June 2019 - Page 4 of 5

When the mercury squeaks past 90 and summer drinking times are in full swing, nobody really reaches for red wine. While Rosé is fruity, bright and Instagrammable, red tends to get left out of the conversation.

This is a shame!

Many of our most summery foods – smoky meat, burgers off the grill, glittering piles of fresh tomatoes – go best with red wine! These are the tastes of summer, and the right red wine goes with summer just as well as beach trips, cookouts, and taking off most of your clothes.

It’s true that certain reds are less than ideal for hot days, especially wines that are super boozy, oaky or full-bodied. But medium or light-bodied reds with moderate alcohol and zippy acidity are great for all weather, especially when eating is involved. Plus, you can (and should) serve them chilled! (Not ice-cold…say, half an hour in the fridge.)

If you’re hunting for summertime reds, look to the wines of Croatia.

Croatia has an ancient and venerable winemaking tradition – Zinfandel is actually of Croatian origin – but for hot weather reds, I would look for wines made from the indigenous red varietals Babić and Plavac Mali.

Babić (bah-beach) is the more easygoing of the two, medium-bodied and familiar. Wines made from Babić often have plummy and figgy flavors, but the fruitiness is cut with herb and spice and shot through with a distinctive smokiness.

Plavac Mali (plah-vahts mah-lee) is more savory, cranking up the smoke and the herbal flavors into wines that are pleasantly rustic but full of power and finesse.

What makes these varietals come to glorious life on hot summer days is their ability to play extremely nicely with grilled delights.

Babić, fruity and light, will go best with afternoon burgers, sausages, hot dogs (yes), and absolutely shine with balsamic-dressed tomatoes. Save the Plavac Mali for post-sunset, when you’re hauling perfect steaks and elegantly singed veggies off the coals. It’s bigger, darker, richer, and earthier, more suited to the char and smoke.

These wines are still relatively rare enough that they are the objects of intense passion from wine professionals, so you’re likely to find good examples just by asking around. But if you happen to pick up wines from producers like Piližota, Lanterna, Zlatan Otok, or Kobal, well…I approve. Imagine a vague image of me shimmering in your peripheral vision, like a benevolent Jedi wine-ghost, nodding and smiling while you make your purchase.

You should be able to find wines from the Nick-approved producers for $15-$22. Look for these and other fine Croatian reds at Astor Wines & Spirits, Flatiron Wines, and Crush Wines & Spirits in Manhattan, or Thirst Merchants and Slope Cellars in Brooklyn.

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Victoria Muspratt was that type of neighborhood eccentric idealized in movies: cloistered in her crumbling Bay Ridge mansion, she wore all-black clothing a generation out of fashion and hardly emerged except to attend mass at Our Lady of Angels Catholic Church on 4th Avenue.

Her house, described in 1931 as “going to ruin because of neglect,” lacked plumbing or electricity. Buckets scattered outside caught rainwater, which she used for bathing. She owned no bed, opting instead to sleep atop two chairs pushed together next to a window. She had no oven either, not that the home was piped for gas anyway; all of her cooking was done over an open fire in the kitchen hearth.

Her poor health prevented her from climbing stairs, so she was confined to the ground floor as the rest of the home rotted around her.

She wiled away her evenings reading books and playing tunes on her push-button accordion. Victoria lived alone in the home since her sister Eugenia died of a heart attack in 1928. Her poor health prevented her from climbing stairs, so she was confined to the ground floor as the rest of the home rotted around her. The attic ceiling caved in. Paintings fell from the walls and remained on the floor where they landed.

She was once offered $175,000 (roughly $2.6M today) by a developer who wanted her plot of land.

Neighborhood children broke her windows with rocks, and the glass panes remained broken. She was once offered $175,000 (roughly $2.6M today) by a developer who wanted her plot of land. He offered her an apartment in the building he intended to construct, affording her the same beloved view of the harbor, but she refused. “No,” she said. “That would not be home.” Her odd demeanor and her refusal of such a fabulous sum of money caused rumors to swirl that, despite her decrepitude, she secretly fabulously wealthy. Aware of the rumors, and disapproving of the modern apartment buildings springing up all around her home, Victoria Muspratt began to fear that she would one day die at the hands of a marauder.

Victoria Muspratt taught for more than 20 years at St Michael’s Parochial School. She retired in 1908 with a reputation as one of the best teachers in the diocese. She lived for the next two decades alone with her sister Eugenia in the House where they both had grown up, until Eugenia died in 1928. After that, Victoria was alone, and her condition deteriorated rapidly. In March 1929, she was found lying unconscious on the road outside her house, disheveled and wearing a man’s cap.

