Posted this over on IN today. Shout-out to the awesome Dorothy for getting me obsessed with oysters.

scoopst:

Little screams “summer in New York” more than oysters on the half shell. Preferably paired with a glass of crisp white wine or bubbly at happy hour. The refreshing almost-decadence of the whole experience lets us revel in the heat - or, really, air conditioning - rather than whine about it. After all, oysters just aren’t quite the same in winter.

In this city that practically invented oysters on the half shell, options for happy hour deals abound. But without the right atmosphere, the whole experience is, if you’ll excuse the pun, a little dead in the water. After all, who really wants oysters in a dive bar or with a mediocre glass of wine, no matter how good the price?

Luckily for you, we’ve done our research (and, let us tell you, it was hard eating all those oysters) and have culled the best of the best around this mollusk happy hour mecca. Trust us, you’ll thank us.

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scoopst:

One of our favorite things about New York is how cosmopolitan it is, how there’s someone from everywhere living here. Which means, of course, that we can find cuisine from pretty much anywhere in the world somewhere in New York City. Basically, it’s a food-lover’s heaven.

A few weeks ago, you may have seen a scoop up on the main site for a Venezuelan arepa joint, called Arepera Guacuco. Despite being in Bushwick… let’s just say we weren’t the only ones excited about it. Good food is worth the trek, as all Roberta’s fans know.

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Lunch last Friday. Yummy and filling.

I wish this had been around when I moved to NY. So I wrote it myself.

scoopst:

Have you ever tried to talk to a Californian living in New York about burritos? You suddenly find yourself overwhelmed by an outpouring of frustration, taking the brunt of all their pent-up anger at the complete lack of good burritos in this city.

It’s okay, don’t take it personally. Think of them as a junkie deprived of a fix - most West Coasters grow up eating burritos about once a week. In their home country, they don’t even have to look for good burritos; practically every other store makes fresh burritos. As a New Yorker, pretend you’d been deprived of pizza and bagels - image that experience and you’re on the right track.

Okay, we have a confession. This piece is being written by a native of the San Francisco Bay Area who has gone on an exhaustive search for the best possible burritos in NYC - the pickings are slim, but they exist. Which means that Californian transplants can relax - and the rest of you can get excited - in the knowledge that there a few options when you’re craving some left coast taste.

So, without further ado…

The Best Burritos in New York City

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Just posted this over on IN, the new Scoop St. Blog. Comment, criticize, etc.

scoopst:

Welcome to Manhattan, hipster. Venturing outside your Williamsburg art loft may be scary, we understand, but fear not. IN is here to provide the comprehensive guide to navigating New York City’s central island so that you needn’t worry about accidentally finding yourself amidst bankers and swish steakhouses.

First, a rule of thumb: unless you are going to visit your parents, family friends, or other wealthy relatives, don’t go north of Union Square. As with any rule, there are some exceptions, but stick with this for simplicity’s sake. If you’re confused, ask us.

Next: it could be tempting to run straight to the Lower East Side and hide out there, as it embodies a balance of grunge and fashion similar to what you’re used to. While it’s a good home base, we’re here to help you get to know Manhattan, and there are other worthwhile stops.

Let’s start with the L.

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Literally just discovered Macaron Café, just a few blocks from my new office. Was a little worried at first that it was going to be yet another wannabe-Parisian, slightly kitschy café, particularly considering the bright pink walls and staff in maids’ aprons. Even the discovery that they served Mariage Frères tea was only slightly encouraging.

So, I’m so pleased to have been proven wrong when the food arrived. Absolutely delicious, and on par with my Parisian sensibilities. I had the quiche au saumon, served with a fresh salad topped with an mustard dressing. My partner in crime opted for the Paris sandwich - a riff on the traditional jambon fromage we know and love, this time with cornichons and a whole wheat baguette.

Honestly, neither of us have had these dishes at this level in a long time. In Paris, they would be pretty standard, but here, in New York, they stand out.

Also, it helps that the staff are all French, and happily spoke French with us. New spot to be a regular? I think yes.

Finished off the meal with their signature macarons. Tasty but not quite light enough. But then, I’ve yet to find one in the states on par with France. Must be something in the water.

Oh my god, how did I miss that Elizabeth Taylor died? Best way to find out, though. Thanks, Mal.

promdress:

Day 3: Mallory channels her favorite Screen Legends

This morning I woke up in my cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof-ivory slip and holly-golightly-sleep-mask and was feeling a little bit old Hollywood.  Unfortunately, the snow outside didn’t exactly scream glamour so I was forced to forge my own place in the sun by wearing a strapless white  Sherri Hill dress similar to the one Elizabeth Taylor trails across the billiards scene in.  I had the clip-on earrings, the cocktail ring, the bustier, and my “come up and see me sometime” attitude down until Bianca came into the office and told me ELIZABETH TAYLOR HAD DIED. THIS MORNING.  Now I am sads.  I will try to let her memory shine on through my sequined dress as I sashe around the office today.  

RIP Elizibro.

via Bnter

Depressing moment of the day.

One of my favorite corners in Istanbul

(via flight001)

So I went to Buvette last night, at last, and, while it was adorable and French and had a great wine selection, it was not everything I had hoped it would be. Perhaps that’s because it’s still new - they’ve only been open a month or so - but the gruyère and onion confit tartine we tried needed more than grated gruyère to balance the flavors, and the waiter was solicitous to the point of being a little pushy. Given the small, snacky plates and general attitude of being a place you can grab a bite to eat any time of day, you would think it would be the kind of place one would hang out for a while, savoring small plates and glasses of wine. Rather than the kind of place with servers who can’t read that a table wants to do just that.

I will go back, because I think they have a few kinks to work out and then, once they do, things will be nicer. But next time I’m sitting at the bar.

(photo from them, not me, sadly)

Last night, for the Jauntsetter book group, we discussed Isabel Allende’s Daughter of Fortune. There’s a character called Babalu the Bad, so when I saw this, had to share.

(via flight001)