"Recipes of the Lost City" Columns

The followed are past edition of the "Recipes of the Lost City" column. As stated at the beginning of each edition, in this column "I rummage through my library of old New York restaurant histories and cookbooks and dig up the prime dishes the denizens of the five boroughs dined on in years gone by."

Longchamps Chicken Manhattan House
Trader Vic's Mai Tai
Recipes of the Lost City: Stork Club Punch
Luchow's Wiener Schnitzel
Eggs Colony
Tavern on the Green's Tavern Chestnut Dressing
Braised Striped Bass Pavillon
Klube's Bavarian Potatoes
Town and Country's Main Blueberry Griddle Cakes
Longchamp's Spaghetti
Luchow's Potato Dumplings
Ye Olde Chop House's Corned Beef and Cabbage
The Colony's Veloute of Whitebait Colony

A Good Sign: Met Food

I saw this small, old Met Food sign in Greenpoint. Kinda cute and bouncy, dontcha think? Probably their look in the 1970s, from the style of it.

Now, How's Bloomberg Gonna Save Our Economy Again?

Here's an interesting section from early on in James Lieber's cover story in this week's Village Voice, about how and why the world economy tanked:

Credit derivatives—those securities that few have ever seen—are one reason why this crisis is so different from 1929.

Derivatives weren't initially evil. They began as insurance policies on large loans. A bank that wished to lend money to a big, but shaky, venture, like what Ford or GM have become, could hedge its bet by buying a credit derivative to cover losses if the debtor defaulted. Derivatives weren't cheap, but in the era of globalization and declining American competitiveness, they were prudent. Interestingly, the company that put the basic hardware and software together for pricing and clearing derivatives was Bloomberg. It was quite expensive for a financial institution—say, a bank—to get a Bloomberg machine and receive the specialized training required to certify analysts who would figure out the terms of the insurance. These Bloomberg terminals, originally called Market Masters, were first installed at Merrill Lynch in the late 1980s.

Subsequently, thousands of units have been placed in trading and financial institutions; they became the cornerstone of Michael Bloomberg's wealth, marrying his skills as a securities trader and an electrical engineer.

It's an open question when or if he or his company knew how they would be misused over time to devastate the world's economy.

Bloomberg–he's the guy who's trying to convince us to elect him for a third term, because he's the only mayor who can handle things during a financial crisis like this one, right? Is that because, since he helped create the crisis, it's only right that he should clean it up?

Oh, and for all of you out there who are saying right now, "You can't blame Bloomberg for the recession! He just invented the machines. He didn't tell people to abuse them!"—Yeah, good reasoning. I bet Oppenheimer said the same thing.

This Was Armando's

Spicy Pickle? Spicy Pickle? For where the Dodgers use to eat? Where Monroe ate? Mailer?

Squint, and you can still recognize the old Armando's layout.

Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Le Veau d'Or"?

Ah, Le Veau d'Or, unsung time machine of French haute cuisine! It was a pleasure to visit the tiny place—ever masked from the public in scaffolding and a colorless facade—for my latest "Who Goes There?" column for Eater.

Unlike almost every other restaurant I've written up for this series, I actually had been there before visiting this time. A couple years ago, I was spurred on by the book "The United States of Arugula," a history of the U.S. culinary revolution, to check the restaurant out, as it is the last vestige of the fine-French-food invasion that blanketed New York after World War II. There I found owner Robert Treboux, living landmark and keeper of information about everything that's gone on in the New York food world over the past half century. He plays host every night.

I urge everyone reading this to go and dine at this wonderful little bistro. For it will only remain as long as 85-year-old Treboux is willing and able to get up every morning and unlock the door.

Here is the item:

Who Goes There? Le Veau d’Or

Midtown East: La Pavillon is gone. La Caravelle, Le Cote Basque, Lutece—all the post-WWII palaces of haute French cuisine—gone. But Le Veau d’Or remains. It was never as important as those other restaurants, but, unlike most of the places I visit for this column, it was actually a significant destination at one time, packing in the likes of Oleg Cassini, Truman Capote, Princess Grace and Craig Claiborne. They’re all gone, and Le Veau d’Or endures only because of the stubborn determination of Frenchman Robert Treboux, who once worked at La Pavillon in the 1950s with the legendary Henri Soule and bought the 50-seat restaurant in 1985.

He never changed a thing about the décor (red banquettes, French street signs) or menu (Coq au Vin, Tripe a la mode De Caen) of the eatery, which opened way back in 1937. Bald-headed, somewhat grouchy and ever dressed in a suit and vest, the 85-year-old Treboux usually hangs out near the front booth, where Orson Welles used to sit. He lives upstairs and owns the small building.

No one under 50 goes to Le Veau d’Or. Most know Treboux well and love him and the old traditions he upholds. They hobble down the few steps from E. 60th Street into the most tightly sealed culinary time-capsule in New York. With lace curtains on the windows, French music piped through the speakers, and an old-fashioned Table d'hôte menu, the space betrays no evidence of the events of the last eight Presidential administrations.

A single, aged waiter handled the six or so parties that paid homage to the place on a recent Wednesday night. Most of the couples greeted him by name; one lady was brought her regular drink before she sat down. Two octogenarian married with matching canes occupied a back table. A self-important, starchy UES duo talked of just having come back from the Inaugural and gossiped about facelifts, legal motions and Elaine Stritch. (For whatever reason, Le Veau d’Or has always attracted a theatrical element.) Many spoke French with the owner and waiter. One aged French coquette came in and thrilled at the sight of Treboux, proclaiming that they had know each other 40 years ago. Treboux did not remember, but nonetheless visited the table several times to chat.

The wine list is French, of course. It’s not very long, and not very specific, identifying only the Bordeaux winemakers. (A half century ago, they were the only vintners that mattered, right?) Dinners costs from $28 to $38 and the menu includes every saucy, heavy French classic you can think of. Most dishes are quite satisfactory, if not exactly inspiring. The most expensive entrée is the Carre d’Agneau Roti, the Rack of Lamb, and it is worth the price if only because is affords the buyer one of the last examples of old-world table service available in the city. The lamb is shown to the customer and then carved and prepared in front of them. No one does this anymore. It’s like watching a butter-churning exhibition. Fascinating. The lady seated next to me, a regular for decades, preferred her lamb served in a particular way and the waiter executed her desires without asking.

If you’re bored easily, you don’t want to come here. But if you want a little respite from the madding crowd, want to hear not the restaurant’s soundtrack but what your companion has to say, crave the abiding comfort of constancy and tradition, and expect to leave full, Le Veau d’Or will cradle you into happiness as surely as mother’s arms.
—Brooks of Sheffield

A Good Sign: Goldscholle & Garfinkel

Goldscholle & Garfinkel of Manhattan Avenue in Greenpoint get the "Good Sign" award simply because of its name. A duo to remember, to be sure. The hardware store looks at least 50 years old.

Lunch

It's available in Greenpoint.

A Visit to Timboo's

How do you tell a true dive?

A true dive doesn't waste a dime on upkeep or decor. A true dive opens early. A true dive has an arcane juke box repertoire. A true dive doesn't go around trolling for new customers; it's content to soak the same aging boozehounds day after day.

If such are the criteria for a true dive, than Timboo's is a true dive. The storefront on Fifth Avenue in the South Slope has always looked promising to me: the mirrored black glass facade with the faded white lettering, and the badly drawn Martini glasses; the glass bricks; the sun-bleached awning; the very name itself—Timboo's. What kind of name is that?

I grabbed a Sam Adams there the other day. The aged customers clung close to the bar. They were mostly men, but women were represented. All were in a sodden state, some looking rather mournfully out the window as the passing parade, other boisterously telling stories to whomever who listen. Among the younger barflies buzzcuts were the rule. If Park Slope used to be a rough neighborhood, as they say, this crowd proved the case.

If I had to name one thing that defines Timboo's, I would say human body odor. It knocks you down when you walk in. Years and years of soaked-in sweat, in the wood, in the stools, in the walls. I doubt any of the regulars of staff notice. It's like cat owners who are oblivious to the fact that their homes reek of kitty litter.

The juke box played Irish ballads and Dexy's Midnight Runners while I was there. Timboo's is big. There a roomy pool area in the back, with a sloping roof above it. On one side of the table is a picture and memorabilia collage devoted to Elvis. On the other wall, is an equally big collage of Beatles junk. A old gun is mounted on the wall next to a plaque identifying it as the gun that won the west. There are the remnants of what looks like a kitchen in the back; many of these ancient bars used to serve food.

Timboo's has been on this corner since 1969. I think the people inside have been there just as long.

Elevating Elevators

A visit to the Macy's in downtown Brooklyn is generally a dispiriting experience. It's usually empty and devoid of life, and the interior has been dully done up to look like the faceless inside of any department store in American.

One section of the ground floor, however, retains its grace and charm: the elevators. Located in the center of the store, this bank of Art Deco lifts appears to have been untouched since the store's days as Abraham & Strauss. The main building was built in the 1920s and 1930s, when Art Deco was king. The detail is quite amazing (but not matched inside the elevator cars, unfortunately). The Macy's people don't do much right, but they're kept this bit of glory up nicely.

The clock hanging overhead is smart, too. And it works.

Waldorf Starbuck's Not Only Offensive, But Illegal!

I've previously kvetched about the inappropriateness of a Starbuck's branch being inside the glorious Waldorf=Astoria. Well, now it's not only inappropriate—it's illegal!

On a Monday visit to the storied hotel, a Department of Health notice told all who cared to know that the coffee joint had been shut down for "operating without a permit." What's that about? It may have reopened by now. But I hope not.

Times Greets Tie-less "21" With Equanimity

No doubt wishing not to seem too stuffy, and to appear "hip" to what the "kids" are thinking these days, The New York Times soft-pedaled the whole "21" Club tie policy brouhaha. Glenn Collins penned an article all but yawns at the development, opening with "THE earth held firm in its orbit. The continents did not founder. Martial law was not imposed. This, despite the fact that the “21” Club has loosened its tie for the first time since it opened at 21 West 52d Street 79 years ago."

There are the requisite interviews with patrons, some disappointed in the dip in etiquette, some thinking it a fine thing.

Yours truly is mentioned. None of my fulminations are quoted. Instead, Collins acts on one of my hope-against-hope suggestions:

After the new tie policy was announced, one blog, Lost City (which describes itself as “a running Jeremiad on the vestiges of Old New York as they are steamrolled under”) asked: “Couldn’t we get the old-school La Grenouille to uphold the old ways and begin requiring ties again?”

Not likely, said Charles Masson, general manager of the 47-year-old restaurant that abandoned its tie-only policy in 2003 (but not its jacket requirement). “There used to be a time when men wore white wigs, too,” he said.

Ha, ha. One day, Masson'll be saying "There used to be a time when men wore pants, too." It's a slippery slope.

Also interviewed was the king of Four Seasons, who was his usual debonair, flip self:

Julian Niccolini, a partner at The Four Seasons restaurant, asked simply, “Why should I tell people how to dress?”

Funny, coming from a restaurant that's all about style and elegance and how things look.

Lost City's Guide to Cobble Hill

To many, the realtor-hatched neighborhood names of Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens mean little. "What's the difference? It's all South Brooklyn in the end." Indeed, the nabes are so small and so close together, they might as well be categorized under one name. Still, over the years, I've discerned enough differences between the two areas that I think they deserve separate handles. Cobble Hill is tonier, its average street more architecturally beautiful; Carroll Gardens a bit more scruffy, closer to the highways and the docks. CG retains a stronger ethnic, Italian-American edge, while CH is more blandly heterogeneous. And CG, in my opinion, has more mercantile personality than CG, which just has, you know, a lot of nice shops.

Another way of saying that is there's just not as much living history on hand in Cobble Hill. Still, the area is a joy to walk through and there's enough to talk about. And so I will, in this, Lost City's fourth such guide to New York neighborhoods.

FORMER INDEPENDENCE BANK: Let's start on Court Street, Cobble Hill's main artery, as it is Carroll Gardens'. At the corner of Court and Atlantic is the former Independence Bank, now a Trader Joe's. Take a look, because the 1922 building, with its mighty white bricks and mightier arched windows, is impressive—but also because of the plaque honoring George Washington outside. Want to know why it's called Cobble Hill? Because a conical hill topped with a fort once stood roughly on this spot. Washington used it to spy the approaching British and watch his forces duke it out in nearby Gowanus. The British didn't like that. When they got here, they razed the hill to the ground. Thus, Cobble Hill has no hill.


