My father came to New York on his way from Boston, en route to Miami. He had only one day, and because the sun was shining, and New York was quiet due to a holiday, I decided the best way to enjoy the city would be by bike. Dad loves to explore, and I too was eager to discover new areas/places/restaurants. As we cruised up Washington Street in Tribeca, admiring the loft buildings and wondering how we could ever afford to buy one (well, that’s what I was thinking), I noticed a small, brick storefront half-covered in ivy. Outside, a sign read:
The large picture window revealed shelves up on shelves of pleasantly un-dusty cookbooks. If Dad and I didn’t have to return the bikes, I could have gotten lost in this store. I particularly love the big ol’ wood door, with a brass sign that simply reads, “Cookbooks.” This is food culture at its most elegant. I suggest you rent a bike and find it…good luck.
Apologies for the headbending angle on these photos…but technical difficulties won’t allow me to change it.