Wafels & Dinges
Clinton St. Baking Company
View from East River State Park @ Brooklyn Flea Record Fair
I managed to sneak my way into Clinton St Baking Company about 45 minutes before they closed. Immediately being sat at the bar (the perks of dining by oneself), the barkeeper noted that the pancakes were so delicious, lines would wrap around the block daily; the amount of people having to be rejected at the door solidifying her point. Hence, I opted for the simple pancakes with maple butter and house rosemary sausage. Those were literally the most gratifying fluffy pancakes it has ever been my pleasure to enjoy. Yes, I make an actual distinction between thinner (more-crepe like; crunchier, more texture) pancakes, to the fluffier (airy, almost spongy) ones. I’ve long been a self-proclaimed pancake enthusiast and believe them to provide testimony to the fact that we were in fact created by a sovereign being who desires our lives to have joy: by the the almighty pancake alone, I stake this claim. Every bite of these pancakes were an exploration into the varied means by which food serves as a channel for divine euphoria. The sausage too, was ridiculously savory, as was the orange juice- a perfect pairing. This was New York.
Wafels & Dinges was a real letdown for me, though. Now, I came in with the intent of the attempting to judge in the fairest manner, (despite their having to follow a meal that can only be described as a spiritual awakening). I’ve been long on the search for the best waffle in New York, and though I knew this establishment to be a link in a chain, it had received critical claim on most food websites (I know, I know, but food critic websites are sadly all I had to go off of). At first step inward, one is assaulted by the cacophony of smells, be it the burned oil, or the smell of burnt waffle remainders, it was not appetite-inducing. The waffle itself was gummy, and tasted of a burned waffle iron, with the nuances of whatever had lingered on the waffle iron before it; but I guess that’s what’s to be expected at a chain.
Next up, thanks to Geoff Rickly’s twitter, I found out the Brooklyn Flea Record Fair was in town- and it was fantastic. It was so nice seeing dozens of people legitimately interested in records as opposed to riding the emo-revival train. I arrived only half an hour before closing which didn’t leave much time to peruse, but I did stumble upon a stand that was offering $0.10 per record, and if you could fill a box, you could have them all for $10.00, (those boxes each fit 100 records, by the way). I did see Ghostly’s tent, and a really cool minimal wave tent, but I didn’t plan on spending $25.00 for vinyl, so I bought 10/$1 that i’ll end up using as gag gifts (i.e. The Nutty Professor, Fat Joe, etc). I then watched the sunset at the park and deeply contemplated life while taking some obligatory shots over the river. It was nice seeing all the families and runners pass by. I think I would really enjoy living in Williamsburg. Bear and my dog and her cat would enjoy it there. I hope to take them back, soon.
After that, I went to JOYA to get Thai food. Literally the only thing I have to say about that was that the pad thai they served was the worst Pad Thai i’ve had in what remains of these memory banks.
Lastly, I desired dessert, so I headed to Serendipity on the premise that ‘Oprah said it was good once’. I had imagined in my mind some sort of quick in/out cafe sort of thing, but to my dismay the man in front coerced me into sitting at a small table near the kitchen, surrounded by hobknockers and business type. The Frrrozen (I hope that’s the correct amount of R’s), hot chocolate was delicious, and I truly enjoyed it, but I wondered how this made its way onto Oprah’s favorite things list. Maybe Gale threatened to stab Steadman or something because of her ties to the owner or something less weird.
I’m really really tired so my writing is probably deplorable or something.