Just to prove I’m not that obvious, this one isn’t called Breakfast In America.
Day 2 dawned, the breakfast bar opened at 7am, and we quickly realised that this was to be the weakest aspect of The Brooklyn’s offer (the rooms were great, i.e. the WiFi was).
Stale coffee, Do-It-Yourself waffles in the shape of America, scrambled eggs and potatoes or salamis, and whatever these are;
American condiments, heh ?
All eaten with flimsy plastic cutlery. Still, it was “free“.
We had seven days in New York to tick all the things that the Rough Guide said we had to tick. You know how Mrs RM and I do what we’re told by books.
Just as the must-see attraction in London these days is a simple bridge over the Thames decorated with plants,
so in New York we head for the High Line, a wondrous section of old railroad track in Chelsea (not the one owned by Russian billionaires).
But before all that (1.45 mile) walking, we head into Chelsea Market to look at food we don’t need and can’t afford. So posh it makes London’s Borough look like Rotherham W.I. running a pop-up tea shop in Wombwell.
They sell live urchins. Live !
Even that crab leg joint had a flashy beer range.
The boys wanted to go off and explore the healthy options, so Mrs RM investigated a place specialising in olive oil, vinegar and craft beer.
I suppose in some Scottish pubs vinegar and cask beer are interchangeable, but still a novel concept.
“Go on, have a beer !” said Mrs RM. #27yearsofbullying.
Well, it was 10.48am by now. Stafford Paul would be 3 pints up by now.
How joyous to see a “Sorry, no samples” sign, by the way.
16 ounces (80% of a pint) is practically a sampler anyway. I reckon the Five Boroughs Hazy IPA served in a plastic glass will have cost me £8 by the time taxes and Lloyds Bank conversion charge are added on. Still cheaper than Port Street.
“Tastes like Brew Dog” says Mrs RM. It tasted like Hazy Jane.
On to the High Line, the one place in New York where you can avoid craft beer and tipping. Loads to see and it smelt great.
We were impressed by the parking skills of New Yorkers,
and the art.
But a mile and a half in 30 degree heat and you’re ready for noodles.
Luckily for Mrs RM, this proper looking bar on 10th has been closed for 30 years.
We ate very well in New York. Chop Stop was the best of the lot, simple and classy, despite the unprepossessing exterior. About £60 for four.
Tummies full of Pad Thai we ambled up to Times Square to see the famous Green Giant advert.
For a fan of tall, weird buildings, this was a bit of heaven.
Mrs RM just wanted a cheap ticket to Broadway. But a 90 minute queue to buy a $200 ticket for Frozen soon lost its appeal and Starbucks called.
Even Starbucks have gone craft.