bun can make or break a burger and this one was bakery fresh. A great burger for sure.
In addition to the turkey burger, there’s over a dozen varieties of burgers to be had at the Neptune including: a bacon cheeseburger; mushroom burger; feta burger and a vegetarian burger. Some of the entrees on the menu include: Beef Goulash; Breaded Pork Chops; Honey Dipped Chicken and Fresh Brisket. Staying true to their Polish roots, Neptune offers Handmade Pierogi, Fresh Blintzes, Potato Pancakes and a Polish Sampler plate which includes three pierogies, stuffed cabbage or stuffed pepper and Polish kielbasa.
Bonus Photos From Occupy Amsterdam! Mad pal and commenter Ruben Dutch sent in these photos from Occupy Amsterdam. Nice to see the movement going international. Thanks for the photos, Ruben, love the last one, especially!
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Bonus Kilt Photos From Jaws!
Jaws sent in a couple of men in kilt photos he found on the internet. Thanks Jaws...I think.
There’s a candlelight vigil for Bob Arihood tonight at Ray’s Candy Store that Shawn and Lindsay organized. Later everyone’s meeting at Lucy’s bar. I’m running late and I’m pretty sure I missed the candlelight vigil, but I’m guessing people will still be at Lucy’s, which is a great East Village bar. And luckily, it’s swizzle stick night, so it’s perfect. Let’s go pay our respects.
Alright, a short walk down Houston to Avenue A and we'll be there shortly.
Even though it's over two hours after the candlelight vigil was held, there's still a good crowd of people outside of Ray's.
Some of the candles and photos of Bob in front of Ray's.
Jim Power, A.K.A. Mosaic Man was taking some videos of the crowd. He was a good friend of Bob's and was the subject of some of Bob's first entries on his blog, Neither More Nor Less.
Two friends of Bob at the vigil hold up a photo of Bob and shared some memories.
Avenue A Jay said that from this day on, someone will always be sharing a story about Bob in front of Ray's.
Avenue A Jay left this message for Bob at Ray's.
East Village activist John Penley shared memories of Bob and said he'd be at Occupy Wall Street all week. Maybe we'll see him down there. I plan on going soon.
And here's Ray with the framed photo of Bob (taken by Melanie) that Shawn and Lindsay donated to Ray's Candy Store. This insures that Bob will continue to look after Ray as he always did. Nice.
Ray points to his friend, Bob.
It's after 11PM now, I wonder if anyone is left at Lucy's.
And there at the bar are Shawn and Lindsay, the two who organized tonight's vigil for Bob.
And here's the lovely owner and hostess of Lucy's, Lucy!
There's no swizzle stick in my vodka and tonic and to be truthful, I'd be disappointed if there was one at Lucy's bar.
A long shot of the wooden bar at Lucy's.
People enjoying themselves at tables opposite the ber.
Lucy taking care of business behind the bar.
At the end of the night, Lucy and I traded stories about Bob and drank a toast to him. Cheers to you Bob! You'll be missed, but forever remembered in our thoughts and in your work.
Crazy Eddie was at the vigil for Bob last night. He left before I got there, but sent me these photos he took. Thanks, Crazy Eddie, hope to see you soon!
There’s some great tributes to East Village photographer and writer Bob Arihood who died last week. He was a friend to a lot of us and and an inspiration to even more. Check them out here:
Live, from New York, it’s Cheeseburger Saturday Night. Tonight’s host is Jules, on St. Marks Place in the East Village and featuring the Ready For Prime Beef Player, Marty Wombacher. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your host, Jules!
Okay, it's one of the MAD nights where it's still light out as we start out. We're heading to Jules, a French Bistro/Jazz Bar in the East Village and I thought it might be crowded later on, so I thought we'd head over there a little early and beat the Saturday crowd.
The chess players are hard at it in Union Square Park.
And here we are, Jules on St. Marks Place in the East Village.
Let's go in and see what's happening.
Just as I thought, we beat the crowd, let's go grab a stool at the bar.
And the lovely and friendly bartender Zsuzsa, serves up a bottle of Coney Island Lager. And since we're early, it's happy hour and beers are just three bucks a bottle. Cheers!
