Bliss is a Miss

I wanted to like Bliss, I really did.

When they opened in the late summer of 2005 on the corner of 46th Street and Skillman Avenue where the former Jaunting Car Pub used to stand, it was one of the first signs that our little neighborhood was changing. Soon after came the much beloved Sunnyside Garden Farms market across the street, and then Bliss' rival restaurant, Quaint just down Skillman Avenue. Lynn and I first ate at Bliss shortly after they opened, eager to show our support for a new local restaurant. On our first visit, the service was great - the server was attentive, gave us a run down of the wine list, the beers available (both bottles and on tap), and the specials.We were both fairly pleased with the experience, despite the fact that as vegetarians we could only order one item from the menu - the fresh mushroom ravioli appetizer, as our main course, which we liked. Since it was a bit pricey and since the menu didn't change over the next year to include other vegetarian entrees, we didn't return until recently. Instead we often favored Bliss' neighbor Quaint, which opened in early 2006. Quaint has a slightly more diverse menu (though still lacking in the veg department), has a nicer atmosphere, and is a bit more affordable.

On our most recent visit back to Bliss things had changed. The flimsy card stock menus were splattered with red wine stains, there was no wine or drink list, and they had taken out the beers on tap which left them offering only Amstel, Coors Light, Bud Light and Corona, which made the place feel more like Applebee's than a "new-American bistro" as described by the New York Times. It took ages for the wait staff (who were nothing but polite and friendly) to take our drink orders, ages for our drinks to arrive, and ages for our food to arrive. And they were not that busy. Again, Lynn and I had the mushroom ravioli appetizer as our entree, but this time Lynn noted that the sauce tasted like "a mix of butter and dijon mustard." Our dining companions who are not vegetarian were only a little more adventurous. One had the salmon, which was nicely presented and was reported to be very good. The other had their hamburger. While I did not sample the burger, the bun looked like it came from a 12-pack of Wonder buns they bought across the street at Sunnyside Garden Farms and the pickle slices on the side looked sickly and pale, as if they had been sitting in a jar for a decade or more. While it didn't quite redeem the experience completely, I admit their chocolate mousse dessert was tasty.

It's surprising that in the face of some stiff competition with Quaint, Bliss didn't try to step things up a bit - shake up their menu, lower their prices a smidge, have more interesting drinks and specials. Instead they have done the complete opposite - they have stagnated, taken away drink options and let their service slide. It's no wonder then that their busiest night of the week is Tuesday - the one night Quaint is closed. On other nights when we walk by, Bliss is sadly empty while Quaint is hopping. It makes me wonder how long Bliss can survive. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like it would be sorely missed.

(Here's what Wesley had to say about Bliss last year. I wish I could say they've come a long way since ...)

There's No Place Like Home

Despite the fact that we live in one of the biggest cities in the world, witness to crazy scenarios, commutes, and people, I often find myself most shocked when we leave our little metropolis and head to one of those distant lands called "suburbia."

Determined not to spend another weekend confined to a ten block area so as not to have to join our Queens brethren on the boulevard waiting for a bus, Paul and I decided to finally use the secondhand car we recently purchased (despite agonizing over giving up a parking spot) and take a day trip to lands far and wide. We headed to New Hope, Pennsylvania about an hour and a half away, as we had heard it was "cute."

Cute it was, though after two hours of walking around town, eating mediterranean food commenting "it's OK but not as good as Turkish Grill," and realizing New Hope really constituted the hope of many aging artists to lure well-off Manhattanites into purchasing overpriced art, antiques and stained glass, we decided to head back toward civilization.

Along the way to civilization we had to stumble through New Jersey where I nearly caused a traffic accident when I screamed out in glee at the sight of a Wegmans supermarket. A sight I haven't seen since I graduated college in upstate New York. I made Paul pull over and we proceeded to spend about as much time as we had in New Hope roaming around this "super-Wegs" that came replete with a toy train running overhead, free samples, and an attached beer and liquor store.

A cross between Whole Foods and Costco, but with cheaper prices and less "bulk" the store was a city dweller's dream. The natives, aka New Jersey soccer moms, navigated the aisles like I navigate the subway tunnels, whereas Paul and I walked around, mouths agape, unsteadily operating a shopping cart, like cold war Russians brought into a Walmart warehouse. One woman even remarked "Why is it so crowded here today, you would think they are giving away stuff for free."

