30x30: Green-wood Cemetery

This week's 30x30 experience might fall into the "slightly morbid" category, but I once took great joy in joining thousands of other tourists and running around Paris' Père-Lahaise cemetery to find the final resting places of Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde, and dozens of other famous denizens. So it didn't strike me as too bizarre when I decided to take an afternoon (and a long subway ride) and pay homage to some of New York's more famous residents spending eternity in the state's largest cemetery.

I probably use this phrase too often, but boy am I glad I visited that cemetery. Not only was it interesting to visit the grave sites of Leonard Bernstein, Horace Greeley (of Greeley Square!), and Jean-Michael Basquiat, but I happened to go on what was possibly the most picture-perfect fall day of the year. Maybe ever. (ed. note: I bear no shame for hyperbole) The sun was streaming, the trees were lined with gold, there was a chill in the air and a crunch under my feet, and I swear the leaves were actually slowly falling around me, ensconcing me in my own personal, over-saturated Thomas Kinkaid painting. There was also not a soul around for what seemed to be miles. It was like everything Central Park wants to be but is too popular (and populated) to actually achieve.

There actually isn't too much else to say about this except that if you're looking for a quiet place in a busy city to walk and think, then I highly suggest Green-wood Cemetery. It's obviously free, and depending on where you live, possibly even more accessible than some of the city's larger parks. As long as you are respectful to the deceased and anyone living who may be visiting said deceased, then there is no reason why someone can't use a cemetery as a serene, reflective, meditation spot.

If you go: Green-wood Cemetery in Brooklyn is open seven days a week; take the D/N/R to 36th St. and walk to the main entrance located at 5th and 25th Streets.

All photos were taken by me with my trusty iPhone 4s and edited with PhotoToaster, Snapseed, and/or A Beautiful Mess. 30x30 is my name for a silly little bucket list project that I intend to complete by my 30th birthday at the end of March, 2014.

30x30: Noguchi Museum

It's no secret that I'm a bit of an art museum nerd. I've trekked across cities all over the world just to step foot in certain museums, and it's likely that given even a few hours of free time, I can be found wandering amongst the statues and paintings of the Met. So I was actually a little disgusted at myself when I realized that there was an entire art museum a mere 15 minute walk from my apartment and I hadn't once visited it in the four years I've lived in Astoria. I vowed to change that asap, and there was no better time than during this 30x30 challenge.

So on a blustery day in November, I took advantage of the museum's "First Friday" policy (a lovely program that allows patrons to pay-what-they-wish on the first Friday of every month) and walked over to The Noguchi Museum. Named after and designed by 20th century sculptor Isamu Noguchi, the museum is conceived to be an open-air sculpture garden, housing what Noguchi considered to be some of his best works.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the museum. It wasn't at all crowded (note to self: stop being an old lady) and it was perfectly peaceful to wander the naturally-lit galleries, getting in touch with my inner Zen amongst the wabi sabi of the minimalist wood and stone carvings.

It was a relatively small space - the entire experience took about an hour, and that was with circling back to view some galleries a second time. But the museum's accessibility (in terms of content, that is) is one of it's stronger points. While the Met is famous and amazing and spectacular, it is so incredibly huge that first-time or casual visitors can and do get so overwhelmed that it's hard to visualize just popping over for a quick and quiet visit. But the Noguchi is just the opposite - it's actually perfect for a lunchtime recharge (provided you're in the area), and makes me wonder if more museums shouldn't be designed with this idea in mind. Not everything has to be flashy and designed by a starchitect. Sometimes it's nice to just appreciate good art.

If you go: The Noguchi Museum is located 9-01 33rd Rd. (at Vernon Blvd.) in Long Island City; take the N/Q to Broadway and walk towards the river. The museum is open Wednesday-Sunday and is pay-what-you-wish on the first Friday of every month.

All photos were taken by me with my trusty iPhone 4s and edited with PhotoToaster, Snapseed, and/or A Beautiful Mess. 30x30 is my name for a silly little bucket list project that I intend to complete by my 30th birthday at the end of March, 2014.

