No matter how long you have been here, you are a New Yorker the first time you say, ”That used to be Munsey’s” or ”That used to be the Tic Toc Lounge.” That before the Internet cafe plugged itself in, you got your shoes resoled in the mom-and-pop operation that used to be there. You are a New Yorker when what was there before is more real and solid than what is here now.
He was writing this in the aftermath of 9/11 and already the Internet cafe reference is out of date — we all have smart phones now, even the recent immigrants — but the sentiment is so true. Don’t get me started about the area around Whisk & Ladle. It was a no man’s land when I first ventured there (remember this, tumblr?) and now it’s littered with Duane Reades and generic mid-price pan-Mediterranean restaurants.
Exotic means there, not here. Them, not us. You, but definitely not me. Exotic is a word defined by the speaker’s perspective, which assumes dominance and normalcy over the person being called exotic.
It’s a micro-aggression. It’s a backhanded compliment. And it’s simply inaccurate.
Yeah. Our daughter will probably be called ‘exotic’ and how weird is that? A born and bred New Yorker with two American parents? She’s a fucking patriot, man, and don’t you forget it.
Dark ‘n’ Stormy Bundt Cake
Rum (or whiskey) in cake adds so much moisture. (Butter doesn’t hurt, either.) This recipe looks fantastic.
I’ve never put so much damn butter in a cake but I do not regret it.
Please don’t think about the calories. This bundt cake is worth trying because it has ginger beer and rum — just like a Dark & Stormy cocktail.