Alive or dead, a great place to rest in peace.

Last fall, Nicole and I were strolling down Second Avenue when we stumbled upon an imposing gate and a chance to enjoy some rare Manhattan green space. Since the gate was open, we decided to pass through the dark alley and into the light.

The alley led to a courtyard. The noise of diesel trucks, screaching tires and car horns was behind us. We had left that world--the noise and congestion of the lower east side--and entered the next, in this sunny courtyard sandwiched between Second Avenue and the Bowery.

Nicole and I took a look around, and saw perhaps the most unusual cemetery we had ever seen. The grass is green and well kept. The height restriction in this lower east side neighborhood has preserved natural sunlight in all directions, and flowers bloom. Underneath, a final (and not so) final resting place.

This stately courtyard is flanked by vaults that were purchased by affluent New Yorkers in starting in the 1830s. The vaults lead to chambers, fortified with marble stone imported from Westchester County. The families could purchase a vault in advance, knowing that they and their loved ones could rest secure in their marble palace.

Why all the stone security? Concerned with outbreaks of cholera and yellow fever, Gothamists were finally starting to get leery of burying corpses right next to sources of drinking water. A man by the name of Perkins Nichols selected a site on Second Avenue between 2nd and 3rd streets which was uptown in those days. Over time, some of the corpses were actually removed and reburied in Westchester County. The last burial at Marble Cemetery took place in 1937, and after neglect, portions of the cemetery fell in to disrepair.

Fortunately, volunteers have taken to restore the damaged walls, and some of the volunteers are descendants of the families who first purchased the rights to these vaults over 170 years ago. One such volunteer was sharing her experience with tourists.

"I'm going to be buried right there," said the volunteer, pointing towards the east wall. "Right underneath that pumpkin."

"It's like Ancient Egypt." said the tourist.

The guide didn't flinch.

"It's 19th Century New York."




Now that winter is over, the cemetery is again open for visits on the fourth Sunday of the month, noon to 4 pm, now until October. If you want a gentle respite from texting pedestrians and crazy cab drivers who seem intent on sending you to an early grave, stop on by. It may add years to your life.

Smile!

The Sky above the Bronx, April 14th, 2014.

Wandering Jew finds the Promised Land.

For this Wandering Jew (yes, actual name of plant), the natural light of the North Bronx is the promised land.

This Tradescantia Zebrina is just the latest addition to our fantastic florae. Now that Nicole and I don't have a lovely view of our neighbor looking back at us, we've started to cultivate quite the greenhouse.

Cubs, Cardinals and Blue Jays in the Bronx.

The Cubs are playing in the new Yankee Stadium this week for the first time ever. Elsewhere in the Bronx, the Cardinals and Blue Jays are always in town.

The Great Ozzie Smith waits in the batter's box.

Tony Fernandez flies towards second base.

Kudos to Nicole for catching these beautiful birds on camera!

Best Restaurant in New York State

"Grilled Polenta and Portebello? I have't tried that before."

"Then you should try it."

There are excellent seafood restaurants on City Island. The finest Italian eateries in all of New York City can be found on Arthur Avenue. Queens is the new Mecca of international food. Manhattan boasts hundreds of world-famous restaurants of all kinds.

These restaurants have all deserved their reputation. They also have one other thing in common: None of them can lie claim to the being the Best Restaurant in New York State.

Far away from the hustle and bustle of the big city, far away from the nearest train stop, airport, helipad or even a major highway, sits the Palmer House in Rennselerville, New York. After having the privilege of patronizing this fine establishment for four years now, Nicole and I can confidently say that the Palmer House is the mighty Crown atop the Empire State.



Why do I rate the Palmer House so highly? There are no throngs of crowds, it is not a hipster heaven, nor a place to spot a celebrity. We call these exhibits A, B, and C, respectively. But the Palmer is much more than just the negation of hype.

No other New York restaurant goes through the incredible lengths to provide the best total dining experience as the Palmer. The dining room offers a full view of the kitchen. No secrets here: no pre-made frozen entrees trucked in from Florida. No suspicious additives or preservatives in the food. Only the best ingredients, made in-house, cooked to perfection, served just for you.

The menu changes seasonally, with summer and fall offering the freshest specials. The Palmer has a blackboard near the bar listing all the specials, along with the name of the nearby farm where the ingredients were harvested. Those and Chicken and Biscuits? Ask the waiter, and he'll tell you where that bird came from. Seriously, who else does that?