The specials for the evening are displayed on this chalkboard next to the bar.
Here's the dining area opposite the bar. It's a comfortable space with wooden tables and a red leather banquette lining the all.
There's outside tables to sit at and it's nice because it's a step down and you're not sitting right out on the sidewalk. A nice spot for people watching.
Some of the draft beers available at Jules.
Here's the stage where the musicians set up. It's early, so there's just a lone drum set there now. The live music starts around 8pm, for now jazz music is played over the house speakers at a conversational level.
A long shot of the other end of the bar.
The view from my bar stool as night starts to fall on St. Marks Place.
Zsuzsa behind the bar listening to a customer. She's a great bartender who's attentive to the people at the bar.
And here's the cheeseburger and frittes. it looks delicious...
And it is!
Okay, I'm done with dinner and it's out of Jules and on to St. Mark's Bookshop.
If you saw yesterday's post, you'll rememeber it's "Buy A Book Weekend."
Let's go in and find a book, there's always a great and unique selection in here.
I found this coffee table book about Max's Kansas City, which was rung up by Jed, who we met in April. You won't find this at a Barnes and Noble. And remember, if you don't live in New York, you can do what GENE and Ragin RR did and buy some books online. Do it today and let's make "Buy A Book Weekend" a big success. Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.
My Meal I had the Jules Bistro Burger with cheddar cheese and frittes. The burger was tasty and the bun was bakery fresh and knocked it out of the ball park. I always say a fresh bun makes the burger and this one was slightly toasted and melted in my mouth along with the burger. Delicious!
Other dinner selections from the menu include: Onglet de Boeuf Aux Echalotes which is grilled hanger steak with shallot sauce, mushroom risotto topped with parmesan and truffle oil; Steak Frites; Moules Frites and Le Canard de 7 Heures which is braised duck leg with sausages, bacon and pig trotters, buttery vegetables and steamed fingerling potato. In addition to the fine food and drink, Jules has live jazz, seven nights a week with no cover charge.
Cheeseburger Rating
Three Wimpy's, a delicious and savory cheeseburger.
Live, from New York, it’s Cheeseburger Saturday Night. Starring Veselka, with special guest stars, Britta and Tom and featuring the Ready For Prime Beef Player, Marty Wombacher. And now, in the heart of the East Village, please welcome, Britta, Tom and Veselka!
Here's the special guest stars, Tom and Britta enjoying the beers that I've been saving for them. Britta's Sol beer is courtesy of the BBC!
After a couple beers and some snacks it's off into the night in search of a cheeseburger.
And our travels led us to Veselka, a legendary East Village Ukrainian restaurant.
These two friendly fellows welcomed us as we entered the restaurant.
And before you can blink your eyes, we were seated at our table and enjoying a beer.
Veselka is love. Nice!
This baby scares me a little, let's just walk away from it slowly.
Here's the main dining area in Veselka.
Some of the homemade pastries and cakes in a display window.
Chanel was up by the front register and was getting something to go.
Condiments!
And when I returned to our table soup and bread were waiting. What's better than that?
The view from our window.
And now the main courses arrive. Tom got the Reuben.
Britta got the lamb burger.
And I got the turkey burger with cheddar cheese and grilled onions. I slathered mustard on it, much to Britta's horror.
A delicious burger!
And then it was out the door for dessert and a nightcap.
We thought we'd stop by Ray's for a chocolate egg cream for dessert.
And we ran into MAD pal and ace photographer, Bob Arihood outside of Ray's who was chatting with his friend Chrissy.
And here we are with the man himself, Handsome Dick Manitoba and Gumby even gets in on the action. Handsome Dick regaled us with some great rock 'n' roll tales and it was a great ending to a super fun night. Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.
Cheeseburger Rating
Three Wimpy's. A very good burger!
Veselka 144 Second Ave. (@9th Street) 212-228-9682
Ten years ago I was writing a humor column for a website called “Toast.” When September 11th went down, my editor, Hap Mansfield said if I didn’t want to write anything, she’d understand and they’d just rerun an older column of mine. There was a lot of artists and writers involved with Toast, but I was the only one from New York and wanted to say something about the day. So this is what I wrote. Hard to believe that this is ten years old, but it is. Fun really does fly when your having thyme.
