new york city puts on an unusually silent mask over thanksgiving weekend, as thousands of transplants return to their hometowns to celebrate the holiday with their loved ones.
i decided to take advantage. along with my parents, i headed to red hook, brooklyn, to eat a hearty sunday brunch at the usually-crowded restaurant and bar, the good fork. it was all we hoped it would be: delicious, relaxed, and nearly empty.
the interior made us feel as though we had ducked into a cozy, old british joint of some sort. something about the warming décor and the rounded ceiling made it feel as though we were tucked away in an old-fashioned train car.
the atmosphere was not its only high point, though. the food was impeccable. below is my korean-style steak with a fried egg, home fries, and a gingery-dressed side salad.
my dad opted for the shredded chicken tostadas, also topped with eggs and finished with parsley and chunks of avocado.
my mother’s fried chicken and biscuits was equally delicious but less, well, photogenic. can lumpy gravy ever really look pleasing? in any case, one may conclude that we hated everything we tried. proof below.
with full bellies to help us brave the cold, we managed to pop into a few of the beautiful shops on van brunt street. foxy & winston, my favorite stop of the day, was full of hand-printed paper goods, soaps and posters.
before hopping back to manhattan, we made sure to stop by the port, where massive, civil war-era shipping warehouses and defunct trains still stand.
i think i will forever be a tourist in my own city. and i am absolutely jubilant about it.