Meanwhile I looked around at the 7 foot wide aisles devoid of pedestrian and cart traffic. I wanted to pick that lady up and drop her into the middle of the Queens Blvd Food Dynasty with a full size shopping cart with aises half as wide and people smushed twice as deep to really show her what "crowded" was. I felt like we had come from a poor country to the land of plenty. I

n an effort to locate a bottle of salad dressing I found myself separated from Paul and lost like a little girl on an afterschool special. After 15 minutes of aisle roaming I had to call him and said "help I'm lost in aisle 17 with a bottle of storebrand fat free thousand island dressing and 16 New Jersey soccer moms, grab the cart, pick me up and lets head back to the real world, where you walk to the store, buy just what you need, and don't have to deal with THESE people."

So while it is nice to get away now and then, everytime I leave I realize I should've just stayed home and learned the lessen the Wizard of Oz taught me years ago. There's no place like home, and no place like Queens!

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Saints on the Boulevard

We love our car, a 1988 VW Fox that Wesley bought just a few months after we started dating. She's been to Maine, Ohio, Pennsylvania a bunch of times, in to Jersey down to Maryland, and all around our great state of New York. She helps Wesley haul things for work, and takes us to visit our friends across the creek in Williamsburg. But she's a bit of a thoroughbred, and we've developed a good relationship with the folks at Manners Motors, off of Northern Boulevard on 45th Street and 34th Ave. We call our car Ellen Johnson, and we call the stretch of road over the bridge back to our side of the Boulevard "The Ellen Johnson Walk of Despair."

Yesterday I had to pick EJ up from Manners so I called Bliss 48 to take me over there. Got the car, drove home, no problem. I was headed to a party in Ditmas Park, and since the 7 train is all screwed up, the plan was to drop the car off in LIC proper and catch the E/V into Manhattan where I'd then get the D, the ultimate goal being to transfer to the R. Wesley's lot is over there, and since he was working an overnight he'd be bringing the truck back around 5 am, where EJ would be waiting for him to ferry him home. (I split a car home with 3 W'burg friends that cost us over $40, all told.)

My first stop was Lowery's, where I picked up a bottle of Pinot Noir to contribute to the soiree, a girl's only Valentine's Day party hosted by a dear friend I don't see nearly enough of. Then, I set off down the Boulevard.

I was cruising in one of the middle lanes, when all of a sudden I couldn't see. My brain could not immediately process what was happening, but instinctively I knew not to slam on the brakes. The front hood had flown up in my face, blocking my vision. I flicked my hazards on and used my rear mirrors to determine when I could come to a halt without getting rearended. I knew I had some time before I reached a red light so my chances of killing a pedestrian in the crosswalk were negligible.

I'm in the middle of Queens Boulevard, across from the McDonald's at 38th Street, and I get out to put the hood down. I can't get it down--it's stuck on the windshield wipers. I'm tugging and tugging and realize I'm in danger of having it slam on my fingers. People are driving past me and honking at me, which is really just so very rude, don't you think? I have no idea what to do. I tend to panic in car-related situations, and the tears start to come and turn into a full-fledged panic attack with hyperventilating.

At this point, enter the good Samaritans. 2 cars stopped for me--3 very, very nice men who calmed me down, and who wrestled with the front hood until it came down. They offered to call AAA for me, but I had my AAA card so they just made room for me to make the left hand turn into the parking area under the 7 train. I called Wesley, who advised me to pay for the meter until 10 pm and that he'd deal with the car on Sunday. I did just that, then took the bus at 38th Street to Queens Plaza, where I got the R to the Q and was at the party an hour later. And, boy, did I drink that Pinot Noir.

Many thanks to you for stopping, whoever you may be. I hope something good comes back to you because of it.

One Day a Week is All Nita Asks

I posted previously on my failed attempt to get a donut from Nita's Bakery on Greenpoint Ave. They only sell them on Sunday.
Do you want to know why the only sell them on Sunday?
Because they kick motherfucking ass, that's why.

Repair or Despair: Stranded by the 7 Train

I love Queens. I love Sunnyside. That said, occasionally, on long weekends, or say, every weekend in the month of March, I do occasionally like to leave the area, even if it is to just go deeper into Queens and grab some Indian food in Jackson Heights. Unfortunately the MTA has decided for the next 6 weeks or so the area of queens reliant on the 7 train is under house arrest where no one is allowed in or out.

