Visiting Her
Dear friend D always jokes that New York is my “mistress city”. When I lived in San Francisco (and hated it), I ran off to New York almost every chance I got. A Thursday night redeye, Friday in the Square Soho office, a weekend in the city crashing with friends, before returning on Sunday. I even accepted a job offer and almost moved in 2017. I visited Secchu Yokota 4 times in 2017 alone and at least once a year since (pro forma for pandemic). In July 2021, before R-man and I closed on the apartment we bought in SF, I ran away to New York for “one last hurrah”. When discussing our divorce in early 2023, it is NYC that I turned to for comfort. At the time, I wrote a sappy Instagram caption “This city reminds me of my worth / That I too have hopes and dreams / And that they too matter”
But recently, I saw something that I think better captures my relationship with New York.
There is a version of me that only exists in New York.
I like visiting her.
My relationship with anyone / anything is really a reflection of my relationship with myself.
I didn’t go to NYC at all last year. Back in January, I booked a trip (combined with Montreal) for June this year. Come mid-March, something called me back to NYC, pronto. (Probably a photo of the world’s sexiest scallop being served at Secchu Yokota). I rejiggered plans and was en route to JFK for the Easter long weekend.
There is an almost-ritual routine for me in NYC: stay at the 50 Bowery, have breakfast from Yi Ji Shi Mo, have dinner with W and her husband at Secchu Yokota.
I visited some old favourites (yakitori at Kono, strawberry shortcake at Harbs, udon at Raku, octopus fusilli at Marea, and 7115 by Szeki where I can always find something) and checked out new-to-me spots (slices at L’Industrie, the reopened Frick Collection, and the stunningly beautiful Desert Vintage). Unsurprisingly did some retail damage (oops).
The best breakfast when staying near Chinatown, 一记石磨 Yi Ji Shi Mo uses stone ground rice to make translucent paper thin cheungfun rice rolls stuffed with whatever you want. They open at 7AM, and it’s best to call ahead and place your order. Bring cash.
There’s another cheungfun place nearby in Chinatown called 西关肠粉王 West Rice Roll King. Their rice rolls are supposedly more 滑 while Yi Ji has better fillings. They don’t open until 10AM and my jetlag has never survived waiting for late morning breakfast.
Have been craving a NYC slice since eating Scarrs on the sidewalk with D back in May 2024. He suggested I try L’industrie this time. Hit the spot. Did you know that cantaloupe sorbet with olive oil and sea salt = prosciutto?
Chef Yokota never misses. Conger eel so succulent. The mehikari had an amazing light and fluffy texture. His vegetables are always the best — asparagus (spring in a bite!) and nasu aubergine.
For yakitori, I much prefer Kono over Torien. Two cuts of gizzards, delicious tsukune. They sweetly acknowledged my return visit and poured me some yummy aged sake. Very mushroom umami.
“Marea never misses”. In food and in their hospitality. I ordered the classic octopus ragu fusilli. I wish I had a subsidiary stomach so I can get the crab pasta too. I was served some free sorbet for dessert and when my waiter saw me blowing my dribbly nose into rough paper cocktail napkins, brought me over an entire tissue box.
What is it about NYC? There is something about a big city where you just know, you can feel it in your bones, that no one gives a flying fuck about you. And that is incredibly liberating. The anonymity almost feels like invisibility and with it, comes the permission to be whatever daring version of yourself. Perhaps that says a lot about me…recovering people-pleaser with wallflower tendencies.
As I settle into my own skin, I find that the gap between everyday me and NYC me is narrowing. I thank her for showing me what’s possible in my 20’s and for being a constant throughout my life, a source of joy, inspiration, and comfort.
Till next time, NY. Till next time, NY Jo.