Midsummer merengue

The Midsummer Night Swing in Lincoln Centre has to be up there with the most fun, all time favorite events of NYC. Salsa was on the menu tonight and the Latino flavor was so all embracing that Castro or El Chapo could easily have been in the crowd and no-one would have noticed. In fact one old swinger danced around his walking frame with oxygen piped in. There was no age or size that didn’t fit. As soon as the music started the tapping and twisting and twirling brought the night alive. Salsa seems to be all in the hips, which gives me ample opportunity to blossom. And with merengue becoming a proven science for memory retention, I might even remember the moves. That places me perfectly for the swing nights – and with the Mint Julep Jazz Band playing from the 1930’s, and Black Rock Coalition Get Down Revue teaching  jump blues and the west coast swing on the long weekend, my memory will soon be better than ever…!

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Voting here for there

There is only one polling booth in NYC and it doesn’t have any electioneering solicitation or campaigning within cooee. That’s if you exclude the Brexit news in the foyer and the heavily bling’d Donald and Hilary in all the tourist stores on Fifth Avenue. But I could easily have voted for them too, the ballot paper was so large and had so many extreme options – perhaps I did. Under the auspice of one of the world’s most iconic buildings let’s hope my vote counted somewhere, for someone, and for some time…

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Big Apple BBQ

The barbecue season in NYC has officially started. As I cycled down Park Avenue late on Friday night, the smell of charcoal and chops stopped me in my tracks. Trance-like I was drawn, bike in tow, to Madison Square Park where the 14th annual Big Apple Barbecue Block Party was preparing for a weekend of festivities. Trucks were edging train-size ovens into place, fires were blazing to make coals, pallets of tomato sauce were being unloaded, and high-hatted, big bearded pit masters from all over the country were greeting each other like long lost friends. With hundreds of thousands more expected the next morning, there was scarcely time for a cold beer…

Pigs must feel about the Block Party like turkeys feel about Thanksgiving. On Saturday for just one of the 14 different pit masters, all offering their own magical mix of smoke of fire, the consumption tally was 1,350 sides of ribs. Some roast the whole hog and ‘pull’ the meat, some use a dry rub on ribs and others wet. Spices and sauces vary, as does ‘southern’ versus ‘northern’ recipes. It’s not so much a competition as it is a lifestyle, and for many of the bib & brace barbecuers that extends to being part of ‘Operation BBQ Relief‘, a national response team that mobilizes quickly in the wake of tornadoes and wild fires, bringing delicious food and friendship.

By Sunday morning cowboy hats were nowhere to be seen. Caps and the ‘cue crew were finding their spots, and best of all, succulent ribs were being taken out of ovens and generously mopped with sweet sticky sauce. The only tornado in town was my spinning wheels – a perfect time to arrive…!

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Champagne farewell

The very fabulous Alistair Cooke died just a short time after broadcasting his last Letter From America. In classic renegade style his loved ones celebrated his life with the ‘wild cat’ scattering of his ashes in Central Park. They raised their Starbucks cups, drained of coffee and refilled for the clandestine send-off and wished Alistair well.

On the Hudson last week we didn’t need Starbucks cups. Champagne and cocktail bites were served as our international party set off under full sail on the Mystic Whaler. The sloop paused mid stream for words and wishes as Mike’s ashes were dispersed. Then the party – with the blessing of the city – really started. With the view back to Manhattan, the breeze on the river and the setting sun, it was a celebration to remember….

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The nose knows

The spirit of JP Morgan lives on. And not just in the ways you would expect. Even robber barons had problems, and in JP’s case it was a chronic case of rosacea, where all the money in the world couldn’t stop his big purple nose from growing larger and more colorful. Perhaps that’s why he immersed himself in books, and thanks to Bella da Costa Greene, his female ( and closet African American ) librarian, he created a treasure house of first editions and literary works. The library is magnificent, but now there is a reason to visit The Morgan Library other than to see the library alone – Rembrandt’s first masterpiece!  The painting, Judas Returning the Thirty Pieces of Silver, along with the supporting drawings and etchings, shows not just that Rembrandt is one of the greatest artists in the world, but that he had a special gift for noses…

Rembrandt was only 23 when he painted this masterpiece, that’s nearly 400 years ago, and 2016 is the first time since then that the pieces of the puzzle that he built on to create the painting – the drawings, the etchings – have all been brought together.  Every face he drew tells a story, every nose is rich and generous, from his postage stamp sized self portrait to the crowds milling around while Christ spoke. There is emotion in every line, light and darkness created by needles spinning though wax, etching their way to eternity.

