Snack

"This will make you smile. Money back guarantee. " -Anthony Preston

You were right Ant. Pretty.

Welcome Grandma

My mother-in-law dropped by for a visit last night. Jess decided to throw this outfit on to welcome her. I should also point out that Jess does not in actuality smoke cigarettes, nor does she condone cigarette smoking. She thinks it's gross. Also, she doesn't clean kitchens or do anything else for twenty dollars. The twenty was just a prop, and frankly, it had been a while since either of us held one. We just stuffed it in her tube-top so her mom would think we were rich.



We always tell her that we are.

Later the three generations of my bosses danced the night away to this jamming list.

Snack

This is some story.

"My name is Orissa Arend. I have a friend, his name is Robert 'King' Wilkerson, who created the most amazing kitchen. He was in prison at Angola State Penitentiary in Louisiana for 31 years. Twenty-nine of those years he was in solitary confinement, "

"Somehow, in solitary confinement, he managed to create a kitchen -- and he did it out of a stove made of coke cans, and he burnt toilet paper rolls to get heat. And he made pralines, which we love in New Orleans. He made these delicious candies and perfected the recipe, hidden in prison."

Seriously, King's Candies, check em' out!

T.G.I.F. and Maas!

Wachtelhausen Brothers is expanding with the addition of two new brothers. Sean Friday (pictured above with Sally Sunday) will be covering the Austin Texas beat and Tyler Maas (beaten by the Democrat) will be tackling tough issues like sugar-on-snow and all things maple in Vermont.

These are both guys who I believe have the same sort of honest dedication to the craft and the art of eating that I think I possess. It's probably also safe to say that taken together they are the voice of young America. They're both kick-ass writers who have made me laugh, and they have both taught me something once or twice. I hope you get as much out of them as I have.

I'm stoked on the Ace Bar Chief.

So, Jasper Latane came back from SXSW the other day with a jaundiced eye and a big sack of woe. We met at the ACE bar, probably one of my two favorite downtown drunk houses. Justin OQ the happy hour king, served us Vodka and SevenUps in pint glasses. Just the way dad used to drink 'em. But then of course, his liver did explode...

The main attraction at ACE is the Skee-Ball machine. They have a league. This guy Cooper who once worked there recently bought a house in Austin, and took the idea of Skee-Ball with him. He started a league there. He's a cool guy. He used to play in a great band callede Made Out of Babies. I guess what I'm trying to say is that a lot of cool, smart, totally normal people love Skee-Ball.

Stop in and tell Justin OQ what up sometime on Thurs. Fri. Sun. or Mon between 4 and 9. Have a drink. Toss some Skee if that's your thing. They also have pool tables in back for us "Norms."

Ace Bar

531 E 5th St between A and B. Check it out!

Friday's Report (from deep in the heart of Texas) #1

So SXSW was last week down here in the 512. Seeing as how I didn’t go to any official SXSW shindigs I don’t have much to say on the subject. Let’s just say I was at one point wearing a glow stick necklace thingamabob. Yes, beer was involved. Followed by roller-skating. Which doesn’t sound like a good combination, but I came away unscathed. And my daughter finagled two free cd’s out of struggling bands who could’ve probably used the gas money had they been able to sell the cd’s instead.

I did however eat a lot of brisket over the same seven day span. My barbecue purveyor of choice these days is Mann’s Smokehouse. (Those of you who know me, please don’t be alarmed. The Salt Lick BBQ in Driftwood, TX is still my favorite. But it is a 45 minute drive away.) The owners, Jim and Sallie Mann, (no, photography buffs, not Sally Mann) always greet you with big smiles and a friendly word. They make over a dozen homemade sides a day, which makes it very hard for me to choose just two. But the real reason to go is their brisket.

To properly judge a barbecue joint in Texas, you have to try the brisket. Ribs, sausage, and various feathered creatures are tasty as well, but brisket is what Texas barbecue is all about. And Mann’s passes the test with flying colors (which is a strange phrase that apparently derives from the practice of hanging colorful flags on sailboats in a race. I learned this through the magic of the global interweb, so who knows how accurate it is). The brisket has a beautiful smoke ring that shows it has been slow smoked for many many many hours. And juices flow out with each pass of Jim’s blade. There is lots of lovely fat on there that Jim will cut off for you but I prefer to keep on. I read a Texas A&M study that said brisket fat was actually good for you and I believe them. Sauce is served the proper way, on the side. If the brisket is truly Texas standards good, you shouldn’t need any. And at Mann’s, you don’t.

I have never been totally comfortable with the phrase “melts in your mouth” when used in reference to food unless you’re talking about ice cream or some other food that literally melts. But the brisket at Mann’s comes as close as I can imagine to melting as I’ve found. Chewing is still necessary, and enjoyable. The brisket is nice and smoky. And it isn’t overpowered by too much dry rub. Just enough spice to bring out the natural flavors of the meat. It’s delicious and (according to A&M) nutritious.

