When my editors and I were finishing up last week's story about Alex Rodriguez's (and agent Scott Boras's) hold on Yankees Nation, our main concern was whether we spelled "vituperate" correctly (we had) and whether anyone had taken a photo of Yankees COO Lonn Trost in the last ten years (apparently not). The piece was meant to capture a unique snapshot in the history of a team that has owned this town for a decade, a once-dictatorial enterprise facing a pivotal moment and held hostage by the best baseball player on the planet and his evil-genius agent. I didn't expect much fuss.
But when the Post printed an excerpt from the story in its Sunday editions about discussions Boras had with a group trying to buy the Chicago Cubs, saying Boras had talked about A-Rod potentially owning a piece of the team after his career ended, I was sucked into the all-too-familiar sports-news-cycle vortex.
Fabio Trabocchi gained fame, and a James Beard award, for his modern Italian food at Maestro in Virginia. Now, he's Michael White’s replacement at Fiamma, and his contemporary take on porchetta, the most intensely rural and down-market of dishes, is a fair example of Trabocchi’s style: “In Italy, porchetta is a pig on a spit with wild fennel. It’s either boned and stuffed in a meat-loaf shape or opened up, like a book, on a spit. It’s something we tried to reinvent with a modern version without losing the original flavors.” As always, mouse over the different elements to see them described in the chef’s own words.
New York ran into Chloë Sevigny at Public last night, at the party for Sebaka Wines. We were like, "Chloë, how arrrrre you." Then we went ahead and asked her how she feels about all the people who have been making fun of the fashion line she recently debuted at Opening Ceremony. Her reaction was totally hippie meets hip-hop, a little bit like the look she is rocking on the left. "There will always be haters," she said. "I'm just living my life." —Andrew Goldstein
Line of succession is not usually a big deal on the municipal level, but with a mayor who acts increasingly, shall we say, presidential, the question does arise: Who's in charge when Bloomie's out of town? Today's Times notes a weirdly undemocratic wrinkle in the protocol. Normally, first deputy Patricia Harris picks up the reins. How about when she's also out of town, though, as she will be tonight? Well, in those cases, the job of running the world's capital goes to some dude. Or lady. Bloomberg won't say who among his staffers is next in line to the throne. Moreover, he pretty much asks us not to worry our pretty little heads about it: He's always in control. After all, his private jet probably has Bloomberg Terminals installed.
Ingrid Calame's From #210 Drawing (Tracings up to the L.A. River) defies Jackson Pollock's chance-driven splatter method by taking its inspiration from specific graffiti and paint spills found on city streets.
Ah, how time gets away from us! It was only one year ago that Grub Street began. How we long for those innocent days of yore! We poked through our archives, and, while we had to put a few personal favorites aside, here’s our short list of Grub Street’s Greatest Hits.
Greenpoint: Got a crack problem? Call the Crack Pros! [Newyorkshitty]
Highbridge: After it demolished Macombs Dam Park to make way for the new Yankee Stadium, the city put up a replacement — but it's not easy to get to and pretty nasty once you get there. [VV via West Bronx Blog]
Murray Hill: Looks like the SUNY-Binghamton biz-major girls with the blowouts finally have their very own East Side bar(f) guide. [East Village Idiot]
South Slope: That Enrique Norten condo slated for Fourth Avenue and 6th Street won't happen after all … but another Norten proceeds apace nearby on Carroll. [Brownstoner]
Upper East Side: Buttercream or vanilla-bean icing on that wedding cake? Roasted cod at Café D'Alsace? This poor UES gal faces hard choices that make Sophie's look silly. [Sex and the Upper East Side]
West Village: Thanks to a new street plaza, you can lounge in the meatpacking district without spending $20 on a drink … if you don't mind mainlining car-exhaust fumes. [Streetsblog]
Williamsburg: Redevelopment of the Domino Sugar plant could double the population within a quarter-mile radius. Twice the pseudo-hipsters, twice the fun! [Gowanus Lounge]
Dumbo: Pie Social! This Sunday at Bubby's! Noon to 3 p.m. [Dumbo NYC]
East Village: Mo Pitkin’s gives up the ghost October 20. [Eater]
Greenwich Village: One of the best places to get risotto in the city is … surprise! Risotteria. [amNY]
Meatpacking District: The first rule of Clubland: "You must bring something to the party … Good looks, money, personality, or women." [NYDN]
Upper East Side: Payard chef Philippe Bertineau is resurrecting classics like bouillabaisse and crispy pig’s feet for the restaurant’s tenth anniversary. [Restaurant Girl]
West Village: A Radar mole tests the cocaine limits of popular nightspots and "here he is at Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter’s Waverly Inn, where it is apparently completely okay to get your snort on." [Radar via Gawker]
Jimmy Rodriguez, the man behind the late, legendary Jimmy’s Bronx Café wants to open an outpost of his midtown joint Sofrito same concept, same Puerto Rican menu. “I’m looking all over the city for something next year,” he tells us. He has considered a former club space in Chelsea, but he’s still open to anything below 96th Street.
Last night we flipped on MSNBC, hoping to unwind with a little To Catch a Predator, but alas, the presidential debates were in full swing. We sure tuned in at the right time, though: Hillary Clinton, known for being the most well-rehearsed and cautious Democratic candidate, turned positively Rumsfeldian. She adamantly refused to answer “hypotheticals” — basically anything about what she would do as president. She dodged all difficult, potentially controversial questions through the rote repetition of universally agreed-upon generalizations (Hillary is for fiscal responsibility and fighting terrorism, in case you were wondering). But it was when she refused to answer a question about baseball that her reticence became truly absurd. When Clinton, a Chicago native, was pressed by host Tim Russert on who she would root for in a Yankees vs. Cubs World Series, she hedged her bets: "Well, I would probably have to alternate sides," she said. Jeez, lady. At least Bill knew he preferred briefs. Bush’s “The Decider” persona may suck, but Hillary’s “Undecider” routine is getting just as tired. —Dan Amira