METROPOLITAN ROD AND GUN CLUB: Take a brief detour to the right on Pacific Street. The name of this institution itself screams 19th century. Actually, the club was incorporated only in 1934. They bought the Pacific Street building in 1939. Inside, you'll find an indoor pistol and smallbore rifle range and archery range.

STAUBITZ MARKET: Back to Court. This butcher, the last holdout of what used to be a strong German enclave, has been near Warren Street since 1917. The McFadden family, which has owned the business for more than 40 years, has retained the old time feel of the place, and sells about every kind of meat you can think of. It—along with the 1960-founded PAISANOS MEAT MARKET a block over on Smith Street—are the last, best butchers in the area.

JIM & ANDY'S: An old-school green grocer, run by a family whose patriarch used to help sell vegetables from a horse-drawn cart and who recently died. Wall-to-wall produce, Sinatra on the radio, a big metal scale, paper bags, vague prices. Nice place.


SAM'S PIZZERIA: An old family eatery near Kane Street with faded decor and peculiar ways. Don't tell them how to serve you, they're going to do it their way regardless. The old man of the family still makes the pizzas, as he has done for the last 58 years. There's a wooden phone booth that doesn't work and a cocktail menu that apparently does. It's never busy.

KANE STREET SYNAGOGUE: As you pass Kane Street, glance to the right. The somewhat drab, but still majestic building on the south side of the street is the Kane Street Synagogue. It's real name is Baith Israel-Anshei Emeth, but no one really calls it that. At 152 years, it is the oldest Jewish congregation that still serves the Brooklyn neighborhood in which it was founded. The congregation has been in the current building since 1905, and was for a while called the Harrison Street Synagogue, during those early years when Kane Street was Harrison Street. The edifice was built in 1855 as a Middle Reformed Protestant Dutch Church. Aaron Copland had his Bar Mitzvah here in 1913.

COURT PASTRY SHOP: Some think this bakery near Degraw makes the best Italian pastries in the area. I'll vouch for the Svingi, apple turnovers and the unshowy, timeless interior. Anytime a Catholic holiday is on the way, look for specialized cakes and treats.

DEGRAW STREET FIREHOUSE: Walk east of Degraw a hundred feet and see the defunct Engine 204, which was shut down by the City amid much protest in 2003. It's a beautiful 19th-century structure, redolent of the days when firehouses were more private men's clubs than public institutions.

THE STREETS: Almost any block in Cobble Hill—which runs from Atlantic up north to Degraw in the south, and Smith Street at the western point to the BQE—is gorgeous. The trees are tall and old. Most of the brownstones have been well kept up, and were handsome to begin with. Churches, small and grand and old, pop up regularly. The grid is nicely interrupted by picturesque one-block streets like Strong Place (rich people), Tompkins Place (more rich people) and Cheever Place (some rich and some oldtimers). There are good patches of old bluestone left on the ground. The run up Clinton Street from Degraw to Atlantic always lifts my spirits. Try it on a bike; there's a lane.

CHRIST CHURCH: At the corner of Clinton and Kane is a Gothic masterpiece built in 1840 by Richard Upjohn, the guy who did Trinity Church across the river. The Upjohns lived nearby and were congregants. There are Tiffany windows inside, though it's hard to tell them apart from the fakes put in after a fire in 1939. Take a look.

CONVENT WALL: Turn left on Kane and walk to Henry. Lining this corner is a particularly ancient-looking wall, covered with wines, crumbling and with a metal door near the center. If it seems out of place, it's because the convent it once encircled is now gone. The Nursing Sisters of the Sick Poor order was started in France. They left sometime before the 1960s.


COBBLE HILL PARK: Thank tenacious residents that the church that used to stand on Clinton between Congress Street and Verandah Place wasn't replaced by a supermarket. If it had, we wouldn't have this lovely vest-pocket park, which—combined with the quaint nearby corner coffee shop and Verandah's exquisite alley of former carriage houses—has the quiet elegance of a piece of Parisian urban greenery. It's easy to forget that you work and have bills here.

DEGRAW MANSION: Walk further up Clinton to the southeast corner of Clinton and Amity. Freestanding homes are rare in South Brooklyn. You had to be super rich to demand an unattached swelling. The Degraws were and they lived here at 219 Clinton. It was built in 1844, and was later home to the first private elevator in all of Brooklyn. As recently as 1988, the house had had only three owners. Don't know if that's still the case.

LICH BUILDINGS: Walk west over to Henry Street. Long Island College Hospital has been busy lately trying to knock down or sell off all its magnificent old buildings. They're still stubbornly hanging on, though, including the 105-year-old Lamm Institute building at 110 Amity Street and the Pholemus building across the street. Gaze while you can.

WARREN PLACE: Walk west on Warren. Don't walk too fast, though. You'll miss the tiny, gated Warren Place on the left, a narrow alley of miniature brick "Workingman's Cottages." They were built by Alfred Treadway White, the 19th-century developer-with-a-soul, who thought laborers should live in dignity. A more beautiful mews you won't find. They go for millions there days. The gate's usually open. Go in and walk around. Just do it quietly.


TOWER BUILDINGS AND HOME BUILDINGS: Two magnificent, and magnificently red apartment complexes overlooking the BQE. They were built as tenements by that self-same White. Everything about the sturdy, yet appealing architecture is wonderful, from the outside recessed apartment entrances to the peekaboo stairwells to the castle-like turrets.

LONG ISLAND RESTAURANT: Walk back to Henry and up to Atlantic. The Long Island Restaurant at this corner hasn't been open for a year and a half. But it remains as is inside and the distinctive neon sign still hangs over the street. Gaze inside and sigh at the half-century old mainstay that has been lost.

ORIENTAL PASTRY AND GROCERY: Walk east on Atlantic to this small, crowded shop, one of the better exemplars of Middle Eastern foodstuffs on this avenue. Sacks of nuts, dried fruit, spices, everything. Sweets are in the back and worth sampling, including various pistachio and honey-based goodies. You can find a good many treasures here, if you know where to look.

LOST CITY'S GUIDE TO THE LOWER EAST SIDE
LOST CITY'S GUIDE TO CARROLL GARDENS
LOST CITY'S GUIDE TO TIMES SQUARE

Even America's Oldest Schools Are Failing

Ask a politician what he stands for, and he'll say education. We gotta help our kids! We gotta improve our schools! Check out a politician's record, however, and you'll find education is pretty low on his/her list of priorities. American politics has always had everything ass-backwards. Teachers, policemen, firemen, artists—the selfless people that make life livable—are paid squat, and people even complain of paying them that. Corporate CEOS, lawyers, parasitic real estate barons, stockbrokers—the people who make the lives of 99% of Americans miserable—are rewarded and protected.

Why, City Hall doesn't even take care of our old schools. Check this our for symbolism. The original Erasmus Hall building, which sits in the courtyard of the larger, more familiar Flatbush building called Erasmus Hall High School, is in danger of falling down. The building, a dignified but weatherbeaten two-story affair that was erected in 1786, when all our Founding Fathers were still alive (some of whom were founders of the school), is not included in the multi-million dollar renovation of Eramus that is now going on. Go figure that one out.

"The boards are falling off. They're rotting. The roof has a hole in it. And there's water leaking in. The glass is damaged. The shutters are falling off," said Terry Kaplan, Erasmus Hall Alumni Association.

Well, you say, they should landmark the building! They did. It is both a federal and city landmark. But, of course, we all know that means nothing. Landmarking body bestow titles on things all the time, then walk away, as if the structures are going to take care of themselves.

"How I dislike everything that keeps me back, or retards me," Desiderius Erasmus once wrote. I know how he feels.

Holland Bar to Reopen on Wednesday

The good news: The Holland Bar, dives of dives, will reopen Wednesday.

The bad news: All that stuff they scraped off the walls when they gutted the place last summer is gone for good. "The photographs of customers who had died years before, the posters for shows at the dear, departed CBGB — is gone, too. [Owner Gary] Kelly sent many framed pictures home with regulars as farewell gifts, other memorabilia went into storage. One of the relics of the Holland’s lore — an urn containing the ashes of Charlie O’Connor, a former bartender — had gone missing."

The news news: The Times reports that the reason the Ninth Avenue dive closed in the first place were the villainous dreams of the greedy landlord, Ebeden Wong. "According to Mr. Kelly, who has owned the bar since 1998, the landlord refused to renew the lease in the hopes that he could make more money converting the building for residential use or selling it off. But such plans apparently did not work out, and the landlord offered Mr. Kelly his old space back starting Jan. 1, albeit at a 20 percent increase in the rent."

The article also tells us where Holland's devoted barflies have been these past months. Rudy's mainly, a few blocks north. Others went to the Bull Moose Saloon. They followed the Holland bartenders. "Bill Leary, known as Dr. Bill, took over the Monday and Tuesday shifts at the Bull Moose Saloon, on 44th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues, and Steve Bibko has been serving free hot dogs along with Jameson shots and Budweiser back at Rudy’s Bar and Grill, at 44th and Ninth."

Makes sense.

A Velvet Revolution at "21"?

A well-placed source at the "21" Club—which, it was revealed last week, has abandoned a strict tie requirement at dinner—tell us that almost everyone seated at lunch today is wearing a necktie, even though such accessories have not been demanded at lunch for a decade. A quiet show of solidarity among the civilized? It's nice to think so.

A Good Sign: Berkley Coats Suits Dresses

The Berkley concern of fine outerwear no longer serves the South Slope, Brooklyn. The building is closed and gutted. But the sign still sits on high on Fifth Avenue, around 14th Street. Actually, Berkley hasn't been there for a while. The space was most recently a deli. No one's ever bothered to take the sign down.

Reactions to "21" Club's Dressing Down

The City's news organs piled on yesterday's startling report that the "21" Club, one of the last bastions of style and formality in New York, had thrown out its requirement that men wear jackets and ties at dinner. (It's still encouraged, but not a must.)

The New York Post ran a lengthy article, with people weighing in on both sides of the issue. (Big surprise: old people deplore the development; young people think its swell.) Of course, the sloppy daily got the main points wrong, calling "21" "one of the very last eateries in New York that still required male customers to wear a jacket and tie." It was the last one, dumbasses!

Also weighing in were NY Magazine's Grub Street; the Albany Times Union; and the Zagat blog. (Nothing at the sleepy NY Times or Daily News yet.)

Speaking of Zagat, it will no longer need to indicate in its New York guides restaurants which require a tie. There are none. As for ones that still require a jacket, there are a mere 13 in the 2009 guide: "21" Club, Four Seasons, Le Cirque, Daniel, Per Se, The Modern, Le Perigord, Le Grenouille, Jean George, Carlyle, Le Bernadin, River Cafe, and Rainbow Room (which isn't really functioning right now).

Couldn't we get the old-school Le Grenouille to uphold the old ways and begin requiring ties again?

The End of Civilization as We Know It

Eater reports today that it received notice of a dining deal from the "21" Club, which included this line:

"...we have (somewhat) relaxed our dress code in the lounge and bar areas, as well as the dining rooms. Ties are still preferred and greatly appreciated, but they are no longer a must."

Uh. This news upsets me, much more than it really should. It's more of an involuntary, visceral response. I feel physically ill.

I love "21." It's historic and alive and unique and cozy and convivial. Every visit is a celebration of what makes New York different from all other cities. The food is good, the wine list fantastic, the grasp of tradition firm, and the decor a riotous delight for the eye and mind (Remingtons on the walls, toys and things hanging from the ceiling, plaques, pictures, framed cartoons poking decades of fun at the place). It's a restaurant, a club, a haven and a landmark.

But this decision I must deplore. "21" has always rather marched to its own tune, not keeping up with the times, but adhering to its individual, somewhat formal way of doing things. It does not go around whoring after trends and tourists. When you go to "21," you dine "21" style. That doesn't mean they'll treat you haughtily or shabbily; quite the contrary, you'll be treated like a king. But there are rules of decorum. The place is worthy of respect and a little effort on the part of its patrons.

"21" was the last restaurant in New York City to demand that gentlemen wear a jacket and tie. Think of that. Thousands of places to eat in this town and the hoi polloi's penchant for sloppiness has become so enveloping that only one eatery has the guts to tells its patron to look decent when they go out to eat. It's truly discouraging. There were many more restaurants that required ties only a decade ago, but one by one they dropped the rule because too many affronted losers felt importuned and inconvenienced. San Domenico, for instance, abandoned the dress code because fat old Met Opera conductor James Levine liked to wear polo shirts!