This is the first time Rembrandt’s masterpiece has been in the United States. Usually it resides in private hands in the UK. So when Leonardo DiCaprio called into the House of Morgan for a private tour last week, it was not known if he was looking to make a purchase or to research a new protuberance. Who knows what role follows next? Either way, he would be in the right hands…

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The Greatest

Feeling slightly stung by missing the World Stamp show and the opportunity to see the British Guiana 1c magenta stamp that shoe-man Stuart Weitzman paid $9.5M for to add to his collection, I cheered myself by trading this one-in-every-ten-year event with a less collectible but more frequent and feastive street affair. Adding a little zen to the swirls of Italian and open barbecued German sausage of the usual street-closing summer fairs, the Japanese block fair on Park Avenue this weekend was an absolute treat. Whole octopus was grilled or rolled in battered balls, there were vegetable pancakes – some of them on sticks, shaved mango icecream with red beans, skewered dumplings, ramen and noodles. But the piece de resistance was the tree ring cake, made from an extraordinary process using a rotisserie oven and adding dough one layer at a time, allowing the first to cook before the second, the third, the fourth and so on until the thirtieth layer is added, creating a ringed affect like the rings of a tree trunk. This cake is definitely one that is impossible to make at home, and perhaps that’s why the baker suggested it brings good luck and you should make a wish on the last bite. So I wished for the people of earthquake prone Kumamoto for whom money was being raised by people and puppets, I thought of Obama in Japan, and I spoke with a man of peace who looked like he’d been there 71 years ago and somehow survived. And then I wished for Ali who had fought sumo’s and stereotypes and who may no longer sting like a bee but floats like a butterfly…

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Riding with rhododendrons

A Bike Month celebratory spin along the blooming roads of Central Park turned into a trail ride on an island just over the East River. The evening was too beautiful to stop, but to ride 20 minutes from the tranquility of the Park to the tranquility of the trail, took me through the hush of the upper east side, the rhythms of Spanish Harlem and over the intensity of  afternoon traffic on the FDR. It was worth it, not just for the joy of discovering a new part of the city but to be in the midst of the criss cross of borough bridges connecting over the island. The Hells Gate Bridge, named with great foresight, would be the last bridge to collapse if humans disappeared, giving Ward Island a feel of a special sanctuary.

A pedestrian bridge links Manhattan with Ward Island at east 102 street, and from there the bicycle track edges around the parklands passing horse stables, playing fields and a huge psychiatric hospital. Spectacular colors cultivated along the shoreline make the view to Gotham look like a vision rising up out of the water. It was hard to imagine a time when it would not be full of people. But just to be sure, I rode back over the bridge down to Gracie Mansion and then headed south for home…

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Fleet Week

The Navy made a big splash today with the annual Fleet Week celebrations and sailors all over the city. While I missed the flotilla and fireworks, I did encounter a triathlon veteran who talked about training with Navy Seals and how it improved his mental capacity. One night they ran around the base of huge sand hills, wearing shoes to protect their feet from splintered glass interspersed in the deep dry sand, while live bullets whistled passed their heads. He said that it all seemed too hard until he thought of the hills as being snow covered, and, loving the winter sports, started skiing along the beach. He won the race and a souvenir. I wonder if there is an easier way to get the tshirt….?!

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Dessert spot

Gardening and gastronomy make a perfect pairing at a very creative dessert bar in St Marks Place. Crunchy chocolate becomes like dirt in a pot of parsley, and aerated pistachio sponge appears like shrubbery next to meringue-like rocks in a forest of greenery. Then there’s the chocolate lava cake… All this landscaping appeared too good to be true, that these works of art would be more for the look rather than the taste. But we are talking the Iron Chef from Thailand here and in a battle of the masters it may look like mud, but it definitely tastes like mousse…

Chef Ian Kittichai calls his desserts confectionery tapas, small plates to share. And to encourage this, the more desserts you buy the less expensive they become. But the desserts are so rich that instead of two people sharing three desserts, it should be the other way around. Minimum. Even for committed connoisseurs tempted by the perfection of each dish, bruleed bananas in a choux puff with caramel sauce, or crispy honey toast with strawberries, whipped cream and condensed milk ice-cream does provide a challenge. So with perfect weather and a gang of friends, I will take my green thumb and cultivate the space for another visit…

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Spring ducklings

While azaleas bloomed in spectacular abundance in Central park yesterday, and artists sketched their own picture while featuring in mine, the real action was happening in the garden at The Frick Collection. The ducks were back!

Every year for as long as anyone can remember, this pair of devoted ducks returns to the Russell Page garden to lay eggs and teach their little ones how to swim. It is an event that staff and art lovers watch out for with anticipation. The story goes that that one year the head gardener made a ramp at the water’s edge so the ducklings could be nudged rather than flung into their swimming lessons. Another year the New York Times reported on a policeman stopping traffic on fifth avenue so the family could cross the road safely to the park. Less joyously, an urban raccoon got to the eggs last year causing all the bushes to be sprayed with repellant this Spring, and so far so good.

The ducks seem oblivious to the attention they attract, watching the fish together and having a snooze. But this may be a trait of their upper east side lifestyle. There is sure to be a nanny on the job and in about a months time we will look forward to the patter of little paddlers. Watch this space….!

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