#Teeth Cleaning Williamsburg

[hello-dently]

Dental Cleaning Services Offered In Williamsburg

Regular dental cleanings protect your teeth from decay, discoloration, and damage. At dently, in the williamsburg neighborhood of brooklyn, new york, the expert dentists perform thorough cleanings to keep your smile healthy and cavity-free as you age. Call the dently office or schedule an appointment online today to book a dental cleaning with an experienced dentist.

[thebowerypresents]

Year-End Recap: A Look Back at 2021

As this long, strange year slowly comes to a close, we’re taking a look back at the albums we listened to, the artists we checked out and the shows we went to in 2021:

Top Played Albums of the Year

The Melodic Blue, Baby Keem In These Silent Days, Brandi Carlile

“Midway through her newest release, Brandi Carlile likens herself to a werewolf “with long, sharp teeth.” Like much of In These Silent Days, it’s a deeply personal song but also hints at acknowledging her rather superhuman, larger-than-life role as the standard bearer of the singer-songwriter folkie world. There are many artists in the same mold, but the record firms up her position at the forefront. Carlile’s genre-defying confidence, sharp, tour-tested backing band, emotion-channeling vocals and lived-in songwriting make In These Silent Days an instant classic. Don’t mess with that wolf.” —A. Stein | @Neddyo

Wink, Chai Spiral, Darkside Jubilee, Japanese Breakfast Star Crossed, Kacey Musgraves Fatigue, L’Rain Valentine, Snail Mail Glow On, Turnstile Call Me If You Get Lost, Tyler, the Creator I Don’t Live Here Anymore, the War on Drugs

“The War on Drugs, one of the consistently greatest bands of the century so far, have by golly done it once again. I Don’t Live Here Anymore is perhaps a little sharper, brighter and comes with more production, but it ultimately feels reminiscent of the usual landscapes Adam Granduciel paints with his songwriting, ones that shine like a beautiful shimmering sea of guitars and synths. “Harmonia’s Dream” might be the band’s most gorgeous recording to date, a song that chugs along with choo choo train momentum through each of these worlds. With the real world still on fire, what a great time to pop on some headphones and escape into this one. The War on Drugs are the only metaverse you need.” —Dan Rickershauser | @D4nRicks

Artists to Check Out

Arooj Aftab Bambara Bartees Strange Claud Dry Cleaning

“Sounding like a band that had already been around for years, Dry Cleaning received a fair amount of acclaim for couple of EPs that came out in the second half of 2019, but that was nothing compared to the love the South London post-punk quartet got for their debut full-length, New Long Leg, which dropped this past April. There’s a lot going on. It’s playful, adventurous, dark and inventive, and it’s all anchored together by singer Florence Shaw’s deadpan delivery. You’ll want to listen to it often and then see Dry Cleaning play live.” —R. Zizmor | @Hand_Dog

Molchat Doma Orion Sun Overmono Remi Wolf Wet Leg

Show Highlights

Brandi Carlile, Forest Hills Stadium, July 23 Bright Eyes, Forest Hills Stadium, July 31 The Killers, Terminal 5, August 19 Indigo Girls and Ani Defranco, SummerStage, September 21 Arlo Parks, Music Hall of Williamsburg, September 22

“I was so excited to see Arlo Parks when her Music Hall show was announced. I’d come across her music via her Introducing performance at Glastonbury in 2019. Since then, she’s really blown up back home in the UK, and I always like to support emerging talent from London when they make their debut across the pond. Arlo has such a unique performance style transmitting such positive energy to the room. At times it’s transcendental. There was one frame where I managed to catch her in a moment of trance from beneath the stage line and that was the exact shot that ended up making it as the lead onto The House List.” —Toby Tenenbaum | www.photobytenenbaum.com

Kaytranada, Great Hall at Avant Gardner, October 14 Willow Smith, Brooklyn Steel, October 21

“Never content to stick to something already done, Willow is adept at changing her look and style, while maintaining tremendous energy and a great ability to connect with her fans. I loved watching her perform at Brooklyn Steel in October, seeing an entire room go crazy for her every move.” —Ellen Qbertplaya | @Qbertplaya

Yves Tumor, Webster Hall, October 26

“Yves Tumor is such an exotic artist. I had a feeling this show would be a blast to shoot. The fashion and the music were both out of this world. He’s a truly unique musical alien.” —Dana (distortion) Yavin | distortionpix.com

Idles, Terminal 5, October 15 

“It’s hard for me to dream up a better show than Idles to break the seal on live music’s hiatus. Joe Talbot and crew’s rollicking and physical punk-rock noise felt like the perfect antidote to a deeply difficult year and a half for the world and for me, personally. My job and relationship had imploded in the same week, and I was seeking serious catharsis—and some fucking fun. Idles, blessedly, was my first show back in the mix: Catharsis, achieved.” —Rachel Brody | @RachelCBrody

LCD Soundsystem, Brooklyn Steel, November 23

“LCD Sound System is always a party, but this time around, the energy was off the charts. It was just an epic night. I’m sure sitting at home for so long in this pandemic contributed to that, but let’s face it, it’s also because it’s LCD Soundsystem.” —Dana (distortion) Yavin | distortionpix.com

[ghostflowerdreams]

I'm working on a Assassin's Creed III fanfiction which takes place in the 18th-century in Colonial America during the American Revolution. Do you know any source that could help me be accurate in what I write? Such as what did people use to bath themselves? Or do laundry with? Oh, and what woman did when dealing with their period and cramps?

