Drinking Green

I attended an event last night that was so much fun I have to share. The event was a monthly gathering of a group called Green Drinks at LQ Bar in midtown.

Basically, this networking/social group was founded several years ago by people who want to meet other ecologically-minded people in a social setting. It has grown so large that there are Green Drinks gatherings in cities all over the world. In fact, last night there were several hundred people in attendance.

Each gathering has different sponsors or presenters (just a quick talk, otherwise the event is mostly social). Last night NBC was there promoting their GreenWeek television series coming up and the people from CERC were promoting their programs as well.

They had green drink specials, which were literally…green. I tried a Melon Ball (Midori, vodka and pineapple juice) and my friend tried a Tykyu Martini (though it turned out more yellow than green). NBC even thought to bring along green cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery…they know me too well!

Networking was going down all over the place; so many people from so many different professions – lawyers, businesspeople, designers, planners, non-profiteers, young, old. The best part was that you could strike up a conversation with anyone without any dirty looks, though there were inevitably the awkward moments when I would just pass along my business card and head for another cupcake.

All in all, it was a great night. What else is going on Tuesday nights anyway? I’m looking forward to the holiday party on Dec. 7 I believe. Green Drinks meets the first Tuesday of every month at a different venue each time. Sign up for their mailing list to find out more. I hope to see you there soon!







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Bar-Hopping in the Boroughs

Someone once told me that you are not a true New Yorker until you’ve visited all five boroughs. So over the weekend I trekked out to Brooklyn for a night on the town with a couple of my new New York friends.

Boyfriend in tow, I hopped on a 5 train heading south to Brooklyn. It actually only took about 25 minutes to get to our exit at Nevins Street. Of course it took the same amount of time to find our destination, a restaurant called Stan’s Place on Atlantic Avenue, only a few blocks away. The streets are nowhere near as organized in Brooklyn as they are in most of Manhattan. What is a newcomer supposed to do but amble on like a lost pony? So amble we did.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on our surroundings. It went from graffiti-ed steel grates on shops to quaint boutiques to elaborately decorated turn-of-the-century brownstones to high-schoolers chumming on the street to yuppies trying to find the latest new hang-out spot. It was such an eclectic mix. Very intriguing.

We finally find Stan’s place, after learning that we’d turned down the wrong street because we couldn’t find any street signs, only to learn that our friends were just finishing their dinner and wanted to take us to another bar. Turn after turn, I quickly lost track of north I thought I’d found, and soon enough, even our guides who had lived in Brooklyn for several years were misguided by the angled streets and missing street signs.

We squeezed in to a very crowded Brooklyn Inn, a quaint sort of bar with a very old-time rustic feel, complete with ornate, blue wood décor surrounding the large wall-to-wall windows. This was all I was able to sample, though, because our Brooklynite friends whisked us away in search of a little space.

We end up on Smith Street in Carroll Gardens. Again I found the mood of my surroundings a bit odd. Interspersed between closed shops, small groceries and a couple of delis were happening bars. Music would spew out and then end abruptly each time a door opened and closed. Dim candle lights could be seen through the darkened and decorated windows. Yet, hardly anyone was on the sidewalk.

When we walked into Camp, you would hardly know how empty it was outside. With walls covered in bark, deer heads hung high throughout the room, marshmallow roasting and drinks like the Dirty Girl Scout, this place took me straight to the great outdoors. I had a lot of fun watching various bar-goes play a hunting video game from my comfy log-cabin chair while sipping my CAMP signature martini (absolut vanilla and godiva white chocolate with, literally, a flaming marshmallow on a stick). Someone e

Getting home wasn’t too hard; only took about an hour to get back up to E. 94th Street. I’d consider that pretty good considering the fact that trains don’t come that often at 3 a.m.

So that was my adventure to Brooklyn. I’d say that I got quite the tour in one night. I’m on my way to becoming a “true New Yorker” and hitting the other three boroughs soon.







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Shoes! Shoes! Shoes!

I grew up in awe of the number of pairs both my mom and my Nana amassed. I’ve always known the difference between patent leather and suede, pump and wedge, peep-toe and sandal. I watched Sex and the City. I always thought I understood the shoe thing.

