Oh hai Petey! Good to see you on my Tumblr dashboard. :)
(via meredithbklyn:timeoutnewyork:neighborhoodr-bococa)
(Source: neighborhoodr-cobblehill)
What a weekend! Let’s work backwards shall we?
The Saints won the goddamn Super Bowl! Here’s me and (some of) my Tulane girls praisin’ Breesus and all that jazz.
The first half was Estrogen Fest XLIV. Look at all them ladies! M.’s was the sole Y chromosome ‘til after half-time (and he was mostly in the kitchen, cooking — ha!). Then Mark and Petey showed up. Petey trained it all the way from Harlem to catch the end of the game with us. He was there at the play-off game and he thought — rightly — it’d be bad juju for the Saints if he didn’t show.
On a side note: Mark and M. are intellectual gourmands (sorry, no other words for it) who drool over each other’s bookshelves and spent 20 minutes crafting a cocktail around a very serious and very potent bottle of Creme de Violet from Paris. Meanwhile they’re tossing around arcane football terms and commenting on the finer points of the game — and they’re first to admit they haven’t watched football since the last Super Bowl. Where do men pick up this knowledge? Secret Boys’ Club meetings?
Anyway.
Laura was voted Most Team Spirit with her superhot gold leggings and homemade pralines.
INTERCEPTION!!!!!!
When they won we put on “Glory Bound” and “Feel Like Funkin’ It Up” and danced around like we were down in New Orleans. There’s just no dancin’ like the dancin’ we do down there.
Oh and then I think Akiko screamed “Show us your tits!” and M. took his shirt off. We didn’t even have beads to throw him!
He’s always looking for an excuse to take his shirt off.
A Saturday afternoon in the Brooklyn Farmacy.
I had my first egg cream, made with love and chocolate by Petey (“It’s all in the head”) and his sister’s perfect ginger cookies. Petey showed me 90-year-old receipts and letters from the pharmacy’s first owner, Mazzila Cantone, inscribed with incredibly elegant handwriting in English and Italian. There was a pile of ’70s self-help books, old lipstick tubes whose scent instantly transported me back to my grandma’s makeup bag, and enough athletic supports and itch cream for a randy football team.
Photoset here.
On Saturday, I had the pleasure of shredding rabbit meat along side Mr. Petey Freeman, the proprietor of Brooklyn Farmacy, an old pharmacy in Carrol Gardens where he sells ancient pharmaceuticals and other ephemera. Soon it’ll become a soda shop serving the best egg creams in NYC (self-proclaimed).
He told me he blogs with an old typewriter and posts it on the Farmacy windows (hilarious, right?) and he described his profession to the NYT as a “persuader from Maine.” Oh, and he used to be a pastry chef and he drives a short school bus around town.
Petey’s a catch.
The Great American Cooking Project