On a humid night in NYC, all the young, beautiful Brooklyn children who had grown bored with playing indoor bocce or taking pensive fireplace selfies wandered down to a dimly lit basement bar. With a cold drink in every hand and a hot butt in every folding chair, they waited
Poppy’s is a hidden classic. It’s the type of old school spot that reminds me of pre-Giuliani New York; it looks as if he forgot to send his gentrification goons to this gritty block. I get giddy when I find places this hot. A signed photo of Steve Buscemi
When I was working on my NYC book, a cat named Wade dropped some info on me about some of the strange and unknown things in New York. One of them was that there are seven secrets about Grand Central Station. He had seen a TV program about them, but
The love story of a boy, some cheese fries and an Afghani man named Abdul…well more or less.
This originally appeared in Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in New York. Oh Kenka…Kenka…Kenka…Kenka. You are one of the weirdest fucking places I’ve ever eaten in my entire life and for that, I salute you. I’m literally sitting here in front of my computer trying to find the proper
This originally appeared in Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in New York. Out of my 3 books, it is without a doubt the best. With $5 Budweisers, this place goes against one of the basic tenets of Broke-Assdom, that the cheapest beer in a place should cost no more
When I first discovered this place, I told Paul about how I found this amazing little gem of a dive bar in the West Village that would be perfect for the book. When he asked me the name of it, and I told him it was the Corner Bistro, he