Since arriving in Los Angeles in November, I’ve had several heart pangs over missing the sidewalk bustle in Boerum Hill every morning, my beloved deli guy, Peter (below after winning $20 off me when I bet against Germany during the World Cup), snow, and being able to meander around at two A.M. without being the only person awake and addressing life stuff at that hour.
I’m still not really into the swing of LA life yet, but I’m trying to comfort myself with reassurances that day by day, NY loses the charm that made me fall in love with it in the first place. Today, I read that Yonah Schimmel’s Knishery is probably going to close. Back in my youth (when rabble-rousing and drinking in Ludlow Street until 4AM at the now-defunct Max Fix was called “wilding”), this was The Place to fill one’s belly for less than $5 with a broccoli knish that weighed as much as a brick and an egg cream to wash it down. This was a dinner that fueled many penny-pinching party animals’ crazy nights, contributing in no small part to the legacy of the neighborhood by probably saving many of us from alcohol poisoning. If this rumor is true, farewell, Yonah Schimmel’s Knishery. May ye rest in peace alongside Bereket.
And for anyone who thinks that city treasures like this one can reinvent themselves successfully, they can’t. They can’t, a million times, I insist. The new Max Fish seems like it’s just a bunch of Look at This Fucking Hipster set to the tune of this: Ninjasonik’s Picture Party. (sidenote: This ain’t Misshapes, y’all are messed up might just be the most NYC-correct song lyric of the last 15 years).