“It’s so cold out right now, they’re saying we need to stay in doors”, Tiffany texted me last week, a warning message filled with obvious exaggeration. The next day it “felt like summer” and now snow is taking over the city and all of it’s inhabitants Instagram feed.
Does Tiffany update me about the weather in New York City every morning? Yes, she does but it’s only in the lead up to my arrival come end of March.
It won’t be hot and sweaty like last August, when I took the photos below. It will be cold, grey and wet – like January 2014 when I swear I got frostbite on my big toes.
But I’ll seriously take New York City anyway I can get it.
Are you into scrambled eggs with parmesan and prosciutto? Who’s not!
Or maybe Belgium waffles topped with berries is more your thing? Waffles with fried eggs and bacon is mine!
Maybe you’re one of those people (my sister) who prefers to have a warm, freshly baked croissant served with cream, jam and butter before all meals?
Well, you can have all of the above and more at Buvette, which is why I’m going straight there when I land at JFK in exactly 21 days.
Buvette is the place I’ve been raving about since I was there last. The place that is so simple and oh so goddam special at the same time. The place with the dreamiest courtyard, delicious coffee and friendly staff. The place that offers small plates because you don’t need much of their food to feel completely satisfied. It’s a place that oozes romance; like you can dream up anything in the entire world and accomplish it.
It makes your feel like you could maybe, one day, write a novel as seductive as Sweetbitter.
And don’t even get me started on their branding. The box of matches I took during my last visit now have a permanent spot on my desk. It is not to be touched or used by anyone. EVER.
I will be back soon, Buvette, and this time I’m coming for your dinner and your wine.
42 Grove Street, NYC (West Village)
One of my favorite things to do while we were in New York was steal jack’s noise cancelling headphones, blast Frank Turner and roam the streets of the city taking photos. This year we arrived in New York just in time for the last snow fall of winter, stayed to see the cherry blossoms bloom and left when the sunlight drenched summer days started.
This is part one of my NYC photo journal. I miss it so much.
Click through to see more.
I used to do the exact same thing (almost) every Sunday when I lived in New York City. The Strand. It was my place. I’d spend hours going though the $1 racks, sometimes even the $2 ones, until I found at least two good books I wanted to walk away with.
What I ate before, where I got my takeaway coffee from and what I did after The Strand was always different, but my time there was special. For some reason or another I felt like I needed to go; my weekend was never complete without a visit. And as dumb as it sounds I now miss those books, they felt like friends.
I also got my copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day signed by David Sedaris himself at The Strand, so, you know. That book, the one with the title page that David (first name basis) drew a cute little steak knife in, continues to be one of my most prized possession in book form.