Some while back, "21" caved in on lunch; no tie needed. But it held firm on dinner. I talked to a manager a year ago and he expressed his wish to get ties back for the lunch hour. But instead the reverse has happened. Open collars all around! Men really are children these days. "I like to be comfortable." "I feel strangled by a tie." "I hate dressing up." Why don't you just unbutton your pants, take off your shoes and prop your stocking feet up on the checkered tablecloth while you're at it? Grow up.

Do not give in "21." Reverse your decision! Times are tough, but you will prevail.

Happy Holland News

As I had hoped and expected, the Holland Bar dive of Ninth Avenue, the Holland Bar, is not gone for good. EV Grieve (via Eater) reports:

"The sign is still on the wall. And! The fellow at East West Grocery right next door emphatically told me the Holland was reopening -- 'in two weeks.' Really? 'Yes, it is reopening.' After that, I stood out front and waited for the lone construction worker...Is the bar reopening? 'Yes.' Do you know when it will reopen? 'No.'"

Good news. Always knew that sign on the wall boded well for the place.

Meet the YOUNG Cafieros

Last week you got to lay your peepers on Sharkey and Kate Cafiero, the owners of Cafiero's, legendary South Brooklyn Italian eatery, courtesy of a photo sent to me by Anne, the granddaughter of Katie's brother. The pictures captured them in retirement, after they had closed the President Street restaurant once beloved by judges, celebrities and gangsters.

This week we get to see the Cafieros when they were young and newly married, courtesy of a picture sent by another family descendant—Tom, Anna's cousin! Look at them! Look at that snazzy tie. Look at that stylish hat. Look at the utterly dignified darkness of the photograph's composition.

Tom tells me that "Sharkey would see Aunt Kate on Columbia street, with her flowing red hair tucked under her hat and would quote to his friends 'That's the girl I am going to marry,'"

Disturbing Food Developments

Eater is replete with upsetting news today about some of the City's most classic and simple eateries.

Worst of the bulletins is the report that Di Fara has temporarily closed because "Dom DeMarco's daughter...and Mr. DeMarco were in a car accident on Monday evening—black ice on the road. Maggie's OK, but Dom broke his knee cap, she said... 'Post-surgery requires about 4 to 6 weeks rehabilitation...'" An injury in a man as old as Dom is never good news.

Then they inform us that "Just last month a Gray's Papaya imitator Clinton Papaya shuttered, now Papaya King on 7th and 14th is on the market. Meanwhile, back down at the authentic Gray's on 8th and 6th, a Qdoba is opening next store (possibly even with a DJ) to try to snatch up the late night drunken market. Not a good time to be a Papaya?"

I thought those places were economy-proof. Can you imagine a New York without the weirdness that is the hot-dog-and-papaya-juice phenom? I can't.

Finally, Chinatown is feeling the brunt of the downturn, losing longstanding businesses.

What next? Will the various Original Ray's Pizzas in town begin to resemble a production of "Ten Little Indians"?

Woolworth Coffee—Always Good

The same descendant of the Cafiero's Restaurant clan who recently shared so much information about the bygone South Brooklyn eatery has now sent an image of the menu of the vanished Fulton Street Woolworth's, circa 1950s. They kept it pretty simple back then. Nine different sandwiches to choose from, and nine different desserts. That 40 cents "Super-Deluxe Ham Sandwich" sounds good to me. And I like how all the malts, ice cream sodas and shakes are made in "popular flavors."

And remember: "Woolworth Coffee—Always Good."

Meeting Mrs. Foster

It's impossible to know every little chapter in New York history. Hence, readers sometimes inform me of people and places past that I have never heard tell of. Such was the case a year and a half ago when, in response to an item I posted about the Red Hook Ballfield food vendors, a man who called himself Upstate Johnny G asked me out of the blue if I knew anything about a legendary-at-the-time gourmet restaurant on E. 81st Street called Mr. and Mrs. Foster's Place.

I did not.

But others did. Five months later, one Upstate Steve answered Upstate Johnny, saying Mr. and Mrs. Foster's took "no walk-ins. You'd call for a reservation, they'd tell you the menu and you'd order your dinner. When you arrived it was much like have a dinner in someones home. While you did not share tables with other guests there was a certain style that made you feel that way, not the least that Mrs. Foster would come a sit with you awhile to welcome and entertain. The food was fresh, excellent and expensive and a special time was had by all."

Intriguing. But it didn't end there. People keep writing in every few months, with big gaps of time in between comments. Then, on Jan. 18—18 months after the original posting—a Thomas wrote in to say he was the grand-nephew of the restaurant's chef, Pearl Byrd Foster, and that she "was one of the worlds renowned chefs during the 50's and 60's and early 70's—respected worldwide for her culinary genius in the genre of American Cooking. I remember spending summers helping her in the restaurant, meeting famous people (David Frost, Walter Cronkite, Dick Cavett come to mind immediately) dining there...I remember shopping with her in the mornings, for hours she would shop and inspect each item of produce...Mr. and Mrs. Fosters place was a black tie and jacket affair; if you didn't arrive with either she had both for you to wear before you were seated."

Jesus Christ! The woman was a marvel, the restaurant a miracle! How is it all this is new to me?

So I did some more research to garner some harder facts. The restaurant existed only from 1969 to 1980—a relatively short time for it to have become so famous and beloved. Pearl was, indeed, a master of simple American foods, and was a favorite of gourmets. Perhaps her most famous dish was her key lime pie. And, sadly, she died Oct. 12, 1984, soon after she closed the restaurant, after suffering several strokes. Another reader just told me he believed Mr. Foster died only recently.

A Good Sign: The Oyster Bar

No, not that one. A sign in the window says this place on 54th and Seventh Avenue is "The World Famous Oyster Bar." But we all know that one is in Grand Central Terminal. I've never been inside this place, and don't know what it's deal is. It's supposedly been open since 1959, but something about it arouses my suspicions. All that aside, the sign is fantastic!

What?

Don't know what this photo, posted on Curbed and Eater, is about. I assume (I hope) all is well with the East Village's most beloved hell hole drinking parlour. But the message is rather ambiguous.

Toots, Toots, Tootsie, Goodbye

New York isn't kind to famous restaurants, bars and clubs. When they die, they die. No funeral, no mourning, no plaque. But hot spots that reigned mid-century, when Midtown was king, suffered especially ignominious deaths. Not only were they kicked to the curb, but the building they were kicked out of was torn down, and the curb repaved.

I'm thinking of the temples of pre- and post-WWII Cafe Society. Rarely has a culture so dominated the City and then been so thoroughly erased from the streets. I'm talking El Morocco, The Stork Club, The Colony. Don't look for El Morocco on E. 54th Street, or The Stork on E. 53rd Street, or The Colony on E. 61st Street. Not a trace! In most cases, the grave of the haunt in question lies under the tons of steel and concrete of a towering office building.

I am brought to these thoughts by Toots Shor. I've been thinking of Toots a lot lately, mainly because I recently picked up the 1951 book-length John Bainbridge profile of the salt-of-the-earth "saloonkeeper" and read it through. Celebrities went everywhere they could get a free meal and some attention, but Toots Shor's place was known for particularly attracting the stars of the sporting world and the journalists who wrote about them. It's was an almost exclusively male dominion, a place of steaks and bear hugs and heavy drinking and maudlin male bonding. Toots was a mountain: 6'1" and heavy, he began his career as a highly popular bouncer. (Imagine that.) He worshiped athletes and was friends with most of the big ones; Joe DiMaggio was a close friend.

His original joint was on 51 E. 51st Street. (There were two subsequent reincarnations, before Shor's finances tanked in 1971. Big on loaning dough to his pals, he wasn't so big on paying government taxes.) There's nothing there now, just a hulking gray office building and a measly plaque (though that's more than the Stork has going for it). Not due respect for a man who dominated New York society in the 1940s and 1950s like few others.

A good part of me knows I wouldn't fit in at Shor's even if it were in business today and the big man were still alive. I pace my drinking, am not fanatically devoted to the sports scene, enjoy visiting a variety of restaurants, don't really care for being called a "crumb bum" and am likely to balk if someone suddenly hit me up for a $25,000 loan—all personal traits that would cause Shor to loathe my very presence. But I still wish the place was around, or at least vaguely remembered. Anything but completely airbrushed from the City's face.

Grand Street No Longer Ideal for Hosiery

That Grand Street on the Lower East Side was once known as a sort of Hosiery Row, I did not know. But a reader writes in to say it was so, and that one of the old hands in the business, Friedman Hosiery, has just closed, and they are tearing the building down.

Above is a picture of Ideal Hosiery, which sits across the street from the late Friedman, and is still doing business.

But here's a big of weirdness. According to a New York Times article from 1996, the owner of Ideal is one Len Friedman, whose family has run the shop since 1950. So maybe the Friedmans are not so out of business as it would appear.

Snow Falling on Brooklyn

Sunday's snowfall was one of the most beautiful I have ever experiences in 20 years of New York life. The precipitation began before breakfast and didn't cease until well after dinner. There was little wind and the flakes were appealingly fluffy, which made for pleasurable, peaceful strolling. The snow clung to the branches of trees and the arches of lampposts for any unusually long time, making for some very pretty pictures. Once on the ground, my son and I found the snow easily packable into snowballs.

Days like Sunday are why winter is a great season. We need them to calm the City's fevered brow. And for excuses to bake cookies and drink scotch.

Lost City's Guide to the Lower East Side

Better take this tour quick. Anything that even resembles history in the Lower East Side is disappearing faster that Bloomberg's scruples. Some destinations, like Gertel's Bakery and the First Roumanian-American Congregation Synagogue, were lost only recently. Start on Houston Street, the northern border of the LES. Strangely enough, some of the best things left in the neighborhood are on this busy strip.

YONAH SCHIMMEL KNISHES: Amazing this place is still here, given it rents, not owns. Only joint in Manhattan that I know that specializes in the ur-NY delicacy, the knish. And they're pretty good, if you get them on a good day. The store's been here since 1910 and given the grumpiness of the help, it seems like they've been working straight since then. Check out the dumb waiter; it leads to a basement brick oven where the knishes are baked.

RUSS & DAUGHTERS: Two blocks east and four years younger, this "appetizing" store is as sleek and clean as Schimmel is creaky and dusty. An apt business model on how to honor tradition and stay contemporary simultaneously. The place gleams white with mouth-watering promise. For smoked fish and other bagel toppings, lower Manhattan has no match. But most anything's a good bet here.

KATZ'S DELI: The third business in the Olde Lower East Triumvirate completed by Yonah and Russ. The sprawling, byzantine, wondrous 121-year-old Katz's isn't just a good Jewish deli; it's a place like no other on the planet. The ticket-taking payment system is used by no one else in the City. The walls are living histories of ancient signage, past celebrity visitations and aged decor. Each counterman is a character with a sense of pride and a way of doing things. The meats are expensive, but a dog, fries and a Dr. Brown's will get you out cheaply. And whatever you do, Don't Lose Your Ticket!


ECONOMY CANDY: Turn down Essex Street, walk to Rivington and turn right. Wonder where all the candy in the world comes from? It comes from this place! Bursting with every sort of treat ever invented, from the low brow to the high end, and many you've probably forgotten about. In business since 1937.

STREIT'S MATZO FACTORY: Turn around and walk west a couple blocks. One of the older holdouts of what was once a Jewish stronghold, the Streit's factory and store at Rivington and Suffolk Streets has been here since 1925. (Shapiro's used to be right next door.) Most Streit's matzo are produced elsewhere, but this factory still turns out a fraction of the output, kept on mainly for tradition's sake. The factory's been put on the market, so don't depend of the matzo makers to be here forever. While you're here, look across the street at the imposing neo-Gothic P.S. 160 and imagine being an immigrant kid going there 100 years ago. Intimidating much?

ESSEX MARKET: Return to Essex Street. One of the last of the working indoor markets that were created in New York during the Depression. It's still a vibrant place of business with old-time green grocers alongside hoity-toity artisanal cheesemongers, as well as ancient kosher winemaker Shapiro's last foothold in the nabe. Plus a nook to house chef Kenny Shopsin's eccentricities. Roam, browse, eat.