In an effort to not leave us completely stranded the MTA was kind enough to provide us with shuttle busses in addition to the normal bus lines that come through the area. While I may not be an MTA thought leader, I wonder by what calculation those thought leaders came up with the idea that a BUS would be able to accommodate as many people as a 10 car subway train?

Now I know that work needs to be done on the train and platform, which is most evident on the Queensbound 45th road platform where large chunks of the concrete floor continue to go missing, though are covered up by large pieces of wood. But is there not a better way that this work can be done?

Would east siders tolerate the 4, 5 and 6 trains being out of commission for an entire weekend? Would the city tolerate this as it would likely strand and inconvenience thousands of tourists? Our subway system has been in existence for over 100 years, yet after all that time they can't figure out a way to make repairs?

So while the title of this blog is Let's Meet Up In Queens, you better have your own transportation to get here!

Hi, I'm Satan and This is My Home Depot

Hello, Queens. Satan here. Just wanted to let you know that I've opened up shop in Long Island City. It's a little place I like to call 'Home Depot.' Now, recently I've heard some grumblings about my humble shoppe, and I'd like to address these concerns now before things get out of hand and result in say, an angry torch-bearing mob ready to destroy every thing in it's path. We wouldn't want that, now would we? So, to wit, I offer my apologies and resolve to fix the following as soon as I am able to get away from this puppy mill.

The parking lot. My minions somehow managed to make entering hell, er Home Depot, a bit tricky. I assure you that they DID NOT intentionally design the lanes to go from one to two lanes, make one of those lanes a turn-only lane and the other too short to make a safe turn from. Why one lane stops in the middle of oncoming flow of traffic? I couldn't tell you. It makes no sense to me either. But, rest assured, we're working on it.

We are also making every effort to rid the lot of all the large, graffiti-covered moving trucks. We would also like to apologize that these trucks make it impossible to turn into the parking aisles without being able to see oncoming traffic. We did NOT intentionally make every turn blind. It simply isn't true. We're not EVIL, here. For cryin' out loud, people. I was an Angel at One Time!

As for the shopping carts. Or,as Tiffany From The Gardens likes to say, fingers up and arching ironically, "Shopping Carts". Do you think we don't KNOW that there's not any shopping carts? We know this. Any idiot can see that there's no "Shopping Carts", Tiffany. Then, why, do you ask, do my minions send you out into the parking lot to look for a "Shopping Cart" when they know you will find none? THEY'RE MINIONS! THIS IS WHAT THEY DO! Hello! Futile Efforts While We Laugh Quietly????? We wrote that book, Tiffany.

Wait. I'm sorry. I mean, we're getting more shopping carts. We want you to shop. We want you to buy many large-ticket items. Yes. We are getting more shopping carts. Real shopping carts. Without the locked wheels. And, we're going to have people - very concerned people - to help you with these large things. And, we'll have them push the carts out to your car and we'll put them in the car and these 'people' will wave while you drive away...

Where was I?
Oh, my Minions. I mean Associates.
Did you ever think that maybe they only look and act like they're not concerned? C'mon, people. Sometimes there's such a thing as irony. All you assholes, gentrifying the neighborhood and you think you're the only ones with a sense of irony. For cryin' out loud. My associates have worked very hard on their sense of irony and if it manifests itself in seemingly passive-aggressive behavior peppered with the occasional outburst of profanity directed at NO ONE IN PARTICULAR, then I think you should work with them on that.

Oh, and we're firing all of them anyway and replacing them with gentle souls who know where everything is and will help you find it.

But, we will continue to test for drugs.

And, as for the item(s) that you cannot find on every trip? It's out of stock, dude. Get used to it.

Fuck all of you.

I mean, have a nice day. Please come back soon.

A 7 Train Experiment

The 7 train at 40th Street is usually a nightmare on weekday mornings. Too many people, not enough trains. I hit the platform between 7:45 and 8 am, and I've often had to let 2 or 3 trains go by before I can actually squeeze on to one. Everyone is in a bad mood (me included), and in the recent cold weather tempers have been flaring.

This week, I attempted an experiment. I hopped a Flushing-bound 7 train to 61st Street, and got the Manhattan-bound train there. Instead of standing on the platform freezing, I was warm and toasty on the train, reading my book. The Manhattan-bound express was crowded, but it was nothing compared to the crowds that I was seeing on the local platforms. I ran this experiment on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, and it basically took me the same amount of time. Or if it took longer, it felt less stressful.