I actually did a research post on the American Revolution some time ago. It contains a lot of resources and it actually answers some of the questions that you asked and more. But since you mention those specific questions I’ll list a couple of links that answer them.

The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation - To Bathe or Not to Bathe: Coming Clean in Colonial America

Google Books - What They Didn’t Teach You About the American Revolution by Mike Wright

FaceLiftDentistry - Hygiene in Colonial America: Teeth and Bathing

History Undressed - History of Hygiene: Bathing, Teeth Cleaning, Toileting, & Deodorizing

Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library - Personal Hygiene in America

eHow - About Soap Making in Colonial Times

Pennsbury Manor - “IT’S MADE OF WHAT?”: Making 17-Century Soap

The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation - Laundries: Largest Buildings in the Eighteenth-century Backyard

Colonial Quills: Colonial American Christian Writers Background - Laundry Day in the 18th Century

Old And Interesting - History of Washboards

Woodville Plantation - The Complexities of Wash Day in the 18th Century (PDF)

Google Books - The Revolutionary War Era by Randall Huff

National Center for Biotechnology Information - Benjamin Rush on Revolutionary War Hygiene

Google Books - The Dreadful, Smelly Colonies: The Disgusting Details about Life in Colonial America by Elizabeth Raum

The Pragmatic Costumer - 17th and 18th Century Perfumes

Hagley Museum - Published Collections: (A Brief Whiff Of) Perfumed In America

To summarize what the links above say, basically in America’s colonial days people mostly clean themselves by hand-washing, usually just their face, hands and their intimate parts. They’ll get a pitcher and washbasin, which would be filled with water that they had heated over the fire. Sometimes they may even take a dip in a lake or river if the weather permits it.

If they could afford the luxury, they might have a wooden tub. It required a lot of work to use. It had to be lugged from the laundry house, or wherever it was stored, and filled with water which was hoisted from the well. That same water had to be warmed first over the fire before they could dump it into the tub. They may also need to repeat this step a couple of times if they wanted to fill the tub with enough water – but at the same time it could grow cold if they took too long to do so. Few would go through the effort to do this more than a couple of times a year. Those with servants may task them to do this, but again, it was a luxury and many had the belief that it cause more harm than good to be cleaned (since they believed it removed the body’s natural oils that protects them from diseases).

Of course, bathing during the winter was very rare due to the extremely cold temperatures. And often, the entire family would take turns bathing in the same tub of water. The people also made their own soap, or they would used no soap at all. Soft soaps were made of mutton fat, wood ash, and natural soda ash (also known as sodium carbonate). Often they had flowers and herb oils added for a sweet smell, but this was very expensive. Hard soaps were made of olive oil, soda ash, lime, herbs and flowers, which were mostly used for laundry and washing pots and pans. Colonists also used herbs and flowers to try to cover up body odors in their clothing.

People were quite smelly back then. Even the wealthy were smelly, but because they had larger wardrobes, it made them seem cleaner and more pleasant smelling compare to others. Working-class people rarely changed their clothes, and most lower-income people usually had one outfit for work days and one outfit for Sunday. Colonists did laundry a little more often—about once every two months. So basically, they clean their clothing (which was something that didn’t happen often because most people didn’t have enough time or clothing to frequently wash their possessions) more than they do in bathing themselves.

As for women menstruating during Colonial America it was viewed as “a necessary inconvenience, but not a shameful state, as it was seen in some other cultures. Medical texts recommended menstruating women to avoid cold food or things that might sour the stomach, such as milk, fish, or fruit. The most common words for menstruation were terms and courses.” [1]

There is little documentation for how women handled the hygienic aspects of menstruation. What we do know is that women in Colonial America would have had far fewer periods throughout their life than contemporary women. And it might be assumed that they used homemade pads from scraps of fabric, but this might not have been the case. Throughout history women simply bled into their clothing and rinsed them out daily. It was some time later that concerns grew that it may not be healthy or sanitary to bleed into one’s clothes, because it would lead to an infection (after all, many did not bathe themselves or wash their clothes that often during this time).

At some point, from the late 1800s until the 1920s, the Hoosier sanitary belt came into the picture. It was an odd belt contraption worn under women’s garments, which they could purchase washable pads for. And when it came to cramps some use potions sold by herbalist, though most were more than just colored water because they contained doses of opium.

