Diary from 24 dreamy hours in the Big Apple 🍎

As we entered the 1 2 3 line downtown from Penn Station, I realized it was my first time on the subway since I left the East Coast five years ago. The intense energy of New Yorkers filled the train car with vibes of total world domination. We exited at Grand Street and walked up to the East Williamsburg apartment, a place I had been a dozen times before. I felt a pang of nostalgia as I realized how much my life had changed since the first time I walked into this building almost ten years ago. This time, I wasn’t a young, naive adventurer ready to dance the night away; instead, I was seven months pregnant and arm in arm with my husband.

When I opened the heavy door, the details were the same. The two well-bred cats tried to escape as they purred and fought, traipsing about the couch. The lights were off, and in true Austin fashion, he created a vibe by lighting a dozen candles throughout the living room shelves. The smell of pine wafted from the dozen candles, creating a soothing ambiance amongst the floor-to-ceiling art.

The plants were strewn like curtains hanging across the windows. I set down my luggage and walked to the kitchen for water. The minuscule galley kitchen was filled vertically; slim shelves held organic tea leaves, herbs, imported pasta noodles, and rare Chinese spices. The utensils and dishware were all artisan-made, and each piece dripped with character. How many meals had Didi cooked for me in this little kitchen? The massaged kale salad, the Ayurvedic pumpkin pie, and leftover pasta all came to my memory.

There was so much to catch up on, and I thought about how relaxed I felt with my friends. We ate dan dan noodles, and I glared enviously at their glasses of txacholi, as I sipped my water under the candlelight. Eventually, we gave in to fatigue and drifted off to a travel-induced sleep. Between the family visits, work, and train travel, I was exhausted.

I woke up the next morning, determined not to miss a moment in one of the biggest cities in the world. I immediately set off for my morning pastry crawl. We stopped for a Danish cardamom bun down the street at Smor Bakery to go on our walk to Acre in Greenpoint, passing parents rushing their children to school on their scooters. Walking into Acre feels like we’ve time-traveled to Japan. We took a seat, and I filled my journal as my husband took a work call in the outdoor garden. I had the ham and cheese croissant and snuck bites of my cardamom bun despite the signs that said “no outdoor food”.

After I had significantly processed the magnitude of the week in my journal - my entire family being in one room, clothes shopping for baby clothes at thrift shops with my best friends who held my hands through the ten years of not knowing whether we would ever get to do this, attending my niece’s library time and watching her awe at bubbles - I felt like the world was at my fingertips. We walked out of Acre with instructions from Didi to walk down Franklin Street. I immediately found a cozy bookshop called “Word” and took a photo out front. My second finding is almost just as good: a used cookbook bookshop with artisanal baking goods and fresh bread called Archestratus. If I didn’t already have a fully packed carry-on, I would have filled my luggage with books.

On our walk back to the subway, my head on a swivel, I did a double-take and saw people queuing in front of a bakery. We approached the line, and a couple told us that in a few minutes, they would be putting out the focaccia sandwiches. Say less! We devoured a cauliflower with mummara and turkey kale pesto while wrapping up a brown butter corn cake pastry to go. Only later did we find out it was the famed Radio Bakery, owned by Kelly Mencin, whose video on making sourdough we studiously followed on BonAppetit’s YouTube channel a few weeks before. It was fate.

After a stop in the public restroom at the beautiful Brooklyn Public Library, we hopped on the subway, and within 15 minutes, we were standing at Columbus Square to check out the Museum of Arts and Design. My favorite artist was shockingly the designer Jonathan Adler. He is a trained ceramacist and created art before ever working in design. I never loved his maximalist home goods for my own style, but I was drawn to the “Funkania” section of Adler’s work. He says, “I live a clean life, no drink or drugs. But, in my work, I explore a hedonistic life not lived”.

We left the museum and took a walk in Central Park. Someone was playing the trumpet, and the leaves were in peak form, and for a minute, I wondered if we should move to New York. People were whizzing by on bikes, while the pedicab drivers passed by, offering tours. Kids were playing frisbee in Sheapshead meadow, and someone was singing Beatles covers at the John Lennon memorial in Strawberry Fields. I vow to remember this perfect fall walk with my husband when it’s just the two of us.

We head back to the apartment, where Austin has left early to wait in line for 5 pm seating at Brooklyn’s coziest Mad Men-style upscale diner. We met him at Cozy Royale and tucked into a booth before ordering martinis. The conversation flows as we devour our $10 smash burgers, a simple special sauce the sole accoutrement. “Other burgers are trying too hard,” Austin says.

We head off to the West Village, where we queue up for standby tickets to the Comedy Cellar. We miss the first entry, but pass Craig Robinson carrying his music equipment on the street as he exits the club. I immediately freak out. Should I tell him how Doug “The Pontiac Bandit” Judy or Darryl Philbin got me through years of isolating and painful fertility treatment? I play it very LA girl cool and say nothing, but I hope he reads my eyes that say I’m his biggest fan.

We finally get into the late set after a round of drinks at Tokyo Record Bar where the older DJ is going off. I tell a young group of four girls, who are smushed into a two-person booth, that our table is free as we get up, and they glare at me as if I am robbing them of their cool factor. Being a pregnant woman in New York has made me feel like I’m wearing a scarlet letter. I’d heard New Yorkers call young women child brides, but at 37, I felt like a teen mom.

After following the explicit advice of the terribly overworked doorman whom we affectionately nicknamed “Pythagorus” (“Listen closely to my instructions. This is not the Pythagorean theory. If you can’t follow these instructions, you won’t get the jokes”), we finally entered the last set of the night.

We crawl into the cellar. I ducked my head and sucked in my baby bump to reach my seat in the back corner. We shared a table with a young married couple who looked like they were straight out of Utah; how could they be betrothed when they seemed like they were on their second date? The comedians delivered, and we staggered home on the L and ate late-night reheated chicken piccata with lemony pasta before drifting off to snoozeland.

The next morning, everyone was slow to move except Didi, who took the Citibike to the farmer’s market and made us a veggie frittata with a buckwheat baguette. We took one last neighborhood walk. We popped to Land to Sea for coffee and couldn’t resist splitting the pork bun. It’s so sweet and delicious. There was an adorable mother-daughter owned clothes boutique pop-up, and I browsed through their gorgeous racks, hesitating on a beautiful white cotton blouse. We stop by A&C Super for a poppy bread veggie and tahini sandwich to fuel us on the airplane. (It was on this trip that my husband affectionately referred to me as a “bread hound”). We head to Newark Airport on the train; at 34th Street, I got turned around, and a stranger pointed us in the right direction to Penn Station. I realized New Yorkers aren’t all that bad.

Thank you to for inspiring me to write this post based on this one! Have you ever had dreamy travel luck like we had this trip to NYC? My favorite things to do in a city are:

📕 Go to a bookstore

🍏 Visit a grocery store or specialty food store

🎨 Check out a concept store and find some good local artists to support

🥐 Do a neighborhood pastry crawl

What about you? What are your “must-sees” when you visit a new place?