30x30: Find a Banksy

Prolific graffiti artist Banksy recently declared a month-long "residency" on the streets of New York. I've long been a fan of Banksy and urban street art in general (yes, it's illegal, but so are a lot of things that are no where near as beautiful or interesting to look at), so viewing a Banksy, live and in person, immediately got added to my list of 30 things to do before I turn 30.

This became especially challenging because at the exact moment these artworks started hitting the streets, I descended into the dark underbelly of New York's theater world, resurfacing with just one week left in October. Add to that the facts that many of the artworks are in hard-for-me-to-get-to locations (I couldn't find Bushwick if you paid me) and have already been re-graffitied over, and it becomes clear why finding these limited editions was so difficult for me. But yesterday, I happened upon the perfect combination: an afternoon off AND an actual address of the most recent Banksy - the side door of the Hustler Club on Manhattan's west side.

With a spring in my step and a fully charged iPhone, off I went. Admittedly, this one wasn't hard to spot. Half a block away there were people selling Banksy magnets from inside a garage. 2 bouncers and a group of about 20 people surrounded the artwork, and I had to wait for my turn to reach my arms through a gap in the crowd to snap the requisite photos. But lack of ceremony aside, there it was in all it's glory - a forlorn man leaning up against a doorway, waiting for his paramour while the flowers from his bouquet wilted to the ground. And I have to say that it was beautiful. It was bright and vivid and elicited emotions I didn't think possible from a mere few cans of spray paint.

I was pretty pleased with myself - I found a Banksy! But my luck didn't stop there. A few hours later and on my way to work, I saw a huge group of people gathered in Union Square. Since it is not out of the ordinary for large amounts of people to be staring at something in a heavily trafficked area in New York, I actually didn't pay too much attention to whatever they were staring at. Until I heard squawking. And mooing. And banging. And then I looked up, and found myself face-to-face with a second Banksy - called the Sirens of the Lambs, this one is a mobile art installation in which a slaughterhouse delivery truck filled with animatronic stuffed barnyard animals roams the streets of New York.

It was disturbing. And recollective of The Jungle. And turned me into a vegetarian for a solid 20 minutes. The poor little lambs actually looked down at you, begging to be saved from the deep fryer! Rethinking my culinary outlook on life, I began to walk away when I pretty much ran right into a THIRD Banksy - a replica of a Ronald McDonald statue with a live actor in tattered clothing giving the clown's shoes a shine.

This was easily the most thought-provoking artwork of the three. The social commentary was obvious, but it also brought to mind the degree to which someone will go to make a point. Artists have been creating performance art in the form of live installations for decades (Marina Abramović, Wafaa Bilal, Sophie Calle, just to name a few), but these are often ticketed events and/or situations in which the patron has to seek out or attend the artwork, and usually feature the artist him/herself. In the case of this Banksy, however, unsuspecting viewers happen upon this artwork in the middle of their commute. This then begs the question, does one need to seek out art in order for it to be effective? Or is it actually more effective if it surprises you? I went looking for Banksy - but I can only imagine how someone would feel if s/he had run to McDonald's on a lunch break only to be confronted with a poor-looking teenager literally toiling at the feet of the very symbol of the business he was attempting to patronize.

Definitely food for thought, and certainly the most interesting and exciting of my 30x30 projects so far. Banksy is supposed to be in this city for another week or so, and I hope to see more of his work, whether intentionally or by accident.

All photos were taken by me with my trusty iPhone 4s and edited with PhotoToaster, Snapseed, and/or A Beautiful Mess. 30x30 is my name for a silly little bucket list project that I intend to complete by my 30th birthday at the end of March, 2014.

30x30: Take a dance class

Full disclosure: I spent the better part of my first twenty years on this earth in dance classes, orchesis recitals (my high school's dance club), and playing second girl on the left in community theater chorus numbers. I grew up in a performing household, and there were more than a few times my mother and I devolved into perfecting the triple time step while brushing our teeth before bed. I cried while watching Michael Flatley and his Irish step dancing troupes transform into actual lords of the dance before my eyes, and there are a large number of dance routines from famous movie musicals that I can do by heart.

So why did taking a dance class warrant a spot in my 30x30 challenge? Because even though dance was, and is still, such a huge part of my life, I hadn't stepped a pointed foot into a dance class in almost 10 years.