I do have one issue with Mann’s. I favor a more traditional approach to smoking meat. Meaning a big ol’ smoker powered by wood and wood only. Mann’s uses one of these new fangled gas powered industrial smokers. They use wood too. And they certainly make things easier on the pit master. But there’s no true replacing the heart and soul that go into more traditionally smoked meats. That being said, the true test is taking that first bite. And as I said before, Mann’s passes that test with flying colors.

Snack

Truly, art never sleeps. Wait until you hear what the kid's punishment is going to be.

Recent Acquisitions

Eat that French-hating media giants.

I know, I know...

But come on...

Josh Musick

Sketch of Josh, $cott $mith, Eric Allhusen, Me and Guillermo by Josh Musick circa '92?

Wow! Almost forgot. Josh Musick and I are doing a piece for the show too, but he doesn't know it.

Here's the REAL Good News -- Art Never Sleeps

This is a piece Doug and I did.

On Saturday April 4^th a show I’m curating for Local Project opens at their space in Long Island City. I’m pretty amped about it, and just generally stoked that I could bring this group of artists together. I’m doing some stuff with photographer Doug Dacy where I’m using quotes from my IMs with some of his photos. I’ll also be doing a reading at the opening and probably DJing towards the end of the evening. Here's some of the other stuff you can expect.

Alexis R. Brown.

Jasper Latane

Beccy Memoli

Juan Mapu

The Putnigs

It's going to be a blast.

Sirprise!

Oh my god! Did those GazillionMillion guys bust a surprise on Jessina! Oh my other god! Did she wear that duck mask out again. Oh brother. This is going to end up like that time she wouldn't take off this Nike sweatsuit I bought her. I think there might be a shot or two of me getting surprised on in there too.

Snack

I would be remiss if I didn't give you advance notice of this.

Another Reason You Probably Shouldn't Murder that Dude

A very good friend of mine recently got out of prison in D.C. I hadn't seen the guy for a few years and we shared a great brunch at Coral on Broadway and 158th. Not a bad place, but the only thing they really have of note is the nachos. Seriously. Not only do they they take the same amount of pride in these that people used to in the eighties, but apparently they use the same recipe.

This time-machine to an era of high-carb decadence can be had for about eight bucks and pairs equally well with either depression or elation.

While we ate, I picked my friends brain about his time in the joint, especially about the food. I guess in all my fantasies about going to jail the food is awesome like hospital food. I love hospital food and have even gone into hospital's just to eat many times in my life. I guess the food is crap though. Also he said they only give you the smallest legal portions, so if you want anything more or better you have to buy it, but you have to be careful because regardless of how much cash you have, you can only spend a certain amount per week, and you don't want to run out all your allowance on Snickers bars and then realize you don't have toothpaste later in the week and not be allowed to buy it.

Makes sense.

He also said if chicken is on the menu three times or more a week that means stay away from it. For real!

The more questions I asked the deader his eyes got, so I figured I better lay off for a bit. I mean, the guys one of my best friends, but after someone has been inside who knows who their next victim will be, right?

Jail food! Don't check it out!

PS.8 the Welcoming Face of Education

I love this building but it scares the hell out of me, and I don't know what's scarier, it's imposing exterior or the fact that Franz Kafka's spirit was somehow imprisoned inside years before the place was built. Creeeepy.

Yes. It Really is This Good.

I've seen a lot of sweet, sometimes almost unbelievable, spontaneous gatherings in my neighborhood. The one that comes immediately to mind is the time I saw a huge group of people betting on something at the corner of 161 and Amsterdam. I pushed my way through the crowd and there was a rat fighting some kind of a huge snake in a glass aquarium. Wow.

This isn't quite that sweet, but this group jamming their butts off in the rim store at 164 and St. Nick that we happened upon the other day kicked butt. Kick butt everybody. Kick butt.

Welcome Jackson

Weighing in at a stately 8lbs.5oz Jackson Hue Kastler does a wicked frontside air into existence on his imaginary skateboard.

I'm thinking singer. Like an Enrico Caruso type singer.

Look! It's That Thing!

This thing! I love it. It's next to the GWB on the path in Riverside park. What is it?

Yesterday I ran down to 145th and across to Riverside Park. It's the place to be for the Spring-minded smart set, which happens to be my set. I ran up along the Hudson towards the George Washington Bridge and was feeling strong enough to push on a little further than usual. I ended up in the maze of NYC Greenway and GWB offramps where, not surprisingly, a pretty thriving hobo village has grown up.

I'm a sucker for the particular sort of charm these little communities possess, and I tell myself every time I happen upon a new one that I am going to go back with a camera. But I never do. Cameras slow you down.

I made it back to conventional society somewhere up where I guess Riverside Drive sort of ends around 178 or 181 and I saw a burnt out car. The thing was still warm and stinky. I checked it out and found a new clean white card from an insurance company on the drivers seat with the name Anthony written on it and a phone number. Weird. I also found a sweet flask on the passenger seat. Stratosphere baby! I've been looking for one, but everything I've found seemed too cookie-cutter. No one has one like this!

