In Search of the Elusive Romanian Jew

So I really needed to check out this Sammy's Roumanian place. Alex's parents came to eat here 20+ years ago and, from first impressions, it really seems like it's the type of place that never changes. Halfway between 2 AM at a Bar Mitzvah and "Christmas" dinner with your Jewish friends, Sammy's is one of those quintessential NYC joints that makes us newbies wax nostalgic about the good ol' days (pre- Bloomberg, pre-Giuliani, crazy, coked out, dangerous & dirty New York)...

Wine...so far, promising.
There's literally, 8 things on the menu. Steak (single or double size), latkes, stuffed cabbage and chopped liver. You must be willing to clog your arteries and be slightly weirded out when you contemplate eating here.

me, eating my stuffed cabbage rolls, which I regret I ordered in lieu of the steak.
Not because they weren't good - my grandmother's are just better.

The double steak - it flops off the sides of the plate and is covered in butter and garlic.

David and the steaks, with the latkes & applesauce and pickled tomato appetizer.
The pickles tomatoes, unlike the cabbage, was exactly how I remember eating them growing up.

We finished up the meal with an egg cream (chocolate syrup, seltzer water and milk).
A really tongue-tasty culinary experience. Not refined, not cultured, but who wants to be in this economy?

Caught!

eating my cake.

Broken Apartment

Ever since moving to my new place back in May, I feel like Jekyll/Hyde. I love my apartment. I hate my apartment. I love my side-view of Central Park. I hate the rotted, warped floors. I love my big kitchen. I hate my teeny bedroom. I love my huge closet. I hate cockroaches.

I love the flea market across the street. I hate scary alley pigeons. I love Shake Shack. I hate the long lines at the Shake Shack. I love Loehmann’s and Filene’s Basement and Westside Markets. I hate Pinkberry. I guess those are just my neighborhood, not my apartment but I feel an all-encompassing neutral energy about the whole thing. This is how it is in Manhattan. Unless you have bajillions of dollars, nothing is your way and every positive moment is canceled out by a low blow. I love that I live in a better neighborhood, closer to work, closer to bars, closer to everything and I pay, on average, less that I did before. And now I have turtles. But,


The old-timey heater exploded and shot steam all over our bedroom. That thing on the ground is supposed to keep that from happening. And this is a staged picture - that thing flew off into our laundry hamper!