Sometime in college, the fact that I would never actually become a professional dancer became all too clear. Genetics had made me short and round, talent in the organizational arts was driving me to managerial, rather than creative, roles, and frankly a lack of physical drive prevented me from pushing myself to the extremes needed to pursue a life of dancing as a means of making a living.

And so the story goes. I took an internship, I worked hard, I moved to New York City. Time and money became a commodity, and I all too soon found myself scheduling the choreography rehearsals that I used to attend. And to be perfectly honest, I hadn't actually given my lack of dance too much thought. I'm still very physically active - long walks and lots of yoga keep me moving, and I've been known to hop around my living room to online Zumba classes now and then.

But last week, my lovely friend Kristen mentioned in passing that she would be taking a tap class the next day. My ears perked up. A tap class? I used to love my tap classes! It would be so fun to take a tap class again!

So come with me, she said.

And so I did.

It was actually that easy. For once, all schedules aligned so that she and I and the class time were all available. The studio (Broadway Dance Center, for all those living in this area) allows you to drop in without pre-registering or signing up for an entire series of classes, so I was able to one-off this class without any repercussions (the uneven nature of my daily schedule precludes me from ever signing up for reoccurring classes). So with taps in hand (um, foot), I took the first Advanced Beginner Tap Class of my adult life.

And it was great! Admittedly, I was a little rusty. I concentrated pretty hard for those 90 minutes, forcing my brain to talk to my feet in a language my body had long forgotten. Eventually, the steps came back to me. I was by no means the best in the class, but it didn't actually matter. Since we weren't rehearsing for a recital at a later date (one of my issues with childhood dance classes, but I won't tangent on that now), we were able to focus on a few techniques at a time and then add those into a combo. The final routine we worked on was a waltz to the tune of Mr. Bojangles. Stereotypical, yes, but it's one of my favorites. When there was just one minute left in the class, the teacher, who had spent the class correcting, fixing, and adjusting, announced that we were going to do the combo one last time - and that we should just enjoy ourselves and dance, because that's what we came there do do. So with one last fa-lap-shuffle-heel-ball-change, I leaped back into my teenage self.

If you go: Broadway Dance Center is located at 322 West 45th St., 3rd floor (between 8th/9th aves.); classes are open to the public and available on a walk-in basis. Prices and times vary, so check the website for class specifics.

All photos were taken by me with my trusty iPhone 4s and edited with PhotoToaster, Snapseed, and/or A Beautiful Mess. 30x30 is my name for a silly little bucket list project that I intend to complete by my 30th birthday at the end of March, 2014.

30x30: Chrysler Building Lobby

It's one of the most famous New York icons, yet I had never gone inside the Chrysler Building. Yes, I had admired it's Art Deco spire from afar, allowing images of dusty Depression-era builders working day and night to erect its' 77 floors to flood my head. But other than cursory glances at times when I wasn't looking down at my phone, the Chrysler Building had been nothing more than a passing thought.

Chrysler Building lobby

Until I made my 30x30 list. What better time to take in all that the building has to offer? And, come to think of it, how had I not taken a tour of the building in the five years I'd been living in this city?

Art Deco mailbox

Because it's not allowed. More specifically, tourists are not allowed beyond the building's lobby. Unlike the Empire State Building or Rockefeller Center, there is no observation deck near the top of the Chrysler Building. Private offices occupy the entire building, and you must work there to use the elevators.

Typography

Ok, fine. So I'll just look at the lobby. At least that's open to the public!

And so I did. Taking advantage of a break in between nearby meetings, I walked over to 42nd and Lex, passed through the golden revolving door and into the rust-colored lobby. There were some info signs on the walls detailing the history and technical specification of the building, and it was populated by foreign tourists taking photographs, but beyond that, my entire "tour" took less than 10 minutes and was fairly anti-climactic.

Ceiling mural by Edward Trumball

Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Granted, I'm glad that the lobby is open and accessible to the public, free of charge. The city's museum admission prices are ever-increasing, so it was refreshing to not be nickel-and-dimed to death. And it's never a bad thing to let a little Art Deco into your life ;)

Retro meets modern as the Chrysler Building is reflected in a next door skyscraper

If you go: The entrance to the Chrysler building is located at 405 Lexington Ave (and 42nd Street); the lobby is open to visitors during normal business hours.

