Xtreme Dream

An art installation in Times Square boldly asks us to declare if Capitalism works. There are two buttons to press in response, either true or false. But with the government at a stand still and the anniversary of Hurricane Sandy upon us, these alternatives don’t seem big enough to answer the question.

With this on my mind I attended an interesting event in Herald Square in front of Macys. The 64 year old endurance swimmer Diana Nyad, who recently completed a record breaking swim from Cuba to Florida without a shark cage, was swimming laps in a makeshift swimming pool to keep the spotlight on Hurricane Sandy. It was this time last year that the tide was rising, and would soon contribute to the natural disaster that is still making waves. Diana, who made the Cuba crossing on her fifth attempt, wanted to make a point about courage and looking beyond the 15 minutes of fame that usually accompanies news material. So just a few weeks after the Cuba crossing she was back in the water, and after 48 hours had raised over $100,000 for the victims of Sandy. Diana had lots of commercial sponsors and the event was also good publicity for her new documentary, but nevertheless, she could have been home enjoying a cup of tea and putting her feet up.

So which button to press….? With the 12 month limit about to cut off much of the aid for those still homeless from the storm, and the shut down of government making other financial alternatives impossible, what becomes of those families living in temporary hostels and hotel rooms? An anonymous donor, who may share the Xtreme Dream values of Diana, threw $1million into the pot to keep Sandy victims housed while their homes are rebuilt. Now that person may have made their money through capitalism, but it was pure generosity that saw them give it away….

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Chocolate inspiration

Chocolate is great at any time, but it can be inspirational, and that is certainly the case with a Swedish couple who’s passion and energy are setting a new standard for the American Dream. They don’t just hand-make chocolate with unique flavours and textures, they have a gift, and they fought for their spot. They call themselves Fika, the Swedish name for a break, a moment to relax and enjoy a coffee and a treat. At FIKA New York this concept has been taken to a whole new level.

At the flagship in Tribeca, a 250 kilo marble slab centers a room full of delicious smells and sights. Chocolate skulls line the shelves in anticipation of Halloween. An outrageously lush hazelnut chocolate spread only needs a spoon which our host generously supplies. Jars of citrus and whiskey are not jams because they will not be made to adhere to US sugar quantities. Neither will the blueberry and rosemary – fortunately. Very soon this confection heaven will become a tasting and teaching space and it deserves to be packed.

Last year when Sandy hit the East coast, Hakan and his crew were preparing for an international food expo where their gourmet confectionary was expected to be a huge success. Dean and Deluca, the prime foodie destination in NYC already carried their products along with other exclusive outlets. Their new chocolate studio in Tribeca was in the process of being built and years of hard work were coming to a head. But suddenly all those perfectly handmade chocolates melted into the maelstrom, there was no power, Hakan, his partner, and his wife pumped water for 7 days, but by the time the sea receded their new machines were ruined. Six weeks later mould started to grow out of the concrete foundations. Even though they had insurance for natural disasters and terrorist attacks their insurance company declared that their policy did not cover ‘water coming from the sea’. They were about to go under. Again.

As it happened their partner’s place was the one place in the whole of the tip of Manhattan that still had electricity. So as soon as Sandy subsided, they started emailing FEMA. The chocolate studio was broken down and built again. The hands that had turned out such sensitive sweets were now wielding jackhammers and pouring concrete slabs. Dean and Deluca said they would hold their spot. Their credit card company agreed to hold off temporarily on their growing bill, agreeing that a delayed payment is better than a bankrupt void. But of course there was a time limit, and soon there was no more time. Just at that moment, appropriately on New Years Eve, FEMA came through. They were back in business.

To hear the story, and to know that Hakan and his partner are in their early thirties, is a salute to their courage. One year after the storm they are making 10,000 pralines a month. That doesn’t count the skulls and the amazing chocolate mousse coconut combo we had with our coffee. By the year 2019 the plan is for 20 FIKA cafes in New York City. These Swedes are going global and good luck to them. Now I do not need any encouragement to eat chocolate. But when I tasted Hakan’s latest invention, a salted caramel made with real sea water, it was like eating poetry. If a storm was going to have a good outcome, this would have to be it. I just hope they call it ‘Sandy’….

