Keko Cafe

Not too far removed from the touristy location of the Empire State Building, you’ll find tucked away on Madison Ave Keko Cafe. This little cafe claims to be French, but I say it’s more of an American/French twist. Never-the-less, it’s a recommendation from the locals and will not disappoint.

My close college friend heard about Keko Cafe through his friends and just longed to take us there for breakfast one morning during our escapade in NYC. The five of us women searched and searched for this Cafe where we were meeting our friend. It was a blustery and FREEZING morning. Corners we turned, and street signs we read, hoping that each direction would bring us closer to Keko. Finally, we found Madison Ave and walked down the street until we could walk no further, delightfully realizing Keko was tucked away just to our left. The small staircase brought us to the welcoming, glass door reading Keko Cafe. Hurriedly we shuffled inside and grabbed as many small tables as possible to fit six.

Keko is a cozy little Cafe, not meant for big parties, and I might say that our party was even too large. It was a relaxed and close setting with friends with mustard-yellow wall color, teapots and teacups displayed on knick-knack shelves, wooden coffee storage bins and pictures of France’s past. The little table tops were made of coper, stained with rings from coffee mugs, but not in a messy way, just enough to make you feel at home.

Crepes were on the menu that day, well they always are, but our bellies were craving a crepe party. We ordered several to share because the options were too appealing to each just have one. Nutella and banana crepes, spinach and feta crepes, fruity crepes, and Mediterranean crepes filled our tables, aligned with sides of bacon, glasses of fresh water and imported coffee and lattes. Conversation and laughter resounded

over our crepes and coffees, a right way to start the day.

It was a delicious morning.

Brooklyn Flea Market

“Art is not a treasure in the past, or an importation from another land, but part of the present life of all living and creating peoples,” -- Franklin D. Roosevelt

To each thing belongs a creator, and to each creator a unique imagination, and not just a scattered, thoughtless, patternless imagination, but one of intelligence and precision. This is what the Brooklyn Flea Market comprises itself.

My good college friends and I took a weekend in Brooklyn to enjoy our as-much-as-possible get-togethers, being that we all live in different states. Since we resided in Brooklyn for the weekend, we just couldn’t pass up a trek to the weekend flea market. My hopes were high; that there would be unique treasures of old and new, creative minds manifesting themselves in the form of art and fashion and homemade food. I can gladly say there were all these things.

Jewelry vendors line the outskirts of the former Williamsburg Savings Bank. The building is frozen in time, filled with new life from the present age, buzzing and bustling with hagglers and onlookers. Clothiers are hidden within the former bank teller windows and a small food court is secured in the old vault. Upstairs you’ll find intriguing jewelry and cufflinks made from old typewriter keys. This is truly a place worth the visit, you will not be bored... only inspired.

I will not pass up going again this summer, as it seems to be a much greater event than in winter.

Phantom of the Opera

A man comes through the theatre doors and adds to the already excited, anticipatory crowd just waiting to be let into the Magical Majestic Theatre. He explains the procedure of what needs to be done as we walk into the theatre, he pokes some fun and riles us up for a Night at the Opera. It was our family Christmas present this year to see a Broadway Musical and our choice was naturally Phantom of the Opera.

The obsession for my Dad wanting us the see this musical began when my brother Derek and I were just of kinder age. Our family vacations took place in Atlantic Beach, NC, where part of the vacation consisted of us going to a child's amusement park called Jungle Land. It was here that may Dad heard the Overture music, from Phantom, playing from a speaker behind a fake gorilla that gave him the desire to have us see the play.

Finally we are let into the theatre. A quick check of our bags, to be sure we're not going to pirate the musical, and we were brought to our seats. "Chips, Water, Wine," an usher speaks eloquently as the audience is seated. As we wait, I look around at the Majestic. The stage props are protected by flowing fabrics to keep the surprise of the play, but the theatre was maintained visible and stunning; I somehow forgot I was in NYC and could not wait to become part of this musical as I interacted in my imagination from my seat.

