There’s nowhere to go dance in Manhattan.
I know this because a Gen Y Lower East Side hipster told me so himself, so it must be true. I find this remarkable considering that we’re in the midst of a pretty serious recession, a time when you’d think people, especially high strung New Yorkers, would want to blow off steam by letting loose on the dance floor and, oh yeah, this is also one of the biggest cities in the world. You’d think SURELY there’d be a thriving underground scene somewhere.
New York, it turns out, IS the city that sleeps. It’s tucked into bed by 10:30 p.m right after Law & Order Criminal Intent.
It seems that the dominant mode of unwinding here now is through food. I knew NYC foodie culture was big, but I didn’t realize to what extent until I noticed just how many chefs and artisanal confectioners, jam makers and cheesemongers have sprung up, a good percentage of whom look like they’re 26 years old! It seems like it’s a very “in” thing to do; start your own artisanal food company. Which is exciting, it’s thrilling, but the flip side is that there’s an undercurrent of trendiness to it all. And I’m of the mind that trendy food isn’t necessarily good food. Especially if you graduated culinary school 6 months ago.
Culinary “takedowns” are all the rage, according to people in this scene. DIY-obsessed hipsters compete to see who can make the best apple pie, the best ironic casserole dish, the best mac and cheese, the best batch of pickles, etc. My coauthor Kelly had to judge one these competitions — an apple pie contest — and she said that NOT one pie out of 54 entrants stood out. They were all undercooked, under or overspiced. I’ve heard of one competition where hirsute Brooklyn butchers — who are like the gods of this culinary scene, I swear — compete to see who can chop up a pig the fastest in front of a large crowd of people. It’s an interesting contradiction when you think how much attention is paid to the ethical treatment of the animal, how it was raised, what it’s diet consisted of, how much access to fresh air it had when alive, only to see it lacerated in a gory festival of blood and guts for sport. At the end of the day, it becomes just another big swinging dick contest.