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The Ghost who walks

For we diehard Phantom phans, the intrigue of a man who works incognito is not lost. So when Banksy, the famous but anonymous graffiti artist announced he would be creating a new artwork in NYC for every day in October, the spies were out. As with all masked men you have to be quick. No sooner has the artist stenciled his signature style on a street canvas than the building owners or other painters have either tarnished or tagged it. On the edge of Chinatown a most irate woman ( she had keys to the musical building ) proclaimed loudly that if people want to paint on walls they should buy the building first. Knowing that Banksy pieces have sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars, and walls have been pulled down to preserve his signature, she probably should have stood guard until Christies arrived… Still there are quite a few days left in the month and while we may not actually see the guy in the tight fitting suit, we do know that the street artist will never die….

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Oui Chef!

The concentration of professional palates were at a peak last weekend when a Gallic elite of regional artisans brought their best dishes to NYC for a Taste of France. The white jackets of Executive chefs were in abundance, as were the magnificent smells and tastes to be savored. Those accents get me every time so that even if I know the food is delicious, the expression of it makes it even more so. The sight of the saucisson made me just as hungry as the saucy lamb shanks, and the perfect melt of soft cheese and regional butters was a treat. But the taste that really stopped me in my tracks was the mini tropeziennes. They were perfectly formed light brioche filled with pastry cream and rolled in pearl sugar. As we stood in trepidation in the queue, many quick hands reached in front of us to score what they thought was a sample, only to be stopped with a ‘monsieur – that will be $3 merci!’

The tropeziennes were sublime, and while I didn’t want to spoil the moment, I couldn’t resist asking the young chefs if they had heard about cronuts… Oh yes, they had, and were curious. So watch this space, the revolution is not over and the dopezienne may be next in line…

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Malcolm Browne

The Vietnam War, or the world’s perception of it, changed dramatically 50 years ago when Malcolm Browne photographed the self-immolation of monk Thich Quang Duc and successfully transmitted the image out from the heavily censored war zone. An exhibition to honor the courageous journalism of Malcolm on this anniversary was held at the Associated Press in NYC this week and I was privileged to be invited.

It was remarkable to be in the company of so much vital history and some of the people who contributed to it. Fortunately one of these had the foresight ten years ago, when the headquarters of AP was moved from the Rockefeller Center to West 33rd Street, to collect documents and photographs and establish a permanent archive for the agency. So 165 years of news and the work of it’s messengers have been recorded for posterity.

The Unquiet American: Malcolm Browne in Saigon, 1961 – 65, tells the story of the time in a very direct, almost personal, way. To be able to read his notes, see his original contact sheets and have such an emotional insight into the events of the time was remarkable. Groups of older journalists gathered around photographs to identify and look to recognize the participants. One of these, a photograph of the regular press briefing sessions called Five O’clock Follies ( because so much of the information released was deliberate misinformation ) was apparently the only known photograph of that event. Censorship was a huge hurdle Browne had to deal with – along with the challenge to stay alive – to tell the stories as he saw them. And it was because of his intuition and the trust he had with the Buddhist monks that Browne was the only reporter there on that day in June 1963 for the event that changed the world’s perception of the war, and coincidentally won him the Pulitzer Prize for international reporting.

Malcolm Browne’s job was to get the news and pictures back, which he did. When he finally left Vietnam it was with his beautiful wife Le Lieu, but that’s another story…

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Fete Paradiso

It somehow seems fitting that the Frenchman who made his fortune by creating an enameled iron cooking pot in the shape of a cow, would not only have an amazing collection of vintage carousels, but that he should bring them to Governor’s Island. Francis Staub, who admits his head was once so big from success that it wouldn’t fit under the Arch de Triomphe, presents now more like an artist than aristocracy. His collection is fantastic, with hundreds of unique pieces, some dating back to the 1890’s and all looking like something out of a fairytale. There were individual animals that remain from rides past, wheels of fortune, caricatures of Charlie Chaplin with wooden friends whose feet you could hoop or whose moving mouths you could throw a ball into and win a lollipop. Then the best of all, the carousels that still work, and bring as much joy as they did a hundred or so years ago.

My absolute favorite was the Velocipedes that was built at a time when bicycles were just becoming popular. The mechanism was created by a contemporary of Edison that rumbled along at great pace when everyone pedaled at the same time. Just at that moment when you thought their collective speed would send the golden bicycles off their tracks, the whole thing started to move backwards causing shrieks of delight from the riders. These were adult shrieks. The child-like ones came from everywhere else as regal carriages, oversized swans, alligators and of course giant pigs flew them through the air. It was an exciting day, and no matter how giddying or exhausting, every last coupon had to be spent.

At the end of September the carousels will be packed up and Governor’s Island will close down for the winter. So there is still time for one last ride…..