Maintaining this level of optimum freshness and quality requires one sacrifice: The Palmer is only open four days a week in order to provide its exceptional menu and cooking methods. This commitment to quality of convenience is nothing short of admirable, and another reason why the Palmer is number 1.

Another fringe benefit: This place is so far off the grid, it's not uncommon to find out you don't have cell phone service. That's great. No texting at the table, please!

So there you have it. In my humble estimation, the Palmer House in Rennselaerville is the best--absolute best--restaurant in all of New York State. Don't believe me? That's okay. I welcome anybody to take me out and try and prove me wrong.

But in the meantime, I'll keep saying it to anyone who asks me: Palmer House, best restaurant, hands down.

Restaurant Review: Lexington Candy Shoppe

On a scale of 1 to 5, I would give this place a 10. This place is a rock, a neighborhood fixture in a place where small shops often fall victim to large skyscrapers. It has been in business since 1925.

And if they keep things up, they are staying for a long time.

Located on Lexington Avenue at 85th Street on Manhattan's upper east side, Lexington Candy Shop reminds me a little bit of the Maine Dinner. Good food, reasonably priced. Is that so much to ask for? So few restaurants can do it these days, and just stepping through the doorway into Lexington Candy is like stepping back in time. The decor has not changed much, and neither has the menu.

The folks at this luncheonette are quick to point out where they buy all of their daily bread from; Orwasher's Bakery on 78th street. All their steak is black angus. All of their food is prepared and cooked on site. It's not fast food; it's good food fast. And two people can can each buy a sandwich and walk out without paying more than $20. Not bad for Manhattan. Not bad at all.

Lexington Candy is their name and their deserts do not disappoint. Lexington Candy purchases all of their ice cream from Bassetts, a family-owned business in Philadelphia that has been serving ice cream since before refrigeration. Seriously. These guys started when Lincoln was President. Bottom line: Basset's is good. And they have resisted calls to go national to maintain the purity of their small production line. Lexington Candy uses Bassets for all sorts of malts, milkshakes and sundaes. Nicole made a good point: With so many great deserts to chose from, a repeat trip is guaranteed.

She said she would share--and then she took a sip!

Getting to Lexington Candy Shop is easy: it's just one block from the 4, 5 and 6 train stop at Lexington Avenue and 86th street.

Show Me the Birds! Part 2

Now that winter is long gone, and the sparrows that used to enjoy our birdseed have less incentive to tantalize our cats, Emma has decided to hold me directly responsible for this turn of events.

Poor thing. As much as I would find it amusing to go to the pet shop so that Emma can daintily devour a parrot, I just know that's wrong. And fortunately, Emma is easy to please. Emerson, not so much, but he is a different story.

Nicole has been so inspired by the the oddball behavior of our feline friends that she has decided to start "cat"olouging all of our adventures at difficultcats.blogspot.com. As you can see from these pictures, we have plenty of material to work with. If you have any similar experience with your cantankerous kitties, please feel free to share them with us.

Show me the birds!

Kevin, you promised me birds in this window. It would be a shame if I had to destroy you . . .

New York's Other Park Avenue

It was then--it is now no more.

El Rancho Restaurant. Formerly New York Savings Bank. Formerly Bronx Savings Bank.

It's a massive stone marble structure that dwarfs the walkups and townhomes in the neighborhood. It's Greek Columns and artistic facade almost look as if they were built yesterday; the sparkling marble reflects the sunlight and brightens the sidewalk and street. Constructed at the height of the Great Depression, the message of this building is clear: Your money is safe with us.

Bronx Savings Bank, 2014.

And yet there is no money, no bank. Only garbage and broken glass.

This relic of a vaunted financial institution stands at the intersection of East Tremont and Park Avenue. That's right. Park Avenue. From the other side of the Harlem River stretching all the way to Fordham Road in the Bronx lies New York City's other Park Avenue. 429 East Tremont Avenue is perhaps the most spectacular structure in this 3.5 mile stretch of road.

Bronx Savings Bank, circa 1945.

When Nicole and I took our epic bike trip through the backwoods of Virginia and North Carolina, we saw more than one boarded up, abandoned, stately mansion. We wondered who lived there, and how it was that something built with such care, precision, and foresight could be left to waste away.

After decades of neglect, signs of wear and tear.