Opium was used to treat a variety of medical conditions in Colonial America when pain management was difficult. Such as women during childbirth, because it was believed that not only would it ease the pain, but that it would also speed up the delivery. They also used herbs to treat some medical conditions as well, such as Tansy tea which was made from the leaves, fresh or dried, and was given for cramps, colic, gout, and even the plague. Though, in the Colonies, practically every farmyard had a clump of this plant growing for other uses. Such as picking the leaves before the plant bloomed so that it can be used to dye their wool a clear yellow.

Alcohol even played a significant role in the daily lives of the Colonists. In the days before an understanding of bacteria and purification, they believed water was unhealthy since it often made them sick. Alcohol was a safer choice and, by the eighteenth century, distilled spirits were cheap and widely available. It was such a normal part of society that it was served at almost every meal and social occasion, even at work.

They also had the belief that alcohol was nourishing and contain medicinal properties (and that it was good for warming them in a cold climate). They called their whiskey the “Good Creature of God”, which gave them the strength needed to dull the pain of the brutal manual labor of making a home in the wilderness. Even women who were in labor were traditionally given a shot to ease their discomfort. It’s possible that some women tended to drink alcohol to alleviate their cramps too. [2] [3]

It was only later in the 19th and 20th centuries that Benjamin Rush’s (a physician who practiced in Philadelphia in the late 1700s) theory became more accepted by his peers. His theory being that alcohol addiction is not a matter of will, but a disease that can only be treated by avoiding alcohol altogether. [4] [5]

Medical Daily: Newsweek Media Group - A Brief History Of The Menstrual Period: How Women Dealt With Their Cycles Throughout The Ages

Google Books - Women in Early America: Struggle, Survival, and Freedom in a New World by Dorothy A. Mays

Museum of Menstruation and Women’s Health - Hoosier" Ladies’ Sanitary (Menstrual) Belt

Museum of Healthcare at Kingston - Treatments for Menstrual Cramps throughout History

Google Books - The World of the American Revolution: A Daily Life Encyclopedia by Merril D. Smith Ph.D.

[bigyack-com]

Marnie, Shih Tzu Who Charmed Instagram With Her Lolling Tongue, Dies at 18

Marnie, the Shih Tzu whose lolling tongue, amused expression and tilted gait made her a celebrity on Instagram, died on Thursday at her Los Angeles home. She was 18.“She passed very, very peacefully,” said Shirley Braha, who adopted Marnie from a Connecticut shelter in 2012. “She passed away of old age is the simplest way to put it.”Marnie’s quizzical face and uncanny gift for posing garnered 1.8 million followers on Instagram and turned her from a filthy rescue dog into a poster pet for adopting older animals.She posed with the likes of Katy Perry, Tina Fey and Selena Gomez; got a book deal; and at one point became so famous that her absence at the 2015 World Dog Awards made headlines on TMZ.“Marnie knew that she was famous and she absolutely loved it,” Ms. Braha said on Saturday. “She loved it when crowds would form around her. She would do little dances. She would pose. I never trained her to do it. She just looked straight at the camera and stayed still and gave everyone the most perfect selfies that they wanted. She was a pro.”Marnie’s unlikely rise to fame began after Ms. Braha found her in a Connecticut shelter.She had been found on the streets by animal control officers and named “Stinky” by shelter workers because she smelled so badly.Ms. Braha, who had never had a pet before, fell in love with a picture the shelter posted on PetFinder. The dog was looking straight into the camera with a bemused look that said, “What the heck am I doing here?” Ms. Braha said.When she arrived at the shelter, the dog’s fur was dirty and matted. Ms. Braha named her Marnie after the musician Marnie Stern.On the train from Connecticut to New York, passengers stared. One businessman looked at the dog and said, “ferocious.”It turned out Marnie had 14 rotten teeth, which did not explain the dog’s most curious feature: her long Gene Simmons-like tongue that lolled out to the side, making it look as if she was always laughing. Marnie just had a very long tongue, Ms. Braha said.Once she was cleaned and had dental surgery, Marnie was like a new dog.She insisted on going everywhere with Ms. Braha and barked for hours when she was left alone. Marnie accompanied Ms. Braha to her favorite bar in Williamsburg in Brooklyn, and to parties and restaurants. A couple of times, Ms. Braha sneaked Marnie in to her job at MTV, where she was a producer.“She loved to party,” Ms. Braha said. “You’d bring her out to a group of people, her tail would wag, her tongue would hang out, and she would run around in circles.”In 2014, after the MTV division she worked for folded and she was laid off from her job, Ms. Braha began posting more and more photos of Marnie on Instagram.It began as more of a hobby and a way to spend time with her attention-hungry dog than an effort to join the ranks of other pets who had become famous online.“I was just doubtful anyone would care,” Ms. Braha said of her early pictures. “There is so much content online and it’s almost like the aspiration of fame seems so trite that it just didn’t appeal to me.”But before she knew it, she was getting more followers.“Once I started doing it, I realized that I was having a lot of fun and she was enjoying it,” Ms. Braha said of Marnie.By 2015, The New Yorker had decreed Marnie “the most famous American dog on Instagram.”Ms. Braha said people would write or stop her on the street to tell her that Marnie’s story had inspired them to adopt an older pet. As Marnie got older and winters made it harder for her to go outside, Ms. Braha decided to move to California from New York.“Our relationship was that of two best friends,” she said. “When she became more geriatric, I was more of a caretaker.”During her final days, Marnie was listless but still cheerful and had enough of an appetite to munch on her favorite foods of chicken and greens.But an ulcer had developed on the dog’s gums and because of her age, it was not healing.“Her body just didn’t have the defense to fight off small things like that,” Ms. Braha said. “It was causing her a lot of pain. Her body was just shutting down.”Ms. Braha warned Marnie’s 1.8 million Instagram followers to prepare to say goodbye and kept them updated about the dog’s spirits and trips to the veterinarian.On Thursday, she gently petted Marnie and fed her chicken before she died quietly in her dog bed.Ms. Braha said she has the company of another rescue dog, a 10-year-old she named Gilda whom she adopted a month ago and believes is a Pomeranian mix. She also has the warm wishes of Marnie’s many fans.“I have the whole world available to mourn with me,” Ms. Braha said. “Who gets the privilege of having the whole world mourn with them?” Read the full article