My Good Friend Mr. Booze
When a bunch of maniacs brutally hijacked and then flew two planeloads of innocent people suicide-style into the World Trade Center on Sept. 11th the news hit us all hard. And if you live in New York City, it really hit you in a most horrible and furious manner. I live about a mile away and shortly after I saw the horrific images on my TV, I found myself walking towards the rubble that was once the World Trade Center. It was a strange feeling to walk from my neighborhood, which was untouched, into a surreal, third world-like war zone. Traffic was all sealed off, but the streets were full of people who had wandered down to witness the carnage firsthand. As I looked around and saw the giant brown mushroom cloud in the sky, people crying, a dazed looking woman in her early twenties wondering, “Why?” out loud to no one in particular, policemen trying to keep order in the midst of chaos, buzzing helicopters, news reporters on every corner jabbering in front of hand-held cameras, sirens and dust and debris everywhere, I felt as though I had just walked into a real-life nightmare. And there was a smell in the air. Not just the smoke and dust, but a foul, acrid odor. “Jesus,” I said to a man who had white powder flecking his dark blue suit coat standing next to me, “what’s that smell?” With a face stupid with shock he replied in a tired voice, “It’s burning flesh and hair. I heard there could be 10,000 people buried over there.” All of a sudden I wished I hadn’t walked down there and found myself shuffling away as my mind started processing too many grim thoughts per minute. I wandered aimlessly and ended up in a deli about a half a mile away. The deli was full of people, but nobody was speaking. The TV in the corner was tuned to CNN and everyone’s eyes were glued to the screen watching the never-ending updates, the rising body count and the gut-wrenching footage of those two planes crashing into the World Trade Center. As I stood there and looked slowly around the deli, it was then that I saw him. Housed behind a glass door in a cooler, was my good friend Mr. Booze.
Mr. Booze stayed with me throughout a two hour stretch in the deli. Without regard for his own feelings or well-being he comforted not only myself, but most everyone else sitting around. After a couple hours I felt the need to take a walk. Thoughtlessly I abandoned Mr. Booze and walked the streets of downtown Manhattan and watched a shocked city trying to cope with a situation that was beyond even the most fertile imagination. I was tired, but I didn’t want to go home and sit alone. I took refuge in a neighborhood bar called the Stoned Crow and as I sat down at the bar, once again I spied my good friend Mr. Booze. I was afraid he’d be mad at me for ditching him at the deli, but Mr. Booze harbored no ill will. In fact he was even more comforting than before. Hours passed and Mr. Booze tirelessly soothed my shattered nerves. He never left my side until I decided it was time to go home and try and get some sleep. Once inside my apartment I turned on the TV and watched for the umpteenth time the nauseating film clip of the World Trade Center collapsing. My head felt like it was caving in as I opened my refrigerator door to get some water to chase down four Advil tablets. I swung the door open and much to my amazement, there he was: my good friend Mr. Booze. With the help of Mr. Booze I settled down and tried to get some much-needed sleep. It was to be a fitful night of waking up from nightmares, but like a doctor on an unending house call, Mr. Booze was there every time I woke up in a pool of sweat. He’d help me back to sleep and then an hour later he’d repeat the process, never complaining, never thinking of himself.
I finally drifted off for a few hours straight, but a loud noise outside my apartment caused me to awaken at 9:05 in the morning. I bolted out of my bed and looked out the window and saw that no bomb’s were bursting outside. Feeling both a sense of relief and embarrassment I rubbed my aching head and thought that maybe Mr. Booze had finally left. But as I opened my refrigerator door I found I was wrong. There standing guard at his usual spot, was my good friend Mr. Booze.
