Roberta's and the fate of Bushwick
Ever since I moved into my current neighborhood, almost three years ago, I've heard many claims that the area has been/is/will be transforming from an industrial wasteland into a yuppie/hippie wasteland. Some of that is apparent, as I've seen the number of thrift stores increase from zero to, I think, five. And the number of bars (three) still outnumbers garbage dumps (one). But I've held steadfastly to my claim that until I can get a pizza and walk home before it gets cold, that we have not yet, as a neighborhood, turned a corner.
Well, shut my mouth.
I actually noticed this place sometime shortly after I got back from Hawai'i. But I've spent so much time off the block that I haven't had the chance to properly investigate. I sensed that it was the makings of a restaurant because of the cute little red "Roberta's" sign on a building that appears to have once been a metal-working shop. But in the past week, I noticed a sandwich board appear outside, signaling to me that work had been completed, so I popped in to see what they were selling and if they had a take-out menu.
The place looked charming enough, with plenty of wooden picnic-style tables and benches seemingly made out of entire logs. There's lots of space and light and Hank Williams was playing on the sound system. And behind the front counter was a nifty wood-burning stove, which gave away the store's main selling point.
Now, I could point out that a slightly upscale, organic cheese pizza joint is not exactly what I was asking for. But I threw down the gauntlet and my neighborhood picked it up in the only way it knows how: to rebuke its surroundings in the most glaring way possible. Technically, I can now call for a pizza, pick it up and take it home before the cheese congeals, but at what cost?? $12, if I want something on top that is, most likely arugula, mustard sprouts or some such.
I'm kidding; Roberta's sounds terrific and already has fans, I see. And I kind of have to go, since it's pretty much across the street from me. So now that we have our pizza place, what else does the future hold for quaint little Bushwick/East Williamsburg?
Karaoke bar - When I see Mainland Americans doing this, I'm still confused about where the line is drawn between participating earnestly and ironically. Which means it's perfect for my part of town.
Japanese Rock Garden supplier - Much of the urban landscape in and around the East Williamsburg Industrial Park is stark, smelly and/or depressing. Many of the inhabitants of the loft spaces in the EWIP are also stark, smelly and/or depressing, but more voluntarily so. But with so many accessible and customizable rooftops, tending to a Japanese rock garden is the perfect way to escape from that dumpster of moldy rice, or from your next door neighbors' repetitive band practice.
Hotel - Honestly, I don't see how else all that art is going to get sold unless you have someone who needs to put something random, yet generic, in 40 different rooms.
Bushwick Hippodrome - One block from me lies Rock Street. The street itself is exactly one block long and is on private property, as if it's some sort of vanity street on a corporate campus, like Microsoft Way or McDonald's Drive, but with one key exception: It's ROCK Street. The main problem here is that it is flanked on either side by the massive Boars Head Shipping Center. Though they are fine enough purveyors of meats and cheese, they don't really rock, in any sort of honest appraisal of the word. The plan for the would-be savvy investor:
1. Lure Boars Head away from Rock Street with more comfortable accommodations elsewhere.
2. Cloak entire compound and install luminous countdown clock while renovations are being done.
3. Open three-story Debauchetorium, with absinthe swimming pool, intravenous Guitar Heroin playing area, small-c coke machines and hooker coffee tables.
There is a minuscule chance that this venture could eventually grow too popular, too influential and too strong, with its proprietor amassing unassailable wealth and prestige, only to collapse later in a Roman spectacle of greed and corruption, leaving a mile-wide crater of hubris and VD.
Eh, six of one, half dozen of the other.
Well, shut my mouth.
I actually noticed this place sometime shortly after I got back from Hawai'i. But I've spent so much time off the block that I haven't had the chance to properly investigate. I sensed that it was the makings of a restaurant because of the cute little red "Roberta's" sign on a building that appears to have once been a metal-working shop. But in the past week, I noticed a sandwich board appear outside, signaling to me that work had been completed, so I popped in to see what they were selling and if they had a take-out menu.
The place looked charming enough, with plenty of wooden picnic-style tables and benches seemingly made out of entire logs. There's lots of space and light and Hank Williams was playing on the sound system. And behind the front counter was a nifty wood-burning stove, which gave away the store's main selling point.
Now, I could point out that a slightly upscale, organic cheese pizza joint is not exactly what I was asking for. But I threw down the gauntlet and my neighborhood picked it up in the only way it knows how: to rebuke its surroundings in the most glaring way possible. Technically, I can now call for a pizza, pick it up and take it home before the cheese congeals, but at what cost?? $12, if I want something on top that is, most likely arugula, mustard sprouts or some such.
I'm kidding; Roberta's sounds terrific and already has fans, I see. And I kind of have to go, since it's pretty much across the street from me. So now that we have our pizza place, what else does the future hold for quaint little Bushwick/East Williamsburg?
Karaoke bar - When I see Mainland Americans doing this, I'm still confused about where the line is drawn between participating earnestly and ironically. Which means it's perfect for my part of town.
Japanese Rock Garden supplier - Much of the urban landscape in and around the East Williamsburg Industrial Park is stark, smelly and/or depressing. Many of the inhabitants of the loft spaces in the EWIP are also stark, smelly and/or depressing, but more voluntarily so. But with so many accessible and customizable rooftops, tending to a Japanese rock garden is the perfect way to escape from that dumpster of moldy rice, or from your next door neighbors' repetitive band practice.
Hotel - Honestly, I don't see how else all that art is going to get sold unless you have someone who needs to put something random, yet generic, in 40 different rooms.
Bushwick Hippodrome - One block from me lies Rock Street. The street itself is exactly one block long and is on private property, as if it's some sort of vanity street on a corporate campus, like Microsoft Way or McDonald's Drive, but with one key exception: It's ROCK Street. The main problem here is that it is flanked on either side by the massive Boars Head Shipping Center. Though they are fine enough purveyors of meats and cheese, they don't really rock, in any sort of honest appraisal of the word. The plan for the would-be savvy investor:
1. Lure Boars Head away from Rock Street with more comfortable accommodations elsewhere.
2. Cloak entire compound and install luminous countdown clock while renovations are being done.
3. Open three-story Debauchetorium, with absinthe swimming pool, intravenous Guitar Heroin playing area, small-c coke machines and hooker coffee tables.
There is a minuscule chance that this venture could eventually grow too popular, too influential and too strong, with its proprietor amassing unassailable wealth and prestige, only to collapse later in a Roman spectacle of greed and corruption, leaving a mile-wide crater of hubris and VD.
Eh, six of one, half dozen of the other.