A Good Sign: Barton's Fabulous Stationers

It may not seem so special, but I love this sign on Second Avenue near 64th. Before you dismiss it, consider these facts. Barton's Fabulous Stationers is the full name of the store; they are officially "fabulous." Even the new blue awning below the original sign says Barton's Fabulous Stationers. Second, they opted for "stationers," not the more mundane "stationery." Third (you can't see this in the picture), the sign advertises "distinctive greeting cards." Fourth, the place is run by people who obviously have no pretensions to fabulousness or distinctiveness.

When I took this picture, a short man with a moustache came out of the store and eyed me suspiciously. What was I doing? I said, "I love that sign." What sign? "That sign. The old one on top." He had no idea what I was talking about. He thought I was nuts. "Is this an old store?" Yes, he said, in a way that communicated "Who cares?" I left before he called the cops.

Old Guys Eating Soup at the Edison Cafe

It's what you want to see.

I certainly don't blame them for eating the soup. The old theatre hangout's matzo ball soup may be the best in the City. It's certainly my favorite. And it's served on plates that actually say Edison Hotel—no Fishs Eddy irony intended.

A sign near the cash register said that Harry and Frances Edelstein, owners of the place, are new grandparents. Frances herself, a woman of unknown age, was running the register, though she had to hold the receipt one inch from her eyes before she knew what to charge. Hopefully, she'll hang on until that grandkid can learn the ropes.

New York Sanctioned Fussiness

The tiny Brooklyn Heights shop Two for the Pot, on Clinton near Atlantic, is treasured by its devotees for its careful and unusual selection of teas, coffees, brewing equipment, English foodstuffs and whatever other odd items that happen to appeal to the independently minded owner. Those devotees are often frustrated, however, as the store is erratic in its hours of operation. Stumbling by the door when the owner is accepting customers can feel like hitting the jackpot. But, then, that's part of the charm of the place.

There's a lot to occupy your mind on Two for the Pot's shelves. But nothing so amuses me as an antique scale that the owner keeps in a cubby hole on the right side of the store. It's a curio, but also a working appliance. As a sign behind it alerts us, it is inspected every year by whatever city or state official inspect such things, and is therefore accepted as a legal manner to conduct mercantile transactions in the way of weighed teas, coffees and spices.

But, because the scale's sense of balance is apparently so fragile, it may not be touched. If it was touched and sent out whack, the unimaginable would happen: it would be replaced by a digital scale! Horrors!

I poke fun, but I'm actually on the guy's side. I want him to keep and use the old thing. It's cool that he keeps it in service. And digital scales are kinda nasty. So, repeat after me: No Pepper Games!

News Stand

There's been a lot of talk recently about those sleek new Cemusa newsstands and whether of not they're good for New York.

Just wanted to go on the record that the above is my ideal of a New York City newsstand: A brown shack that spills a little onto the sidewalk, with the words "News Stand" hand-painted in yellow on three sides (in different fonts, no less). No mistaking this structure for a silvery time machine or a space module that might blast off at any minute.

Intersection of Infamy

The former location of the Mexicali Restaurant on the southeast corner of Atlantic Avenue and Court Street has long been boarded up. Now a sign tells us what will, at long last, be the space's new tenant: A branch of Bank of America.

OK, so that completes it; Atlantic and Court, the crossroads of Cobble Hill, Brooklyn Heights, Boerum Hill and Downtown Brooklyn, is now wholly an intersection of corporate commerce. Across the street from the proposed Bank of America is a Sovereign Bank. Kitty-corner is an Eckerd (soon to be Rite Aid) pharmacy. The fourth corner will soon be occupied by the hotly anticipated Trader Joe's, which, though a much friendlier and livelier presence, is still a chain.

Place is gonna look like Yorkville.

Arrivederci, Nino's!

Nino's Pizzeria has been an Carroll Gardens institution since, well, they began to call South Brooklyn Carroll Gardens.

But, now, it's no more, my friends. Walking by Nino's corner at Henry and Union, I was greeted by papered-over windows and some impromptu signs that said "Excuse Our Appearance. Coming Soon Francesco Eatery."

As I stood staring, a man walked out the entrance. He confirmed that Nino's was gone. The owners had sold out, and Francesco Eatery would be a completely different concern, not some Nino's 2.0. "Same concept, better food," he said. He added that there will be table service, something Nino's never had.