KOSSAR'S BIALYS: Turn south on Essex and walk to Grand. Like Schimmel, Kossar's is a relic of a specialist. Bialys? Who does that anymore? They make bagels, too, but the onion-flecked bialys are works of art. The interior is just this side of a working factory (which it is), with wooden palettes, metal racks and flour everywhere. Too bad about the new character-free awning.

MIKVAH: Walk further west down Grand to where the street meets East Broadway. Here there is a Dutch-style building. Inside is a Mikvah, a ritualized bath used by Orthodox Jewish women once a month—one of the few such in the City.

BIALYSTOKER SYNAGOGUE: On your way back to Essex, turn right up Willet to take in this ancient, roughly beautiful 1928 house of worship, once a Methodist Episcopal Church. It looks so old, it might have been deposited here by a glacier millions of years ago.

FORWARD BUILDING: Walk all the way down Essex to East Broadway and gaze up at the majesty of the old Jewish Daily Forward newspaper building. The towering structure used to be a mess, but has now been shined up due to a condo conversion.

ELDRIDGE STREET SYNAGOGUE: Jog a few blocks east to Eldridge, between Division and Canal. There is arguably no house of worship more impressive than the flamboyant Moorish structure colloquially known as the Eldridge Street Synagogue. Built in 1886, it is slowly, bit by bit, being restored. Even in its half-finished state, it is awe inspiring, particular the large circular stained-glass window in the facade. It's open to the public most days; check times beforehand.

GUSS' PICKLES: Skip two blocks west to Orchard, and walk north towards Broome Street to find one of the last, and the oldest, picklemonger in the area. The old business used to be on Essex, and its story used to be a lot simpler. Now there's a war between this shop and one of Long Island as to who truly carries on the torch of the original Guss. Nevermind that. This Guss' is here, not in (ahem) Cederhurst, and the pickles barrels are filled with treats.

LOWER EAST SIDE TENAMENT MUSEUM: Walk up Orchard near Delancey to get an idea how life was (hard, punishing, many steps) for the original LES immigrants with a tour of this fine and compact museum.


MAX FISH/PINK PONY/THE HAT RESTAURANT: For the final block before getting back to Houston, use Ludlow Street, where, for a trip back to more recent LES history—the 1980s and 1990s—you'll find the well-preserved trio of the good-time bar Max Fish, cafe The Pink Pony and cheapo Mexican eatery El Sombrero ("The Hat"). Squint your eyes and you can easily imagine how the nabe's first wave of boho hipsters lived before they were priced out.

Lost City's Guide to Carroll Gardens
Lost City's Guide to Times Square

The Holiday's Back On

The Holiday Cocktail Lounge has reopened, after being shuttered for a week or more. Big sigh of relief.

A Good Sign: Stage Deli

One of the oldest restaurants in the Theatre District. One of the last old-school Jewish delis in the City. And one of the finest signs.

Portrait of a Newsstand, Old School

This lonely beaut on Seventh Avenue near 52nd deserves not to be Cemusa-ized. Where else can you get both cigarettes and cigrarttes?

I've See the Lights Go Out on Red Hook

Here's how the gateway to Red Hook, at Van Brunt and Hamilton, used to look. Multiple strings of red Christmas lights proclaimed the neighborhood's pride.

Here's how it looks today. Time to buy some new lights, guys. I hear they're on sale at the Winn Discount.

Brooklyn Vegetable Peddler Passes

City Room reports the sad news that Vincent Cincotta, also known as Jimmy, the "Jim" of Jim & Andy's green grocer in Cobble Hill, passed away last Thursday. He was 82.

In a world of cookie cutter vendors, Jim & Andy's had a real family feeling. A narrow place with vegetables and fruits piled up in boxes on either side of a narrow aisle, it was worked by Andy and his son Carmine. Frank Sinatra seemed to be on the radio at all times. Sometimes the produce was a little worse for wear, but you never questioned whether it was overprocessed.

Jimmy used be be an old horse-and-cart peddler, like his father before him. As such, he was a living link to Brooklyn's humbler past. Buying at Jim & Andy's, which he opened in 1970, you could sense his background. He'd briefly weigh your choices, make up a generalized price, put the stuff in a brown paper bag and give you back something close to correct change. It was a very human experience, visiting that shop. I hope Carmine plans on keeping it going.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

The new Blarney Stone sign just isn't as good. [EV Grieve]

Ephemeral New York notices the narrowest house in Greenwich Village, once home to Edna St. Vincent Millay, who was also narrow.

Bloomberg screwed NYC over the Yankee Stadium deal and everyone pissed about it. [City Room]

Surprise! Con Ed is corrupt! [Gothamist] And, of course, the MTA sucks. [Queens Crap] Welcome to Bloomberg's New York!

Old, falling-down Smith Street building spruced up, but looks worse anyway. [Gowanus Lounge]

A righteous slam of the eternally horrid "Metronome" building on Union Square. Worst. Building. In. New. York. [Restless]

Nice pictures of the Subway Inn. [Greenwich Village Daily Photo]

Where to Eat in Midtown, Circa 1959

I stumbled up this fascinated news article from 1959 recently. It details the eating and drinking choices around the theatre district, naming many vaunted restaurants of New York history. Fun reading. I have count only five places that still exist: Sardi's, Frankie & Johnnie's, Gallagher's, the Stage Deli and Barbetta. (Note that the Lindy's mentioned has nothing to do with the present incarnation.)

New York City - The Broadway Beat

( Originally Published 1959 )

BOTH ON AND OFF THE GAY WHITE WAY, WHERE SHOWFOLKS LIKE TO DINE AND PLAY

TOO well known to expand upon—primarily because they are as familiar to the average tourist as his favorite home town haunts�would be:

Lindy's, at Broadway and 51st St., noted for its place in the life of Damon Runyon, whose characters still frequent the spot; its cheesecake; and its very independent waiters who have their own notion of what you should eat and don't hesitate to tell you. No longer an all-night spot, as in the past.

Toots Shor, 51 W. 51st St., where the big, burly owner-host may greet you as a "crum bum," but would give you the heave-ho should you dress like one. (Toots' first experience was as a bouncer.)

Reuben's, at 6 E. 58th St., which originated the "celebrity sandwich" (and many of the sandwiches have outlasted the celebrities for whom they are named).

Bleeck's, also known as the ARTIST & WRITERS' CLUB, at 213 W. 40th St., a former speakeasy glorified in print by Lucius Beebe, Westbrook Pegler and other "celebrity" writers, still a favorite hangout for newspapermen and TV newscasters.

And Max Asnas' Stage Delicatessen, at 834 7th Ave., which, percentagewise, gets more celebrities than any other spot in town. Max serves the thickest sandwiches anywhere�many are a meal in themselves�and he has launched even more "profound" statements than Sam Goldwyn.

Sardi's, at 2 34 W. 44th St., is New York's leading theatrical haunt and practically the second home of every major stage and screen star. The restaurant, now 37 years old, was started by Vincent Sardi, Sr., who retired in 1947, turning over its management to Vin-cent Sardi, Jr.

Mister Sardi, as everyone addresses the senior Sardi, was born in Canelli, Italy, and served the usual apprenticeship as a waiter in London and New York. A friend, Mario Cremona, persuaded Sardi to buy a tiny spot at 246 W. 44th St. because he (Cremona) wanted to expand uptown. So Sardi and his wife Jenny took over the Little Restaurant, as it was known (because of its size and also because it was next door to Winthrop Ames' Little Theatre). But after a time it be-came known as just SARDI'S and after five years it was moved to its present location at 234 W. 44th St.

SARDI'S is adorned with caricatures by Zito of actors and actresses, hundreds of them. In fact, anybody who is anybody in the theatre finds his face, slightly distorted, on the walls, and to be left out is considered something of a snub. Actors foregather there after an opening to read the critics' notices, which are rushed there the moment the morning papers come out.

For several years "Luncheon at Sardi's" was a daily radio feature, and several TV shows have emanated from the upstairs room. The American Theatre Wing some time ago presented one of its Tony Awards with the inscription: "To Vincent Sardi, for providing a transient home and comfort for theatre folks at SARDI'S for 20 years."

Last year, Vincent Sardi, Jr. took over 123 E. 54th St. and opened an East Side SARDI'S where patrons could dine or lunch in a quieter atmosphere than the usual hurly-burly of a theatrical hangout, and also to provide a Sunday nite rendezvous when the West Side

SARDI'S is closed.

Leone's, at 239 W. 48th St. (West of Broadway), is the largest all-Italian restaurant in New York and possibly the largest anywhere. In fact, it now rivals LUCHOW'S in size, with nine rooms, four large dining areas and a capacity of 1,500. The restaurant has a staff of 250, a payroll of $500,000 a year and is said to gross more annually than any other spot in the city. It is by all odds one of the most popular eating establishments in New York, frequently with a waiting line half a block long on 48th St.

LEONE'S began humbly enough as Mother Leone's, in the upstairs back room of the Leone household at z09 W. 38th St. Gene Leone was only 6 when Papa pulled up stakes in Asti, Italy, and brought his wife and four sons to the States. After traveling about the country seeking a good location for a wine shop, he settled right in New York at the above address. Papa loved grand opera, frequently visited the Metropolitan, a block away, and got to know Caruso and other great singers of the day. Opera singers traditionally love good cooking and, from dining as guests at the Leone apartment, became patrons of Mother Leone's first experimental restaurant there, starting with room for only 6 customers.

Gene at 8 served as kitchen helper and waiter, serving dinners that cost in those days 35 cents. That was in 1906. Papa Leone died in 1914 but Mother Leone carried on, with her four boys as helpers, and three years later bought a small piece of property at the present location of LEONE'S. After Mother Leone's death in 1944, Gene bought out the interest of his brothers, who became restaurateurs in California, Florida and Long Island, and today operates his establishment with the aid of his Irish wife and their two sons-in-law, one of whom, Tom Mesereau, is a former all-American football player from West Point.

Gene says his hobbies are flying, farming and horse-raising at his country place, and "feeding his friends."

His personality as a host and his real knowledge of the culinary arts, especially as concerns Italian dishes, would alone explain the success of LEONE'S.

Jim Downey's Steakhouse, at 49th St. and Eighth Ave., located in the heart of the theatrical district, naturally attracts showfolks, so two of the rooms of the restaurant (which seats about 200) are named the Theatrical Lounge and the Backstage Room.

Jim came over from Ireland for the express purpose of some day owning a restaurant. He worked as bar-tender, steward and manager, but after a number of years he found he hadn't saved enough to open a lunch counter. So he went to Belmont, placed his wad on the longest shot of the afternoon, and sat back and prayed. His horse came in and Jim had his restaurant.

His fondness for horse players led him to establish several years ago, as a gag, the Society for the Rehabilitation of Broken-Down Horse Players, and to open a room in his restaurant called the Last Chance Room. Today, more than a million membership cards have been issued to the S.R.B.D.H.P., and the Last Chance Room is papered with a half-million dollars' worth of unsuccessful pari-mutuel tickets.

Jim Downey is still owner, with Jim Downey, Jr., and Archie Downey (his two sons) acting as co-hosts.

The Famous Kitchen, 318 W. 45th St., though not in a class with SARDI'S or DOWNEY'S, draws almost as many theatrical customers and has long been a popular drop-in restaurant for actors employed in the neighborhood theatres. Good Italian dinners and definitely inexpensive.

Joe Marsh's Spindletop, 269 W. 95th St., in the heart of the theatrical district, also draws a first-niter crowd. Operated by Joe Marsh, who for years was associated with Ben Marden's famous Riviera over in New Jersey.

Rattazzi's, 9 E. 48th St., got its name as a result of a contest run by a newspaper advertising man. After rejecting hundreds of suggestions the choice came down to the name of the man who was going to run it—Richard (Dick) Rattazzi (pronounced Rat-tat-zi). It opened under his name in May, 1956, and has flourished since.

Dick comes by his restaurant know-how naturally. He was brought up in the business, introduced to it by his uncle, Steve Rattazzi, former maitre d'hotel at the Ritz Carlton. Dick joined the staff at SARDI's as a bar-tender, became headwaiter, then night manager. During World War II he ran the commissary at the Marine base at Cherry Point, N.C., and after the war returned to SARDI'S. In 1948, he opened CHERIO's on E. 51st St., in partnership with Aldo Ceria, but two years later, after much prodding, he sold out his interest and left-taking along practically the entire staff with him—to open his present spot.