[imcynfinite]

the bubble.

I wanted to see her.

I told myself I’d quit being the initiator when it came to dating, because I was learning to be patient with other people’s approach towards me. Sometimes, I needed validation in knowing someone was interested, but didn’t leave room for them to show it. So I took a personal vow; set a boundary. But there was something about her that felt real good and genuine, and it was a beautiful Monday that felt full of promise if I let it. I thought I’d break my boundary for her; I knew what I wanted, and I didn’t feel like playing a game. I just wanted to see her. There’s a movie I’ve been dying to see playing at a theater I love in the Lower East Side. It could make for a really fun date, so in the middle of our already flowing conversation, I shoot her a text: “Would you like to go to a movie with me tonight?” She’s at work, so I don’t anticipate a quick respon–– “Yes. Yes, I’d love to.” ...well, then. I give her details about the movie, and she agrees again, and we talk a little more... an hour later, she sends another text: “I’m really happy you asked me out. I can be a normal human today. And I get to make you laugh.” I smiled at the thought of her enjoying the smile she regularly puts on my face. And I carry that feeling with me as I go about my day in preparation for the night I’m about to have. ––––– I’m sitting in the theater’s cafe. Open concept with big windows illuminating the room, which is littered with people here and there, waiting for their movie to start. I check my scent to make sure I still smell of vanilla and pull out my phone to ensure my make-up isn’t caked and my headwrap is aligned. I look fantastic. Everything’s fine... but it isn’t. Because my nerves are getting the best of me. Every time the theater doors open, I’m expecting it to be her. My heart races until I see it’s someone else, and then the process of talking myself down starts and lasts for two minutes... until the doors open again. But when she finally walks in, I take in a deep breath. Her head moves from left to right, searching for me, and I’m right there. Suddenly, I’m not so nervous. I’m excited. I didn’t know how happy I’d be to see her, but her energy's so bright, I couldn’t help but brighten myself. She smiles when she sees me. I rise from my seat and we embrace a friendly one. We make small talk as we head to the snack counter and grab something, and the whole time, I’m giddy that the date has started. The giddiness tries to consume me, but somehow, I do a great job at letting it simmer as we make our way to the movie.