I'm not sure yet if this is a winning strategy or not. Anyone else have tips for mastering the morning commute?

The Greatest Move Of All

Wesley and I just moved--but before you scorn us for deserting a neighborhood we claim to love so much, we only moved 7 houses down. Our former apartment was the top floor of a 2 family home that housed 3 families: a studio apartment in the basement, a 2-bedroom on the first floor, and a 2.5-bedroom on the 2nd floor. Friends of Wesley's discovered the place about 10 years ago, with Wesley moving in about 5 years ago (he had previously lived on another block in Sunnyside on the other side of the Boulevard). I arrived on the scene around the time of our wedding in December 2003, fresh from the West Village and full of attitude.

I had lived at the corner of Bedford and Leroy since April 1997, and before that I lived on the other side of Washington Square Park in NYU graduate housing. When I moved to Sunnyside, I was surprised and amazed at how wonderfully quiet it was. At my old place, there were 2 bars about 20 yards from my bedroom window, and I was frequently woken up in the middle of the night by cigarette smoke (post-smoking ban) and couples breaking up with each other. My favorite was a woman screaming, "You get back here and break up with me properly!"

Despite the loudness and chaos of the Wee-Vill, as my one roommate and I called it, I loved the convenience. I used to walk to the movie theater on 23rd and Broadway, or down to jobs I had in Tribeca. I was right around the corner from Film Forum, Grey Dog Coffee, and Evergreen Video. When we went out, if one bar was too crowded, we went to another. I could get delivery from a hundred restaurants.

Sunnyside couldn't have been more different. The movie theater is a dump that plays only the most commercial releases. My video store is Netflix--Hollywood Video is too far a walk, and the closer video store has no selection because its primary business is cell phone accessory sales. As for delivery? We have about 5 menus in heavy rotation: Mexican made by the Chinese, decent Thai, not-spicy-enough-for-Wesley Indian, pizza, and New Post Diner. Occasionally we splurge on Turkish or sushi.

If you read the articles on Sunnyside in this week's Time Out New York or today's New York Times and find yourself curious about life in our neighborhood, please take caution from this transplanted Manhattanite: Life here is not easy like it is across the East River. You will have to adapt. You will have to change. You will become a different person. This place doesn't look like Manhattan, it doesn't feel like Manhattan, and--surprise!--it doesn't have to be anything at all like Manhattan to be a wonderful place to live. If this scares you, then don't bother: there's a whole other borough to the south that you'll like better.

As for me, I like to think I've changed for the better. I'm thriftier, less demanding, more accommodating. In Manhattan, I thought I hated to cook. In Queens, I discovered my inner Top Chef.

Back to our move. In the last year, our living situation degenerated largely due to an absentee landlord who didn't care about livability. It used to be funny--his repairs were always done shoddily with the cheapest material available. There was a leak into the basement that he fixed by repaving the sidewalk. The result is an uneven patch that fills up with water whenever there's even the tiniest amount of rain. We called it "Cunniffe-manship." But when the first-floor neighbors proved unwilling to turn their music down and our landlord refused to stand up for our right to live in peace, we were at a loss. Our home life was fraught with tension; our peaceable kingdom had become a warzone.

Enter the old-fashioned concept of neighborliness. There are a lot of older people on our block, many of whom were born in their homes. Wesley has always said "hi," learned their names, even pitched in with the snow shovel when necessary. I guess we were not the only ones who noticed that the folks on the first floor were uninterested in community standards, because Wesley got stopped by one of our neighbors back in November. M. asked, "Are you happy where you're living?" Wesley said, "Why?" She said, "Because P's top floor apartment is going to be available. Her tenants are moving out." We met P, just seven houses down, who couldn't have been happier to rent the apartment to someone who already lived on the block. Her previous tenants spoke highly of their experience renting from P, who lives on the first floor and has the entry way beautifully fixed up. We walked our stuff down the street on Thursday, and here we are.

Watch for forthcoming posts on the Carpet City on Northern Boulevard (take that, Home Depot!), as well as an update on the situation at the YMCA. One of the managers called me to assure me that things would be changing for the better. I haven't been in a month because of illness and travel, but I'm headed back today to resume my 4x/week running schedule.