Dick's patrons include celebrities of the radio, TV, theatre and advertising worlds, and perhaps due to their influence, features a king-size cocktail.

Blair House, at 30 West 56th Street, is operated by Nicky Blair, whose earlier career amounts to a saga of the Prohibition days. Nicky began with Tommy Guinan, Texas Guinan's brother, and at one time or an-other was associated with every major speakeasy proprietor in New York. He was the man most responsible for Helen Morgan's night club success. After repeal, Nicky managed two of Broadway's major night clubs, the Hollywood and Paradise, and was affiliated later with Billy Rose's Diamond Horseshoe. He regards Billy Rose as the smartest operator of them all. Nicky says what canceled out these and the other big nite clubs of the post-Prohibition era were the "three T's"—Television, Taxes and Transportation.

BLAIR HOUSE, now in its seventh year, is one of the town's top steak houses, particularly popular with the Broadway crowd.

Gallagher's, at 228 West 52nd St., has been one of the Broadway favorites since its opening in 1933. Operated by Jack Solomon, it was named GALLAGHER'S in honor of Mr. Solomon's late wife, Helen Gallagher, who had previously been married to comedian Ed Gallagher of the famous "Mister Gallagher and Mister Sheen" comedy team. Solomon was a former breeder of Black Angus champion cattle, so steak—charcoal broiled, in view of the customers—is naturally GALLAGHER'S Specialty. The oak-panelled dining rooms are lined with pictures of celebrities of the stage and sports world. For the past 17 years the restaurant has been managed by Dave Levy.

Dinty Moore's, at 216 West 46th St., another Broad-way landmark, was immortalized by the creator of the world famous comic strip, "Bringing Up Father," featuring Jiggs and Maggie. If you remember, Jiggs was constantly sneaking away from home to enjoy the corned beef and cabbage at DINTY MOORE'S.

Michael's Pub, at 3 E. 48th St., takes its name from the operator, Michael Pearman—a Bermuda gentleman whose sole previous restaurant experience was as host for three years at the BARBERRY Room. Up to then he had been associated with the film industry in Europe and Hollywood. The PUB was a success from the day it opened, especially with the Madison Ave. advertising people, and reservations are usually necessary for lunch two or three days in advance. In both atmosphere and cuisine it suggests one of the better London pubs, which, as many travelers can tell you, is much more than a saloon. As in its British counterparts, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding is a specialty.

Brown's, at 132 E. 61st St., might be called a splinter of MICHAEL'S PUB, having been opened by Gloria Safier, a highly successful actor's agent who was one of the original backers of MICHAEL'S and still owns a piece of it. BROWN'S, on the site of the recently vacated Le Vouvray, is also suggested by a London pub of that name. Its tasteful decorations are by Irene Sharaff, theatrical designer (The King and I, etc.), who is making her bow in this department.

The Coat of Arms, at 140 E. 53rd St., is also a Johnnycome-lately among the town's restaurants, presided over by another novice, Bob Smith in association with Gus Becker, formerly of the STORK CLUB. Before becoming a restaurant, the building had housed an antique shop and before that, a private carriage house. And before becoming a restaurant man, Bob Smith had also been several other things—law student, film actor for RKO, Army Intelligence officer (he was decorated on the beachhead at Normandy), world track star, and badminton champ at the New York Athletic Club. All this is fitting preparation for becoming an actor of romantic roles, first in Brigadoon and then in Auntie Mame, where Bob impersonated Beauregard Burnside opposite three "Mames," respectively Rosalind Russell, Greer Garson and Beatrice Lillie.

The partnership of Bob and Gus stems from the time Gus took care of Bob at the STORK CLUB when the latter was one of the collegiate "jelly beans" (see F. Scott Fitzgerald for definition of "jelly bean") at the STORK during the 1930's.

The COAT OF ARMS, which adds a little quiet piano music to its attractions, naturally is favored by Bob's associates in the theatre.

Absinthe House, at 130 W. 48th St., gets its name from a famous old New Orleans institution, though there is no connection. It does feature New Orleans decoration and some French Creole dishes. Operated and co-hosted by Marc Reuben and his pretty wife Edith, who strikingly resembles Lauren Bacall. Favorite hangout for showfolks and newspapermen, TV executives, etc. Originally across the street, it became necessary to seek another location, so Marc financed it, as many Broadway shows are financed, with a group of 90 backers, all clients.

Barbetta's, at 321 W. 46th St., one of the larger and more popular Italian restaurants, handy to Madison Square Garden and a favorite of performers when the circus is in town. BARBETTA'S survived the speakeasy period and has been in its present location for 50 years.

Frankie & Johnnie's, at 269 W. 45th St., is a one-flight-up (and watch your head) hangout for the younger theatrical and sporting element. Unless you have a reservation before 6:30 P.M., prepare to wait in line upstairs or along the stair well. Features charcoal-broiled steak and a special coleslaw. FRANKIE & JOHNNIE'S was a former speakeasy.

Patsy & Carl's Theatre Bar, at 263 W. 45th St., a few doors away from FRANKIE & JOHNNIE'S, has for years been called "the poor actor's SARDI'S."

Cafe Brio, at 136 W. 49th St., caters to the family trade, specializing most in Italian food and Italian opera lovers. Inexpensive.

Champlain, at 115 W. 49th St., as French as its name implies and studded with French Tourist Board travel posters to add a touch of Paris. Caters to family trade. Inexpensive.

Du Midi, at 311 W. 48th St., intimate and tiny French restaurant catering to families as well as show-folks, operated by Odette and John Pujol, who also own LES PYRENEES, 234 W. 48th St., which is a larger rendezvous.

Cortile, at 27 W. 43d St. and 36 W. 44th St. Twin-entranced restaurant on the street level of an office building. From a sandwich to a full-course dinner and its moderate prices make a hit with secretaries, sight-seers, shoppers and showgoers.

The Lobster, at 145 West 45th St., is a favorite rendezvous for Broadwayites and other showfolks who like seafood. The original restaurant was opened across the street in 1919 by Simon Linz and Max Fuchs and the present one is operated by their respective sons, Mike Linz and Stan Fuchs. Service at the LOBSTER has been uninterrupted, despite the change in location and de-spite a kitchen fire during which the roof burned off. In its 39-year history, the restaurant expanded from 60 seats to 450.

Last year the co-proprietors, with an assist from Loris Troup, turned out an exceptionally well-written book of seafood recipes under the title The Lobster's Kettle of Fish, published by The Citadel Press.

Maisel's restaurants, named after the States (CALIFORNIAN, FLORIDIAN, GEORGIAN, TEXAN, NEW YORKAN, etc.), are rapidly becoming as popular as Childs was twenty years ago. There are seven Maisel's in New York City, three on Broadway, and there is no end in sight. Budget snacks, quick hamburgers, bargain steaks and such for people in a hurry. A Britisher must have had Maisel's in mind when he observed that whereas in London everything shuts up tighter than a clam around midnight, New Yorkers could always get something to eat.

Horn & Hardart's Automats, 50 of which are scattered throughout the city, should get a passing mention. Quite a few operate on a 24-hour-a-day basis and impress foreign visitors almost more than any form of restaurant operation. There are still nickel slots, though many of them now call for quarters. The AUTOMATS' baked beans are still rated the best.

Burden Will Decrease Carroll Gardens Height, But Only If We Write Her

There is apparently hope that Carroll Gardens won't become the skyscraper center of Brooklyn.

The neighborhood activist group CORD has sent out that alarm that City Planning Commissioner Amanda Burden "has said if the neighborhood calls for reduced height in significant numbers she will defer." But she'll only defer if we write to her and say so! I guess the years of public outcry against outsized development in South Brooklyn hasn't been convincing enough. She needs one more reminder.

Says the CORD letter:

Your letters and emails to Marty Markowitz had a big impact on his recommendation to City Planning.

The public review process has now moved to City Planning Commission, which held a public hearing last week at which some of us spoke. This is a tough forum because City Planning's own draft Gowanus Plan calls for 12 stories. But this is the most important place to make our case because we have a chance to influence their plan beyond the Toll Bros site...

Please submit the great letters you emailed Marty to the City Planning Commission. Unfortunately they do not accept email. Please mail to:

Chair Amanda M. Burden
City Planning Commission
22 Reade St, Room 2W
New York, NY 10007

The letters are due within 10 days of hearing, which is this Saturday, January 17 (sorry for the short notice!).*

So get those pencils moving! I wonder what Amanda means by "significant numbers"? Like, opening night at the Met numbers? Or average-size coming-out party numbers? Or would a largish dinner party on the Upper East Side do?

Moondance: Wyoming; Cheyenne: Alabama

The rest of the country once again benefits from our cruel discard for classic diners.

First, the Moondance Diner of Soho was shipped off to a new life in Wyoming. Now midtown's Cheyenne Diner, which was to have been moved to Red Hook, will go to Birmingham, Alabama. (Irony, no? Shouldn't the Cheyenne go to Wyoming?)

Boy Diner Saver Michael Perlman notifies us that he has found a new savior for the Cheyenne, which was recently abandoned by sometimes-say-die Boy Brooklyn Developer Mike O'Connell, who had planned by plant the Cheyenne in Red Hook, but then said it would be too expensive to move the hulking metal eatery.

Perlman has brokered a deal between Joel Owens of Birmingham, AL and property owner George Papas for "an undisclosed amount." Owens is the head of NAIC, an investment group, and seems excited. "This is a dream come true, especially in a state that has no historic freestanding diners," he said. (Is that right? Are there no old diners in Alabama?)

Maybe we should start being proactive in our diner saving. Let's get West Virginia on the phone and see if they'll receive the next classic diner our stupid City decides to discard.

From 0 to 60

The folks at 37 Carroll Street—once the address of the Famous Hanging Facade—have certainly become busy little beavers over the past two months. For the last year, progress on the owner's grand scheme to convert a single building-less brick facade into a full structure with an adjoining neighbor brownstone had been halting at best. Workers came, worker went, little got done. The old cornice was taken off, and the facade was fitted with metal bindings. (See far below.) I figured the thing would be completed sometime around 2020.

But, lookee now! The metal girdle is gone. The old facade looks clean. It has rooms and floors behind it. And the new, neighboring building looks almost done as well, complete with sneaky bulkheads set back on the roof. Somebody's been drinking some Red Bull!

I rather like the job they've done. It's not super special (why do the red bricks of today seem so dull-looking?), but they've paid attention to details. Look how they've tried to match the front designs brick for brick, not in color, but in arrangement. Nice.

Which makes me thing. Has something changed in the building world out there? Have people finally ceased going to the cheapest, shoddiest option? I've noticed a few projects in my neighborhood recently (small projects, I grant you) that, while they're not beauty incarnate, are not crapitecture either. This, for instance. And this, and this. They show thought and an attention to detail and aesthetic affect. Who knows? Maybe we've turned a corner.

Cornerstones of New York

I say, this is a cool little Flikr site. It was recently brought to my attention by its creator, who posted a comment on a recent item.

It's just cornerstones. Pictures of cornerstones. Some old, some not so old. Every other building has one, it seems. Isn't that an appealingly sentimental notion? No matter how crass or worthless the building, it has a cornerstone, signifying the pride of whoever erected it. Imagine setting a cornerstone that reads "Erected 2005"? I mean, who cares? We all remember 2005. We know what it was. Nothing special. But in 50 years, people will gawk: "Wow. 2005."

Many of the cornerstones remind us of politicians long out of power. LBJ. Ford. Pataki. (Uh. Was he really our governor?) Sad. All temporary. Their names on building don't make them any more impressive. Churches, of course, always lay a cornerstone. Why? What do mortal years matters, when the afterlife awaits? Those cornerstones seem like an admission of doubt. Most don't date before 1900. We're such a young city when it comes down to it.

I've post a few nice ones here. I like the bold examples. It's all about font, folks.

Gutted Patois

Here's Patois, 11-year-old mainstay of Smith Street's Restaurant Row Era, empty and gutted. It closed last Sunday. Supposedly, it will reopen across the street in the near future. Will they repaint the phone number above the entrance, with a little illustration of an old-time phone?

Snow Gate

The pedestrian bridge at Summit Street over the BQE during last weekend's snowstorm.

