Fried chicken. Biscuits. Sausage gravy. Artisanal root beer. House-made pickles.

Paris in Brooklyn, etc. I have to try hard not to say 'Garçon.' But either way, 'monsieur' would be more appropriate; proper French waitstaff, proper French food.

An experiential event series dedicated to working with artists to bring new ecologies to architecturally unique spaces through transcendent audio and visual performance.

Going here feels like traveling. I usually go for lunch or brunch and never leave hungry. Finish with a Cuban Cortadito.

I discovered the Frick my first week in New York, during a heat wave in August. The galleries were surprisingly empty, with only the occasional visitor strolling through the rooms, gently creaking the floorboards. I stood for a while in front of the Bronzino, a portrait of a boy standing against a background of green drapery, and then sat in the courtyard for a long, cool hour.