The Trench

This year's trench by Jack Spade borrows from their former collaboration with Mackintosh and somehow manages to improve it twofold. The waxy exterior is super soft and pliant so you can actually move your arms while you wear it. What is normally a boxy silhouette is cut slim and tailored, so slim that we had to go up one size, anticipating thicker sweaters during colder days; and the sandy beige color adds a more modern touch.

Weekend Docket: East of the East River

This is how it went on a Saturday just east of the East River:

1. PS1: watched tots armed with exercise balls dunk themselves in the kiddie pool on ourway to the stairs that lead up to what will be an unsurprising exhibition by PS1 standards. Gawked and smirked then sat outside on the cool concrete with a pilsner while watching the Hindu dancer steal The Blondes' thunder.

2. Biked to Fatty Cue, started off with whisky and pickleback shots (see image here). Love: Pullman's toast with master fat, bbq duck and red curry, steamed bao, peanut butter and pretzel pie. Best drink: Smoking Bone (whiskey, tabasco and chocolate bitters, etc.).

4. Walked over to Marlow and Sons for an El Heriberto tequila cocktail.

5. Biked to Dram for a penicillin scotch cocktail with a touch of Laphroaig, our whisky of choice: smoky, woody and leathery.

5. Dessert at Diner: flourless chocolate cake.

Happy indulgent weekend.

Atlanta Summer Eats

It's time for NYC to humble itself (just a smidge), because there is another town that can dig into the annals of cocktail history and serve up amazing drinks to perfection. Every cocktail menu presented to us, from hotels bars to simple pre-brunch whistler-wetters, left us more indecisive than usual. And it doesn't stop there. Farm to table seasonal fare is prevalent, starting with the westside district's Abattoir (fittingly housed in a rehabbed meat-packing warehouse), which was reminiscent of Blue Hill Farm's fresh raw vegetable starters, only with a side of just-enough buttermilk that reminded us of Mom's vegetable garden in Illinois, and an adventurous menu of offals. What we went crazy for: open-faced brisket sandwich on thick-cut homemade bread and fried pickles, latin-inspired tripe stew, and a rouge chocolate stout cheddar from Oregon. Next day for brunch we went to the cusp of Buckhead to Holeman and Finch where there is the regular, seasonal menu and then there is The Burger. By the way, this is the same place that serves rooster's head and cock's comb. This is not vegetarian-territory. The Burger is two double-patties served with pickles and American cheese on a homemade bun and pretty much is in our Top 5 burgers of all time. Yes, get thee to Atlanta. And because we're rarely in this part of the country, we felt compelled to start off with the cheddar biscuit and sweet tea butter, wash it all down with a local Terrapin brew (too overpowering for the burger but great flavor) and a peche (when in Georgia) lambic, then finish off with the fried peach pie. We're OK, we've sweated it out in a 90 minute bikram session since. We were just looking for something to good to eat outside of BLT Steak for the 2nd and 3rd time, and ended up in some kind of culinary getaway.

 

The Underdog

This photo represents the 1974 World Cup final, Netherlands v. Germany, one of only 2 times the Netherlands has ever made it to the World Cup Final. Unfortunately, despite a promising start in the first half, they lost to Germany 2-1. We'll be rooting for the Underdog today, Studio Square, LIC.

Venice Beach, California

Tate Donovan rides the sweetest Linus bike. We know, because we saw him walking it down Abbot Kinney last Saturday. Abbot Kinney is our new favorite drag and Venice Beach is our new favorite town. Perhaps we're being presumptuous- then again it's our thing to be presumptuous- when we say that Venice is our home away from home. In other words it's Brooklyn with a tan, and a sunnier outlook. We took the long way through a sleepy Culver City that afternoon, picked up a soft green and white striped towel at the Mollusk Surf Shop while admiring the Mollusk branded trunks in perfectly faded colors of orange, blues and greens (on sale $40). After a 2-hour cat nap on the beach, in between watching the longboarders and an 8-year old girl wonder in in elbow and knee pads shred the skate park, we hit up Abbot Kinney upon which our love for Venice came into full bloom. We recommend the softest sweats (ever) at Aviator Nation, playing table tennis in front of Jack Spade, shopping the sale rack of swimwear next door, the kimchee quesadilla from the Calbi Korean taco truck parked on the west side of the street, the denim shorts at The Stronghold (1st denim company in Los Angeles), the bikes at Linus, and everything at Steven Alan.

Venice Beach skate park

Jack Spade storefront

Mollusk Surf Shop

Steven Alan

Bar at Aviator Nation

Backyard stage and grill at Aviator Nation

Linus bike on the street (not the aforementioned Tate's)

Outside the Stronghold

Venice Beach skate park

8-year old wonder

Stronghold sandwichboard

Happy 4th, Los Angeles

Hotel Roosevelt, Hollywood

Rudy's on Melrose

Red O

Bar at Bazaar

From Mt. Hollywood
Griffith Observatory
Checking in at the Avalon, Beverly Hills

Weekend Docket: Philly

This is how we like to do it on the cheap. Took the 5pm Bolt Bus on a Friday to the most underrated city within a 2 hour driving radius, with enough time to catch some bistro fare at the bar on the Square then head to...Well, let's back up a bit here. If you've been keeping up with our National saga you'll know that amid the impossibility of getting tickets to the BAM Opera House (read below) we were forced to take our business to the new "Maxwell's" for good shows, the Electric Factory: a place to get away if you didn't feel like swinging hipster or preppy that day and you were maybe, also, feeling a little homesick for a San Fran-esque crowd without missing the Fliers kick some Blackhawks bum and knew you could get a running, albeit tipsy, tally from the band on stage. Although we thank The National for bookending our favorite songs, not everything we report is perfect. The sound guy must be a drummer, because the drums were the only thing that sounded close to record-perfect that night. Our ears are still ringing as we say good-bye to frequencies never to be heard again. Saved the cabfare and walked the 20 minutes back to the Hotel Palomar, our new favorite place to stay in Philly. We turned in. The only thing open late (read: 12:30am) was a bar, a club or greasy Pete's Diner. The next day we crossed the river to the Penn campus and ate at Jose Garces' answer to no-good-Mexican-west-of-Chitown, Distrito. Maybe it's because our prayers for good Mexican had already been eclipsed by last weekend's trip to Newport at Perros Salado (get the guac and the chilaquiles). With the exception of the carnitas and hamachi tacos, we could have taken it or left it. Ok, we would have taken the tres leches dessert along with the tacos. Enough whining. Since this is after all a blog about the things we love, we're here to declare our love for Philly- a love that's been in the making since we stepped foot off that first Chinatown bus five years ago- so much so, we're already planning our mid-summer retreat with Hotel Palomar as our home away from home.