Meet the Cafieros

It's been a while since I've revisited my obsession with Cafiero's, the extinct Italian family restaurant that once dominated social activity on President Street in Brooklyn the way The Colony once ruled Cafe Society on the Upper East Side. This is mainly because I had nothing new to report about the place, which was so local, so secretive, so insidery that there were (to the best of my beliefs) no advertisements, no newspaper write-ups, no menus, no matchbooks, no paper trail whatsoever. The eatery, which closed in the 1970s, only lives on in the memories of some very old people.

But one of the joys of writing Lost City is it brings people to me I otherwise would never meet. A week or so ago, I was contacted by an actual Cafiero! I kid you not. Not the progeny of owners Sharkey and Katie Cafiero—they had no children. But Anna, the granddaughter of Katie's brother.

After I overcame the shock of this visitation, I began asking questions. Anna confirmed most of what I had reported before—That Cafiero's was the hangout of judges, celebrities and mobsters alike, that Sharkey kept things very low-profile so as not to attract too much attention; the privacy of his customers was his prime concern. The place was a family affair. Katie and Sharkey's sister, Mamie, were waitresses. Brother Frank was the cook.

But I also learned some new information. The restaurant was founded by Sharkey's parents, who subsequently lived in the rooms above the dining room. Mamie lived on the top floor. The Cafieros were from Naples and served Neapolitan dishes. People who ate there have mentioned to me such dishes as the Charcoal Broiled Veal Spedini, Vinegar Peppers over grilled pork chop, potato croquettes, the sides of rigatoni, the heros. I asked Anna is the family had retained any of the recipes and I could hear her laugh come over the next e-mail. There were no recipes. The menu changed daily, depended on what could be had at the market that day.

Anna sent over the photo above, which was taken at Chez Royale in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, probably years after Cafiero's closed. Sharkey and Katie are on the left and Katie's sister-in-law Anna is on the right. Looks like the man pictured below, no?



Anna's grandmother Anna, incidentally, also owned and operated a restaurant in the area. It was called Anna' Luncheonette, and was on the southeast corner of Columbia and Summit Streets. A vacant lot is there now. The luncheonette consisted of a large room with booths on the right side and a counter on the left. There was a telephone booth at the back wall along with a jukebox with 45 records. It had a tin ceiling.

I have learned recently that I may have a chance to go inside the old Cafiero building. Watch this space.

Good News for Lithuanians—For Now

When the Archdiocese of New York started swinging the wrecking ball at various churches a couple years back, one of the most vociferous and prolonged protests came from the tiny congregation of Soho's Our Lady of Vilnius Church, a historic house of worship that once served a thriving Lithuanian community.

That community has some small reason to smile today. An appellate court has temporarily blocked the Archdiocese's effort to demolish the building at 568-570 Broome Street, near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel.

The church's journey to this momentary victory has been a long and tortured one. Per City Room:

The archdiocese announced on Jan. 19, 2007, that the church would close, saying that average weekly Mass attendance was fewer than 100 people and that no weddings and baptisms had been celebrated there in years. It padlocked the church on Feb. 26, 2007. But 15 or so protesters continued to gather every Sunday for a prayer vigil, at which they held signs, ate Lithuanian rye bread, propped up white crosses in the front of the church and prayed for its reopening.

In April 2007, the Lithuanian president, Valdas Adamkus, visited the Vatican and asked Pope Benedict XVI to intercede to save the parish.

In May 2007, a state judge, Shirley Werner Kornreich, rejected a lawsuit by parishioners who argued that the archdiocese had no right to close the church. Then the parishioners filed another lawsuit, arguing that under state law, the archdiocese could not demolish the church without meeting with the church’s trustees.

Similar lawsuits, raising related legal issues, were brought by parishioners at St. Brigid’s Roman Catholic Church, at 119 Avenue B in the East Village, facing Tompkins Square Park. That church, built by Irish immigrants who fled the potato famine in the 1840s, closed in 2001 because of structural problems, and the final Mass, in the basement of the Catholic school next door, was in 2004.

In May 2008, an anonymous donor came forward with $20 million to save St. Brigid’s. In August, the archdiocese withdrew its application for a demolition permit. The litigation is now expected to be settled.

On Nov. 18, 2008, Justice Louis B. York ruled against the parishioners at Our Lady of Vilnius, citing, in part, the earlier decision by Justice Kornreich. Under state law, courts in general defer to church hierarchy in making decisions about real property.

On Dec. 23, 2008, the archdiocese’s demolition company, A. Russo Wrecking, sent letters to landowners stating that demolition was to take place “in the near future.” But now, the Appellate Division of State Supreme Court has issued a stay, indicating it would hear the appeal of Justice York’s decision.

Do I think the plaintiffs will prevail? No, I do not, sad to say. Governments do not like to mess with religious authorities. It's bad politics, even if it turns ecclesiastical leader into virtual dictators, above every law, petition and protest. The Archdiocese of New York has always been a big bully, and they will not back down in this instance, any more than they would in any other.

Matchbooks of the Lost City: Soho Kitchen and Bar

Here's an amusing blast from the past, in these days of widespread oenophilia. A matchbook from the Soho Kitchen and Bar. If you loved wine and liked variety, this was the place to go in the 1980s. It had 100 wines by the glass at a time when most restaurants had two: a red and a white.

Read this from 1983 in the New York Times:

It began as a novelty several years ago. Restaurant bars around town started serving eight or so finer wines by the glass, using a nitrogen-sealing machine that kept them from deteriorating if the bottle was not finished the same day. Then a few ambitious bars installed two or three of the machines to increase their capacities. Now a new restaurant-wine bar in SoHo holds the title of the Macy's of oenophiles by offering 110 wines (including sparklers) by the glass.

The SoHo Kitchen and Bar at 103 Greene Street, near its sister restaurant, called Greene Street, has ambitious plans to encourage customers to sample wines. One is to offer "flight" tastings. That could include eight wines from a particular region, such as Alsace; a range of wines in a certain category - dessert wines from California, for instance - or comparisons of European and American wines made from the same grapes.

A flight of eight one-ounce glasses costs $10 and up, depending on the wine. The SoHo Kitchen and Bar is an airy, loftlike place done in industrial chic with a huge bar spanning the center of the room. Reasonably priced sandwiches and light entrees are served to the background of mellow rock music. It is worth a visit for those interested in comparing wines or trying unusual selections that are not widely available, such as Australian or South African wines. The wine bar is only in partial operation this weekend, but the management says it will be in full swing by New Year's Eve.

I love that "flight" is in quotes.

Doomed-Looking Vesuvio Bakery Moves from Shoes the T-Shirts

WTF is happening with Soho's irreplaceable Vesuvio Bakery? Closed for months with idle promises taped to the door of an imminent reopening, it was caught hawking designer shoes in its window last fall. Now, reports Eater, "two guys putting up t-shirts for sale in the window" have been seen. Further states the tipster, I "walked over for a better look and turns out they're... Vesuvio t-shirts! Asked the guys if Vesuvio found a buyer to help them stay open and they said oh-so-confidently, "I think so? We're just here to put up t-shirts.'"

The 90-year-old bakery was listed with Craigslist last week, so things don't look good for the local landmark.

A Good Sign: Hallucinogenic Edition

A Flikr account called Jon & Karen's Photostream, which recently joined my Flikr group pool Lost New York City, has some nice hallucinogenic photos of Manhattan and Brooklyn neon signs I love or have loved, including Waverly Restaurant, Nathan's of Coney Island, the late Armando's of Brooklyn Heights, and, yes, our dear, departed McHale's.

Don't know how they achieved the photographic effect. Probably a simple trick that is nonetheless mystifying to me. Nice work, though. If they actually hang out at the places they photograph, I account Jon and Karen fine people indeed.

Bowery Get Even Less Raffish

Curbed reports the heartbreaking news that the crusty old, hole-in-the-wall Bowery music hall, the Amato Opera, will close after 61 seasons of low-rent operatics.

The building has been sold, and the Amatos's last performance will come on May 31. It will be "The Marriage of Figaro."

According to property records, "319 Bowery NY, LLC" closed on the property in December for $3.7 million, or $681 per square-foot. That mysterious LLC shares an address with Croman Real Estate, also known as 9300 Realty, which owns and manages rental buildings around town.

Lost City's Guide to Carroll Gardens

This is the second in a series of neighborhood guides designed to lead those inclined to revel in classic Old New York to those places of authenticity and historical value that still exist. This time around I choose my own neighborhood: Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. Or South Brooklyn, if you like. The part of South Brooklyn bordered by Degraw Street on the north, Hamilton Pkwy on the south, Hoyt Street on the east and the BQE on the west. I'm also including a few places west of the BQE that some might deem parts of Red Hook or the horribly named Columbia Heights Waterfront District. Why? Because I want to, and because, to me, they feel as much of Carroll Gardens as they do those other areas.

Again, keep in mind: this is not meant to be a complete list. It's a selection, and some things you know and love will be left off. Also, I'm focusing on things that are still there, not extinct buildings or stores.

So, ladies and gentlemen, Carroll Gardens.

BLOCKS OF CARROLL AND PRESIDENT STREETS BETWEEN SMITH AND HOYT STREETS; AND BLOCKS OF FIRST, SECOND, THIRD AND FOURTH PLACES BETWEEN COURT AND HENRY STREETS: Find out why it's called Carroll Gardens. Back in the 19th century, urban planner Richard Butts equipped many of the brownstones with spacious front yards, lending an airy, grandish feeling to the area. These are the best blocks to see the effect. Criminally, Carroll and President are the only blocks protected by the nabe's teeny-tiny historical district, but the other eight blocks are just as beautiful, if not moreso.

JOE'S PERETTE (Smith near Carroll): Actually called Joe's Superette. But the "Su" fell off the old sign years ago and has never been replaced. A mangy old deli hiding one fantastic specialty: prosciutto balls. Order a half dozen for $3.50. Hot, moist and delicious, you'll wonder at how appearances can deceive.

RED ROSE RESTAURANT (Smith near President): The Smith Street restaurant revolution has ensured that little of old Smith Street remains. Even the Red Rose, an Italian red sauce joint, is only a quarter-century old. But it does things the way they were 50 years ago.

ARMANDO TAILORS: Next door to Red Rose. The tailor speaks Italian. His daughter translates. His brother makes homemade wine. The man knows his work.

D'AMICO COFFEE (Court near Degraw): A neighborhood landmark for decades. When they roast their coffee beans, everyone knows; the acrid smell saturates the neighborhood. I personally am not a fan of the product, but many drive miles to buy a sack of beans. And that the shop has local flavor to burn can not be denied.

CAPUTO BAKERY (Court near Sackett): In my humble opinion, the best bread in a neighborhood that has many sources of good bread. The long thin "Frank Sinatra" loafs are perfection. The interior is delightfully spare and the service efficient; this place is about bread, not fey charm. Good prices, too.


F. MONTELEONE CAMMERARI BAKERY (Court Street near President): Used to be two separate entities. They joined forces a couple years ago as a survival tactic. Combined, they represent more than 150 years of experience. Monteleone's specialty is mini-pastries. Cammerari does bread. The quality's fallen off since the union, but it's still worth a visit.

G. ESPOSITO & SONS PORK STORE: Next door to Monteleone. Choice pork products of all kinds, and prepared Italian specialties. A 86-year-old, family-owned holdout of the once predominantly Italian neighborhood. Sample the soppresseta.

MARIETTA (Court near Carroll): An old world ladies and men's wear shop that could be in the garment district. Basics, nothing fancy. Underwear, t-shirts, pajamas. Good prices. Run by a couple of brothers, it's named after their late mother.

CAPUTO'S FINE FOODS (Carroll near Third Place): Great mozzarella, meats, olives, homemade pasta, coffee, cookies, anything Italian you can think of. This narrow store with fine, friendly service has it all. Ask them to make you a sandwich. You won't be sorry.

COURT SHOE SHINE: Just a couple doors down from Caputo, an old guy keeps a ramshackle storefront where he sometimes shines shoes, but mainly gabs with whoever stops by. Rubber balls and other low-fi toys for the kids are also available. He's been there forever, says he put his kids through college this way. Has no intention of retiring. The model is Business as Hobby.

P.J. HANLEY'S (Court near 4th Place): One of the oldest bars in Brooklyn, it's history goes back a hundred years, when it was a hangout for Norwegian seamen. It doesn't look exactly timeless. But still a decent place to get a beer.

ST. MARY STAR OF THE SEA (Court near Luquer): Longstanding pillar of the Catholic community. Al Capone was married here.