Nino's was founded in 1968 by the Caltado family, when the surrounded area was still pretty rife with Mafia, with no dreams of yuppification. (There were still a few pushcarts on Union Street.) The place was divided in two, a long counter of pizza and chafing dishes on one side, a room of additional seating on the other. It used to be far scruffier and imbued with more character before the nabe's recent real estate boom. Everyone spoke Italian and the hot dishes were advertised through wordless paintings hanging above the counter.

The place has gone through about a million renovations in the past five years. At one point, it sported some ugly, screaming-red neon signs saying "Italian Eatery." After that, some fancy awnings made their debut and a hand-lettered sign said "Under OLD Management." The interior kept getting more polished and less interesting, though you could always count on the horrible old oil painting of a drunken codger cradling a bottle of wine.

The food was good, never great, and always a bit on the expensive side. But the white slice was mighty fine. RAI was always on the television. And I'll miss the old Italian guys handing our forever.

Flowers, No Hype

The oldest business on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights sure doesn't make a big fuss over it.

That would be James Weir Floral Company. The concern was founded in 1853, making it the oldest florist in the city, if not the nation. But you wouldn't know it to walk into 160 Montague. The storefront is narrow, and inside there is not one hint that you're entering a historic shop. No old, black and white photos of the shop way back when. (This is the original location.) No clippings of newspaper articles telling its history. No images of grand old Victorian James Weir. No charming, antiquated florist tools hanging from the walls. Abso-positively-fucking nothing! Just a note of their business cards saying "Est. in 1853."

I guess that's what you call modesty. Or an absence of marketing sense. Anyway, they've got nice flowers and plants. And the service is friendly. And they deliver anywhere in Brooklyn. Gravesend. Greenpoint. Anywhere.

One tidbit I learned about Weir comes from Forgotten New York. Apparently Weir himself suggested the name of the neighborhood be changed from Yellow Hook to its current moniker. Good move, James.

The Brooklyn Inn Is Fine; Owner Not So Much

We've wrung our hands a bit over the fate of the beloved Brooklyn Inn of Boerum Hill during the past six months or so, beginning when rumors surfaced that the grand old corner tavern—one of the finest specimens of Little Olde New York drinking emporia in existence—was going to close or be bistro-fied.

None of those rumors proved true. And, according to a long, vociferous e-mail sent by the Brooklyn Inn's owner Jason Furlani to Eater, none of them will ever turn out to be true. Furlani sure is fed up with all the speculation surrounding his place. And, man, does he hate bloggers.

Since I guess I'm one of the "idiots who have contributed to the `Brooklyn Inn Conspiracy' that have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," I feel I should respond. First, I'd like to point out that, grammatically, I'm actually one of the idiots WHO have no idea what I'm talking about." Second, I'd like to remind Mr. Furlani that, over the past few years, bloggers like myself have watched some of our favorite New York City bars and restaurants go "poof," victims of greedy developers and businessman (now there are the speculators you should be hating!), never to be seen again. So, naturally, we're jumpy as cats! We hear one wisp of a rumor that yet another cherished, ur-NYC hangout is about to fall, and we assume the worst. Hence, the wildfire gossip mill.

Not exactly a defense of our behavior, mind you. But an explanation.

Third, I'd like to tell Mr. Furlani that he should not be so naive as to imagine that he runs a business. He runs a legend. He runs a piece of New York's heritage. He may think he's answerable only to himself when he considers making changes to the Brooklyn Inn. He's not. Put some beer nuts on the bar and you're going to get a reaction. Maybe an overreaction. But don't be disingenuous and imagine people don't care. You're not running a faceless Bennigan's.

Finally, about Mr. Furlani's final paragraph: "I have - and will AGAIN, maintain - that if you want to know what's going on with the Inn, come on down and ask ME. I'm there. I'll gladly answer any and all questions that you (or the dumb-ass conspiracy geek that keeps blindly posting this putrid bunk) may want to know. Come on down and talk to me face-to-face...but we all know - that ain't gonna happen."

I hereby promise that Lost City will, in future, check in with you before before posting any new news about the Brooklyn Inn. I welcome any excuse to visit the place.

Williamsburg Bank Building Breathes Again

This picture of the Williamsburg Bank Building (courtesy of Curbed), unmasked after so many months, certainly is encouraging. The old girl looks good. Now, get those clocks up and working!

Developers Have Money for the Important Things

The developers of the newly landmarked Domino sugar plant have said they don't have the money needed to probably preserve the iconic Domino sign (which was not landmarked). Today, however, the New York Post reports that the same people did have $577,000 to lobby city officials for a zoning change on the $1.2 billion project.

Meet your friendly New York neighborhood developer. If they even tell the truth or consider the community, it's entirely by accident.