But when we saw this bank in East Tremont, there was little mystery. The neighborhood's decline has been well documented. In the 1940s and early '50s, East Tremont was a haven of lower middle-class Jews who could escape the poverty of the Bowery Slums. They have moved up in the world, literally and figuratively. Some still worked in Manhattan, others quickly found jobs in their new neighborhood. Some worked at the department store, the deli, and yes, the neighborhood savings bank. That all changed when New York City's Master Builder, Robert Moses, decided to route a major highway right through the heart of the neighborhood.

Typical East Tremont apartments. The cast-iron facades are painted give an appearance of affluence.

By Robert Moses's own figures, a single mile of the Cross-Bronx Expressway through East Tremont would necessitate  the outright destruction of 1,530 apartments of which contained 5,000 residents (some say the figure was higher). As people were forced out of their homes, the abandoned apartment buildings quickly became a target for thieves and vandals before finally succumbing to the wrecking ball. Many who weren't forced to leave hated and feared what their neighborhood had become, and simply chose to leave. As if this wasn't enough, East Tremont was delivered a final, fatal blow in the 1970s when mayor Abe Beame ordered the demolition of the 3rd Avenue El, severing subway access to and from the neighborhood. The bank ceased operation a few years later.

Vicente Medina surveys El Rancho, shortly before its grand opening in 2004.

And yet, incredibly, this was not the end for 429 East Tremont. In 2004, a Mexican immigrant by the name of Vicente Medina chose the former bank as the location for El Rancho restaurant. "I'll serve steaks and seafood," Medina said in the Sept. 21st, 2004 issue of the New York Times. "It will be like City Island."

City Island is a fairly prosperous neighborhood. East Tremont is not. El Rancho is no more. The artwork from restaurant is peeling, its gaudy, diner-style shiny, glass-covered everything is falling to pieces, and water damage is eating away at the ceiling. It's over for El Rancho.

Glitter and broken dreams are all the remains of El Rancho Restaurante.

Will this be the end for 429? Let's hope not. May another dreamer like Medina--or perhaps even Medina himself--have more success next time. Call me crazy, but if we can't so much as dream, what can we do?

What does the future hold?

Lexington Avenue LOV!

The smart fans practically had the car all to themselves.

Underneath Grand Central Terminal on the platform of the Lexington Avenue Express, we were waiting. The train was at least half an hour overdue. The early birds were losing their patience.

The crowd swelled as more eager Yankee fans lined up for the express train to 161st Street. At least half a dozen out-of-towners stood right behind me while a "5" train squeaked and squealed as it stopped on the platform.

"Is this the train?" They weren't asking me. Mistake.

"No," said the self-appointed one. "See how all these Yankee fans aren't getting on the train? We need the next one. I can tell: I'm smart."

Smart you are, I thought to myself. She didn't notice that more than half of the people in Yankee attire didn't bother to board the next--and very crowded-- "4" train. My noisy, temporary neighbors left. They got no LOV.

A few minutes later, the trucks rumbled and an applause broke out. The Lo-V train was here!

Vintage. Classic. Pride and Tradition. An original Lo-Voltage New York City subway train was ready for its annual trip from Grand Central to Yankee Stadium to mark opening day.

As soon we got on, it was clear that MTA was relaxing its no-photography policy, and everybody took at least two dozen photos. And why not? These original New York City Subway Trains were beauty to the core: Padded seats, ceiling fans, and advertisements that promoted aftershave and candy instead of breast implants and divorce.

The car I was riding was built in 1924, just a few months after my Bronx-born grandfather entered this world. I thought about him as the subway raced underneath Lexington Avenue on its way to Yankee Stadium. I thought about grandpa Donohue and his stories about seeing Lou Gehrig and Joe Dimaggio at the old Yankee Stadium. I speculated what the odds were that he rode this very train. I thought about the time when he took my to my first Yankee game in 1990.

The padded seats were comfortable. I felt like I was riding in my father's 1942 Ford station wagon. However, these old cars did nothing to filter out the noise. The whir of the train as it whooshed through the tunnel was deafening, so much so that the clickety-clack of the tracks was reduced to mere background noise. It didn't stop people from socializing, but it did require having to shout just make yourself heard. The ride was drafty, too. So much so that we felt a cool breeze along the way. Between the noise and the draft, it felt like riding in the Subway equivalent of a convertible!

Finally, as if turning on a light switch, we were above ground. From the window, we could see the original grass from the old Yankee Stadium. Across the street, the new Cathedral was ready. We were ready.

