It’s been a month of neglected sleep, living out of a suitcase and bouncing between subway lines and boroughs. My body feels 112 years old, but I’ve been having the New York Moment almost daily. That’s when you’re walking through Flatiron (or East Village or Williamsburg or Tribeca or Brooklyn Heights) and you look up and feel all the energy, expectation, hope, and insanity of the City converge in an exhilarating rush just above your head or in the five-foot radius around you. I missed that.
I’m also happy to be back here eating
momofuku’s veal headcheese
burmese tea leaf salad (jackson heights)
bisteeya from marjana (astoria).