Mr. Booze stayed with me through the day and managed to lift my spirits just a little. That evening a few friends came over. We all shared stories of where we were when it happened, talked about the photos in the paper of the people who jumped from the buildings and how the once lively and circus-like atmosphere of Manhattan had turned into one giant miserable wake. The mood in the room was depressing to say the least. Until Mr. Booze showed up. In typical Mr. Booze fashion, he livened up the party and reminded us that even in the most tragic of times you have to keep living. Mr. Booze even got all of us relaxed enough to where we started laughing at jokes and each other for the first time since Tuesday morning. Mr. Booze accompanied us to the Stoned Crow bar and then to another, which for some reason the name escapes me. When it was time to go home, Mr. Booze helped me find the way and once again his calming company helped me get to sleep.
A few weeks have passed since the tragedy and with the help of Mr. Booze I felt like I was back on track. I even decided to sit down and write my column for Toast. It was then that I encountered the worst case of writer’s block in my life. I couldn’t think of anything to write about. I was petrified. I thought maybe all the grotesque images I had seen in the past few weeks had stripped my ability to do what I love most. Hours passed as I stared at my blank computer screen as depression set in. Just when I was ready to call it quits, I happened to look to the right of my keyboard. And there he was. My good friend Mr. Booze. I knew then and there what the subject matter for this column would be.
And so ladies and gentlemen, in closing I would like to ask...no, beg you to join me as I stand up and salute my good friend...Mr. Booze!
EV Grieve has written about a guy in the East Village who parks an RV outside of his apartment building, check out the post here.EV Grieve commenter Larry Slade left a comment within the post saying that the Daily News recently did an article featuring the owner and the RV. I followed the link and it turns out the guy who owns it lives nearby where he parks it and treats it like a living room on the street. His name is Ron Britt and he’s quoted as saying he wants the interior to feel like a Texas whoreshouse. It also says he’s a singer in a disco/blues band. Okay, I’m intrigued and would like to meet this guy and maybe hang out in the RV and have a few beers. If he’s not inside, maybe we can find his apartment. At the very least, it’s near the Chillmaster Lair, so if all else fails, maybe we can roust The Chillmaster. Only one way to find out and that’s to get going to the East Village.
Off we go, into the wild dark yonder.
And down into the bowels of the subway system.
Ha! Check out the sign. "The Fun Is Back In Coney Island." That's true for this weekend, but the fun will be long gone next year as the Boardwalk gets turned into a land of sports bars and coffee shops.
Okay, here we are, the East Village, off to find the Free Willie RV!
There's a band playing at Boca Chica tonight. They've got a full house here.
And look, it's an RV, this doesn't look like the Free Willie one though.
This isn't the Free Willie, I read that Ron has two RV's and this is his secondary one, "Old Flat Top." Two RV's in New York City, that's pretty nuts!
Ha! There's a giraffe behind the wheel. I'd really like to meet this guy!
I walked up and down the block and can't find the Free Willie RV. I wonder if he's out on a road trip for the Labor Day weekend?
Another crazy thing is he's got his phone number on the RV. I blocked a few numbers out. Hey, you want to call him, you make the trip here, I'm not a walking white pages here!
So I called him and sure as shit on a shingle, it's his number. I got his answering machine and left a message. I sounded real pathetic on the message, for some reason I can't memorize my cell phone number, so I always leave messages saying, "I don't know what my cell phone number is, but hopefully you've got it and will call me back." I don't get a lot of return calls. But that's okay with me.
On the message I told him I'd wait at the corner for a while, so I got four beers to drink while waiting.
They forgot to put a brown bag in with the beer, so I decided fuck it, I'm drinking them bareback style on the sidewalk. Breakin' the law!
Well, I waited twenty minutes and never heard anything, so I thought I'd mosey down to the Chillmaster Lair and see what's shaking.
Ahh, the window is closed. Oh well, I'm down to my last beer anyway...hey, let's go drink it at the Mars Bar while it's still there.
It's just a couple blocks away.
It's still here. It'll be a sad day when it's not on this corner.
To the Mars Bar! Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.
With all the media reports that Hurricane Tropical Storm Irene was going to level New York City, I didn’t expect to be able to go out tonight, so I stocked up on booze and expected to stuck in my apartment all day and all of the night. Below is my stockpile for the storm which I figured would go on all though the day and into the night. I ended up with three bottles of tea, four bottles of water, fifteen sixteen ounce bottles of Budweiser, 6 bottles of Red Stripe, three bottles of Ballantine Ale and four bottles of Diet Mountain Dew. Yeah, I admit I overdid it, but I was certain from the news reports that I’d lose power and that this thing would rage on through the day and night and wreak powerful damage.
