My Time with "Hizzoner" - Mayor Edward I. Koch

New York, 1996

It was 1996 and I was a Legal Assistant at the law firm of Robinson, Silverman, Pearce, Aronsohn & Berman in New York.  I already knew that being being paralegal had no glory.  My time at Teitelbaum, Hiller, Rodman, Paden & Hibsher had already disavowed me of that notion.  But I wasn't yet looking for glory. I had graduated from Middlebury two summers ago and was still finding my way in the world. Having worked for my father's company as an executive at an early age, I thought I had a good internal gauge of my own capabilities, but had yet to prove them to many in the outside world. At my dad's company only recently, I had navigated ourselves to a large contract from the United States Navy for advanced strategic computer based linguistic systems at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. I personally bid for the project, procured and negotiated the contract, and built and delivered the computer hardware -- and all as a teenager.

Far from my life at my father's company, in New York I was a relatively new paralegal just out of college.  With as much innovation and intelligence as I was allowed to exercise, I would produce litigation files, research which polluters had polluted which amounts and when for one of many massive EPA Superfund litigations, or help prepare court filings. The work was unsophisticated, but required diligence and some level of care.  I arrived every morning at 1290 Avenue of the Americas ready to do whatever the lawyers I worked for would tell me.  I grew to dislike my job for many reasons: (a) I worked in New York yet made a salary that made living with any degree of style very challenging, (b) I worked for lawyers who I looked up to (merely because they were lawyers, and heck, what did I know in those days?) but who didn't share the same respect or fascination for me, and (c) I was, in effect, the lowest member of the "legal professional" totem pole; a role I didn't like one bit.

I met former Mayor Ed Koch, or "hizzoner" as he was affectionately called, while working at Robinson Silverman.  I had joined the firm along with several attorneys from Teitelbaum Hiller, which was collapsing in an old fashioned law firm split dust-up. Except for the fact that I knew Robinson Silverman was larger and had fancier offices, I knew nothing else about the firm.  When I first learned that Ed Koch worked there, I was clearly awestruck. While I had met prominent figures before, I had never had an opportunity to work in the same space as them and had never met them the way I met Mayor Koch.  Koch and I first met in the most unorthodox way: as we were both entering the men's room at our firm. I had gone to the men's room on a thankless errand for myself, to do what people do when they have to use the restroom. Mr. Koch had surely done the same. Yet the interaction that ensued would help alter my remaining time at the firm and ultimately shape my career.

My dissatisfaction with being a Legal Assistant had grown over time, and was now nearing its peak. I was looking to move on but wondered whether leaving the firm so soon after arriving would adversely affect my resume and job prospects.  Arriving at the rest room, however, none of those thoughts were primary. Rather, in addition to the need that had brought me to the restroom, I had a litigation project that Peter Paden, another partner at the firm, had given me, deeply on my mind. I entered the rest room and pulled up to a urinal.  As I approached, I saw that another person, mostly bald with tufts of grey hair, had also approached a urinal nearby. I glanced over, exercising the locational awareness that most humans like having when peeing next to others.  About the same time, my new bathroom companion glanced over at me. I instantly recognized this fellow restroom patron as the former Mayor of New York and quickly returned my gaze to my appointed task. Processing the fact that I was about to pee next to Mr. Koch distracted me from actually doing so, because what followed next was the most awkward 40 seconds of silence of my young career. As both Ed Koch and I stood there attempting to urinate, staring at our respective urinal walls, neither of us actually could. Finally breaking the silence after about forty five seconds, Mayor Koch zipped up, looked over at me, and with a wry smile said, "well, I guess I must have gotten stage fright."

Over the next few months, Mayor Koch made an effort to say hello to me, call me into his office on occasion, and share thoughts on politics, the profession, and on people. He and I shared a culinary love: Peking Duck House in Chinatown, and we referred to that love often. Beyond food, we talked about politics in New York. I recall asking him why he had switched parties to endorse Rudy Guiliani over David Dinkins, who had defeated Mayor Koch only one term prior. After all, Mayor Koch had supported Dinkins in the general election after his defeat in the primaries. Why the switch? Mayor Koch explained that Dinkins bore significant responsibility for the lawlessness of the anti-Semitic riots that raged in Crown Heights and that the riots had convinced him that Dinkins was no longer deserving of his support. The person is more important than the party, he quickly added. Having supported Guiliani in the previous election, Mayor Koch explained to me that he was pulling his support, suggesting that Guiliani's candor and tone bothered him.  The people of New York, Mr. Koch beamed, "deserved better."