Until last week.

When I started working, I had to put the Puma’s and flip-flops aside for more professional looking footwear. I already owned a couple pairs of “nicer” looking shoes - a solid black, solid brown and a couple in betweens. Even though none of my shoes were too high-heeled, the bit of extra height became cumbersome to me and I would find myself packing my flimsy little ballet flats in my bag to wear in case blisters decided to pay me a visit.

I’m on a limited budget, so the thought of spending hundreds of dollars on shoes gives me nightmares. Although, the thought of spending thousands of dollars on bunion surgery in 20 years also gives me the creeps.

So I came to the conclusion which my great grandma had always preached to my dad when he was young: Be frugal, but never skimp on doctors, dentists and shoes. The doctors and dentists thing makes sense, but I used to thing the shoes thing was more for vanity.

If you never walk, you buy shoes for pure aesthetic reasons. If you are carried everywhere, whisked around in a limousine, lifted into a piggy-back or if you by chance have wings (although that would be a whole other medical problem), you need comfortable shoes.

I moved to New York because I love walking and I hate driving. Southern California traffic raised me to loathe gasoline, abhor stoplights and fear parallel parking. I’m not ashamed to admit any of this and I’m sure I will most likely own a car someday when I live somewhere else, but right now I’m content. The trade off with this agreement is that I must walk or ride the Subway everywhere. By now I’m sure you’re familiar with my Subway exploits, but I’ve done my fair share of walking as well. Just this past weekend I walked back and forth across Central Park, from my apartment on 94th down to 50th and then back up to 58th.

So I decided to give in. With the financial support of my generous Nana (yes, the same one with at least 300 pairs of shoes, I counted once), I purchased a new pair of brown Bandolino boots. Chocolate brown, buttery soft leather, they are practically heaven for my feet, and the low heel allows them to be classy but comfortable. I also indulged in a pair of black, patent-leather, Franco Sarto pumps (they were on sale!) which are like paradise for my feet. Super shiny, even my boss commented (that’s saying a lot).

I do get the shoe thing, finally. Now I own heaven and paradise, and unless you fantasize about bunion surgery, I’d suggest you do the same.


PS: Go Vote!!








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Watch out for those Banana Peels

Continuing onto part 2 of embarrassing me stories, right after I finished my last post I fell. Literally. On the sidewalk. Boom. Cement. Skinned knee.

I am definitely a klutz (not such a good trait in a big city with lots of sharp corners and broken glass). It's not like this happens all the time. In fact, I can't remember just falling on the sidewalk since probably elementary school at recess or something. But alas, I legitimately fell on the sidewalk and yelped out a very strong expletive - that's a new touch since my grade school days.

I feel like there comes a day when you practically aren't allowed to fall anymore. When you're young and wildly running everywhere, you fall, skin your knee, and are soon back up running around again. You have less distance to fall, so maybe it doesn't hurt as much, but you are practically expected to fall. My mother always had Bactine and Band-aids on hand just for that reason. But after a certain age, it's taboo to fall. You are supposed to have balance and poise and stand on your own two feet.

You only hear of an adult who falls with either balance issues or who ends up in the hospital with a broken hip. You don't hear of a healthy twenty-something falling on the sidewalk (well, maybe if they were in 3 inch heels - but I was wearing flats).

I'm sure you're wondering why I fell. Does she have balance issues? 

This is where my New York theme comes in. 

Back up 20  minutes. I was in a Whole Foods (NYC's most worshipped grocery store - it's like a really expensive cult) trying to pick up a light dinner before heading over to the Chelsea Recreation Center to do my SAT tutoring. My favorite thing about Whole Foods is that you can pick up some of their read-to-go food, eat it at the tables in the store and head out and be on your merry way.

It was a chilly afternoon, so I ladled some pumpkin spice bisque into a cup, grabbed a wedge of cornbread and headed for the cashier. I inquired where the seating area was.

"Oh, we don't have tables, but you can grab a spoon and a napkin on your way out."

