Williamsburg Garden Party Saturday

I recieved an email from Keith who writes Williamsburg is Dead, and who amuses me. It goes way beyond any welcoming schadenfreude the blog's title suggests for the sparkling hipness and talent of those dwelling in that N. Brooklyn neighborhood I once called home. Really I did. His post about hipsters who weren't dancing at a recent pool party filled an empty spot in my heart, so I was only too happy to spread the word about an event he's put together for this Saturday to help raise funds for his community garden.

Here's what he wrote:

It's Keith from Williamsburg is Dead. I'm writing to you because I think you might be interested in an event I am helping to organize for the Red Shed Community Garden in Williamsburg. Basically, we are having a party this Saturday, July 12th from 2pm-Dusk. There will DJs, $2 hot dogs/veggie dogs, $3 burgers, and it's BYOB.

It's basically an event to raise money for the garden, and to invite people to check out a great neighborhood resource they might have otherwise overlooked. The Red Shed Community Garden (which some of you might visit if you pick up vegetables from the Hearty Roots CSA) is a great space where anyone who comes in and shows their dedication to the garden can eventually get their own plot to grow vegetables on. I help maintain the community plots, where vegetables and herbs are available to anyone in the community who wants to come and pick from them.

I have a feeling if you go, you could dance, if you want to.

In Honor of Schnäck

I have temporarily added an umlaut to the title of this blog to prostrate myself before that source of Red Hook comfort food on Union Street called Schnäck. They tolerated my family on a night when we were in very poor form, my daughter dumping her gingerale all over me and the banquette where we sat, my son whining non-stop because of his cold, the two of them fighting with spoons over the last crumb of brownie with ice cream they were sharing. My son trying to shoot snot out of his nose not in rudeness but because he was having trouble breathing. Kids crawling across my lap like kittens as I tried to eat a salad. We don't go out to eat much for good reason, but I really wanted french fries last night. At one point a woman came in to pick up her carry out order and stared at us with a look I found somewhat inscrutable but which I hope belied understanding. Or maybe it was a look that said "Oh, so now I see." As we left I apologized for the mess under the table and the waiter said, as so many good people have said to me over time, "Don't worry about it."

Also in gratitude for the banana bread pudding dessert which was one of the best things I've tasted in a long time. And in understanding that when you add an umlaut to a word like shnack, it's not a pretentious but an ironic gesture as are the tremas in Mötley Cruë. Perhaps it's also a nod to the curiosity of the german spelling of Big Mäc.

I would have stayed home with the grumpy son, but would have had to miss seeing a friend for the first time in three years. She brought her fiancee to meet us. I wonder if they hope to have kids someday? Perhaps last night was very informative for them.

One of the last times we ate out we went to Pies and Thighs. We were there about a week before it closed, and I actually wondered if having my kids in the Rock Star Bar, which adjoined the restaurant, was in part what shut the place down. Thanks to the GL I soon learned that couldn't have been the case legally. So much for my grandiosity.

My daughter calls Pies and Thighs "The Hippy Bar," I don't understand why, and she still asks to go there because they had a great time eating comfort food and playing air hockey with a little kid from the Williamsburg hood. We didn't spill anything that night the only problem was the toddler wandering off to play on the stage on the other side of the space, for which the bartender, very justifiably, kept giving me looks. I too miss that big hippy bar in the sky. Hence the depth of my gratitude for the comfort food and kindness of that affordable Shnäck shäck in Red Hook. But don't worry, chances are you won't run into us there, it's just easier for us to stay in our crib.