Harvest moon over Nolita

I promise this won’t turn into a climatological/cosmological column on moon symbology and the like. Disclaimer aside, who knew that fall weather could be so capricious?  It was a stunning day when I left Brooklyn in the early afternoon yesterday, autumnal harmony in its purest form.  Fifteen minutes later and one borough over, I emerged at 8th Avenue in Lower Manhattan to find myself in a world of gloom and overcast skies.  A torrential downpour followed as I scurried southward for a late brunch at Philip Marie.

Second disclaimer: West Village brunch isn’t quite my cup of tea, but we were celebrating a friend’s birthday.  Which meant that all of us opted for bottomless mimosas, of course.  I realized yesterday that West Village is basically the New York analog for all of Los Angeles west of La Brea.  You be the judge.

Did I mention the moon? Yesterday was also the Mid-Autumn Festival (中秋节), an intricately storied holiday of Chinese tradition that involves a jade rabbit on the moon, star-crossed lovers, and a pill of immortality.  I purchased red bean paste mooncakes on Canal Street and had a scrumptious dinner at Congee Village, where we feasted on the house special garlic chicken, sautéed morning glory, lotus root, five spice duck, fried bean curd, and crab and fish congee.

Sensorial gluttony, thy name is New York.