We find our seats and chat as we wait for the lights to dim. A kind chat, asking about each other’s day, talking about what we’re about to see, and everything else in between our curiosities allowed. An Asian film that’s been sweeping the critics’ eyes, she had no idea what she was in for. And, in some ways, neither did I. Suddenly, the lights begin to give way. And somehow, in a room full of people, our bubble developed. The movie begins and I’m in it. I’m concentrated, paying it close attention. Beautiful, airy cinematography and pace as we watch the protagonist, a writer who can’t catch a break as she navigates a lonely world of independence, being thrusted into a world left behind to revisit her family and herself in China. But as we’re twenty minutes in, I feel her shift next to me and our shoulders get closer. Suddenly, my attention is divided. There was something really sweet here, the silence we harbored but the energy we shared. I can’t put a finger on what I was feeling, but I’d sit there wondering if she felt it, too. If it distracted her like it was distracting me. There were moments where I had to cross my legs because the energy made me throb a little. Just the closeness was doing something to me. I swear to God, I watched the movie. It was a soft film that gave us humor and heart I didn’t expect, and I was present for a lot of it. But at some moments, I’d take a peek at the way she sits, like a person who takes up space: legs apart with great posture and her arms crossed over her chest. I’d be so turned on by it. Her masculinity, in energy and embodiment, was really attractive. Throughout the film, there are moments where she laughs, and it’s an endearing one. Almost childlike. A little loud and free. If you see her, you don’t automatically expect such a cuteness to come from her. Her presence is a gentle strength. She doesn’t try, it just is. But when you see her smile? You get it. You see it. I’d catch that smile when I’m surprised by the laugh, and turn to see the light from the screen illuminating her teeth as she grins. It warms me. I’m noticing she’s precious. Finally, the movie ends, and we sit in the dark for a moment. Through the bits of light coming from the credits now scrolling on screen, we turn to each other. A shared, “Time to go?” “Yeah, let’s do it,” conversation. We rise and leave, waddling like penguins through the crowd. As we walk out, we talk about what we saw. What we liked. What didn’t work. Questions we had. We march out of the double doors and into the heat of the night, and that first brush of humid breeze flirts with me. Already, I feel loose. The night feels like it’s just starting, and I don’t want it to end. She leads me towards the direction of her car, and I’m tempted to ask if we could just...walk. Because I just want to keep sharing this time with her. And as if she wanted what I did all on her own merit, we somehow agree without saying so, that we will continue the night. There’s a linger in the space between us as we walk. My arms to my sides, bumping against my hips, and her hands lazily tucked into her pockets, like a gentleman. We talk about where we’d move to in the city if we had all the money in the world with the privilege of the choice. Our bubble is sweet. Flirtatious. Calm, but it can be felt. So much so that I can feel it rush from my toes to my fingertips. We get to her car and there’s a weight. A question. One of us wants to say something. Neither of us wants the night to end. Suddenly she asks, “Are you hungry?” and I say, “Yes.” She opens the car door for me, and I hop in, grinning inside. As soon as she climbs into her car and closes the door, the silence that shuts out the outside world is beautiful. I’m sitting beside her, feeling glad for the confined space. I feel safe next to her as she tells me she’s taking me to a Venezuelan spot in Williamsburg I’m gonna love. She pulls out of her parking space and we drive through the Lower East Side of Manhattan, talking a fun, light conversation with giggles and a game of questions. My passenger’s seat is reclined a tiny bit, so I’m sprawled across it, arms behind my head, comfortable. I’d... also be a liar if I pretended I hadn’t known my bra that night held my girls up beautifully, and if she peered at me, she’d get an amazing view. Because, I knew. And as we drove across the Brooklyn Bridge and I brought attention to the beauty of the water and skyscrapers outside, I caught her peering. And it made me feel good.  ...I like the way she looks at me. I catch her sometimes, and try not to imagine it. I try not to imagine all of this. At times, I think I’m the only one feeling the sweetness in the tension. That maybe, I’m romanticizing our moments together, but I don’t know... –––––   We make it to the restaurant, sit across from each other in this dim, red lighting, order our drinks, and continue talking. I’m a lightweight who ordered a strong margarita, so a few sips in, I’m tipsy and fluid. I start talking, about what, I don’t remember. But, as I speak, she leans in and stares at my lips, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I pretend I don’t notice, but the pit of my stomach dances because even when she looks into my eyes, she finds her way back to my mouth. I’d stop speaking and she’ll take a moment to pick her eyes up and respond. And when she responds, she has an answer. She was listening. But she doesn’t hide the fact that she likes where the words are coming from. The food comes and it looks amazing. This hot dog jam packed with toppings I’d never find on the streets of New York City. Textures of all times, tastes of all levels consume me when I take a my first bite, tastebuds going apeshit. Maybe it’s because the drink was hitting hard, but it was a literal orgasm in my mouth. I moan with happiness, almost tearing up at how good that bite, and every bite after that, was. Behind her food, she’s amused, grinning as she tells me I may be borderline drunk, and she’s right. My eyes are low and I’m smiling a lot more. She cracks jokes and my giggles are stronger. My body’s hot, so I shift and move in my seat. I stare at her with intention as she speaks and as our conversations get deeper. And she watches all of me, sometimes smirking at my freeness the drink provided. Her eyes are just... on me, the whole time, and I’m turned on. From the company, from the food, from the drink, from the beauty I know I’m expelling, from the handsomeness she’s throwing back, and from this sensual ass bubble that keeps filling with our energy. Time passes, and we look up from our bubble to see we’re the last ones there. A worker is mopping the floor and the bartender is cleaning the bar by the time we decide it’s time to go. She gets up to pay and use the bathroom, and as she stands and walks away, I do my best not to stare too hard. But she has a body, man. This... strong body that, just by the way she moves in it, shows a woman who has had numerous life experiences to get to this point of self comfort. To move without inhibitions in her skin. She is gentle and sturdy. Broad shoulders, a smooth chest, slight curves at her hips, thick thighs through her jeans... I loved watching her. And maybe it was because I was so tipsy that the thought of wrapping my arms around those shoulders filled my head. Wanting to kiss her lips. Lips plump and circular. Pink and tempting. But no matter what I want to do, I don’t. Not yet. We walk out, and do that slow walk again. The night’s coming to a close. She has work early in the morning, and I have to catch my train. We walk, side by side, swept into innocent conversation. There’s a temptation we don’t all the way act on. We flirt and we laugh and we marvel at each other’s presence secretly, but what we COULD do? Kiss and touch and taste? We don’t. Not yet. We’re two people eager to get to know each other. And how easy it can be getting lost in the physical of it all, when the test of patience in how well you build your intimacy through energy, vulnerability, closeness, and conversation is right there. I’ve never done this with intent before. Dating it still such a foreign concept for me. It’s a challenge, because I know I want her. And I know she wants me, too. But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love this. Not rushing to touch, or taste. It makes the moment she tapped my thigh during the movie sweet. Or the time she gave me her button up shirt to shield my hair and face when it rained hard on us at the pier during our prior date, endearing. Or just sitting next to her in her car, feeling her energy, that much sexier. I like moving at this pace. We give ourselves room to learn each other before moving to something more revealing. It’s a ladder we’re climbing. We part ways with a hug. Not like the friendly one when we greeted each other. This one was warm. Sensual. Soft and even sexy. That’ll do for now. But when I get home, she texts me how much fun she had. How pretty I am. How she loves talking to me. My heart races because I share all of those same feelings. I’m swept away by how much fun I had and how good it felt to want someone, and to know they wanted you, too. I notice, though, that she’s shy with her words in person. I can tell. And that’s okay with me. She’ll say what she feels whenever she needs to. We’re still so new to each other, this being our third date, and there are levels to this. I’m learning to appreciate the levels. Because I know a time is coming where she feels completely comfortable enough to say what she’s thinking to my face. “And maybe,” I think to myself as I get into bed, a smile planted so wide as I recall my night. “...when we finally kiss, it’ll be her chance to speak every thought on her mind. And I want to hear everything.”