When I told him about my dream of being a lawyer despite my disdain for being a paralegal, he spoke candidly about the challenges of the profession but also bullishly about its potential to protect and foster civil rights and aid in the governance of free people. "Bhijit," the Mayor told me in his New York accent, "if being a lawyer is what you want, go get it. Don't worry about your resume, just go do the best you can - nobody will fault you."  Soon after, I followed his advice and left the firm on my own journey to go to law school.

While I didn't keep in touch with Mayor Koch except to thank him after starting law school, his love for his city and the passion with which he lived his life remind me today, as they informed me in 1996, that a life worth living is born of conviction and the courage to pursue it. “How’m I doin?” he famously used to ask his constituents.  You did great, Mayor.

Rest in Peace.

Pet Friendly Hotels - New York City

Bringing the pooch along for a short jaunt to the City can be a challenge. While some hotels are beginning to realize that pets need homes too when they travel with their humans, many hotels still do not allow them. So, to help enable pet travel, I have started compiling a list of hotels that accept dogs in New York. This list is not complete (I will add to it as I verify more hotels) -- it is merely a resource to guide you as you travel to New York with your four legged best friend.

Residence Inn New York Manhattan/Times Square
1033 Avenue of the Americas
New York , NY 10018
Phone: 1-212-768-0007
Fax: 1-212-938-0180

Pets are welcome -- there is a $100 cleaning fee per stay for the pet. Let the front desk know upon check-in that you have a pet. No special reservation is needed. (Based on 7/21/2007 call)

Dumpling Man - New York, NY

100 Saint Marks Pl
New York, NY 10009
Phone: (212) 505-2121
Web: www.dumplingman.com

B
I like dumplings. There's no question in my head that they constitute one of the better forms of comfort foods designed by humans. Unlike pizza (another of my favorite comfort foods), however, dumplings are susceptible to being quite bad if not prepared and served properly. Some dumpling dough shells are not thick enough, other lack tasty fillings, and other just aren't served fresh enough (buffet dumplings, for example, are notoriously bad).

With visions of dumplings dancing in my head, I arrived at Dumpling Man in the East Village. Of course I must marvel at the sustainability of single food type restaurants in New York -- few other places in our suburban world have that luxury (see my related blog entry for Sarita's Mac & Cheese -- or S'MAC). Dumpling Man is a small little take out spot and has has two bar counters with 16 seats. Several members of the staff fold and stuff dumplings in a sushi-bar style area where all of their activities are open for the public to see. The restaurant is bright and clean -- with white and orange coloring. I later learned that the huge Chinese characters on the wall direct patrons to "eat dumplings."

We ordered assorted dumplings -- both steamed and fried, filled with vegetables, pork, chicken, and shrimp. We tossed in the beef dumpling special, which came only steamed, for good measure. We did not order any of the specialty dumplings that came in sauces, from hot to mild, on the theory that the dumplings should be tasted on their own during our first visit. I'll report back on how the other dumplings are in a future post.

The ordering process was easy -- and the male cashier was both polite and helpful, but not overly chatty. He seemed to harbor quiet amusement at the wonder of new patrons gazing into the store for the first time. We spent $ 29 for dumplings, two beers and two drinks for four people.

I was joined at the restaurant by my cousin and two friends, one of whom is up for partnership at a prestigious New York firm. He seemed to relish the beer in his hand as he recounted the stress of the partnership process, which he seemed to be handling quite well. Although he had already eaten, he promised to help us eat our ordered dumplings. Our dumplings arrived in about ten minutes -- enough time to polish off most of a bottle of Tsingtao.

The dumplings were good but not spectacular. They arrived hot -- and perfectly cooked. Dumplings are served in paper trays -- chopsticks and plastic forks were offered as tools. Knives would have been nice -- but they weren't provided in the serve yourself area and I didn't feel like getting up to ask the cashier.

While I prefer a somewhat thicker dough shell than the shell crafted by Dumpling Man, those of you who enjoy a medium thickness shell will surely enjoy the shells here. The ample supply of large bottles of Sriracha sauce added to the flavoring options for the dumplings. Several other dipping sauces were also available, including one called Dumpling Sauce.

My Dumpling Man experience was a good one -- it's a fun spot for a quick, simple -- and very Asian -- bite.