Well, it came and went during the morning, I slept through it and now it’s just spitting a little rain and is a little windy out. So I’ve decided to have a few beers at home and then have my Sunday dinner at McSorley’s and meet some friends. Usually the place is packed, but since the subway is still down, I’m thinking it might be a good night to go there. We’ll see!
My neighborhood was lucky and this is the extent of the damage that came from Hurricane Tropical Storm Irene.
The skyline doesn't look threatening at all tonight.
And here we are, McSorley's Old Ale House. Hopefully it won't be packed in here like it usually is.
There's only one way to find out and that's to go through the doors and take a look.
Jesus Christ, it's fucking packed in here and really loud.
There's a small spot at the bar and I've managed to squeeze in.
A view of the bar from where I'm squeezed in at.
There's always sawdust on the floor in here.
A photo of someone taking a photo. We'll call this "Photo Squared."
And of course there's texting going on.
When you order one mug of beer at McSorley's, you get two, it's the way things are done here.
Michael's the only bartender on duty tonight...
And as you can see, he's very busy. There's a lot of thirsty people in here relieved that Irene didn't cause as much damage as the media predicted.
I got a ham and cheese sandwich for my Sunday dinner.
I slathered it with McSorley's spicy homemade mustard (sorry Kari and Britta) and it was delicious!
After I ate it, I went back and thanked Maeve in the kitchen for a job well done.
Here's the legendary wishbones that hang over the bar that recently had to be dusted off. You can read about it here.
And here's the Duncester, Ed and Goggla. We managed to score a table in the back, but it was still really loud in there.
And here's Lindsay and Shawn to complete the party!
After a couple of beers we were ready to move on and go to a quieter place. On the way out, The Duncester points to a picture of a friend of his on the wall.
It's Peter Farnan who was a manager/bartender at McSorley's in the '70's and '80's. His mother still lives in The Duncester's building.
And Shawn leads the way out the door and onto quieter pastures. Goodnight everybody and that includes you, Irene! See you tomorrow after dark.
Chain stores and restaurants continue to overtake Manhattan. One of the reasons I wanted to live here was to escape places like 7-11, T.G.I. Fridays, Bed, Bath and Beyond and Trader Joe’s, but now you can spit in any direction and hit one of those generic stores. One of the latest places to invade the city is an IHOP on 14th street. So far, I’ve avoided walking by the place and was pretending it wasn’t there, but I’ve been inspired by the movement on Wall Street and I knew one thing had to be done: Occupy IHOP! And I’m not going there alone. This whole thing was suggested by fellow EV Grieve commenter and blogger, Lux Living and I’m meeting him and his partner in front of the Blarney Cove for pre IHOP drinks, so let’s be on our way.
And we're off, it's a straight shot down 14th Street to the Blarney Cove. A path I've walked many times in my life.
And here we are at the Blarney Cove. I met Lux and his partner in front, but they didn't want to be photographed because:
They don't like you taking pictures in here, but I snuck this shot. The bar was pretty empty since it was Sunday night.
After a few drinks we made our way to IHOP. As you can see, they're not shy about signage on the block.
Inside the dining room has a brightly lit, interrogation room/shiny abortion feel to it.
And here's the booth we chose to occupy, Gumby is the first to take hold of the booth.
And the protest begins!
Corporate pancakes suck! Telling it to the man!
Huh?
Aaaahhhh!
As long as we were occupying the booth, we decided we may as well look at the menu. Yikes, someone get this stack of pancakes a Tampon before they bleed all over the eggs!
Lux ordered the Philly Cheesteak sandwich and onion rings, which we guessed is nothing more than a well-decked sandwich made up of Steak Umms and processed cheese. I do want to take a moment here and note that our waitress, April and all of the people that work here are super nice and friendly. It doesn't make up for the food or the fact that an abortion like IHOP is here, but whatever gods are out there, please have mercy on the staff of people that have to work here. I ordered a pancake...
Aaahhhh!
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