All photos were taken by me with my trusty iPhone 4s and edited with PhotoToaster, Snapseed, and/or A Beautiful Mess. 30x30 is my name for a silly little bucket list project that I intend to complete by my 30th birthday at the end of March, 2014.

30x30 - a challenge for my 29th year

I love a good challenge. In fact, my über-organized, nearly Type-A personality thrives on checklists, to-dos, flow-charts, maps and goal sets. When I say I'm going to do something, I usually get it done (or at least make everyone around me think I've gotten it done). That being said, I recently decided that one challenge at a time isn't enough (I'm still going pretty strong on my 365 photo challenge), so... <drum roll, please!>

In just a little over 6 months, I turn 30 years old. I'm honestly incredibly excited. For reasons far and wide, I am not dreading/terrified of/freaking out about meeting a new decade, but actually can't wait. I've loved my 20s, but I'm ready to embrace all that my 30s have to offer. I will not, however, go gently into that good night. In celebration of all that is awesome about being 29 and childless in New York City, I've created a bucket list of 30 things I've always wanted to do but have just never gotten around to doing. Just to be clear, these aren't crazy, insane, one-last-hurrah hopes and dreams - I won't be base jumping off the top of Mt. Everest, running with the bulls in Pamplona, or tight-roping walking over Niagara Falls. I'm simply realizing that there is no time like the present to do some things I've always wanted to do.

The other day I completed #25 (I'm not going in order) - a trip to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I walked along tree-lined paths in deep thought, I contemplated the nature of a bumble bee, I questioned why anyone would spend even a moment of their time creating a topiary - and it was delightful! I enjoy a good solo trip. The frenetic energy of the summer had left me feeling untethered, and it was great to spend an entire afternoon wandering amongst nature and not too many people (I went on a Tuesday afternoon and there were moments when I was completely alone).

If you go: The Brooklyn Botanic Gardens are located in the northeast corner of Brooklyn's Prospect Park (take the 2/3, 4/5, B, Q, and S all stop near the entrance). The gardens are free on Tuesdays, Saturday mornings, and weekends in November and December, but will run you $10 all other times.

All photos were taken by me with my trusty iPhone 4s and edited with PhotoToaster, Snapseed, and/or A Beautiful Mess. 30x30 is my name for a silly little bucket list project that I intend to complete by my 30th birthday at the end of March, 2014.

Finding play

All too often we get wrapped up in work. Making money, making a schedule, making that transfer to an uptown express. And while I'll be the first person to stress the importance of staying vigilantly late at work to finish that one last task or rereading the email for the 10th time before you hit "reply all," I'll also be the first person to tell you just how necessary it is for us as an exhausted, overworked society to make the time for some serious play.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said that "it is a happy talent to know how to play," and Gretchen Rubin dedicated an entire chapter to the business of play in the recap of her year-long project dedicated to finding happiness (check out The Happiness Project, a thought-provoking, if maybe slightly implausible, way of life). We spend our entire childhood being told to "go play outside," but why do these instructions stop once we hit a certain age and obtain a "real" job? Many people like to brag that they work hard and play hard, but if you were to actually tally up the amount of time you spend working versus your moments of real play, how balanced would that scale actually be?

The other day, my friend and I dedicated the better part of an entire day to experiencing about 15 minutes of true play. The goal was simple - gain entrance into the Rain Room, a large-scale art installation at the MoMA in which digital sensors cause rain to fall from the ceiling except where you're walking or standing at that moment. This allows you to walk through the rain without getting wet. Which. Is. Awesome.

We arrived at the museum around 10:30am. We were directed to the end of the line, located on an unglamorous section of 53rd Street. We were told that the at this point, the wait to get in would be about 4 - 5 hours.

Hours.

Only 10 people are allowed into the Rain Room at once, and there is no limit to how much time you can spend once inside. It's suggested that you cap off at 15-20 minutes, but one MoMA intern told us that just the other week someone led an entire 35-minute yoga class in in the room. Apparently wait times have reached 8+ hours on previous days in New York; patrons logged almost 12 hours of waiting when the exhibit was in London last year. So clearly, we were doing well with a projected time of only 5 hours.

