Flushing Day Trip

This summer has been a non-stop highlight reel of beaches and vineyards, lake houses and boat trips, charming towns and exotic cities, mountains, yachts, villas, rented cars, hikes, bike rides and SO. MANY. SUNSETS. Just nonstop sunsets really.

Hahaha no, silly goose! None of them mine! All of that’s been the recap of pretty much almost everyone else I know’s summer. My friends and acquaintances, let me tell you, have gone freakin’ everywhere in the past few months.

I went to Milwaukee. For work. (Cue sad trombone.) Well, and Miami, too, but that doesn’t really count because I’m from there, and while I did sneak in some fun, it was largely tainted by familial obligations.

With a pending move next month and a hemorrhaging bank account because of it, there have been no big trips this summer, and there won’t likely be any till next year. But you know what? It’s fine.

When you live in New York, there’s a little bit of every pocket of the world right here, which is why last weekend, in lieu of an exotic, expensive, faraway trip, the boyfriend and I decided to explore one of those foreign-to-us pockets instead and rode the 7 train to the end of the line to Flushing, Queens.

For me, travel is largely about exploring through food, so that’s exactly what we did in Flushing, making our own walking tour/ food crawl experience as we went along.

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I read somewhere that more than two-thirds of Flushing residents are foreign-born, most of them Asian and predominantly Chinese, though there are people from everywhere else too.

Between the 90 degree weather with a steady drizzle, the bustling markets full of exotic fruit and crates of live creatures, the crush of people, the squawking vendors and the foreign language signs everywhere, why even spend the money on a plane ticket? We already felt like we’d gone farther than just a borough away.

It wasn’t drinks with a view or a white sand beach but really, any tiny jealousy of mine aside, after a day spent eating amazing (and cheap!) food, visiting a Hindu temple I never knew about, wandering through quiet neighborhoods and huddling together under a small umbrella down busy main streets, I was ok with being exactly where I was. Even if I had been halfway around the world, I probably would’ve been doing the same thing: wandering, chasing down recommendations, eating too much.

For as much as I complain about New York, if you have to be stuck somewhere without being able to travel, there’s no better place to be stuck than here.

Master Fat

I was going through my usual weeknight post-work, post-dinner, pre-bedtime routine of sitting on the couch, TV on, headphone wearing boyfriend next to me, feet propped up on the coffee table, laptop on my lap routine of Facebooking and general online browsing when something I read made me stop cold. My fingers froze over the keys. My eyes shot open and I gasped— a long, over dramatic, hand-to-my-chest gasp.

Recession special

“What is it?” asked Flaneur, looking slightly worried as he pulled off a headphone and paused what he was working on.

I turned the computer toward him, pointing to the screen with Sam Sifton’s latest review.

“The Fatty Crab people opened another restaurant. In Brooklyn. Fatty ‘Cue. ‘Cue as in barbeque. Fatty Crab meets barbeque!”

[Pause]

“We need to go. Soon. Really soon.”

Looking to avoid a long wait (because like Fatty Crab, they don’t take reservations), we went last night, a Wednesday. But because I forgot to write down directions, we stumbled around Williamsburg lost, walking up and down the same street (also, the wrong street) three times before finally realizing that we were a good twelve blocks from where we needed to be. When we finally found it, nestled in between a bunch of ugly buildings on an ugly street, I had worked up a monstrous appetite. Continue reading