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Barberry Chic, Williamsburg

I am not a foodie or a cinephile or a fashion whore. I don't get into the minutiae of how to mix the perfect throw-back cocktail and I can't speak technically or at length about significant responsive differences of surfboard shapes. I am not interested in cars, specialized bicycles or the current music scene. I am not an especially good surfer, not an especially competent soccer player and I am given to procrastination, neurosis and overreaction with an acute sense of surely impending injustice. I suffer from allergies that are seasonal so long as the season is understood to encompass the whole year. My teeth are yellowing, if not yellow, and I have the sort of oily/dry skin combination that is not to die for. I am shit at paying bills and making dinner plans. I am, however, keenly aware of what it is, on the whole, that I in fact do like. For instance, I love my son and wife immensely. Ridiculously. Whether they know it or not, I am fantastic at this. But beyond that, I believe I have (for my tastes anyhow) a fantastic sense of good people and good place. I have written on this blog of Zebulon many times. Jef has opened the doors there for morning coffee, croissants and the delicate kind of environs perfect for the morning paper. If you are looking for an out of the way place to feel like you are out of the way in the morning, I urge you to make that place a matinal habit. The demise of Allioli on Grand Street fairly mirrored the demise of Old Time Williamsburg. Diego reopened a restaurant on Berry Street at Metropolitan and it has gone through more than a few unfortunate, if often delicious, iterations. A Turkish small-plate spot turned into the Spanish small-plate spot turned into the unfortunately named Zipi Zape. I would ride my bike by, say hello to these guys and promise them I'd come by for a drink, knowing that one, I don't really go out for a drink, and two, I don't really go out. The other day, walking home, I stopped by again saying my hellos, and before making my usual promise, we talked about the recession, bad business and other harrowing details. As we laughed at the clarion call by leaders of certain countries to ignore the financial woes by getting down to some serious wanton shopping, the thought struck me that really, people do need to get out at a time like this. Not to spend money, but to talk. What our leaders ought to be asking is for us to get out of our apartments and sip a beer or a coffee with friends. Go out and put down five dollars for a pint and some company. Talk and scheme and bullshit and connive. Make plans and dream up scenarios. Just get out into the street and connect.
I reckon I very well might keep my promise this time.