The Brooklyn Flea

brooklyn, ny

I'm married to a man who has earned the nickname Swiss for his less than astute regard for punctuality.  I admit that I too am habitually 15 minutes late for most things. So it's no surprise that our dear little babe did not arrive yesterday, on due date, nor today. What's there to do in New York while waiting for baby? Why, go to the Brooklyn Flea of course! 

There are a dozen other good reasons to spend a Saturday at the flea in Fort Greene, and ten of them are food related. The eleventh reason is inspiration that comes when good food meets good design. It's like Foodzie meets Etsy, a feast for discerning sensibilities and anyone who appreciates artisan, handmade goods. 

There are all the Brooklyn favorites, like The Good Fork and Pizza Moto, and also several notable newcomers. It was as a sterling fall day to welcome Brooklyn Flea newbie Jessica Binkley, who debuted her small batch vanilla extract and vanilla sugar today under the label binxgoods. Her vanilla extract comes with a plump bean inside, so you can reward your investment by topping the bottle off with good bourbon for an everlasting supply  {a chef's trick she cleverly turned into a business}. Jessica shows off her eye for design with apothecary-style labels, and the hand-knit hats she sells on the side. 

I fell hard for the distinct collection of nibbles from Brooklyn confectioner's Whimsy & Spice , particularly their honey lavender shortbread and the airiest Valrhona chocolate marshmallows imaginable. The confections are crafted by pastry chef Mark Sopchak and packed in the clean designs of his wife, art director Jenna Park, who is also behind their new illustrated poster {above} of kitchen conversions, a chic and practical gift for anyone who fancies their kitchen a gallery or a laboratory of taste. 

For the story and style behind The Good Batch, I'm hooked. Anna Gordon makes soft stacks of handmade stroopwafels, Holland's beloved cookie, out of a yeast-based dough, and layers them into irresistible combinations, like pumpkin cream pies with Maker's Mark frosting and peanut butter & chocolate. Meeting Anna is a treat in itself, but you'll feel plum perky walking away with her sweets tucked into one of her hand-stamped bags. 

If I could have taken one thing home with me, it would be the milky porcelain half-pint bottles by Alyssa Ettinger Design. Swoon. But rumor has it I have a lot more bottles in my future....

Which brings me to the twelfth good reason to head to the Brooklyn Flea  –   insanely good baby watching, good enough to hold me over at least another day. 

A Movable Feast {Pedaling, part i}

When I first moved to New York City, I fell in love with a New Yorker who seemed to have sprung from the stories I’d read growing up in the Midwest. His traditions—like his annual Peking duck dinner in Chinatown on Christmas Eve—were uniquely New York, and a chic juxtaposition to the stuffed bird and buttered potatoes of my family table back home.

Committed to becoming a New Yorker, I spent the next few years tucked into Chinatown’s tiny stalls tasting sweet sticky rice and soup dumplings, hand-formed dumplings and dim sum, looking for new traditions of my own. Those flavors were great fodder for my culinary tales, but still, I never quite felt I belonged.

Then I met András. One sleepy December Sunday, just months after we’d met, our afternoon bike ride through Chinatown came to a halt outside a bustling shop called Mei Lai Wah. András ducked behind the shop’s steamy windows, promising delicious fuel for our ride home. He returned with two paper bags, wet with steam. I peeled back the paper with frozen fingers and devoured hot roast pork buns until I was laughing with satisfaction. How he (a vegetarian who seemed to consider food merely fuel for his next ride) knew about something so good was beyond me, but I loved him for it.

We began to frequent the bun shop, eating buns—coconut for him, pork for me—sliding our little Chinet plates across the aged formica bar for more with nods and smiles. Afterward, I’d peek in the kitchen, where thin men stood around giant woks, poking buns and gabbing like sisters. They’d shoo me away as if I were a spy instead of a loyal customer, which made me laugh and return even more faithfully. This was my Chinatown.

After 8 years living in New York, I forfeited my holidays at home for the first time in my life and András and I booked dinner at a famed three-star city restaurant. The meal was refined, festive, delicious—and heartbreaking. As we finished, I burst into tears. I longed for sweet potatoes smothered in bruleed marshmallows and for my family.

At a loss for how to comfort me, András took me to our bun shop. I was soothed by a stack of steamy buns and familiar faces that always greeted me with ironic half-smiles that made me feel at once welcome and amused. This food, this family, was mine as well.

Last summer, Mei Lai Wah’s doors closed without warning, and just as suddenly they reopened again. Rumors of new ownership had us weary to return and when we finally did, our fears were realized. Everything familiar was replaced by something newer, cleaner, brighter. A sleek wooden countertop stood in place of the formica bar we once considered the best seat in the house. We took a seat instead in the booths in the back and I sighed and bemoaned the passing of our favorite tradition. But just as quickly I remembered that it was progress that brought me here -- and our beloved buns, now served by younger faces with bigger smiles, hadn’t changed. They still deliverd the same comforting flavors that always manage to somehow validate my choice to call New York City, and these adopted traditions my own.

*{This piece was originally published in the Winter 2009 issue of 360 magazine. I love this piece, because this tradition marks the beginning of the edible life I now share with my husband, András. }