[micklewis]

@MusicHallOfWB @JapaneseHouse played a catchy set of guitar-based, treated/layered vocals, dancey indiepop to a sold-out crowd of 16+ fans Setlist included: #FaceLikeThunder #CoolBlue #YouSeemedSoHappy #Lilo #FollowMyGirl #Teeth #GoodSideIn #ISawYouInADream #Leon #Clean (at Music Hall of Williamsburg) https://www.instagram.com/p/Brb6jd9lSXT/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1s2626il0olsf

[homesteadbrooklyn]

If you’re cruising for both pearly whites and awesome plants, then you’ll have to check out my neighbor and my dentist Jennifer @grandstreetdental ... I used to dread going to the dentist office as a kid, but dare I say I love getting my teeth cleaned and I’m literally OBSESSED with flossing. Seriously so. It sounds strange but it’s like a massage to my gums and keeps my grill looking fresh! (About time I schedule an appointment cuz I’m overdue!) (at Williamsburg, Brooklyn)

[the-coconut-asado]

HOW I GET INTO BARS IN MANHATTAN

I am going to tell a story about good and bad service and it’s going to take me a few paragraphs before you get to the recipes. Buckle up and pour yourself a cocktail.

Back in eighties New York no smart restaurant or bar staff line-up was complete without a generous dollop of sass. I liked the honesty of the ‘take it or fuck you’ service culture, often accompanied by a smile and a shrug. Now, on a bad day, (and most days in New York are good), you get a thin veil of courtesy, dipped in the nail polish of smug contempt.

Now, I have been to some great bars in Manhattan with sizzlingly good service. Dan the mixologist at Attaboy for example, a speakeasy in Chinatown, left me schoolgirl-dizzy with delight from what in retrospect were a few vaudeville tricks delivered with precision-charm. First there is the theatre of the entrance: a bashed-up door to an old tenement building on the edge of Chinatown, leading to a tiny corridor of a bar. Dan glided over and asked me what kind of things I liked to drink, what I wanted from life and if I watched The Crown on Netflix (I may have imagined at least two thirds of that). He then decided that a Kingsman Negroni would set my world alight. Damn! he was right, and I was almost teary when we had to leave to make our dinner booking.

Some other bar experiences have not been so serendipidous. Take the rooftop bar at a new budget-yet-hipster-with-no-coffee-in-your-room boutique on the Lower East Side. Staying there last summer, I tried to book myself and a friend in for a drink on my first evening. I got sizzlingly good booking service (see above) by way of reply: “Absolutely no need for you to book Mrs Bentley! As a guest you get automatic access with a plus one!”

If you thought this was sorted, then you would be wrong.

My mate Mel and I rocked up to the rooftop pretty early on that stiflingly hot summer evening. The bouncer at the door had that combination of faultless good manners and computer-says-no attitude that sets your teeth on auto-grind. Yes, he said, we were free to go to the back indoor bar, but the outside bar (let’s face it the ONLY bar anyone wanted to go to) was full.

