You Know Who You Aren't.
We can't help but be territorial since, after all, neighborhoods that were once forbidden to us (by parents who feared for our safeties due to tales of gang threats and drug dealers from their own Brooklyn childhoods) have become the mecca for those who relocate from far off lands including (insert pause/gasp/sigh) Manhattan. News flash to those who take pride in their relocation to a home that was once (more authentically) ours: that building (to the right, in the far distance) about which you (and your fellow transplants) associate multi-million dollar condos is where the rest of us (Brooklyn natives) have nightmarish flashbacks to night braces, retainers, and neon-colored rubber bands that made our teeth cry, in which nearly every office was once inhabited by orthodontists (any Dr. Kolin graduates out there?) and driving to Fort Greene meant missing out on afternoon fun in the 11th Street Playground (the one you hardly notice on your way to summer concerts in Prospect Park). That, too, was once ours. Oh, and BAM? A 'long distance' (subway ride - woohoo!) school trip where (occasionally) our teachers insisted we expose ourselves to African Dance and Mediocre Ballet, as long as our permission slips were signed on the dotted line. But we ain't bitter. Because who else would we meet for brunch on Sunday mornings in Red Hook or 4th Avenue bars even if, after parting ways, we return to our childhood bedrooms where our 'rents charge us a portion of what you pay and the fridge is always stocked with chocolate pudding snacks and oreos. Don't hate on us, either, since you'd do the same. And we, too, would meet you for bagels and mimosas without breathing a judgmental word. Enjoy!
N.B. Due to a minor cooking accident yesterday evening, this blog will be out of commission for the remainder of the week and will resume on Tuesday, July 6, 2010 with the usual romance, nonsense, and rants we're all familiar with. Until then, Happy 4th!
I was in a bookstore yesterday and happened to glance at the latest cookbooks, to be amused by one in particular.The name escapes me but it's a travel guide to the best eats and food stores in Brooklyn.The trouble was, it didn't extend beyond the slope.Oh my.Anyone for Palermo's Bakery on E.55th Street, or the super famous (the real deal)Colucchio's Italian Importing Store on 60th Street, or Circus Vegetables on Ft. Hamilton Pky,just to name a few.As a foodie and Brooklynite, I would NEVER shop in lower Brooklyn just for the palpitations the prices give me. Okay, I'll give you Sahadi's but don't talk to me about that other store across the street (whose lines should be illegal)or um, dare I say, a certain coop I actually helped found. (Okay,so I'm of a certain age.)True, you need a car to get to parts of our fair borough if you're not into trains, but I've offered mine to a certain daughter who always declines.The way I see it,interior Brooklyn is as far away to most people as Brooklyn is to Manhattanites-until they have kids, that is, and need a cheaper place to live!
ReplyDeleteWhen people ask me where I'm from I still say, Brooklyn! even though I haven't lived there since 2002 and I'm sure that most times folks are asking about my ethnic background. Am I still Brooklyn?
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