NYC weekend, part 1

Back from a whirlwind weekend in New York!

Let me pre-empt this post by admitting: I am struggling epically with taking pictures of everything/where I eat. My friends don’t really “get” the concept of food blogging, and I get a little bashful about snapping pics inside establishments. But I know I need to get over this if I want to have a worthwhile and thorough blog, but it will take some time. That being said, an unfortunate percentage of my incredible NYC food excursions went undocumented. But, hopefully my prose will just be so eloquent that I paint a picture with words:

I ate at two places that are on Anthony Bourdain’s list of places to eat before you die. One was a Jewish deli that has been around for 100 years! It was a little scary- people behind the counter yelling in yiddish, pushy crowd, but the Scottish lox with goat cheese schmear on an everything bagel made it all worth it 🙂 Way too crowded/intimidating to take pics inside, but here is the exterior, and my ultimate New York breakfast:

I had been super stoked to go to Yoga for the People, but then my friend suggested that instead of working out, we eat Di Fara pizza. Di Fara is a New York legend. Every single pie is handmade by the same ancient Italian man, and people will wait upwards of 2 hours for this pizza. Due to the hassle of getting there and actually getting food, I can never get my native NYer friends to go with me, since they’ve all already been. But finally, finally my pizza dreams came true and I had peoople to go wtih- yoga could wait. And it was totally worth it. Besides, who knows how much longer this one pizza maker will be alive- there was a sense of urgency behind this pizza plan.

Normally, the line snakes around the corner. We got there right as it was supposed to open, 12:00, only to see a note that they weren’t opening until 1. Such is life when you eat at mom-and-pop shops.  Since we were first, the entire wait only took 1.5 hours, which isn’t terrible for Di Fara. Plus, the whole trek was completely worth it when I bit into this:

That’s the legendary pizza maker; isn’t he cute? Apparently the secret to Di Fara’s pizza perfection is the requistite drizzle of olive oil that this guy pours over each and every pie- that, and the flawless crust, layer of fresh parmesan, and the fresh basil (imported froom Israel) that he plucks from a plant on the windowsill and snips over each pie. You have not lived until you have eaten this pizza, trust me.

It is far too late for me to finish this post, and I don’t want to skimp on details and not do NYC  justice. Sorry to leave you hanging, but read part 2- it involves mac-and-cheese, plus my last long half marathon training run.

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