We stepped off the train. Yankee baseball, 2014 here we come!

Texas!!

File this one under "Inadvertent Subway Art."

D Train Stop at 205th is just a few tiles short of the Lone Star State.

Old New York vs. New New York

I had the pleasure of walking up Lexington Avenue this afternoon when I spotted a case study in New York City Contrast: It's old versus its new.

In the old corner stands a vintage three-story townhouse. Eats Restaurant and Bar occupies the first floor, and the second and third floor are private residences with beautiful bay windows that seem to splash into the cityscape.

In city defined by modernity, a prominent holdout.

In the New Corner stands the Sienna, a 31-story skyscraper. For $2.6 million, you can buy a condo there. Quite frankly, knowing that the townhouse atop Eats Restaurant is around the corner, someone would have to pay $2.6 million to live in the Sienna. But that's just me.

Then again, the Sienna isn't bad looking--it's just a generic skyscraper. Just a few blocks north of Eats lies what is probably the ugliest addition to a building I've ever seen. Then again, maybe I just don't get around much. Has anybody seen anything worse than this? If so, please share!

Guest submissions are open to find the ugliest building extension ever.

Just across the street from this Frankenbuilding, the contrast continues, and it is a case study as to why some things are better left alone. Vintage coke bottles line the window, Neon Lights advertise the business to pedestrians, and inside, one can sit and a bar stool and order a sandwich. The setting was worthy of Rockwell. Most people just walked on by.

It looks like I found a new place to eat lunch.

It's easy for one to wax poetic about Old New York. A place with open windows instead of air conditioning, and trolleys dominated the streets instead of Toyotas. Where the only two skyscrapers where the Chrysler Building and the Empire State. A different time. Ironically, Manhattan was more populous then--before the construction of Robert Mousing Housing Projects and Donald Trump towers. The population of Manhattan Island stood at 1.96 million in 1950. As of the most recent census, that number stands at 1.58 million.

The past versus the present. I thought about this contrast as I road the subway home. As I contemplated, two young girls were on the way home from school. As the 5 train emerged from its subterraneon tracks to its elevated perch atop Westchester Avenue, their faces lit up like Christmas Trees.

"The zoo!" They exclaimed as they pointed out the window. "The zoo!" They ran to the other side of the subway car, and their jubilation continued. "They lake" they shouted. "The lake!" (Okay, it was actually the Bronx River, but I was in no mood to be pedantic).

Then they broke into song. "Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I'll love you, tomorrow!"

Their young voices harmonized beautifully, as if they had practiced like seasoned professionals. I smiled. Yes, New York has its sepia-toned past. It has the present.

And it has tomorrow.

African Safari in bloom at Bronx Zoo

Recently, someone asked me if I had been to the Central Park Zoo lately. Central Park has a fine zoo, as does Prospect Park. Both are fine if you happen to be in the neighborhood. As a destination, the Bronx Zoological Society is King of the Pack. To get the zoo experience one is looking for, timing can also prove crucial. 

Just this winter Nicole and I were enjoying a snowy day in the Bronx Zoo when a married couple approached us. "There are animals, here, right?" Asked the husband.

Yes, we assured them. Unfortunately, they had walked the entirety of the zoo's African collection--all of which takes a break during the winter months. Come spring, the giraffes, baboons and hyenas all come back to join their fair-weathered friends.

The Bronx Zoo is a relatively short walk from Metro-North's Fordham Station. If you're driving and you arrive early enough, you can also likely score free curbside parking on Southern Boulevard. It's always a good time to visit, and if you want to know why the northeast is having a late spring this year, well, I think I have an idea as to who ate the lamb . . . 

Was it the tigers . . .

Could it have been the bears?

Maybe it was this guy.

Update: Despite the weather forecast, today was sunny and warm. It looks like the lion sat down with lamb after all, and we can look forward to perfect harmony!

Plenty of love to go around.

He's no April Fool!

No Joke: Twice in the last month, Nicole and I were sightseeing in the Bronx when wild turkeys paraded on by. They tend to do that in our neck of the woods.

A large male wild turkey flaunts his feathers at Woodlawn Cemetery.

Why the influx? As recently as 2007, towns like White Plains as Scarsdale were dumping raw sewage into the Bronx River. No longer. And with the waste out of the way, turkeys are some of the largest birds that we have seen to take advantage of the cleaner waterway.