I won't bore you with the details of what amounted to a full five and a half hour wait on a New York sidewalk on a hot, sticky New York summer day. We checked our email, ate a wrap, dedicated a solid two hours to deconstructing our current relationship statuses (stati?), and I passed Level 23 on Candy Crush Saga (why why why did I ever start playing that?!?!).

And then we finally made it into the hallowed halls of the Rain Room.

And we played. Simply, purely, innocently.

I twirled. She sun-saluted. We threw our heads back and laughed. We allowed ourselves to be children, playing in the rain.

And it was delightful.

The miniest of micro vacations

Every once in a while, I get the luxury of going on a real vacation. I'm talking plane ride to exotic location, hotel shampoos, drinks with colorful straws for days on end. Unfortunately, scenarios like that don't happen very often for me. Maybe it's because I'm an American and we can't just seem to get this paid vacation thing figured out, but my days off are few and far between.

As a result, I've learned to find joy and renewal in what I like to call a micro vacation. Shorter than a mini vacay, a micro vacation is measured in hours, not days - but still has the requirements of a full vacation: travel to a new location, turn off your phone, and don't forget the sunscreen. The key to taking a micro vacation, though, is to know when to spot it. Planning in advance is fruitless - you'll end up spending more time figuring out what to do than you will on the actual vacation. Instead, a micro vacation shows itself, and it is your job to recognize and grasp the opportunity.

That happened to me today. I was chatting with some girlfriends over our morning coffee when some facts suddenly became clear: I and one of my friends both had the afternoon off AND we had access to a car. Two very rare occasions for people who live in New York City. First we considered spending the hot summer day at a nearby pool. Then we decided to go big - we were going to the beach.

In what seemed like only minutes later, she and I were clad in our finest bathing suits and heading straight for Rockaway Beach. If it was good enough for the Ramones, it would be good enough for us. Soon enough, we were sprawled out on our towels and soaking up the sun, Cheryl Crow-style (how many music references can I fit into one paragraph?). My inbox took an immediate backseat to running into the ocean, and even though I knew that I had to go to work later that day, I turned my brain off for the two hours that we were at the beach.

And you know what? It turns out that the world didn't end just because I waited to respond to an email. On the contrary, I was refreshed and rejuvenated when I arrived at work. I wasn't cranky on the phone with my boyfriend. I was actually excited when he told me we were having dinner with his parents this weekend. And that's all because I jumped at the chance to immerse myself in a micro vacation. The whole thing took less than four hours of my time - but added a week's worth of energy to my day.

Slice of the Week: Bubby's

A while back, I attended a birthday party where Bubby's pies were being served. I know this because I have a fuzzy memory of chowing down on a slice of pie and asking, "ohmygod where is this from?!?" and hearing someone shriek, "Bubby's, where else?!?" I'm still not sure why no one is able to speak in clear tones at the parties I attend, but that's a project for another time.

Naturally, this place made it on my list of Pies To Try. But even though it's in Manhattan, I'd never had the opportunity to eat there until the other day when I had both the afternoon off and some serious clothing shopping to accomplish. I knew that if I was going to be braving the SoHo tourists, there's nothing like a hearty slice of pie to get you ready to do battle for the last $12 striped sweater dress at H&M (that dress became mine!!!)

 Located in TriBeCa, Bubby's is a 24-hour diner with a casual feel and fancy prices. My single slice of pie and cup of coffe, with tax and tip, cost almost $15. I overheard the couple next to me as they perused the lunch menu exclaim "$17 for a ham and cheese sandwich!" That being said, the restaurant is located in an expensive part of an expensive borough, so plan accordingly.

The pie. I ordered a slice of Michigan Sour Cherry. My waitress did not ask if I wanted it heated up or not, but it arrived warm, so I was content. The cherries certainly lived up to their sour description, so much that I actually had to supplement each bite with a small helping from the mound of fluffy whipped cream that stood adjacent to the pie - and I'm really not a fan of whipped cream. They were fresh and tart though, with soft undertones of vanilla. What I could find of the top crust was sweet and flaky, but there could have been more of it since the holes between the latticework created a noticeable void atop my pie. When I finally got a good bite of crust at the end of the pie, I found chewy and overcooked crust that clogged up the tines of my fork - a bit disappointing.