Sarita's Macaroni & Cheese - New York, NY

45 East 12th Street
New York, NY 10003
Phone: 212-358-7912, 212-358-7917
Web: http://smacnyc.com/

B+
In one sentence: what a treat! We went to Sarita's Mac & Cheese on a Saturday early afternoon expecting to find really good macaroni and cheese. Why else would a restaurateur open a place with only one main feature if that feature wasn't absolutely spectacular, was my thought. Alas, Sarita's does not disappoint. I had a difficult time choosing which particular "flavor" of macaroni to sample, but finally settled upon the Masala Macaroni (listed as a special). I love Macaroni and have some expertise on Indian food, so I thought to myself what better dish to try. My friend ordered the "Garden (Lite)" which was advertised as containing cheddar, Parmesan, roasted cauliflower, portobello mushrooms, roasted garlic, broccoli and scallions. The lady at the cash register was friendly and quite helpful. The advertised sizes are Nosh, Major Munch, and Mongo. After being shown the sizes and keeping in mind my healthy appetite, I still chose Nosh, the smallest of the sizes, for $6.75. Perhaps alluding to by gently protruding belly, the lady helping me with my selection kidded me for not ordering a healthier portion -- which to me had seemed far too large.

Upon ordering, we found a spot in the small and somewhat crowded seating area (where, surprisingly, everyone who needed a seat found one) and settled in with our chosen sodas. Our order was delivered to our table by a different but equally friendly member of the restaurant staff. The orders come hot in cast iron skillets with handle protectors and wooden skillet pads. My Masala Macaroni was delicious -- a spicy blend (at least in comparison with non-masala enabled macaroni) of interesting flavors that remained true to the calling of good 'ole mac & cheese. My friend's Garden (Lite) mac & cheese, while still good, was less than captivating. It was a good blend, but lacked the flavor and excitement of the masala.

As we ate, we saw a constant flow of diners -- some, like us, coming to see the fascination of a new New York eatery focusing on the basics. "Is this like the PB&J place? No, that's a different owner."

I would have enjoyed having a greater selection of sides -- chips, fries, or beer and wine are not available. That said, as a spot for a quick and tasty bite, Sarita's is a good choice. Beware of take-out though. The novelty of the cuisine -- and the experience -- is lost when you get foil containers with the same stuff delivered home. I tried it, and promptly lowered my grade of Sarita's (which was an A- to a B+).

Cielo - New York, NY

18 Little West 12th St
(Cross Street: Between Ninth Avenue and Washington Street)
New York, NY 10014, (212) 645-5700

C+
We visited this meat packing district club on Saturday, October 7th. The creative design was interesting -- but the industrial design considerations are lacking at best (I'll explain later). Cielo has a capacity of approximately 250 (give or take). The cover charge that night was $20 (rumor has it that the better looking you are and the more aggressive you want to be with connections, the more likely you are to be comped or VIPed in the door) which we paid for the nearly ten people in our group. Cover charges at clubs are needed to (a) fund the entertainment the club provides for those who don't drink, (b) provide a good dose of revenue for the club, and (c) keep the undesirables out. I'm not a fan of cover charges in general, but most in our group didn't care about the imposition.

Getting back to the design of the place, I must admit some admiration for the integrated lighting tubes in the wall. Alternating white log type lights were placed adjacent to wall pieces that looked like wooden logs. When activated, the lights lit up to the music (see picture). That night, like most, house music was the flavor at Cielo with Tedd Patterson at the musical helm. I found the music somewhat monotonous - and hence the lighting got to me after a while. The industrial design of the place was quite poor. Because of the club's fairly small footprint, the designers placed steps leading down to a recessed dance floor sunken in the center of the club. The problem, of course, is that without step lighting in a very dark club, stairs become tools for mayhem. Two sets of steps -- placed far enough apart to be dangerous -- enhanced the poor industrial design. Worse yet, the path to the exit had large swaths of light colored flooring interrupted by occasional black borders -- the net effect being the perception of additional stairs that never materialized.

Around the perimeter of the central dance floor are reserved tables that are available with bottle service. Because of the tight quarters and abysmal service at the only bar (see below), I'd recommend table service if you must be at Cielo. There is an outside smoking garden in backyard. While I don't smoke, it was ironically refreshing to be amongst the smokers outside -- atleast there people respected personal space in a way unimaginable inside. Needless to say, having not reserved a table, we stood at the bar the entire evening (with two trips to the smoking den).

Design objections aside, my biggest gripe with Cielo was the service. Perhaps because I have grown intolerant of expensive drinks delivered with absolutely no nod to customer service. Our bartender was a guy named Danny. I introduced myself to him and placed our first order. We ordered standard drinks, which were satisfactory (Grey Goose and soda, Jack Daniels and coke, Campari and tonic were the few I remember ordering). My second round was ordered from a female bartender with significant attitude -- despite not being that busy, she had a continual sense of hurry. Her signature move was delivering bottled beers by slamming them onto the bar (which, 90% of the time caused beer to gush out of the bottles that were designed to contain them). At $10+ a drink, service should have been better.

Nightclubs are always designed to be high energy destinations to shake off one's desire to dance and move. I question the need to package any of the requisites of nightclubs with service that isn't welcoming. Perhaps it's just me. Thoughts?