Women's jewels were the only thing left glittering as the lights dimmed, indicating the time had come; the show MUST begin. After the introductory scene at the auction, the stage curtains began to move away in harmony with the haunting overture music and began to enchant our souls, latching onto something deep inside and intwining me in the story line. I was hooked instantaneously. Words cannot describe the symphonic masterpiece of Andrew Lloyd Webber in the Phantom of the Opera.

Throughout the entire musical I felt more drawn into the performance with each breath of the operatic voices. It was hard not to feel as if you were part of the performance. But as the show much begin, the show also comes to an end. I would recommend this musical to all who appreciate beauty in song and dramatic performances. It was fabulous.

Our night ended with dinner together as a family and was an evening touched by magic.

Traditional Changes

Tradition. Most of us have these in our lives and often they are found around family, friends, birthdays and especially the Christmas Holidays. Folks, I appreciate Tradition because it offers comfort and sanity in our craziness of life. Having similarities to look forward to each year brings satisfaction for some, and breaking away from these things can be difficult.

A normal Christmas Eve spent with the Dobutovich's consists of dinner together, taking part in the candlelight Christmas Eve service and coming home to open stockings, something we've done as children to bascially curb our curiosity till the morning ribbon-ripping session, when our family opened gifts together, and eagerly anticipated my mom's side of the family coming over. A big lunch always ensued followed by more presents and dessert that left us lethargically stuffed and sleepy on our sofas. This year, though, rocked tradition.

Elderly people are carriers of tradition. With them come comfort and stories. They carry a deep love and bind together families as if they were the roots of a brilliant tree. The roots of my mother's side carry many pores of tradition, travel, experience and hardship in their lives. They now also carry a physical longing to be pain free and with their maker.

This year, my grandparents were too elderly to leave the house and were not able to come over on Christmas Day as they once always did. We didn't think they'd be here this year, so having them was a blessing counted. It's like reading an incredible book; when you near the end of the story you are filled with some saddness, but yet you know it's not over. That is how I feel with my grandparents. They are here with us, but some tradition must be changed. The back cover is slowly approaching. But along with a back cover comes the front cover of a new book.

(My Mom's Side of the family came over to sing Christmas Carols with my grandparents on Christmas Eve)

There is much to be read in our storybooks, new traditions to come and seasons filled with fresh air await. I'm not going to deny the saddness the closing of particular traditions leaves me with, but I have discovered the comfort in a crisp new page of life longing to be read aloud.

A Not-So-Far-Away Backyard, NYC

A "Not So Far Away Backyard" is what I think of NYC. It's not just any city, it's The City. A city of lights, one that never sleeps and is layed out like a beautifully orchestrated maze of wonder and surprise. There is more to NYC than Times Square and your kichy coffee shop or Hardrock cafe. If you're one who lives to eat, as I am, you'll appreciate the city for it's fine cuisine at an array of prices. Eating for triple digits a plate is quite available, but so are the single and double digit prices, just as delectable.

In the Month of November, several of my dear friends from College and I went to NYC for an evening. The train is readily accessable from my house to get to NYC Penn Station, and for me, the moment I set foot on that train, it's as if a small adventure is always beginning. Because of the perks of working at a hotel, we got a discounted rate at Marriott in Times Square for the night. Floor 2030 provided nothing short of an incredible view of the city that never sleeps (we were thankful for blackout drapes). People bustling about, coming from all over the world just to enjoy The City.

Our plan was to enjoy each other's company to the fullest. Larinda is from Michigan, Alyssa from Penn and Kena and I from NJ. Not easy distances to live from dear friends, but I will say being apart makes these friendships deeper. Larinda and Kena spent the earlier part of the day waiting in line for Broadway Musical Tickets at the TKTS booth. Jersey boys was our #1 choice, but being too expensive we chose the Musical Rock of Ages. We ate a light dinner (mostly pita bread and salsa, bananas and apples -- a lot of it) then got dressed and ready to see our show. We sang, we cheered, we laughed till we teared all in our discounted orchestra seats. They served us drinks and snacks, amenities that just added to the night being special, or should I say strange. It was a fun, yet strange musical.