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Cronuts in concrete

In my gourmet experience concrete is not usually an aspirational quality for decadent treats. Maybe I’m showing my age, because at the perpetually popular Shake Shack in Madison Park, concrete is the brand name of their ice-cream. A different flavour accompanies each day of the week, so if it’s Monday it’s salted caramel, and Tuesday would normally be banana bread. But if it’s Tuesday 17th September, the once-only-never-to-be-repeated flavour is butter caramel frozen custard with cinamon sugar cronuts – cronut hole concrete!

Dominique Ansel, the increasing famous creator of the cronut, teamed up with the Shake Shack people for a one day event to raise money for the Madison Park Conservatory and the NYC Patrolman’s Benevolent Association Widows and Children’s Fund. One thousand tubs of the limited edition concrete went on sale today for $4.50 each and a limit of two per person. The Shake Shake opened their doors at 10am, and with people queuing since 5am, the line snaked all around the Park. ( Maybe this would have been a good day to join the line at the Dominique Ansel Bakery in Soho. It may have been a little shorter in lieu of the alternative, and I understand the cronut flavour this month is fig and mascapone…..)

I cycled down to the Park at 10.30 when the first in line were starting to collect their concrete. The first 100 received a commemorative I was there teeshirt, and it was as though they had struck gold. So much excitement! It was like a religious experience as the tubbed trophies were photographed in their Shake Shack paper bag, in anticipation, about to to be eaten, being eaten… Cameras, video recorders, iPhones, television crews, and a thousand people waiting for a chance to do the same. On this sunny September day there was a happy camaraderie – the Grubstreet and the Yelp reporters even exchanged cards, and everyone posed and smiled. Maybe this made the concrete experience last just a little bit longer, it was for a good cause after all, but I wondered how they would all be feeling later when I would be enjoying some feather light scones…

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September 11

The view from our roof looking downtown to the twin beams…

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Square dancing off Broadway

Until relatively recently the first week of September always meant Fashion Week in Bryant Park. But now that the high heeled fashionistas have been relegated to the Lincoln Center uptown, the Park can be given over to more jocular boot scootin’ activities. Like Square dancing. For the first night of the Fall program hundreds of people took the advice of the small print on the fliers that proclaimed no experience or partner was necessary and turned up with enthusiasm. They came from work with lap tops and shopping bags in tow and gathered in their cowboy hats to swing rope, line dance and promenade to the music of the Foot and Fiddle Dance Co. Pat Cannon called the moves, and as the circle grew with short people having to step downtown while tall people stepped uptown and the music went from blue grass to blue suede shoes, it all became a riot of fun. It was hard to believe we were in the middle of New York City on a grassy dance floor, half way between Times Square and the Empire State. But that’s the joy of it, and there will be more on September 20th and 25th – just remember you have to do-si-do, and swing around before you can promenade…

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Morgan Library

J P Morgan was a bibliophile and even though his name is forever associated with finance in the too big to fail category, his son’s gift to the public of his library gave him a more literary legacy, and to the rest of us, a permanent wealth of inspiration.

A new exhibition that from our balcony looks like a cascading of leaves in the heart of The Morgan, actually turns out to be a sculptural celebration of paper – the medium used by artists, writers and composers to express themselves. Monika Grzymala hand made each leaf, some of them are printed with images of manuscripts from the library, and all are connected with bookbinding yarn. It is a beautifully effective tribute and after watching it change colour as the light changed during the day, I finally crossed the road to see how it looked from the inside.

On Friday night the center court of the library was filled with the magical union of music and art. A cello and violin duet performed underneath the paper leaves, and as we rose up in the transparent lift to get perspective, the joie de vivre of a Friday night in NYC was all apparent. I carried the feeling through to the private and perfectly preserved library of Mr Morgan, where 15,000 books were displayed in their first edition groupings. There are many valuable books on permanent display, like the Gutenberg Bible, one of the first books to be printed with movable type. There are also bejeweled books and others bordering on works of art. But it is the sheer volume and variety of first editions of writers like Dickens and Mark Twain that I found so impressive. Working my way past Ben Jonson and James 1st copies of the bible I suddenly realised we were in view of the secret passage Mr Morgan used to access the loftier levels of books – and to skip home to his brownstone on 37th Street. It was a good story told with admiration by the security guard, but the best information she shared was that you can access all the books in the Morgan’s collection – with a reasonable reason for research – and with the payment of one year’s membership. So for $75 you can put on the gloves and leaf through a first edition of Robinson Crusoe or read a letter from Jane Austen or hum to an original manuscript from Verdi. What an amazing opportunity and no software, download or wifi involved… just a few pieces of paper….

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