DENNET PLACE: Tiny, one-block street behind St. Mary's that, it was once sagely remarked, looks like a stage set for Maxwell Anderson's "Winterset." The three-foot-high doors lead people to believe that it is home to a community of little people.

CARROLL GARDENS PUBLIC LIBRARY (corner of Clinton and Union): An original Carnegie library (Andrew's portrait still hangs), the interior is worth a look.

F.G. GUIDO FUNERAL HOME (corner of Clinton and Carroll): The old John Rankin mansion, which dates from 1840 and once stood in isolation on this plot with a clear view of New York harbor. The free-standing building is a fine example of Greek Revival architecture. Horse-drawn hearses lurk inside somewhere.

ST. PAUL'S EPISCOPAL CHURCH: Kitty-corner from Guido is this battered old church which has lost its steeple and, in a first many years ago, the many old model ships that once hung from its rafters. It's still a bit of a wreck inside, but that's part of its faded appeal.

OLD NORWEGIAN SEAMAN'S CHURCH (corner of Clinton and First Place): Once the center of Norwegian life in Brooklyn. Now condos. Built in 1865. The King of Norway visited in the 1950s.

NAMELESS DELI (corner of Henry and Fourth Place): Time-stands-still deli run by two old ladies who keep the front door locked, and only let you in if they like your looks. Old Carroll Gardens to a "T." A trip.


LUSO-AMERICAN CULTURAL CENTER (Henry near Rapelye): Mysterious, little-used community center for Portuguese-American events. Used to be a Methodist church eons ago. Very curious.

LUCALI (Henry near Carroll): A great new pizzeria. Included here only because it used to be the old Louis' Candy Shop and the owner, a local, has kept remnants of the store on the walls. He also uses equipment once owned by Leonardo's, a former, older pizzeria on Court Street.


MAZZOLA BAKERY (corner of Henry and Union): Another great neighborhood, family bakery. Good ciabatta and lard bread (chock full of prosciutto).

FERDINANDO'S FOCCACERIA: (Union near Hicks) Across the BQE and, at 104-years-old, the oldest restaurant in the area. A remnant on Union Street pushcarts days, when this area was a shopping mecca that rivaled Court Street. Frank Buffa continues the family concern, selling peerless Sicilian delicacies. It's been renovated a lot over the years to "look" classic, but still worth the trip. Potato Special and Panelle Special sandwiches recommended.

HOUSE OF PIZZA & CALZONE: Across the street from Ferdinando's, this 50-year-old pizzeria was recently massively renovated. The only thing that is the same is the name, which is a cool one. The new owners will tell you they make the pizza the way the old guys did, but it's not true. Something's missing.

Austin, Nichols & Co. Wins in the End

What a strange journey to preservation the Austin, Nichols & Company warehouse in Williamsburg has taken. As per today's NYT City section:

ONE thing that the owners of the Austin, Nichols & Company warehouse at 184 Kent Avenue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, were firm about throughout the long battle over the building’s fate three years ago was that it was not historically valuable. The city’s Landmarks Preservation Commission, which declared the 1915 structure a landmark, disagreed, but the City Council took the rare step of overruling the commission and siding with the owners.

A lawyer for the owners, the Kestenbaum family, called the warehouse an eyesore. Councilman David Yassky, who helped lead the fight against designating the building a landmark, described the warehouse as “a nondescript white box,” indistinguishable from anything else on the Williamsburg waterfront. When the mayor stepped in to preserve the warehouse, the Council overrode him, too.

But times have changed, and the warehouse, which was designed in the Egyptian Revival style by Cass Gilbert, the architect of the Woolworth Building, has had a reversal of fortune.

A short time after the Council voted, the Kestenbaums sold the warehouse, which takes up an entire block, to the real estate company J.M.H. Development. Then representatives of that company, saying that the building was not an eyesore after all, announced in December that it had granted a national preservation group the right to preserve the building’s exterior in perpetuity. The warehouse is now being restored and is scheduled to open for rental tenants this summer.

The Kestenbaums wanted to build condominiums on the site, either with a tower or a large rooftop addition, plans that would have been impossible if the structure had been made a landmark. J.M.H.’s rental plans, by contrast, are not impeded by preserving the building.

The Kestenbaums. What can be said about this family that this article doesn't already express in spades. Beauty is just wasted on some folks.

Matchbooks of the Lost City: The Old Lower East Side

Here's proof that the Ludlow Street Cafe did exist. An outpost in it's day, there weren't many other eating choices in the bad old LES of the late '80s. A forerunner of coming gentrification, true. But not a bad little joint. Good brunch.

A Good Sign: Harrico Drugs

It's big. It's bold. It's Harrico Drugs. On Coney Island Avenue.

Someone Else Gets It!

The Village Voice's esteemed food critic Robert Sietsema has hit upon an idea that Lost City has been championing ever since I hung out my blog's shingle back in 2006: Classic restaurants and bars should be landmarked! The idea is a tricky one—how do you mix active commerce and historical preservation? Where do the merchant's rights end and the public's begin? Still, the notion is important and, during this critical period when the City's culinary heritage is fast eroding, it needs to be taken up and given some serious thought.

My initial thoughts on how such a set-up would work fall along these lines. You can't really grant landmark status to a working restaurant or bar, because, unlike a beautiful edifice or historic neighborhood, it's a breathing commercial enterprise. How do you preserve the concern if business is bad, and the place can't make money? How can you make an owner accept landmarking if he wants to retire and no one wants to assume control of the eatery? It's complicated.

But certainly, places like Katz's and Old Town Bar shouldn't be at the mercy of developers and real estate booms. They are part of the City's fabric. They belong to everyone, to history. So we should make it as easy for them to survive as possible. The City should give classic restaurants property tax breaks, or buy the buildings from the landlords and become the landlord, charging the restaurants a dollar a year. This will encourage the restaurants to stay put, for as long as the people in charge want to do. And if the owners want to get out, the City could orchestrate a transfer to another willing owner who would preserve the traditions of the place, interviewing capable and interested candidates.

Here is Sietsema's article:

A Modest Proposal--Restaurant Landmarking

I was hurrying down West 125th on the way to a new Ethiopian place a friend had tipped me to, when I stopped short. One of my favorite soul food spots, M& G Diner, was shuttered tight as a drum. The place had long been a 24-hour pit stop for southern-style fried chicken, sweet corn muffins, collards laced with fatback (and later, smoked turkey), creamy mac and cheese with extra cheddar melted on top, and the cryptic barbecued rib sandwich.

When I got home, I did a bit of research on the web and in my own collection of books about New York City. I turned up almost nada. Judging by the décor, the current M & G exterior, and its curving interior linoleum counter, the place certainly originated in the 1950s or earlier. The front remained emblazoned with the slogan, "Old Fashion' Good" - the fussy apostrophe dating to a time when people still cared about correct punctuation.

In fact, M & G was one of the last remaining soul food holdouts in Harlem, a beacon on West 125th Street that instantly evoked the history of the neighborhood going back to the Harlem Renaissance and beyond. There are only two or three of those old-timers that remain.

In the ensuing nights, I had a recurring nightmare that Katz's on Houston Street - one of my favorite restaurants in the world - also closed. Overnight, a condo tower rose on the site. In one version of the dream, a place called Katz's is installed in a ground floor retail space, but it looks like a fast-food joint on the Interstate, and the indifferent counterguys are slicing the pastrami and corned beef on slicing machines.

Why does it have to be this way? Why is our culinary birthright at the mercy of the whims of real estate developers? The city is quick to grant giant tax abatements and other goodies to developers, why not to restaurateurs?

Indeed, we need some sort of cultural landmark system that will forestall the decimation of our cultural treasures. If the city readily permits condo towers to rise over Williamsburg and the Lower East Side, destroying the low-rise character of the neighborhoods in the name of economic progress, why can't we be allowed to retain a handful of restaurants that really matter?

How the mechanism of this Heirloom Restaurant Designation would work is not the point of this piece--certainly, there would be many details to work out. It shouldn't be connected in any way to the Landmarks Preservation Commission, which is in the pocket of real estate developers, and often seems concerned only with saving brownstones.
But I've started a list of restaurants and other purveyors of prepared food I'd like to see preserved, and fear are in danger of disappearing. I'd love to have additional suggestions.

1. Katz's Deli (Manhattan)
2. Totonno's Pizza (Brooklyn)
3. Mitchell's Soul Food (Brooklyn)
4. Lemon Ice King of Corona (Queens)
5. Patsy's Pizza (Manhattan)
6. La Taza de Oro (Manhattan)
7. Pete's Tavern (Manhattan)
8. Veniero's (Manhattan)
9. Court Pastry Shop (Brooklyn)
10. Eddie's Sweet Shop (Queens)
11. Nathan's Hot Dogs (Brooklyn)
12. Calandra's Cheese (Bronx)
13. Margie's Red Rose (Manhattan)

To Robert's list, I suggest these additions:

Old Town Bar
McSorley's Old Ale House
John's of 12th Street
Delmonico's
Brooklyn Inn
Bamonte's
Barbetta
Ear Inn
Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden
Peter Luger
Rao's
Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop
P.J. Clarke's
Subway Inn
Yonah Schimmel's Knishery
Sardi's
Barney Greengrass
Keen's Steak House
Le Veau d'Or
Homestead Steak House
L & B Spumoni Gardens
Everything on Arthur Avenue
Alleva Dairy
Caffe Roma

Redo of Father Demo Park Crappy, It Turns Out

When they unveiled Greenwich Village's Father Demo Square in the summer of 2007, after a lengthy renovation process, there was much jubilation. People largely welcomed the stylish new park, with its fancy paving stones and central fountain. I myself thought it was a fine job, an improvement.

But, just into what is only its second winter, the park is not holding up well. On a recent rainy night, I looked down, wondering why my progress through the square seemed so rocky—I was losing my footing again and again. Dozens of the gray, hexigonal paving stones had fallen out of place. Some has sunk slightly below their original level. Others had risen up. Many were very loose, so loose they could easily have been taken out of the pathway.

The uneven pavement was in evidence all around the square. Larger, black, square stones were also off their moorings. A elderly Villager stopped next to me while I took pictures. She knew what I was doing. "It's terrible," she said. "Look at the bad job they did. They should have kept it the way it way. This is terrible." As an old lady, she was having trouble keeping her balance as she walked along the square.



The last two winters have hardly been harsh. Paving should be able to hold up to worse weather than this. Accounts say landscape architect George Vellonakis did the redesign of Father Demo Square. Vellonakis also designed the highly unpopular Washington Square Park renovation plan. The job cost taxpayers $1,455,000. What did he use to put the stones into place—Elmer's glue?

Here We Go Again

The Cheyenne Diner is on death's door again!

After being shoved to the brink last spring in favor of a nine-story building, Queens-based preservationist Michael Perlman hooked Brooklyn developer Mike O'Connell (Greg's son) on the idea of transporting the diner to Red Hook, when it would begin its new life. Then summer passed. And autumn. And O'Connell began to gripe about the cost of carting the damn thing. It wouldn't fit over the Manhattan Bridge. And floating it down the East River was too expensive.

O'Connell has now abandoned the project, Perlman tells us in an emergency e-mail. The Cheyenne is again for sale at a "reasonable but negotiable price."

Perlman has already received notification from potential buyers from NY, MI, AL, & UT. While the Cheyenne can potentially land a good home out of state, many patrons are praying that a NY-based buyer will contact the Committee at unlockthevault@hotmail.com, so it can ideally remain closer to its roots than the Moondance Diner in WY. All information will then be relayed to Mike O’Connell and George Papas. Rigging costs will vary upon where the diner is transported to and the route. The diner can be transported in 2 sections. According to PropertyShark.com, the Cheyenne Diner's building dimensions are 15 ft x 96 ft (2,000 sq ft), Lot dimensions 19.75 ft x 100 ft (1,975 sq ft).

Sigh. Making people truly care is hard work.

Court Street Hurting

Things are not looking robust on the Cobble Hill section of Court Street. The thoroughfare, usually pretty resistant to the ebbs and flows of the economy, is losing a number of businesses.

The Court Street branch of Margaret Palca, which just open in the summer of 2007, will close on Jan. 31.


Brooklyn Artisans Gallery, a presence on Court Street since 1994, will also close its doors on Jan. 31. There's a big sale on right now and a long, teary goodbye note in the window.