After the show Dan the Man met up with us at the Sugar Diner (or some kind of similar name). Originally we planned to go out for dinner, but once we sat down at the diner for coffee, we decided to browse the menu and avoid more traveling just for tasty bite. Nothing beats a Jersey Diner, but this just might have. You win this one NYC -- NYC 1:NJ 478,895,214,364,45.... ;). After a hearty sandwich and soup, we all went for a little dancing. This filled us with laughter and gave us some silly stories.

Come Saturday, after a night on the town, we slept in till 11 and met Dan for brunch at 1:00pm. Hardly brunch, but our stomachs and sleepy bodies thought nothing else would suffice. Brunch was enjoyed around the Upper West Side at a little cafe; we all ordered the same plate, poached eggs, because they just looked so great. Not one of us was dissapointed with this predicament. To end our escapade we toured the Upper West Side and filled each others hearts with time. I must say I am blessed with these friends.

Short is More

Turning a classic into an obsession. I'm talking about coffee and sweet drinks that local coffee shops sell. We love them. They taste so great and keep us coming back for more. Coffee shops have us hooked, right where they want us, and the country in excess we call the United States is practically married to these delicious treats. We have forgotten how to taste and how to be satisfied because we are always welcome to more and more is readily accessible. Well, did you know that there was once a time more was not always available? Our local, yet far removed, neighborhood coffee shop called Starbucks has a history of Less is More.

People in other countries who order a coffee from a local cafe will expect to receive a small 8oz or less cup of purely, fresh brewed coffee and sip on it for a while over conversation, or at the dinner table for dessert or to warm them up in the morning. They know how to taste and respect where the food came from. We have lost that in the United States because we just want more more more more. Starbucks, in its beginnings, had only two sizes called the Short and the Tall. The Tall was created for America to please their excess loving, and has since booted the Short off the charts to make way for the Grande and the Venti. BUT... the Short is still available. It's less expensive and is just enough to enjoy without taking the "sip that pushed you over the edge."

So next time you go to Starbucks, ask for a short. Learn to enjoy without being excessive. Another Canadian coffee compnay called J.J. Bean also offers this size. I do think that J.J. Bean roasts better coffee, but it is not yet in the States. I hope someday it will be, and I hope they stick to their short size, not conforming to excessive standards we have created.

One Manhattan Day

I birthed the idea on Saturday afternoon from the conception of a desire to explore and a need to be with my family. A trip to Manhattan, SoHo to be specific and to be yet more precise... Dean and Deluca.

To all you masters of the mixers, sultans of the spatulas and czars of cooking I believe you comprehend the whimsy of gourmet and over-priced grocers. For some, it's more than just a knife. In fact it's a silver blade which smoothly spreads creamy, churned butter on the crisp on the outside, hearty, yet soft on the inside bread. Now let me just pause to say food is not an obsession of mine, just a part of my life that I take great joy and delight in.

Dean and Deluca welcomes you in with cathedral ceilings and fresh produce right at the entrance. Exotic mushrooms sit in perfect rows as if just picked fresh that morning and waiting to be prepared that evening. For Autumn, pumpkins line the front rows of the grocery garden and remind those who celebrate to be thankful for every scent climbing up your nose. Lying behind this produce garden is a vertical field of flowers, delicately arrange and mindfully prepared to please the eye. As my mom and I took a gander, a kind woman offered her assistance with pride. A glimmering reminder of how blessed she is to have employment she enjoys. Moving further into the jungle of exotic blends we find the coffee square with roasted beans from around the world. As I lift the lids from the coffee jars to breathe deeply, a fresh, crisp fragrance fills my lungs, leaving a calming after shock. Who would think coffee when roasted fresh and well could calm the senses and appease the taste buds. Making my way around the coffee corner is the candy and dried fruit; just looking at the apricots made my mouth water. Sniffing these fruits was all I did while passing them, but the delightful colors have painted a beautiful pallet in my creative mind. Onto the pastures of cheese was next on my list. The counter was high and marble covered with clean glass casings, but not too far to reach and ask for assistance. That day we delved into the purchase of new cheese; a sheep milk cheese, an delightfully aged gouda and a stinky bleu cheese for my dad.

A day worth while because it was spent with my parents and allowed my mind to explore the corners of the world via food through one small yet grand store. Food is a blessing; let us never take it for granted. May it always be used to bring people together and reveal care.