Sunday, Once More

Sunday, December 16, 2007 7 No tags Permalink 0


12/17/07, Sunday Morning, Outside My Front Door

The best day of the week is, without second thought, Sunday. It is the most luxurious day, the most restful, and certainly, a very delicious day. On Sundays, I turn my phone off to silent, I wander the city alone, eat what catches my fancy, and recharge for the upcoming week.

Cause you see, it matters not how hectic the previous week. Despite how lazy the Friday or how disappointing the Saturday, I can always count on Sunday to mend the world back whole.

Friday night was an absolute do nothing sort of evening. Saturday afternoon was productive – Christmas shopping, Greenmarket shopping, and errands of every sort imaginable. Saturday night called for a night out with Diana and Patty at Tiny’s followed by dessert at Sugar Sweet Sunshine. On average, I probably have dinner at Tiny’s twice a week. Aside from the fact that the restaurant is less than a minute walk away from the apartment, the prices are good, and the sandwiches are even better. I’ll go through rotations where I just want one type of sandwich over and over again. I do this till I get bored, and then move on to another sandwich combination. My latest fix is the veggie meatball on a crusty semolina roll with pesto, carrots, cucumbers, and sprouts. At the price of $3.75, which includes a handful of chips, this is even cheaper than Chinatown!

Sammies packed in the tummies, we flew out into the cold and across the street to Sugar Sweet Sunshine. The burst of sweet baked goods filled the air, and in due time we each lay claim to our dessert of choice. Amidst bites of Patty’s pistachio cupcake, Diana’s banana pudding and my butterscotch brownie we talked about things that are blog-inappropriate, and for good reason. Sugar Sweet Sunshine is the perfect hang out nook, everyone finds a dessert that fits the mood, the couches are big and inviting, the inside warm, and the rainbow case of cupcakes calls for many smiles. The brownie exceeded expectations, wonderfully caramely, moist through the corner cut, a light crust, more soft than flaky and studded with butterscotch chips. We parted ways around 10pm, minutes before the Manhattan streets lay victim to a strange combination of rain and snow.

Later Saturday night in the West Village was a bust. I will not go further into that. I finally went to sleep around 4am. It was a sleep of the restless sort, caused by letdowns beyond my control. Such evenings are rare. Thank goodness.

I woke up at noon this morning, remnants of the evening past still tugging my mind. But it was Sunday, so everything would be alright. You can always count on people and circumstances to let you down. But Sundays – “cave” days, are just divine.

Blue Ribbon Bakery Market: Inside. How Cozy!

The day started with a toasted slice of pullman’s bread from Blue Ribbon Bakery Market. Robyn recommended this bread to me a few weeks back over dinner at the actual Blue Ribbon Bakery restaurant (will be posted soon! :)

Blue Ribbon Bakery Market: Pullman’s Loaf

It’s an exceptional loaf of bread, with a hearty golden crust and solid crumb that stands well to my somewhat over zealous smears of butters and marmalades. In the mornings I like my thick cut slices on the extra toasty side with a slather of butter and sprinkle of raw sugar. I picked up around the apartment, and then set off on the windy day for objective-less wanderings around the Village. Walks without purpose, other than a vague end goal of something delicious, are walks of my favourite sort. Sundays are meant for minimal human interaction. It’s the only day of the week I can truly keep for myself and recollect my thoughts. And organize my life. I tend to do that a lot.

The afternoon lead me up the East Village, across Union Square with a bit of dog watching in the park and book browsing at Strand. Soon I found myself just steps away from Joe the Art of Coffee on 13th Street. So I turned in. Why not?

A warm cappuccino, and a seat perfect for day dreaming and people watching. I marvelled over the little ‘heart’ for a minute or so – it’s something to appreciate, and pulled out a copy of the Sunday New York Times. It’s the real estate section of the paper I like best (aside from Wednesday’s food section :) Raised with parents who both work full time in real estate, I can’t help but be curious. When I walk past the West Village brownstones late at night, I pause in front of lit homes, taking a peek at the interior through tall glass windows. Other people’s lives. Or what I take them to be. Is fascinating.

The traffic this tiny coffee shop commands is bewildering. Never did I witness a calm moment during my two-hour stay. People bustling in and out, coffee, mocha, hot chocolate in hand. At one point I thought, “bah. So many NYU students.” And then I realized I was once one myself. Only for a year though! Bwhahaha. In the bakery case, sticky buns tempted alongside slices of almond brioche, carrot cupcakes, maple walnut muffins and strawberry donuts. A sight for any eyes.

However it was the homely apple muffin that called my attention. It lacked the crunch of a crusty exterior, but the cinnamon spiced innards, with tender chunks of apples, moist raisins that literally popped in your mouth, and not chopped or halved, but whole walnuts, more than compensated. The world needs more muffins like this.

12/17/07, Sunday Afternoon, East Village

As the afternoon turned dark, I decided to walk home from Joe’s, despite the rain. It was quite a nice walk. The streets were not too crowded, as I imagine everyone must be hidden home on this dreary day.

Along 3rd Avenue, I conveniently passed East Village Cheese and decided to wander in for a look-see. The only thing that could make a Sunday more lovely is cheese. And butter.
The place was crowded, as usual. It is not hard to imagine why. With a wide selection and some of the lowest prices in this city, one always walks out of this place feeling like you’ve scored a bargain.

A bit of pondering, a lot of drooling, and soon I had made my selection: a block of French butter, and a wedge of double creme brie. The total cost? $3.99. Such a steal!

So now as I write, the butter just a few inches away from the computer and the brie begging for a nibble, I’ve just decided tomorrow’s breakfast: a slice of Blue Ribbon Bakery’s Pullman loaf, extra butter. Extra toasty. Like today’s breakfast, only with better butter.

Tiny’s Giant Sandwich Shop
127 Rivington St
NY, NY 10002
(212) 982-1690

Sugar Sweet Sunshine
126 Rivington St
NY, NY 10002
(212) 995-1960

Blue Ribbon Bakery Market
14 Bedford Street
NY, NY 10014
(212) 647.0408

Joe the Art of Coffee
9 East 13th Street
NY, NY, 10002
(212) 924-7400

East Village Cheese
40 3rd Ave
NY, NY 10003
(212) 228-1578

7 Comments
  • K & S
    December 17, 2007

    your Sundays are the best! they make me all warm and fuzzy :) Have a good week.

  • rowena
    December 17, 2007

    Ditto that thought! Sundays are do-whatever-we-feel-like days, even if for the most part, we are hungover from too much wine from the previous nite. ;-) I especially liked your blurb on cheese. When will you guys be hosting a fondue at your house? I bet it would be outrageous!

  • Kathy YL Chan
    December 17, 2007

    Hey Kat!Yaayyy! I love that ‘fuzzy’ feeling you referred to! :)Hey Rowena!Oh man, now you’re putting thoughts in my head! First off though…I must get one of those fondue contraptions. I LOVE CHEESE! =)

  • anonymous
    December 17, 2007

    unreal deal on the French butter and double creme brie. Bought an extra refrigerator, yet?

  • Chubbypanda
    December 17, 2007

    Saturday is my “mend” day. Sunday is my home maintenance and chore catch-up day. =)

  • Kathy YL Chan
    December 18, 2007

    Hey Chubbypanda!hehe, I liked how everyone can sort of catagorize their weekends – it’s important that we each have ‘mend’ day for ourselves! :)

  • anonymous
    December 20, 2007

    I love the idea of cave day! if ever i get out of the suburbs for a real period of time, i might have to institute that. in nj though, every day is cave day. of sadness.

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