Already gone are Miriam and Jill (below), which shuttered recently.



Shakespeare's Sister closed a few months back. It's prime space on Court near Kane (below) remains empty. The Carroll Gardens section of Court Street appears to be holding on. I might attribute this to the sturdiness of the old-time Italian businesses, many of which have a loyal clientele.

Piccolo Cafe Has Piccolo Menu

The Piccolo Cafe on Columbia Steet has opened, and has already established itself as a lovable slice of Brooklyn-style eccentricity. The interior boasts a stark minimalism that would please Donald Judd. A long white counter, a grill, a few brown tables, some chairs, a fridge for sodas, and nothing else. No pictures, no tablecloths, no swank lighting fixtures.

The menu beats McSorley's for simplicity. For breakfast, you can get an egg sandwich. If you're a fancy pants, you can get it with cheese, ham, bacon, or "salad." For lunch, you're welcome to a cheeseburger ($3). No mention of a plain hamburger on the chalkboard. If you're really hungry, you can get your cheeseburger with macaroni. Don't look for chips or fries. They're not here.

There's also coffee.


A stout woman, who could be a holdover from Columbia Street's pushcart days, mans the cafe. I asked her if more items were going to be added to the menu. "Maybe," she said. "We'll see how business goes."

I orders a egg sandwich with ham and cheese. She labored over it for ten minutes. It was good. And the price, $3, was right. Piccolo may have something going here. No one else in the immediate neighborhood can make a decent egg sandwich for that price.

Frankie and Johnnie's Gets a Reprieve

This is the week of reprieves.

First comes news that the UWS's Emerald Inn has gotten an extension on its lease. Now we hear that Frankie and Johnnie's Steakhouse WILL NOT die at the end of this month. Reports a reader: "the owner of Frankie & Johnny's tells us that they have renegotiated the lease on the 46th Street branch and will remain open for at least the next two years." Since the reader works for Zagat, I'd say this is a trustworthy source.

It seems this sour economy, that kills so many businesses, also saves some—the stalwarts that have been around a while and have always done solid trade. Landlords see that, in tough times, standbys are safer bets than whatever may be the Latest Thing Willing to Pay High Rent. If only the landlord of P&G Cafe had seen similar sense. (Maybe he still will!)

So, Hurrah for Frankie and Johnnie's! Hurrah for us! Hurrah for the great old Town!

Lost City's Guide to Times Square

Fairly often now, I get e-mails from out-of-town readers of Lost City who are planning on visiting NYC and want to know what classic Gotham spots they should visit. Aside from the Empire State and Grand Central and the other hugely obvious destinations, I mean. So, rather than continuing to answer these queries piecemeal (though I'll continue to do that if people ask), I've decided to tackle the matter neighborhood by neighborhood, starting with this item on Times Square. I figure, anything that helps these old businesses stay afloat is for the good, so might as well direct as much traffic thataway as possible.

I'm starting with Times Square for a few reasons. One, it's where every tourist ends up eventually, so a guide to it will be of the most use. Two, there's precious little of Old New York left there, and, as I'm freaking lazy, it will be an easy thing to write up.

Also, keep in mind: this is not meant to be an ideal of complete-ism. It's a smattering, a selection, a best-of. Also, I'm focusing on things that are still there; not "This is where this was," or "On this spot once stood." Living history, not dead history. Contrary to some ideas people have of this blog, Lost City is not about nostalgia (not entirely, anyway); it's about old, but living and breathing places that ought to be celebrated and preserved.

So, here we go.

BROADWAY THEATRES: Even if you don't like theatre, go to a Broadway show. This collection of 30-odd old theatres has no architectural equivalent in the United States. They are gorgeous buildings, inside and out. The New Amsterdam's interior has the most opulent glitz for your buck (Don't miss the former gentlemen's lounge downstairs, with its murals and circular bar). The Hirschfeld is exotic, the Booth intimate and the Shubert's a beaut. And if you're really looking for the oldest everything, go to the ornate Lyceum, built in 1903 and the oldest continually operating Broadway theatre.

AMC EMPIRE 25 CINEPLEX: This 42nd Street movie house used to be the Eltinge Theatre, named after Julian Eltinge, the greatest female impersonator of the early 20th Century. The old ceiling murals are still there.

THE NEW YORK TIMES BUILDING: This grand structure on 43rd Street is where the paper did business for most of the 20th century. A great building no matter who occupies it next.

THE PARAMOUNT BUILDING: An Art Deco gem on 7th Avenue and 43rd, and one of the oldest surviving buildings in an area now littered with colorless glass boxes. Frank Sinatra wowed them here. The mountain-like structure has a beautiful, illuminated, four-sided clock which chimes "Give My Regards to Broadway" every night at 7:45. Take a tour of the lovely lobby for an idea of the vibrant life that office building lobbies could once generate.

THE FORMER KNICKERBOCKER HOTEL: This 16-story Beaux-Arts building at the corner of Broadway and 42nd Street was the place to stay in the early 20th century. Caruso sang from the balcony to the crowds below. It's also the only building at the Crossroads of the World that still looks like the Times Square of old.

FRANKIE & JOHNNIE'S STEAKHOUSE: But hurry! This second-story former Speakeasy on W. 46th Street will shut down for good at the end of January. As far as I know, it's the second oldest restaurant in the area.

SARDI'S: This is the oldest. I know: it's cliche, it's musty, it's old hat. It's also history and splendid and romantic and you'll be treated well and get some decent food. You won't see any theatre stars; but plenty of past celebrities are in frames on the walls.

SMITH'S BAR AND GRILL: A bar, a grill and a sign to remind you of the Times Square of the 1950s. Nothing too special inside. And nothing too fancy. Which makes it great.

CAFE EDISON: An affordable and classic diner inside the Edison Hotel on 47th Street. A popular theatre hangout for stage pros who are more interested in eating than being seen. Try the matzo ball soup. The Rum House, a bar next door that is also part of the hotel, is worth a look too.

JIMMY'S CORNER: The best bar in Times Square, and the last saloon that speaks of the area's rich past. It's a shotgun space owned by Jimmy Glenn, a former boxing trainer, and full of easy-going charm, good music, cheap beer and waitresses in short skirts.

NOTE: I've limited this survey to the area above 42nd between Eighth and Sixth Avenues. Attractions to the south, west and east will be covered in future entries on Hell's Kitchen, Midtown and the Garment District.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

Patois, the Smith Street eatery that's historical in terms of the history of Smith Street eateries, will close on Sunday. [NY Times]

The truly historical Four Seasons is turning 50. [Eater]

Outlook for Hotel Pennsylvania is looking bleak again. [Observer]

Art Deco Metro Theatre will become an Urban Outfitters. [City Room]

The Emerald Inn on the UWS will not die after all. Yet. Thanks, as always, goes to the lousy economy. [NY Times]

The holdings the the late Gotham Book Mart have been given to the University of Pennsylvania. Which doesn't seem quite right. [The City Room]

Matchbooks of the Lost City: East Village Edition

The former Caffe della Pace, cozy cafe on E. 7th Street. The kind of cafe that used to be quite common in lower Manhattan.


Siracusa was a nice Italian restaurant on Fourth Avenue north of Astor Place. White curtains on the window. Old-world service. Closed some time ago.


In the early '90s, as the East Village was gentrifying, Limbo, a cafe run by a group of Vassar grads, was a popular cafe for the pre-Starbuck's coffee set.


The Swiss restaurant Roettele A G on E. 7th, near Avenue A, was a popular haunt of mine in the early '90s, when I lived in the East Village. I've encountered few more charming restaurants in the City. I also had my first Beef Wellington there.

Before and After

This pair of houses on Union Street near Van Brunt have always held a unique place in the Brooklyn neighborhood surrounding Columbia Street west of the BQE. In a sea of flat-tops, they have sharply peaked roofs, giving them a quaint, Swiss-chalet air.

For years, though, they've languished, untended, their odd coats of pink and green paint peeling slowly away. Until this year. Someone apparently bought the (formerly green) building on the right and gave it a major polished. The old paint was scraped away, and the original charm of the structure was restored. I'm particularly impressed with the careful work done on the scalloped molding bordering the roof, and the restoration of the single arched window on the third floor. Now, if someone would just do the same to the pink jobbie.

Dive Takes a Holiday

Just two months ago I was suggesting to regulars of the currently defunct Holland Bar that they visit the East Village's Holiday Inn for their dive needs.

Now JVNY published the disturbing news that Holiday has been closed for a number of days, and that the old owner Stephan Lutek is in the hospital. Still too early to say if the joint is gone for good. I would have to think it was. It's dive-ishness was so genuine and unposed.

Matchbooks of the Lost City: Who Went There?

If the Theatre District eatery La Veranda were still open today, I would make it the subject of one of my "Who Goes There?" columns on Eater. The hopefully outdated 47th Street Italian restaurant was never full and nothing special. Which, of course, made it mysterious, given its prime location.

Bloomberg's Latest Bad Idea

No amount of public criticism will prevent Michael Bloomberg from going after what he wants.

The Cobble Hill/Carroll Gardens Courier reports that the referendum-flouting would-be-third-termer is looking to ram through a City Charter revision (oh, how he loves those) that would shorten the ULURP (Uniform Land Usage Review Procedure) process. "According to an informed source, who attended a discussion of the issue at a meeting held by Manhattan Borough President Scott Stringer," wrote the Courier, "the goal may be to shorten the lengthy ULURP process, which mandates review of zoning changes from the local through citywide levels over a specific period of time."

Why? I mean, besides the fact that he just loves developers so much and has such contempt for the general public? Because, thinks Bloomie, it would be good for the flagging economy. "In their mind, they want to ensure that development goes as quickly as possible, particularly in this economy," noted the Courier source. “Now, they have to wait 200 days to go through ULURP. What if they could get their shovels in the ground after 60 days?"

As Sidney Falco said in "The Sweet Smell of Success": "His gall is gorgeous."

After what has happened with the Department of Building this year—the crashing cranes, the widespread evidence of rampant corruption, the ousting of Patricia Lancaster—Bloomberg thinks less oversight of building projects is a good idea. Developers are still our friends, apparently, selfless sorts who only want to provide jobs and keep our economy thriving.

How many thing are wrong with this approach? It's hard to say. Aside for opening the floodgates to further scandal and malfeasance, such a revision would place the reins of City power more tightly in the grasp of the realtor-builder complex than they already are. The idea that truncating ULURP would generate jobs is specious. Where would the money be coming from to fund these expensive projects? And if the buildings are completed, where are the wealthy citizens who would purchase these fresh condos or rent this new office space? The City would be left with more unused surplus towers than it already has. Furthermore, Bloomberg's reliance on Wall Street and development to keep the City going is part of what got New York in the mess it's in in the first place. So the big idea of our supposed third-term savior is more of the same? Genius. Beyond that, could there be a more short-sighted solution to the City's problems than to completely toss out community involvement in the metropolis' future course? I suppose so, if you're a guy whose vision of New York City doesn't include a role for the rank and file.

More and more, it looks like the New York Post was on the money when it reported that Gov. David Paterson secretly described Bloomberg as "a nasty, untrustworthy, tantrum-prone liar who 'has little use' for average New Yorkers.' "

The Hostess With the Leastest

This Hostess thrift shop in Woodside has been closed for nearly a decade. I remember when it was open. The shelves were never very well stocked. But you could get Twinkies for very little money, if you wanted to. I never understood why Hostess put the shop in the middle of nowhere (37th Avenue and 61st Street), where no one could take advantage of the deals. I also never understood the sign on the side of the building, which says "Wednesday 'Bargin'." Why the misspelled "bargin"?

I'm no fan of Hostess treats. But I like the boldness of this relic, and the iconic signage.

Matchbooks of the Lost City: Sloppy Louie's

I only went to Sloppy Louie's once, but was smart enough to grab a matchbook. Sloppy Louie's did business down at the corner of South and Fulton streets, at the South Street Seaport, for nearly 70 years, closing in 1998. The place had atmosphere to beat the band. The waiters were crusty lifers. The restaurant was also famous for being in the building eulogized by Joseph Mitchell in "Up in the Old Hotel."

Dead Diner

This abandoned diner has been rusting away on 37th Avenue in Woodside, Queens, for a decade of more. It must have served a worthy purpose once upon a time, providing cheap grub for the workers at the many industrial plants in the area. Now, it's a ghostly presence. It is being used for storage of some kind.