Rampant consumerism

Tallinn should have been a shoestring budget break. It is a very inexpensive city. Entrance to BURLESQU, Estonia's only 'burlesque-style', is only a tenner. Don't ask me how I know. I suspect it's the cheapness, rather than the World Heritage site status, that makes it so popular with British stag parties.

Still, true to form, TLOML and I managed to unnecessarily spend a bit of cash. Me on a fabulous scarf with pompoms on it, which the seven year old girl in me could not deny.

And TLOML on a Soviet submarine clock. It's a 24 hour clock because they didn't know if it was day or night down there. We thought it was cool and therefore had to have it.

We avoided the darker depths of those funky old junk shops: it's a slippery slope once you start buying clocks with pictures of Stalin on... and the bottom of that slope is Nazi memorabilia.


Then we went to Oxford to do some light wedmin. And then we began to learn just how incredibly easy it is to make snap decisions which will cost us thousands, when we're talking about a party that's a year away.

'Drinks in this fabulous historic venue will only cost three times as much as that perfectly serviceable bar... shall we...?' 'Well, it is quite fabulous and historic... and after all it is our wedding' Boom! just like that two months' rent vanish into thin air.

'It's really not worth spending money on music, no-one will hear it on the lawns.' 'Unless we hire a 12 piece marching band and get them to parade around!' Boom! And we may get married barefoot so we can pay for the band.

So when we returned to NYC, we embarked on a thrift kick. We launched it by going to the Lobster Place in Chelsea Market to buy fish for dinner.

The Lobster Place is truly my favourite shop in all of Manhattan. They sell all the fresh, smoked and steamed fish and shellfish you could imagine. Including random stuff like that weird dried mullet roe, and little sachets of squid ink. So we felt we were models of restraint...

...but having gone in for a piece of mackerel, we emerged with a dozen little neck clams, a dozen oysters, squid salad, and seaweed. And just like that our simple fish supper became a four course fish extravaganza.

Note to self: saving for the wedding might be easier (less tempting) if we shop at Gristedes instead of Chelsea Market. There's something about madheads talking to themselves in the fresh produce aisle that reins in my desire to splurge on the food.

The lesser known Sky Line park

The High Line extension opened this week. The High Line was an elevated freight railway, which ran along the piers and warehouses of Chelsea and the West side - right through the middle of buildings to avoid darkening the avenues below. It used to go into the biscuit factory which is now the Chelsea Market, probably delivering butter and sugar and rolling pins, which was surely work of national importance.

After making a final delivery of frozen turkeys in 1980, it fell into disuse. Nature took the railway over and created something much prettier and quieter, but somewhat less useful for butter and sugar deliveries.

In 2009, as the local news anchor put it, in a rather Day Today-esque turn of phrase, 'what was once just the dream of a bunch of activists' became a reality: the High Line Park was opened. Between 21st Street and Gansevoort Street those crazy activists replaced the weeds you see above with pretty grasses and concrete slabs and little water fountains and public art.

It was a cool little park but rather on the short side. You could get from one end to the other in about 10 minutes flat. It was handy for us on our saunter back from the Chelsea Market but that's about it.

Until this week... when the extension opened. It runs past our block now, and all the way up to 30th Street now. I'm not quite sure when we'd ever go to Midtown but just in case... we no longer need to cross a single street to get to 30th Street.

The new bit is really good. It has a big patch of lawn and you get up close to the backs of residential buildings, in a way the first stretch doesn't really do.

Rabbit Hutch Towers is just out of sight on the right of the redbrick building

Also, we now have an icecream van parked right on our block most days. Most convenient.

 

The other, less exciting impact, is the arrival of a flood of tourists. West 23^rd Street was always relatively free of out-of-towners but the High Line attracts them like wasps to orangina. Most of them are probably off to get in the way of actual shoppers by taking photos of fruit at Chelsea Market’s Manhattan Fruit Exchange. Grrr. "Off my land, tourists!"

TLOML and I saw one chump yelling into his mobile, Dom Joly style, ‘I’m in the Skyline Park! No, the Skyline!’

We smirked at each other like the smug New Yorkers we have already become.

Yeah, maybe the onslaught of tourists isn’t such a bad thing. It's always nice to have someone to make you feel superior.

The mystery of the $20 juice

I cruised down to Chelsea Market today with TLOML in search of quality hot cross buns - or the ingredients to make my own. As I mentioned yesterday, I had some concerns about the quality of hot cross bun I might find.

We found some at Amy's Bread which are about half right. They smell fairly legit, but I can't quite get over the icing. However will I toast them? We bought them anyway, but as a fallback I decided to buy ingredients to make my own. I don't want to be found wanting for good hot cross buns on Good Friday.

So we headed to the Manhattan Fruit Exchange, a brilliant no frills store (cash only, tiny narrow aisles) which sells 8 different types of onion and tubs of spice for about $2 a pop. We were kinda shocked when our little basket of flour, yeast, some fruit and a bottle of juice resulted in a bill north of $60.

Why was it so expensive?

We're about $7 in so far.

This innocent looking juice is the culprit. We tossed it in the basket without looking at the price. I know we've got a wedding to save for and we've sworn off expensive sushi for a while, but we're not yet comparison-shopping our juice.

Well that's about to change. This 100% tangerine juice cost $20. Twenty whole dollars! I've drunk champagne that costs less. And that came in a pretty glass bottle too.

More bang for your buck

The mystery here is how on earth can a bottle of juice cost $20? I'm hoping it was made from tangerines which were raised in greenhouses made of crystal and misted daily with Evian. Cherubim and seraphim selected and picked the fruit one by one, and carried them in baskets made of feathers and clouds to a band of virgins who sang lullabies as they carefully peeled each tangerine before carefully squeezing the juice using their firm thighs.

If not I want my money back.

----
PS The juice is damn good.

Hot Cross Bun Surprise

Surprise! NYC does not sell proper hot cross buns. I had no idea they were so English, or at least, that the American version is so different.

I did a little hunting on chowhound and it seems there are a number of quality bakers who sell them. But I'm a little concerned by reviews saying things like 'I love the cardamon flavour' or references to pineapple icing. Frankly I'm not sure we're talking about the same food stuff.

Here's a photo of the offering from William Greenberg on Madison. Look! the cross is made of icing! Horrors.

Wrongness.

Goodness.

I will give the good artisan bakers of Chelsea Market a whirl this afternoon. Otherwise I suspect I will have to roll my sleeves up and bake 'em myself. If I do, I will use this recipe from the brilliant and thorough Felicity Cloake.