We squinted through the doorway. It really didn’t look that full.

“We want our guests to experience the pleasant ambience in the bar, so we like to keep numbers down” he whispered. I forgot to mention he was a soft talker, straight out of the Seinfeld playbook.

While he held us at bay with his lullaby tones, the fedora-topped host was pretending to ignore us, using the same body language as the Beverly Hills sourface in Pretty Woman.

I fixed a smile on my face and continued: “If we go into the back bar, will you tell us when space comes free?’

“I’m afraid I can’t do that” the bouncer whispered in downsized Matt Damon-like tones: ‘We let people in on a first come first served basis. Unless you booked’.

‘I tried to book, I was told that I didn’t need to as I am a guest.’

‘If you haven’t booked you need to wait in the back bar.’

‘In that case we’ll wait here”, Mel chipped in.

‘I’m afraid you can’t wait here ladies, you’re blocking the walkway’ – ah! the host had finally decided to notice us.

“I think we will wait though’ I replied, still smiling winningly, with an only faintly discernible tick in my cheek.

This was a dance and we decided to settle into the rhythm. The host went back to studying her fingernails and the bouncer intensified the low voice so that we could only hear every third word. He seemed to be saying " You do have entry to the bar, but not if it is full.”

“But it’s not full!!”

“It’s our policy and there’s nothing I can do. I am triste for you.”

I could have sworn he said triste, or he may have said ‘piste’ which is what Mel and I should have been by now. And the French flavour of superiority he had adopted made me angry. Don't worry mate, I thought, I can play this game till les vaches come home.

The stand-off continued. The two of us refusing to move, the gatekeepers refusing to meet our gaze. And all the while we could glimpse the seductive but disappearing sunset on the terrace. Then, quite suddenly, balance of power shifted in our favour. Three socialites – a good two decades younger and well hipper than us, I’ll leave it there  -  swanned past us. They had clearly booked. And they were clearly the right demographic. I sashayed over to the host.

“I’m confused. I see those ladies booked and you let them in. And yet no one has left the outside bar. Should I have gone medieval with the booking service when they said I could bowl up as a hotel guest,and insist they should make a reservation for me? Or maybe I should just be younger?’

Busted. For a split second her insouciant mask slipped and she grimaced. And then she let us in. And the sunset, the view, and the heady aroma of NYC jeunesse d'ore was worth it - for a couple of hours at least. I haven’t been back. 

But before you get ‘triste’ that the world really is only for the young, the hip and the restless, then leave the bars and head for the food and drink festivals – where even my 92 year old auntie pictured here (who by the way is hip enough to use Whatsapp to great sarcastic advantage) gets great service.  

The artisanal food markets around the City such as the weekend Smorgasburg – which I have followed from Brooklyn Bridge to a Williamsburg car park to its most recent leafily affluent home in Prospect Park – give you great views (mostly), superiority-free service and delicious food and drink. It also gave me the inspiration for my Gingerbread Ice cream Sandwich, which I am sharing for you here. 

The best bars also serve amazing bar food. And while, Kingsman Negroni aside, I have rarely remembered a good cocktail,  I can snap-recall great food I have eaten with it. Here are a couple of food combinations I love in a bar-snackable format. Chin-chin.

Freaky Beets

If Kale is the food currency of New York, then beetroot is the bitcoin, i.e it’s both alternative and hyped. If you want clean food that is also unctuous and delicious then whip this up the next time you need a superfood boost to carbon-neutralise your alcohol intake. Small plates are also the perfect bar food. This one is a mash up of some Ottolenghi inspiration and a great little recipe I spied in Olive Magazine. Serves 4 as an appetizer.

Ingredients:

Four red raw beetroot and 2 raw golden beets, topped, peeled and cut into chunks (use non latex gloves to stop you getting your hands stained);

2 tsp. chilli flakes

2 large carrots, cut into chunks

Tblspn cumin

2 tbpn. Olive oil

Kosher salt and black pepper

2 tbsp. sherry vinegar

1 tsp honey.

3 tsp hazelnuts

3 tbsp. greek yoghurt.

Juice of ½ a lemon.

1 250g pouch ready to eat freekah.

A few basil leaves.

How to make

Heat the oven to 200C (or 190C Fan).

Pop the hazelnuts onto a baking sheet and roast for 5-10 mins until they are slightly browned and the skins peel off easily by rubbing a little. Chop and set aside.

Toss the chunks of beetroot and carrot with the chilli flakes, cumin, oil and seasoning, spread out in a shallow baking pan and roast for 40 mins.

Take the beets out and toss in the sherry and honey, then return to the oven for a further 5 minutes.

Mix the Greek yoghurt with the lemon juice, then season to taste.Warm the freekah through with a little water in a small saucepan.

Toss the warm beets and carrots with the freekeh in a serving bowl. Drizzle over the yoghurt dressing, then scatter with the hazelnuts and torn basil. Season again and drizzle with a little more oil, then serve.

