The thought of polo always rubbed me wrong. I used to play water polo at the University of Maryland. And while I’ve grown used to smiling off clever people who like to ask me where I parked my ark, I always found myself straining when that same sort of quick wit led that same sort of person to ask me where I parked my horse. Read more
I love the idea of tasting a borough. And of all of the boroughs to taste, Queens, the most ethnically diverse, sounds most delicious. (Tasting Queens also sounds the most regal and ribald, but that’s content for sites like delectablemonarchs.gov and diningwithdrag.org.)
Let me begin again: Queens Taste was a raw night. Some of the borough’s most wonderful offerings were served up in the Hall of Science. Read more
Let me start by saying there is quite an incentive to visiting this post. You, dear reader, can win a dinner for two, with a $50 value, to Lolo’s Seafood Shack by entering the raffle right here.
Actually, you don’t even have to be a dear reader. You can skip over these words and just enter.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
When Marissa and I were expecting, a father of two young children told me that he wished there was a blog that told parents where to dine with their kids. I told him that there probably were a number of blogs like that already. As a father, I’m not of the same mindset as that dad; I’ll take Harper to most restaurants that won’t give us the boot. But on Father’s Day, I found the perfect place for parents who don’t want to go fine-dining with their infant. (More on that next month.) Marissa surprised me with an itinerary that included a stroll over the Brooklyn Bridge, a walk through Brooklyn Bridge Park, and a food tour through Smorgasburg, a Sunday food market that begins at 11:00 am. Smorgasburg, I realized, was the dining experience that the father with the two young kids needed.
Prior to my most recent trip to Connecticut, as a New Yorker, I can’t recall many excursions to the Constitution State. Heading north from Long Island always had me destined for the surf or the mountains, both of which Connecticut lacks. The only times I can recall a proper visit to Connecticut involves my biyearly Thanksgiving dinners at my cousins’ house. But then there was also the kayaking trip with Eric. Read more