Literally, it was thirty something degrees out, I had 15 minutes to eat, there was absolutely no space to slurp (even the wee bit of counter-space available was taken up by fall floral arrangements), and the cashier expected me to walk down the street with my free spoon to eat my soup?  They really should advertise that fact before you enter the ready-made food section. It's deceiving. 

With no other option, I zip up and trekked outside in the chilly wind with the idea of eating my soup in the tutoring room hurriedly before the kids came. Yada, yada, yada, so I fall. Possibly because I was so focused on the soup that I didn't watch my feet, partially because I'm a born klutz, but mostly I'm convinced someone slipped a banana peel under my foot, but I fell hard on my left knee and the back of my hand. 

An older lady walking behind me (thankfully the only witness to my humiliation) runs up to make sure I'm ok. The back of my hand surprisingly had no scratches, but my knee was in a lot of pain. I was still bitter about the Whole Foods not having tables.

So the moral of the story is, Whole Foods has great meal preparation options for people with no time, but make sure they have tables first, or be prepared to carry out.

Oh and in case you were wondering, I didn't spill the soup. Somehow it stayed together, cap strongly in place. I gotta watch out for those bananas next time.

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Relax, You're Just Absentminded

I panicked this morning – my wallet was gone.

I knew it was gone because I have wedged myself into little habits where I keep certain possessions in a specific place. I’m not really one for routine, but it is nice to know that if I leave my keys and Subway card on my bedside table when I get home from work, they will be there in the morning. But this morning, after I grabbed my keys and Subway card, I wanted to check my wallet to see if I needed to stop at the ATM on the way to work for lunch money. (Isn’t that cute I still call it lunch money).

I scrambled through my abyss of a bag – since when did so much stuff coagulate? – and alas I concluded that my bulging wallet was absent. I guess it didn’t take long because the pink hearts and the sheer weight of the thing make it stand out. So the panic began…

Where is it? When did I last use it? What if someone stole it? Let me search everywhere…under the bed? No. Kitchen table? No. Maybe it somehow found its way to the bathtub? Of course not, Yael, how can you be so silly at a time like this? What if the giant cockroach that visited last night carried it away into the building’s foundation? No, it would never fit through any crack. Oh, my parents always warned me about pickpockets in New York. Mike’s dad doesn’t take the Subway just for that reason. How could I be so naïve!!?! Crap, I’m late for work.

I was so distracted for my entire commute that I hardly noticed the older woman jabbing her elbow into my ribcage from 86th to 59th (ok, maybe I did notice a little). I couldn’t even open the really really exciting book that I just started (Agent Zigzag by Ben Macintyre). All I could think about were pickpockets and keeping my bag close to me. The latter isn’t really that hard to do when you are packed into the cattle car they call the Subway.

Really, I don’t want to bore you with anymore of my cliché dramatic writing, so I’ll just let you know how much of a pea brain I had yesterday (but only yesterday of course). When I arrived at work, there was my wallet, sitting open, on top of the scanner, to the right of my computer – exactly where I had left it yesterday when I took out my corporate Amex to make an airfare purchase. I’m very lucky my building has honest janitors who decided not to take home said wallet as an early Christmas gift. Yes, I’m a doof. I’m blaming on all the chemicals in the city air.

Still, I felt this experience could lead to a good blog post a) because it’s embarrassing and people like to read about others’ embarrassments, b) because most other people in the city would also automatically assume they’ve been pick-pocketed and c) to display to you that petty theft in NYC is and has definitely been on the decrease for a while.

According to this weekly police report, there were 481 incidences of burglary reported in the last week, 1,901 since 10/1, and 17,727 year to date in NYC. That may seem like a lot, but the latest government census data has the population of New York City at 8,250,567 (plus at least 1 for myself ). Roughly, .002% of the population was robbed in the last week, .023% in the last month and about 2.1% in the last year. Your chances are pretty low my friend, especially because those statistics are from all five boroughs, not only Manhattan. Another thing I found interesting in the report were the percent changes in crime statistics. Although statistics state robbery occurrences are up 1.9% since last year, they are down 6.5% since two years ago, 20.8% from seven years ago and 74.5% from fifteen years ago. If I had known that data this morning, maybe I wouldn’t have panicked so much and would have actually been able to chew my Cheerios instead of just swallowing them whole.