Chilli fried squid with smashed borlotti beans

This takes literally 20 minutes from start to finish. To be eaten lingering over a glass of wine with a special someone that you don’t want to be seen stuffing your face in front of. Serves 2

 `ingredients

1 400g can borlotti beans

A few leaves of sage, chopped finely

1 sprig rosemary. Needles chopped finely

1 long red chilli

1 tsp red wine vinegar

Generous glug of olive oil.

½ tsp chilli flakes

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2 anchovy fillets, chopped

Extra virgin olive oil

6 small squid, cleaned, trimmed, flattened and scored,  and suckers separated

Parsely to serve.

How to make:

Prepare the squid, rub some oil over it, season, and leave to one side on a plate.

Put the olive oil into a sturdy pot on a low heat, add the garlic and cook very slowly for five minutes. Add the sage, rosemary, chopped chilli, vinegar and anchovy fillets. Stir for a minute or two to combine, then add the borlotti beans and the chopped tomatoes. Continue to cook on a low heat for about 15-20 mins until the flavor combine and you have a thick consistency. Mash the beans a bit with a fork (but not too much, you stil want discernible beans on display in the finished dish).

Heat a frying pan, and when searing hot throw in the squid and chilli flakes and fry for 30 seconds to a minute until you have browned charred bits of squid but not yet overcooked or rubbery.

Fill a couple of pasta bowls with the beans, add the quid on top and garnish with chopped parsley. Drizzle a little olive oil over the squid and season again before serving.

Gingerbread ice cream sandwich

I had one of these on a scorchio day at the Smorgasboard in Prospect Park. Been wanting to recreate it ever since. My recipe leans heavily on The Violet Bakery for their chewy, treacly ginger nut, coupled with a non-churn ridiculously easy and foolproof ice cream inspired by the legend that is Mary Berry. Makes 6-8 sandwiches.

Ingredients:

For the ginger nuts:

210g plain flour

11/2 tsp ground cinnamon

11/2 tsp. ground ginger

¼ tsp ground cardamom

¼ tso. Ground coriander

1 tsp bicarbonate soda

125g unsalted butter

100g dark muscovado sugar

100g treacle11/2 tsp boiling water

Caster sugar for dusting

 For the ice cream:

4 large eggs, separated

100g caster sugar

300ml double cream

100g stem ginger, chopped into small pieces

2 tbsp syrup from the jar

30g chopped crystallized ginger

 How to make

First, make the ice cream.

Whisk the egg whites in a large bowl until stiff peaks form.Slowly whisk in the caster sugar, and continue to whisk until the mixture is stiff ang glossy.

Whisk the cream in a separate bowl until you have soft peaks. Fold the cream,egg yolks, and the stem ginger, syrup and crystallised ginger into the meringue mixture until well combined (don’t be heavy handed with this stage). Pour into a plastic container and freeze for two hours.

While the ice cream is freezing, make the ginger snaps.

Preheat the oven to 180C (170C fan). Line a baking sheet with baking parchment.

Measure all the dry ingredients (except for the muscovado sugar) into a bowl and mix well.

Beat the butter, brown sugar and treacle with an nelectric whisk until light and fluffy. Add the boiling water, then the dry ingredients and mix until combined.

Put some caster sugar in a small bowl. Scoop small spoons of mix, roll into a ball and then roll in the caster sugar, then place on the baking sheet and press slightly in the middle (these biscuits will spread a lot so don’t press down too hard). Repeat with the rest of the mix.

Pop into the oven and bake for 15 mins. The biscuits will still be softish when you take them out of the oven but they will harden as they cool down.

When the ginger nuts are completely cold and the ice cream firm but scoopable, Sandwich a scoop of ice cream between two ginger nuts and wrap in baking parchment before putting upright into a loaf tin. Repeat with you other biscuits, so they all fit snigly into the tin, then return to the freezer until you are ready to eat them. You can also serve this up as scoops of ice cream, on its own with ginger snaps on the side. 

[moneygripp13]

Jr. Getting his teeth cleaned at his dentist 😬 #teethcleaning #dentist (at Williamsburg, Brooklyn)

[hello-dently]

Dental Cleaning Brooklyn

Regular dental cleanings protect your teeth from decay, discoloration, and damage. At dently, in the williamsburg neighborhood of brooklyn, new york, the expert dentists perform thorough cleanings to keep your smile healthy and cavity-free as you age. Call the dently office or schedule an appointment online today to book a dental cleaning with an experienced dentist.

[hello-dently]

Dental Implants Specialist Williamsburg

Regular dental cleanings protect your teeth from decay, discoloration, and damage. At dently, in the williamsburg neighborhood of brooklyn, new york, the expert dentists perform thorough cleanings to keep your smile healthy and cavity-free as you age. Call the dently office or schedule an appointment online today to book a dental cleaning with an experienced dentist. To learn more about dental cleanings, call the Dently office or schedule an appointment online today.