“Automobiles may speed past her door, airplanes zoom above it, and subways tunnel beneath, but her house is still her castle and within its quiet walls she remains.”
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 1931

When she regained consciousness, she couldn’t remember what happened. She was profiled in 1931 by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, which celebrated her as a kind of living neighborhood landmark: “Automobiles may speed past her door, airplanes zoom above it, and subways tunnel beneath, but her house is still her castle and within its quiet walls she remains.”

Then, around 5PM on December 22, 1934, her nephew John Parker arrived at her home to check in on her and perform any odd jobs she needed done. It was already dark when he arrived, and there was no sign of Victoria’s ubiquitous kerosene lamp shining from the windows. He entered the house and walked into the parlor, where she usually sat reading, and stumbled upon a gruesome scene: his aunt dead, her head covered with blood.

He fled to fetch the police, who surmised that she had been dead roughly 10 hours. The story of the slain recluse was splashed across city headlines for weeks, as rubberneckers dawned over stories of her eccentric ways. In the end, however, it turned out that the mysterious wealthy woman of Bay Ridge wasn’t so wealthy after all.

Her estate, worth less than $50,000, was divided among her nieces and nephews. Her house, which she had for so long cherished, was sold at auction for back taxes in 1936. It brought just $18,050. Funeral arrangements were made by her younger sister, Minnie Parker, and she was buried on December 26. Her killer was never found.

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For as long as Queens has been around, it’s been a landing ground for people coming to America. Germans, Greeks, Dutch, Bengali, Chinese, Arabic, Russians, Italians, Jews…Queens has more languages than anywhere in the world, with over 800 languages spoken throughout the borough.

Equal parts old school New Yawk, equal parts fresh to death gentrification, Astoria is one of the neighborhoods where the hipster hasn’t strangled the culture out of..yet. Instead, Astoria is a hybrid where you can still get old school Greek food from a grandma who still forces you to finish your plate, and grab an adult slushie from a tatted chick just a few blocks over. Astoria is truly old world meets new and definitely worth a visit from you this weekend!

How Astoria got it’s name

The area was formerly known as Hallet’s Point and renamed Astoria after John Jacob Astor (then the wealthiest man in America worth $40 million) in the hopes that he would invest in the land. In the end he only invested $500 and never stepped foot on the place. Dang, Queens got played

Sing us a song Piano Man

Steinway Street is one of Queens’ most famous streets but did you know it was named after the infamous family behind Steinway and Sons pianos? The streets were alive with the sound of music when Astoria was nothing but a commune for it’s workers of mainly German descent.

Eat

Agnanti Meze

Stepping inside Agnanti feels like walking into your grandma’s kitchen, where she dotes over you with homemade pita and white wine. Start off with an order of zucchini and cheese croquettes, coupled with a fresh greek salad, an off-the-menu moussaka, and a side of the best lemon potatoes in the borough. End with a tasty and tart greek yogurt for dessert. You’ll feel as stuffed as dolmades, but oh so happy once you’re done.

Drink

Madame Sou Sou

Whether you’re craving a Greek-style frappe, a triple chocolate donut or a fresh homemade chorizo quiche, Madame Sousou has something to satisfy any craving. They’re the perfect spot when you’re working from home, craving space to get in a good read, or for post-yoga pick me up. They’ve also recently expanded, so now you don’t have to feel guilty for hanging around for a few hours sampling all their delicious treats.

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Ditmar’s Thrift Store

Digging through this donation based thrift store is the perfect way to spend an afternoon for any bibliophile. Grab a matcha or coffee to go from the nearby Queens Room and wander through stacks on stacks on stacks of $1 books and records. You may have to dig, but that’s half the fun. You’ll find everything from this amazing Barbra Streisand vinyl to a 1986 romance novel about the torrid love affair between a British Naval Officer and a Polynesian princess.

Courtesy of Socrates Sculpture Park

See

Socrates Sculpture Park

Transformed by a group of artists and local community members in 1986, what was once a landfill and illegal dumpsite is now an internationally renowned outdoor museum and exhibition space. Just a hop, skip, bike or quick cab ride away from the Broadway stop, the park is open from 9 am to sundown, 365 days a year. Socrates features groundbreaking contemporary artists who create large-scale beautiful installations using a mix of glass, concrete, paint, plaster, vinyl and more. The best part? It’s completely free – unless like me, you can’t resist the allure of the Mr. Softee truck nearby, a rainbow sprinkles vanilla cone is the perfect companion…trust me.

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Bensonhurst is a quaint little neighborhood in the south of Brooklyn known for its fast-talking, slick, and styling Italian Americans. This is the birthplace of stoop kids, Sunday dinners at 3, block parties, and terms like Mutzadell (Mozzarella) cheese. The quiet neighborhood served as a backdrop to “Welcome Back Kotter”, “The Honeymooners”, “The 25th Hour” and “Saturday Night Fever” (see ⬆️John Travolta sacrilegiously folding 2 slices of Pizza into his mouth at the same time).

