If you found this blog by Googling my name or by following sundry noxious links (you know where), please note that all claims that I was fired from my job are 100% false, as are most of the other things written about me. I don't know the people who are libeling me, but it's clear they have some imaginary axe to grind and way too much time.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Caroline and Janelle@3rd Ward

Toto, I don't think we're in Manhattan anymore.

I spent this past Sunday on a Brooklyn adventure. I rarely venture into the outer boroughs, but this is mostly an issue of time rather than of misguided snobbery.

We started out in East Williamsburg at the Huckleberry Bar, which was probably the bougie-est-looking thing in that neighborhood by a long mile. They were having a Maker's Mark sponsored "Whiskey and Milkshakes" event. The concept is this: show up and be waited on hand and foot by people making you free hot dogs and hamburgers, bringing you pitchers of ice water, and blending up delicious delicious free milkshakes spiked with free bourbon.

...What??

This would never happen in Manhattan. Not BR*, not if Goldman Sachs gave everyone a sack of dubloons, not ever.


Mmmm

The magnanimity in the air was so infectious, I actually went across the street and bought a block of American cheese and a jar of sliced pickles for the party, just so people could have free cheeseburgers with pickles rather than free hamburgers without. For this, I was dubbed both "Cheesegirl" and "The Johnny Applecheese." That's legacy, baby.

As it turns out, whiskey milkshakes are delicious! Caroline pointed out it was like eggnog, but better. Icy, creamy, and just enough kick to make it interesting. I'm never going virgin again.

Next, we went over to 3rd Ward in Bushwick for the much-hyped pig roast. I am going to sound really square for saying this, but WHOA, BUSHWICK! Creepy warehouses! Desolation! And very punny art projects!


Get it? It's park! Inside a trailer!


See the plants coming out of the top? "Someone should make it their mission to bone in there," I said. Two minutes later, the caretaker appeared and said, "I catch teenagers making out in there all the time."


This pretty much sums up my impression of Bushwick.


Naturally, we did a Derelicte photoshoot.

You may have heard already that the pig roast itself was a shitshow. 'Twas indeed. The space wasn't really structured well to have so many people go after one thing, so the line for pork tacos meandered inside and outside, around fire escapes and radiators.


Not the best space for hundreds and hundreds of people.


This is what we were all waiting for.

Truth be told, I would not have died for these tacos. The pig itself was glorious, but this assembly-line mass-production enterprise did not instill faith that its death was being treated justly. The tacos looked skimpy, the sides rote. What I really wanted to eat was an ear. The pig's ears looked gloriously browned, crispy, rich with fat, gelatin, and cartilage. Done well, ears are second only to the belly on the deliciousness scale of piggy anatomy.


"You forget that animals have ribs," said a hipster to his girlfriend.

Eventually, we grew tired, hot, bored, and sober. We decided to give up the cause and find some other taco joint. As we were leaving, I felt a last surge of determination. I stuck my head out the window, beckoned one of the knife-wielders over, and asked him if pretty please could I, may have one of the ears?

He smiled, disappeared, and returned five seconds later bearing a whole glorious pig ear, which he presented to me with a speech in Japanese, which he is not. I guess even hipsters can be woefully ignorant. Still, because he was so nice, I just smiled and said thank you - in English.


I am pretty proud of myself at this point.



Did I mention there were hundreds of people there? And that a pig only has two ears?

God, that ear was delicious. Greasily preoccupied for the next twenty minutes, even after giving some drunk guy a bite, I hardly cared when it started hailing and we had to take up siege inside. When the storm passed, Bushwick actually looked pretty good:


Janelle's photo captures the elegant wreckage well, I think.

The takeaway: Brooklyn is full of free shit. Would buy again.


*
Before Recession

5 comments:

  1. As the only one who managed to procure a taco, I will comment on them:
    The meat itself was moist and fatty, but surprisingly not particularly flavorful. I think it takes some expertiste to properly roast a pig to get it to soak up flavors all the way through, and that my taco would have benefited from some crispy piggy skin. I guess I didn't ket one of the better parts of the pig. Furthermore, aside from a drizzle of lime juice, cilantro, and onions, there was a notable absence of toppings on my taco. I saw other plates with loads of salsa verde, pickled cabage, and rice and (red or pinto?) beans, but I wasn't able to take advantage. Oh well.

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  2. You look happy as a pig in, ummmm, tacos.

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  3. you know what else is free?ME.It's been a month since Coney & I'm dying to see you again.I want to take you on a beautiful date & treat you like the princess you are.contact me if you're interested.

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  4. watch out Gavonne. I'll fight ya for her.

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  5. I was only kidding;what would an old guy like me do with a hot young babe like her?

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