What is New York City?

Its people and the variety in good eating the people provide to all of us.

That was my awed response to 2026 The New York Times annual 100 best restaurants list. Which I embraced in its entirety — while eating a big salad. (You need to have a satiated stomach before absorbing the short, lyrical and luscious Times writer’s descriptions of these restaurants lest you instantly head out to one of them and not come home until you’ve eaten at every one.)

Astonishing, the range of city locations (all five boroughs and some neighborhoods I’ve never heard of until now), ambience (“scruffy” t0 palatial) and prices (a meal for $10 to a meal for $$$$).

But most wondrous is how the entire world is centered here, in New York, a tale told by its restaurants.

I’ve pulled together the cuisines represented in the 100 Best list, indented below. I haven’t included the many variations within each area, or repeated the number of times Japanese restaurants, say, are on this list:

Pakistani, Indian, Mexican, Italian, Albanian, Trinidadian and Tobagonian, West African, Ghanian, Sri Lankan, Jewish deli, Jamaican, Caribbean, Taiwanese, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Japanese, Chinese, Singaporean, American southern soul food, Burmese, Korean, Moroccan, French-Caribbean, Asian-Southern, Middle Eastern, Filipino, Nepalese, Uyghur, Basque-Spanish, Tibetan, Thai, Iranian, French, French-Vietnamese, Mediterranean, Malaysian,  Chinese, New American, Asian American Diner, French-Seafood, Yemeni,  Egyptian, Georgian, Indonesian, Scandinavian, Creole, African, Swedish.

Needless to say, this remarkably varied list doesn’t cover all the ethnic cuisines (and the people) available in New York. My quick reckoning picked up other countries’ cuisines not currently represented in the 100, like Haitian, Russian, Ethiopian, Afghanistani, South American, British, Irish — and a whole heap of others which would probably make a 500-Best, or no Best List at all, except our personal favorites list.

Thing is, for reasons I need not mention, more than at any other time in my life I’m experiencing a deep love for and enhanced awareness of my birthplace and eternal home. It is the best place, and is the best because of its foundation, the early 17th century Dutch settlement of New Amsterdam, the initial and burgeoning population of which was not exclusively Dutch.

As I’ve learned from reading Russell Shorto’s terrific history, The Island at the Center of the World, and its (sort of) sequel, Taking Manhattan, the 100 Best began with the even-then heterogeneous immigrant colony that was New Amsterdam, and is now even more heterogeneous New York City.

I am ever grateful.

 

 

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Want an “unused fancy cat tree”?

I’ll explain.

I live in a small, lively village where residents take to a village bulletin board, like the old days before computers, to offer things for sale and things for free, club meetings, concerts, Pilates in the community room, lone sock found in local laundry. Like that.

It happens that my village is a large residential building, a coop, in Manhattan but villages are villages and villagers are villagers all over the world, I bet. We all probably behave similarly, whether in Crossville, Tennessee, a town on the route of the Mother of All Yard Sales — which lines the sides of a local highway for so many miles, it may only end at Fort Clatsop.

I’m certain we on the Upper West Side of Manhattan would also have a yard sale, except we don’t have a yard. We do have that (digital) bulletin board though, so if anyone in Fort Clatsop has the log-in codes, I could say our “yard sale” reaches to Fort Clatsop…but I am so wandering off the track, which is…

A day or so ago, I noticed that offer on our bulletin board and was amused and curious. I personally didn’t want an unused fancy cat tree; I don’t have a cat, nor a fancy cat; I am allergic to either kind of cat. But I know enough about cats to chuckle at one who has rejected a fancy cat tree. It’s funny-weird the way cats are funny-weird. How can you ask a cat why it doesn’t fancy the fancy cat tree? Does the cat perceive himself to be a not-fancy-enough breed to use the tree? Or maybe the cat is such an over-the-top (of the tree) fancy breed, like an Aphrodite’s Giant maybe, a cat who sits at such Olympian heights he sneers at a fancy cat tree.

I envision a one-sided conversation between the cat’s human servant and the cat. I envision all sorts of gambits to get the cat to like the tree. I mean, to try to get the cat to like the tree. Does the cat prefer the box the tree came in? Naturally, so can’t you devise a segue from the box to the tree? Do you lift the cat out of the box and try to place him on the tree? Do you then take down your first aid kit and tend to your scratched body parts as the cat screeches his disapproval? Et cetera.

Cats exist to drive humans crazy.

 

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A nuclear strike in the event of….WHAT?

Weary of the psychotic crew posing as “government” in our country? Take a break with the psychotic crew “governing” North Korea, as reported in today’s Harper’s Weekly Review:

The parliament of North Korea amended the country’s constitution to empower the government to launch an immediate nuclear strike in the event of the supreme leader’s assassination.

An immediate nuclear strike on whom?

I’d think a nuclear strike on a human assassin would be what the French, in devastasting understatement, call de trop, right? This amendment doesn’t specify targeting the assassin, or what sort of investigation will be carried out to discover the assassin. I mean, in the few minutes between (1) assassination and (2) “immediate” nuclear strike.

So maybe they’re sort of constitutionalizing anger and grief and saying, “We’re feeling so wail-y we’re going to launch a nuclear strike at wherever because it’ll make us all feel better”?

Hasn’t North Korea has had some little trouble with their nuclear weaponry? Like, the missiles don’t launch properly and don’t head up and out in anything like a planned direction? Like, no GPS on board giving it the route (depending on traffic) or frantically announcing, “Recalibrating”?

I hope this gives you comfort that there’s a world-class Dear Leader crazier than ours.

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