While the current trend in noodles may well be ramen, this bafflingly-named Japanese restaurant just ten minutes from my apartment specialises in udon. Unless you are my friend Diego Zambrano it will probably take you several visits to get through all the things you need to try on the menu - the gyoza are otherworldly, the sushi 'tacos' clever enough without being silly. New York has thousands of awful Japanese places; this is not one of them. It's super nice to come in on a Sunday night and eat at the bar next to curmudgeonly old guys barking at each other in Japanese.
After his guitar class, I would ride the 1 train down and meet him for a movie. That was years ago. Now I continue to come, sometimes alone. It’s one thing I enjoy doing by myself: going to the movies to see independent films that are oftentimes bizarre and somewhat depressing, but I like it all the same.
I have old friends in San Francisco who grudgingly tell me that the High Line is everything that's wrong with New York. Well, too bad. To me, it embodies a culture that's constantly reinventing itself: a defunct elevated railway that was becoming a burden to the city ("we used to climb up there to throw garbage bags full of rotting Korean food at the Hasids!", noted a successful photographer's assistant) becoming a startling example of urban greening for the public good. The expert landscaping makes it feel like walking on a Montauk beach - but a stone's throw from some of New York's most progressive galleries and hotels.