That report shows statistics for all other categories of crime in the city as well and if you’re interested in looking, you should check it out. I’m very impressed with the police department for actually producing a comprehensible ONE-PAGE document (the one page is key!) that has relevant information for the curious public to steal a peak, if you will.

At least in a world of crooks, I can feel safe knowing that I have only a 2.1% chance of getting robbed in a year. However, the probability of me being absentminded, well, I forgot, what was I talking about?








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Umbrella Today?

Despite our oh-so-unusual 70 degree weather of last week, despite the current 90 degree temperature in my hometown of Valencia, CA, despite how much we don’t want it, it’s raining in New York today.

Walking to work, I could pick out the responsible ones – the folks who chatted with their local weatherman this morning. I could also pick out those that didn’t; clambering around with briefcases held high over their heads and important documents clutched to their chests. Tattered hairdos and stained suede shoes romping through the misplaced puddles of Times Square, these folks need help.

If you are one of “those people,” I’d like to share with you Umbrella Today? They claim to be the simplest weather report around, and simply put, it is. All you do is type in your zip code and the Website tells you “yes” or “no” to bringing an umbrella with you for the day. That’s it. Five seconds, max.

Personally, I like to check weather.com, my morning news show and occasionally I’ll actually look out the window to check for clouds, but that’s just me. I like a little more information. You know the basics: humidity, barometer reading, high pressure, low pressure, dew point…I suppose you could call me a geek.

Have fun with the Website, but please! don’t be one of the annoying who then bring 10 ft. wide golf umbrellas to the streets of Manhattan. Save them for the tee. There’s just not enough room.







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TJ's or Bust!

If there’s one store I relied most upon in college for food, it was Trader Joe’s. There was one only a 15 minute walk away from my senior year apartment and I would make almost weekly treks there to pickup my cherished frozen garlic naan bread, the cheapest milk around, and of course, the chocolate chip meringue cookies.

Since moving to New York, I’ve had to recover from a minor heart attack caused by the exceedingly high cost of groceries. (I’m only kidding about the heart attack part for all of my readers who truly care). I generally pay $2.59 for a dozen eggs, $1.63 for a quart of non-fat milk, and cold cuts only start at about $6.99/lb for the cheap stuff. It’s a tad depressing especially for a closet/kitchen chef like myself.

Despite the high prices, I am at least blessed with the convenience of having three large grocery stores within a two block radius of my apartment. Unfortunately, none of them are anything like Trader Joe’s with it’s chalked up walls and free samples of vegetarian chili and cubes of gruyere cheese.

This past weekend, my significant other and I decided to venture to Union Square to the ONLY Trader Joe’s in the city via the free NYU shuttle bus. Of course we went on Saturday, one of the most miserable rainy days of October, but backpacks and raincoats in tow, we trekked.

Once inside, I was whisked away to the magical land of blueberry scones and mochi ice cream where a quart of milk is only 99 cents and bananas are actually yellow. Despite the rain, it was actually a good day for us to go, because the line, which usually wraps around the entire store at a minimum 30 minute wait, only wound down one aisle. Of course we also had to deal with the fact the frozen food section was nearly empty because of a warehouse fire. (They still had my frozen naan!).

Among my favorites, I stockpiled mini pitas, lobster ravioli (only $2.99 a package), chicken sausage, a bag of Clementine’s, bananas, and my favorite, tomato soup in a carton. The long bus trip back to the UES made it so that I could not buy and carry eggs, milk or OJ, but the dollars and taste buds I saved by going to TJ’s were much appreciative. I was greeted my someone who actually smiled at me and asked me how I was at checkout and as a bonus for bringing my own bag, I got a raffle ticket to win $25 worth of free groceries (that could go a long way at this store).

I know you can hit up Zabar’s or Gourmet Garage for all of your eclectic food needs, but really, Trader Joe’s has almost anything unique you could possibly want at non-NYC prices. My question is: why is there only one?

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