Nowadays, it’s an eclectic neighborhood, burgeoning on becoming the new Chinatown of Brooklyn. The neighborhood’s mixed roots of Italian, Russian, Jewish, Mexican and Chinese populations, makes for an interesting AF place. What we are going to explore today though, is the old school, Italian American Bensonhurst Brooklyn (and flirt with neighboring Dyker Heights, Bath Beach, and Bay Ridge).

HISTORY

When the Dutch first settled in the US in November 1652, they bought up waterfront property from the Nyack tribe for six shirts, two pairs of shoes, two scissors and six combs. The area came to be called New Utrecht and over the few hundred years the area has been called:

“Yellow Hook” – named by Dutch settlers because of its yellow soil, but changed immediately because of a Yellow Fever outbreak.
“Bensonhurst By the Sea” – Yacht clubs, tennis clubs, and mansions overlooking the water popped up in the shadow of Coney Island’s popularity and the emergence of the train lines.
“Brooklyn’s Little Italy” – During the 1950s, Bensonhurst was 70% Italian, 30% Jewish, and was primarily made up of middle-class families who moved into the neighborhood after “Bensonhurst By the Sea” didn’t pan out.

LOCAL

Our guide this week is freelance graphic designer and local New Yawker, Danny Denisco. He’s no disco dancing, white suit wearing, Tony Manero but he comes pretty close. Raised in an Italian American household who’s lived 3 generations on the same block in Bensonhurst, Danny’s the original, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn stoop kid. Extra gravy and meatballs, please.

Eat

If you want good pizza, like old school, Brooklyn pizza, come to Bensonhurst

They’ve each been around since the 50 and 60’s and are neighborhood staples, all within a 10 minute walk of each other; J&V for chicken vodka slice, Krispy’s for a classic and Da Vinci’s for a Sicilian. Tell Freddy from Krispy’s that Ciaooo sent you 🙂 PS: Lenny’s Pizza (1969 86th st) of Saturday Night Fever is still around and well worth a visit but we think the above pizza joints are top notch.

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Get Your Fill of Italian Goodies

Ravioli. Ravioli. Ravioli.

If you’re an avid home cook who loves to shop at Eataly, then we suggest you make a trek to Pastosa’s. Beloved shop to Italian American grandparents across Brooklyn, Long Island, Staten Island and the Bronx – you’ll find fresh and imported pasta, cheeses and all sorts of accoutrements for one fraction the price of Eataly, minus the long waits.

Besides, you simply can’t go wrong with the variety of ravioli – with insane flavor combos that will be sure to impress (lobster, sun-dried tomato and cheese, gorgonzola walnut), you’ll be sure to find something you’ll love. Not to mention, the shop has been around since 1966, where it was started by former Polly-O salesman, Anthony G. Ajello. The shop today has over eleven stores and is still run by the Ajello family.

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Run, Ride or Rent a Bike Along the Shore Parkway

Technically, the area is Bay Ridge/Bath Beach, but the waterfront property is well worth a walk or run. Back in the day, the area was speckled with yacht clubs, hotels and mansions for Manhattan’s Elite (eliciting Bensonhurst By the Sea). Nowadays, the pavement may not be as fancy as the West Side Highway, but the view sure is gorgeous.

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There’s something about the notion of being “alone in a crowd” that rings particularly true for many people who wind up in this writhing metropolis. If you were a lonely man in New York in the first half of the 20th century, you could combat this urban loneliness by going to one of a number of “taxi-dance ballrooms.”

These dance halls were designed for “Unattached men who yearn for the voice and smell of the female species”

Clustered in and around Times Square, these dance halls were designed specifically for “unattached men who yearn for the voice and smell of the female species,” offering dances with girls for hire. In December 1938, a reporter with the New Yorker visited several taxi-dance ballrooms (so-called because of the girls, like taxis, getting paid by the minute). He first visited Honeymoon Lane on the 2nd floor of 711 7th Ave. He received one free dance ticket from the sidewalk barker outside, then ascended the stairs and was cleared by the bouncer.

Inside, he found “eighteen or twenty girls in evening gowns, lined up behind a low rail opposite the entrance,” who quickly cried out to him in desperation to be his dance partner. He chose one for his first dance, a lithe girl named Jean who spent much of the time moaning and begging him to buy more dance tickets.

She told him she usually worked from 9PM until 4AM, at which point she’d go out for breakfast before going to bed. She took home half of whatever money she collected in ticket sales, collecting $40-70 per week on average. It wasn’t easy work.

That particular night, the reporter counted 27 girls and just 9 men in the room. Girls like Jean could easily go home empty-handed on a luckless night. Dance halls like Honeymoon Lane were regularly accused of engaging in prostitution, and were raided by the police over vice complaints. Taxi-dance halls, once a seedy bastion against loneliness in the big city, were gone from the streetscape by the 1960s.

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