I was about to leave, and this old Polish (I think) dude with a beautiful, gigantic pit-bull comes off the path onto the street. I told him he had a beautiful dog. We chatted, and then he pointed to the car, shook his head and said, "Every day."

I asked him what he was talking about, and he told me that the little area we were in was the place people took cars to burn them. He said he'd been living in the neighborhood for years and just about every day there was another one burnt out there. He said it had something to do with insurance. Weirder and weirder.

The flask is pictured with a glass artichoke from DOMUS in Hells Kitchen. That place should totally be on your list.

Massive Cover Up!

We used to walk past the store that was here before this sometimes, and Jessina and I would wonder what the hell happened inside. I can't remember what the place was called or if it even had a name, I just remember it looking like a place where assassins picked up scented oils and incense between hits. There were always four or five guys sitting around inside of various ages doing something mysterious. In fact it reminded me a lot of the way a friend described the WU store on Staten Island except the dudes weren't the Wu-Tang clan, so it wasn't really worth going inside and being scared by them.

The place got shut down a while ago and had those big bright stickers pasted all over it by the city. Shut down for illegal gaming, I think, is what they said. Then this aptly-named boutique opened up in its place like four days later. Suck on that pigs.

Now the mysterious dudes hang out in a back room I think, so it's totally cool to go in. They've got some pretty sweet stuff in there too, and the prices are reasonable. Lila and I have bought Jess a few rad items there including an amazing red and gray ankle length spaghetti strap number that's all tuned up for spring ($25 on sale!) But I'm not getting Jess anything from the Cover Up again, because she keeps making fun of my feet.

The Cover Up 158 between Amsterdam and St. Nick. Check it out.

Snack

My Man! Neil deGrasse Tyson will be talking about Pluto - the annoying little brother that all the cool big kid planets were forced to take with them to the game tomorrow night at Secret Science Club, and it's only $3 bones!

I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Tyson (I wouldn't say we're quite on a first name basis yet) once at a party that I was lucky enough to be at with Makers author, Bob Parks. When I met Mr. Tyson he was rapping with David Byrne. It was a cool party. Bob and I would have been the only exception to the cool rule, but there were actually a bunch of other writers there. Wow! Nerds!

Here is a podcast of Bob Parks speaking with good folks at GeekSpeak that will take you back to the heady summer of 2006.

And, here is all thye info you need to go check out Neil deGrasse to-the Tylson tomorrow night in Brooklyn! Splash!

I'm Stoked on the High Bridge Chief

High Bridge park is probably the first place we ever came in Washington Heights. We came up to go to the pool one summer when Lila was like one, but it wasn't open for the year yet so we hung around the park and started falling in love with the place. We walked over to the old High Tower, and looked at the bridge. There were photos from the late eighteen-hundreds there at the time showing old-time swells and their dames strolling in the parks on both sides of the bridge. I remember reading somewhere that the parks had many secluded areas for the exchanging of familiarities and other sorts of general getting down. It looked like a dream. A good one. The High Bridge is the oldest bridge connecting two boroughs. It was completed like 40 years before the Brooklyn Bridge.

I'm just sayin.

So when I heard that Bloom-dog and the posse along with the Divine Miss M. wanted to spruce up the place and restore the High Bridge to it's former glory as both a destination in itself and a gateway between money-making Manhattan and the boogie-down Bronx, I was all like, "Word." But I didn't expect that things would actually get done.

Yesterday we walked up Amsterdam to the High Bridge for the halibut, and were surprised and delighted to see that work had been done. I think it might even be fair to say that butt-loads of work have been done up there, and it looks like the High Bridge itself could open again soon.

The High Bridge and High Bridge Park 175 and Amsterdam. Check em' out!

Tapas

The Manual of Detection - Jedediah Berry. I was skeptical, but digging it so far.

Lady Tasting Mexican Crema - Jessina Wachtelhausen. Love it.

Pizza Contest Party

Celebrity Judges MiraSlava, Carolina and Aura express contentment.

Pizza contest night last night, and the competition was hot like Andy Cap Hot Fries. Lila pimped out a pie with breakfast sausage, mozzarella, and Trois Petits Cochons Saucisson Sec sliced about nickle thin. It was bumpin. Jess got in the mix with Zucchini, diced onion, seasoned ground sirloin, taco sauce and fat blops of Mexican crema on a hot mess of tomato sauce and mozzarella. It turned my mouth out with a mixture of exquisitely convincing decadence and equally convincing brute force. Poof! (As they say in France.) I slapped together a zuccini, onion and ground beef joint and then tossed whatever was left on a thing with chedda. Blagoing!

It was a toss up between that one and Jessina's crema blop masterpiece according to the judges who brought along some deadly, but deceptively light mojitos, and shared gladly from our supply of Cachaca (Thanks Bob!) and Mexi-Coke.

Later the girls disappeared to the 15th floor and listened to Carolina spin some new wax and do another round or six of mojitos. I thought about putting on a fake mustache, dressing as a pizza guy and taking the girls a "special delivery," but quickly remembered that it's not 1976 and icky is still the new icky.