Bday Drinks & Pizza
We were looking for the kimchee hotdog vendor after starting at Lorely's and getting drinks at two additional bars. A couple years ago, my first winter in New York, I stumbled upon a guy with a hot dog cart and a jar of kimchee. I wanted to know this vendor's path to realizing what I already knew -- kimchee goes with everything. I told him kimchee hotdogs were genius. And I asked him how he thought of it.
He told me something about kimchee being a good relish. I gave him a look. As if he stated the most obvious fact: 1+1=2. And then he told me that he had an ex-korean girlfriend. I wasn't sure if he seemed sheepish but I gave him a reassuring punch in the arm as if that one touch said "Korean girls are crazy; relax; you're in the inner circle now." Anyway, I left him with a new idea to mull over. Kimchee tamales.
A while later, maybe a year later, I ran into the stand again. This time he had pimped out his stand with lights and professional signage. Homeboy had made some money. Kimchee hotdogs were prominently on the menu but no kimchee tamales, which explained much. Mainly the very reason that he was still a hot dog vendor. Kimchee tamales would have been franchiseable.
A booth at one of my favorite bars in the east village. Same bar from an earlier entry where the homeless man came out of the women's bathroom while I was waiting.
A shot of the corner booth. The painting on the right is an original Rodko. No, that's not a typo. I didn't mean Rothko. It's a Rodko. Go there and you'll see.
1 comment:
Rodko was Rothko's younger brother I believe. While their parents took Rothko to art classes, Rodko was forced to wait in the lobby, picking crayon nubs out of the trash can and draw miniature paints on his fingertips. His art was genius, but due to the impermanent nature of the combination of materials he was working with (water-soluble crayons and hands that had to be frequently washed, according to his mother), his prodigy was never recognized. Also, at an older age, when he attempted to translate his childlike vision onto a larger scale, a normal sized canvas, he failed. Ultimately, Rodko sold his art to his neighborhood greasy spoon to buy a suit to wear to his brother's museum receptions.
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