Atmospherically however, Bubby's is fantastic. The tables are appropriately natural wood, the coffee mugs are huge and branded, the food is rustic and hearty, and the entire experience seems to be bathed in a soft Toaster filter. I'm just not sure it's all worth the price. Granted, this is coming from a starving artist who goes head to head with an unassuming tourist for the last $12 sweater dress at H&M, but still, Bubby's is an expensive diner even by New York standards.

Slice of the Week - Four & Twenty Blackbirds

Hi, I'd like to order four slices of pie.

Ok no problem, is that to go?

... No.

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When I first started this blog, I made a list of all the best places in the city to get pie. Pulled mainly from a "best pie NYC" Goggle search, results like this and this made a few things clear. First, that there aren't actually too many bakeries in this city devoted solely to pie. Second, that Brooklyn seems to be a hub for not just shaggy hipsters with ironic clothing choices, but for all things pie. And finally, I learned that there is a place, a mecca if you will, deep in the heart of Gowanas that is the epitome of pie. Enthusiasts from near and far whisper it's name with awe, tomes have been written about it, soccer moms name their firstborn after it.

     (Ok, that last one might be an exaggeration. But then again, it might not.)

Anyway, Four & Twenty Blackbirds immediately moved to the top of my Pie to Try list. The problem, however, was that it's located off of the 9th Street stop on the R train in Brooklyn - about an hour away from my apartment, and in an area I never have a reason to frequent. My roommate and I started to refer to the trek to Four & Twenty as our Pie Pilgrimage, and decided to make the trip a reality as soon as possible.

10 months later, she and I finally found a four-hour block of time in which we were both in the city but without work or rehearsal. Sometimes I marvel at how artists ever get ANYTHING scheduled or accomplished.

So, on a rainy Tuesday in October, Amanda and I took the subway to Brooklyn and ordered slices of four of the five available sweet pies. Was this a healthy idea? No. Did we almost go into anaphylactic shock halfway through the meal? Possibly, but I don't really know what anaphylactic shock is. Was this the most delicious pie tasting ever? Absolutely.

Salted Carmel Apple

Soft, sweet apples nestled under a buttery salted crust. At first, this pie isn't anything special, just a really good apple pie. Then comes a burst of salty goodness. It's a crazy, surprising juxtaposition of flavor.

Brown Butter Pumpkin
Everything about this pie is so light and airy that you assume it's made with angel kisses (or at the very least, that it must be fat-free). Consisting of the fluffiest pumpkin puree known to man and a flaky crust that actually melts in your mouth, this slice was Amanda's favorite.

Black Bottom Oat

This pie is the lovechild of Mr. Shaker Oat and Ms. Nestlee Tollhouse. Both decadent and comforting, it's dessert at its' best. Shortbread crust, crunchy oat topping, a thick layer of chocolate on the bottom - there is nothing this pie can't do. We named it the "break-up pie" and told our server that this pie will be replacing the requisite tub of ice cream for all our future heartbreaks. 

Bourbon Pear Crumble

With tart pear slices and brown sugared oats, I was surprised to call this pie my favorite (I'm not a huge fan of pears). It wasn't overly sweet and I appreciated the crunch of both the crust and pears.

It's safe to say that I will go back to Four and Twenty Blackbirds. Not only do they change up their pie menu on a daily basis, they also feature a selection of savory pies that we didn't even attempt to try. The slices also weren't even that expensive - about $5 each, and they were served on actual plates with real silverware (low standards? Maybe, but realize that the last pie I tried was in a cardboard box in a train station).

food coma.

Slice of the Week - Pie Face

There's a new pie in town, and this one has a face. Selling both Australian meat pies and traditional sweet pies is Pie Face, a new 24-hour bakery-cafe on the corner of Broadway and 53rd in midtown Manhattan. Over 50 locations already exist all over Australia, but this is the first of what they hope to be a familiar face here in America.

The first thing you'll notice about this place is that it's small, even by New York-standards. It probably holds about 15-20 people at most and does not offer seats or tables, only a small section of counter that makes it more analogous to those ubiquitous $1 Pizza Slices places than to an actual restaurant.

