The Wander List

a daily guide to wanderlust in the city

Watch Fireworks on the Hudson July 7, 2009

One of six barges prepares to launch fireworks over the Hudson.

One of six barges prepares to launch fireworks over the Hudson.

After weeks of rain, the sky cleared up. Six barges floated imperceptably along the Hudson River, preparing for the country’s biggest pyrotechnic spectacle. I sat perched on the rooftop basketball court of my husband’s office building. A small group of coworkers brought red, white and blue cupcakes.

 

Four hundred years ago, Henry Hudson sailed down this river.

 

And 233 years ago the U.S. was born.

 

These tributaries of time and place created one of my favorite New York moments: watching the Macy’s fireworks show with a group of journalists perched high above the city. Check out the videos below.

 

 

 

The show typically is held over the East River, although this year it graced the Hudson to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Henry Hudson‘s voyage.  Although Macy’s ad credits him with the river’s “discovery,”  that distinction went to Giovanni da Verrazano in 1524.

 

Henry Hudson

Henry Hudson

But Henry led a fascinating life that led him to explore the river west of Manhattan. He helped establish Dutch settlements and fur trading along the banks by sailing through on September 11, 1609.

 

Years later, on another expedition, his crew endured a rough winter and wanted to head home. When Henry insisted on continuing the mission, the crew mutinied and sent him, his son, and several sick men off to sea in an open boat. He was never seen again.

 

New York fireworks are reputedly grand even without an extra reason to celebrate. While next year’s show might return to the east side, this suggestion holds: avoid the street crowds, find a rooftop with a view and bring cupcakes.

 

Score Free Cupcakes in Hell April 29, 2009

Filed under: Dining,NYC Hell's Kitchen,Year-round — thewanderlist @ 3:50 am
Tags: , , ,
The simplistic goodness of Burgers & Cupcakes.

The simplistic goodness of Burgers & Cupcakes.

The restaurant Burgers & Cupcakes, quite honestly, had me at hello. The only place I’d fall harder for would be “Dr Pepper and Snickers,” and I have no doubt that will pop up sometime along Ninth Avenue around the West 40s, a stretch of restaurants so charming, eclectic and competitive it rightly earns the title Hell’s Kitchen.

 

My husband walks home through this dining Mecca every day, passing Burgers & Cupcakes. She calls to him. He resists. But I see the signs. He clearly fantasizes about her when he gets home, often laying down his backpack, slipping off his shoes, and waxing poetic about her low-maintenance ways, the commingling of sweet and savory perfumes.

 

And how can I blame him? I’ve had a little love affair with Burgers and Cupcakes myself, though I suggest renaming it My Two Basic Food Groups or Crack Cocaine.

 

We finally got an opportunity to check this alluring spot out tonight with some friends, who share an equal passion for devouring meat and sugar in their most basic forms. The result was predictably akin to falling for Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire before actually getting to know him. It can only go downhill from those heady “this-is-going-to-change-everything” heights.

 

The restaurant itself is Spartan, with round, chrome tables, chairs and no decor of which to speak. It’s clearly designed for dine-and-dashers who need a quick bite after work or before a party. The burgers are basic, like the kind you might grill up in your backyard: small but plump, juicy but not jazzy. The menu offers an assortment of toppings (including cranberry sauce) and cheeses – build-your-own-burger style – and our group was content with choices like avacado, grilled mushrooms, goat chease and sliced parmesian. But the cupcakes were the unlikely stars.

The Ninth Avenue storefront.

The Ninth Avenue storefront.

 

As we wrapped up the meal around 9 p.m. on a Tuesday, our waiter offered everyone at the table a free cupcake. “It’s the end of the night,” he explained. He handed us globs of vanilla and chocolate, which  looked tame compared to the hussied-up cupcakes sold at places like Crumbs and Magnolia. But one decadent bite later, we were transported to Diabetic Heaven. My husband, at last laying his affections on the line, approached the bakery case in all its gleaming, frosted glory and asked the waiter, “Will all those cupcakes go to waste? Can I have one more?” The waiter shrugged and began piling them into containers, handing each of us a box of four, for free.

 

We walked home, past dozens of moody restaurants and sparkling patrons, April breeze at our cheeks, cupcakes in hand, convinced of our crush’s ultimate beauty.

 

 
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