Cafe Lafayette

Nestled between the more-favoured Williamsburg and Park Slope neighbourhoods, stranded with only the G (for ghost) train to provide sparse service, Fort Greene is a beautiful, brownstoned part of Brooklyn that rarely sees my love. The last time I was there, years ago, I frequented a lovely taqueria on South Portland. This time, I met a friend for brunch at the Cafe Lafayette right across the street.

Cafe Lafayette is a small under-the-stairs type of joint (literally). Somehow the street-level window lighting does the cafe good. Its owners obviously adore the French bistro, right down to having current issues of Voici to be perused in the magazine rack. To be honest, the brunch wasn't anything special. My blueberry pancakes and her eggs benedict were standard fare. But I could tell that there was something more to the place that brought people there.

One of such examples was recounted to me this week. After dinner in the cafe, a woman divulged her accordion (she had just performed nearby) and started to sing Mexican folk songs to the restaurant. Soon, chairs were whisked out of the way and a small dance floor was created in the tiny establishment. Just a glimpse of bucolic charm in the city.

CONSUMED: Cafe Lafayette; 99 South Portland, Fort Greene (Brooklyn)

Brooklyn/Not Brooklyn

There's a dividing line running beneath the East River, one that separates Brooklyn from Manhattan. Here, on the pedestrian path of the Williamsburg Bridge, one proud Brooklyner (it's obviously someone from Brooklyn) has decided to unearth that invisible line, letting fellow Brooklyners know when they have ventured off their turf, and welcoming them home upon their inevitable return.

Oddly enough, it appears to correlate exactly with the apex of the bridge. Thus I look forward to it on every ride over the bridge; once I pass this point on my bike, it's all downhill from there.

CONSUMED: Williamsburg Bridge, over the East River

Ra Ra Riot (at the Music Hall of Williamsburg)

Back in Ra Ra Riot's early touring days, their original drummer John Pike drowned mysteriously, tragically after one of their shows. I can only imagine how they all must have come together to weather the tragedy; indeed their recently released debut album The Rhumb Line was dedicated to John. Whether this was the cause or not, you could see the connection between band members on stage, with the guitarist flashing smiles at the violinist; with the frontman climbing on top of the drum kit to tousled the hair of the drummer; with the bassist screaming lyrics into the ear of the cellist.

And their music! You couldn't stop moving if you wanted to, even to their slow jams. The lead singer Wes Miles comes up with melodies that linger, that stay with you even after you turn off the stereo. You could tell they enjoyed playing as much the audience loved dancing. And dance we did, until the lights came on after the second encore, a Kate Bush cover with the final proclamation "I need your love love love love love!"

CONSUMED: Music Hall of Williamsburg; Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

airport station

Taking the subway to the airport in less than 30 minutes from the city center is a dream. It's a pity more cities don't have the privilege of such an amenity. (One day, I will fly into the Toronto Island airport. One day.)

CONSUMED: Reagan National Airport metro station; Washington DC

ginormous French press

Friday started out perfect. Cloudless azure sky, piercing sun, and a brisk wind that called for jackets (scarves optional). It sounded like fall, leaves crunching beneath feet and the echo of schoolyard chatter.

And breakfast. Oh the breakfast. We had to add a table to the end of ours because so many people turned out. But that's the way it's should be: continually adding people to the table. I ordered the Eggs Rothko (brioche toast with a hole cut out for an egg, topped with white cheddar) with the seasonal greens (kale!). Coffees all round!

The coffee came before the food, naturally. But it came in the largest French press I've ever seen. There must have been a pound of coffee in there (hyperbole)! I've been nursing a new addiction ever since my new roommate moved in. And seeing that huge vat of coffee just sealed the deal: there's nowhere else I'd rather be at this moment.

CONSUMED: Egg; 135 N 5th St, Williamsburg (Brooklyn)