Pie Face in New York City

Despite the rain and general dreariness outside there was still a healthy line of people waiting to order a pie, and there remained a steady stream of people throughout the duration of my visit. While I had intentionally sought out this new place on their opening day, I got the feeling that a large amount of their customers were there by happenstance as it is located in the middle of the tourist-Broadway-center-of-the-world-district, which bodes extremely well for the future of this new addition.

We were greeted by a cheerful and chipper server who gave us the run-down of the menu while we were still waiting in line (I brought an eating partner for this excursion, no one should have to try a new pie alone) and who tried to upsell us a large pie (as opposed to a mini) and "stack," a tactic that ended up working very well in the restaurant's favor.

It wasn't long before we arrived at the end of the line where we were greeted by a second cheerful and chipper server (did I mention that they all had Australian accents? Maybe it's just me, but an Aussie can say just about anything and it'll sound wonderful and delightful and I'll probably buy whatever it is they're trying to sell me) and a display case full of mouthwatering pies.

Pie Face meat pie display case

There are plenty of sweet pies to choose from as well

Having decided our order while still in line, we were able to place our orders, pay, and receive the food in a relatively short amount of time (it took my friend a few minutes longer to receive his food, but hey, it was their first day - I've been waitressing for almost 10 years and I still can't get a drink out in under two minutes. Disclaimer: I never said I was a good waitress). Things got a bit complicated because we wanted to eat our pies right then and there, and there was only that aforementioned counter, but we made do.

 

My friend ordered the Chunky Steak Stack Pie - a steak pot pie covered in mashed potatoes and peas (the "stack" referred to the potatoes and peas, you're able to add that combo to any large meat pie).

I waited a bit until he had worked his way through a good portion of the pie (I have a slight aversion to peas and most other green legumes) to try a bite, but I was pleased with what I ate. The beef was chunky and sweetly seasoned, and there was a really great beef-to-veggies-to-broth ratio.

Now, on to my pie. I was interested in trying something a bit different, so I ordered a Thai Chicken Curry Pie. Right off the bat, I knew I was going to like it.

I mean really - who can say no to this face?

I hereby declare that all pies from now on come with facial expressions. It just might be the key to happiness.

Anyway, the pie itself was fantastic - the chicken was moist, the curry flavoring was in that not-too-spicy-but-just-right level, and the crust was near-perfect - it tasted wonderful AND held together quite well under the stress of all the heavy ingredients. And at $5.95 for a regular-sized meat pie, it's probably the cheapest and most fulfilling meal you'll find in the entire area.

You almost feel bad eating it. Almost.

As we happily ate our pies, my friend commented on the strength of his coffee - I later learned that Pie Face uses espresso beans imported from Australia to make their drip coffees, and as a result pack quite the punch. For those of you who like your afternoon jolt a little less hair-raising, however, I should note that they do offer four different strengths of coffee ranging from "Still Asleep" to 'Kick My Arse!"

Upon leaving Pie Face, we were stopped by one of the staff members who inquired how we liked our pies (she didn't know I was planning to write about my experience). I complimented the new restaurant, saying that we had a great time and really enjoyed our pies and then learned they are planing to soon open more stores in Manhattan. They knew they were taking a bit of a chance by staging their first location in midtown, as one can never be too sure how tourists will react to facially expressive meat pies, but I have a feeling that this will soon be an explosively popular stop for both the after-theater and after-bar crowds. I know I'll be stopping in the next time I find myself stumbling home from the bars on 9th going home after my 35th viewing of Mama Mia hungry and in midtown.


Many thanks to my pie-loving friend for joining me on this excursion!

Slice of the Week

Top 10 Reasons to go to Little Pie Company:

10.) You're trying to get some shopping done in and around Times Square but keep getting accosted by those "hey - hey - do you like comedy???" harpies.
9.) It's 12 degrees out and your fingers might be developing frostbite because you dropped your glove in a pile of unidentified liquid in the subway station and all the clothing stores are only selling their peachiest Spring-wear and bathing suits.
8.) You long for the days of yore when soda counter stools were red and chrome and the coffee came in something other than to-go cups.
     8a.) You're nowhere near old enough to remember when soda counter stools were red, but you've seen that scene in Back to the Future enough times to wish you had experienced a 50's diner.
7.) You've put your name in for the Book of Mormon lottery and have an hour to kill before getting your Trey Parker and Matt Stone dreams dashed. Again.
6.) You bombed an audition. And now you need pie.
5.) You're on your very first trip to New York City and you've been told that the "real" New York lies just a little west of Times Square - and you're even going to venture across 8th ave to find it.
4.) You've wasted donated plundered spent all your money on Mama Mia tickets and want a snack before the 230pm Wednesday matinee, but you just discovered that the $6.95! Unlimited Soup, Salad and Breadsticks lunch at the Olive Garden actually costs $19.95 because it's in Times Square
3.) You saw that creepy Elmo guy with his character head off and now you're kid is crying and you're actually kind of weirded out too and want some comfort food
     3a.) On your run away from Creepy Elmo Guy, you ran into the Naked Cowgirl and you were really hoping to run into the Naked Cowboy, and now you're doubly freaked out and gosh New York is a tough city!
2.) You just got your $800 hotel bill and are crying some very unhappy tears.
1.) You really need some good pie. Now.

Little Pie Company, located at 424 West 43rd Street (between 9th and 10th aves), is a delightful stop on anyone's journey through midtown Manhattan. They are solely devoted to pie, cakes, and a small number of other brownie/muffin/cookie desserts, and this narrow focus works well. It's a very small place, just a few little booths and a handful of counter seats, and decorated in such a way that evokes a retro 50's diner but does not descend into kitsch. Giant pies line the window displays and the day's slices and offers are arranged on cake plates and in the glass counter, each treat looking more delicious than it's neighbor.

Little Pie Company

My most recent trip to Little Pie Company wasn't my first, nor was it a rarity. Due to it's location (and fantastic pie, which I will get to in a second), my friends and I frequent the restaurant on a semi-regular basis. The other day my roommate and I both had some errands to run in Manhattan, so we decided to leave a little early and grab a slice of pie before attending to the more boring aspects of life (no one really wants to spend her day off buying face wash).

We found the restaurant empty, as always. It's a little alarming that there never seems to be anybody patronizing this pie shop, but I like to think that I go on completely off-hours (my friends and I all have very odd schedules, we tend to do our pie-eating around 2pm on Mondays) and therefore avoid the hoards of people I assume descend upon the store on evenings and weekends.

We were pleasantly greeted by the only person working behind the counter, inquired of the day's slices (not a large selection, but they tend to focus on in-season ingredients and January is not a great season for much of anything), and ordered to slices to stay. We were told to have a seat, he'd bring the pies out to us in a minute.

And here's where I get really excited - that lovely man behind the counter heated up the pies. He  knew, intrinsically and instinctively, from some deep down pie-loving place, that people don't want a cold pie. I could have kissed him.

Luckily, I avoided all assault charges and simply had a seat.

Our pies arrived, warm and delicious and wonderful.

Amanda ordered the Mississippi Mud Pie, which actually didn't look too great at first glace. It appears as more of a lump of chocolate that can't seem to hold a pie shape. That ceases to matter, however, when you bite into it. Consumers beware! This is not a pie for the faint-of-heart. Or for someone who doesn't really like chocolate. It's pretty much a gooey chocolate brownie baked onto a slightly harder chocolate brownie and topped with a sweeter chocolate brownie, giving you "the comfort of licking the spoon at mom's house." It's absolutely delicious, but it packs a punch and can fill you up quickly (although you will find room to lick the plate clean. It's that good).

Mississippi Mud Pie

I wasn't feeling too adventurous that day and had decided to stick with my tried-and-true - Sour Cream Apple Walnut Pie. Now, I'm not one to just throw out superlatives all willy-nilly, but this is hand's down the best apple pie I've ever had. It's cinnamon crunch topping is perfect. Then there's a layer of caramel thinly veiling the apples below, like a mother hen covering her chicks with love. The apples, dotted with walnut slivers and spices, are a paradox amongst themselves - soft but crunchy, sweet but tart, light but creamy. Finally the crust, in all it's flaky goodness, seamlessly morphs into the rest of the pie, and playing it's role of Assistant to the Apple, simply accentuates and supports.

One thing is clear: I have found love, and it is wedge-shaped.

Sour Cream Apple Walnut Pie