#Buffalo Bodega

[soracities]

"Desire is a buffalo standing on my chest.

I’m sorry to be dramatic, but this is the only

way to tell you."

Jeremy Radin,  'Poems from DEAR SAL', published in Bodega

#q #lit #quotes #poetry #jeremy radin #variations on desire #the body electric #desire is no light thing etc yeah anne it really fucking isnt goddd #m #x

[rozieramati]

bought these at buffalo exchange today <3

i love the sleeves on this dress !! my friend alexandra found the pink hat for me and it was the best find ever :,) we actually properly met for the first time today. it’s insane the amount we related on certain things. there are some experiences that are pretty unique to only us that i’ve never really been able to talk about with anyone else until today. it felt so lovely and freeing to find someone to relate to in those ways.

we talked about social media, amelie, friendship struggles, creative pursuits, psychic experiences, our adhd, and more. it was sweet.

anywho, my song with sega bodega is doing so well i’m really happy :,) he tweeted the song the other day. he really doesn’t have to share it so the fact he is really warms my heart. (poison girlfriend liked the tweet i nearly passed away).

i had a little release party for our song at tenants of the trees on saturday. it was so fun. the owner of tenants actually came up to me and said he wanted to do live shows soon. i told him it was my dream to sing jazz standards at a bar and he said he has another bar called star love that’s more lounge-like and would be perfect for that. he said he would literally hire me to sing for him weekly as a paid gig ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ we’re working through the kinks of it but i really hope it all comes together because it would b a dreammmmm

even more, i would be singing on the nights where the bar is exclusively lesbian so this is like the biggest win of my life if it works out :,) seriously out of a movie ~

if you've made it this far in the post my asks are open !! would love to answer any questions and/or hear about something tht brings u joy <3

#me #selfie #buffalo exchange #coquette #vintage #lana del rey #fka twigs #jane birkin #mini dress #diary #jazz bar #asks open #rozie selfie

[thatwritererinoriordan]

Four Vignettes

I don't know what this is. Maybe it was inspired by my Spotify Wrapped? I'm still not sure I'm using the word "pastiche" correctly. I pulled at a few different threads and I wove this, whatever it is.

One.

Robert Sheehan is outside my window again. Lucky for me, I'm on the 2nd floor, in my writer's studio above the corner bodega and he's standing on the sidewalk.

The window is open.

"Eileen!" he shouts up. "Come on, Eileen."

I leave my chair, push aside the pink-and-gray buffalo check curtain and peer down at him.

Putting his Irish accent on thick, he sings, "Believe me, if all those enduring young charms..."

"I'm dreaming," I say, interrupting his croon. "This is because I said you should play Kevin Rowland in a movie about Dexys Midnight Runners."

"Not a dream," he half-says, half-sings. "Don't you want to come down and go for a walk with me, just around the neighborhood?"

"No." The smell of hot tortilla chips warming in the bodega below makes my nostrils flare. I imagine the salt crystals on their flat surfaces. Craving the warmth and salt, I feel a hunger pang.

"Why not?"

"I've got things to do."

"Like what?"

I gesture at my laptop. "I have to write things. Legitimate things, fresh things, not just this Joyce Carol Oates pastiche."

"Eileen, you ain't telling the truth."

"Not my name," I remind him.

"Eileen, Erin, whatever. This is your day set aside for going for a walk with me and you know it."

I feel threatened. I close the window and go back to my laptop.

#part 1 of 4 #my writing #robert sheehan #joyce carol oates #come on eileen

[bisamwilson]

Fic writer asks: 7, 40, 55!

hi zainab!! thanks for the ask <3

(from this list)

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

i think it's mostly whichever one feels more right for the story? for sambucky, i think i usually end up writing from sam's POV bc i generally have a more similar thought process to sam than i do bucky, but there are certain fics where it just makes more sense to write from bucky's POV to me (like the massage fic, for example, bc it's mainly about bucky kind of panicking over sam and having a 6k word Time™ about it)

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

i feel like my go-to answer to this is always either any of sam's looks in hey princess (but especially either his birthday party or wedding day looks) and one/both of sam or bucky in the USO girl outfit in you were an army officer bc 🥵, but honestly i'd also love to see the costco condiment aisle proposal from put some mustard on it or the dancing-under-the-broken-awning-in-the-rain scene from buffalo gals

but also if anyone drew anything from any scenes in any of my works i'd be over the fucking moon

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

oh sam wilson, easily. literally no contest. i adore him more than anything, and i think that really shows in my work, and i love to give him the love and attention that he deserves. i think people generally like the way i write sam? but that's just a bonus to how much i enjoy writing sam

since sam's the easy answer, in terms of background characters, i adore being able to give clint more of a personality than he's got in the mcu whenever i have him in a fic (he was one of my favorite parts of the one last stop au and the bodega owner!bucky au, for example)

i did really enjoy getting to write phee in the techphee fic i wrote though! finding her voice was super fun, and i loved being able to give her more of a backstory since we know so little about her

#these were fun!! and now i'm thinking of both of them in that uso uniform again.... haunts my dreams... #thanks zainab <3 #ask meme #ask game #writer meme #writer game #ask #firstelevens #mak rants

[gcld-rushes]

      ・   ✦   ・   𝐆𝐂𝐋𝐃-𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 /   *    (   for @quickwitts )  

Seated at the bar, Onyx rhythmically drums his fingers on the surface, a subtle manifestation of impatience stemming from the fact that he hadn't consumed anything to eat since that morning. Tea could only tide him over for a limited amount of time, and he probably should have planned his meals better ( rather than working through lunch and dinner ) His breakfast had been a BEC from the nearby bodega, which, unbeknownst to him, had closed down—though the exact time remained uncertain. The unpredictable outages in town had disrupted the usual flow of information, rendering apps like Google Street View ineffective for someone like Onyx, who wasn't inclined to clutter his phone with an array of food service applications. He eschewed delivery services, preferring to place orders in person whenever feasible.

Surveying the menu within arm's reach, he flags down the bartender. "Can I get a beer?" His request remains somewhat vague, as he silently yearns for something dark, perhaps a stout or porter, yet he refrains from specifying, unsure if those options are even available. "And please, spare me the news that the kitchen is closed..." He takes a cautious look around the bar, hoping to see an instance of niche bar food like pretzel bun hot dogs, buffalo wings, or even fried pickles with a special dipping sauce.

#onyx * / threads. #with * / romi murphy. #event 001 * / the snowstorm.

[arcadecabinetfulloforgans]

I cried into a bowl of Buffalo Mac and cheese yesterday and then proceeded to go to the Bodega across the street and publicly spray a God awful amount of ready whip into my mouth, laugh, then choke in full view of everyone at the adjoining taco stand. So yeah I would say things are going great. How are you doing?

#a text i just sent #mental illness #my hands are fucked up

[garudabluffs]

SXSW weighs in after Texas governor tells artists pulling out of the music festival because of the US Army 'don't come back'

March 13,2024 "

South by Southwest acknowledged artists who boycotted the festival due to US Army sponsorship.

Gov. Greg Abbott's dismissal of the protesters triggered SXSW's statement supporting free speech.

Despite the controversy, SXSW is maintaining its military sponsorship.

South by Southwest pushed back in response to Texas Gov. Greg Abbott on Tuesday after he demanded artists who pulled out of the festival due to US Army involvement not return to Texas.

Numerous bands and artists have dropped out during and in the days leading up to SXSW in opposition to the US Army's sponsorship of the eight-day festival. Artists have stated they do not want to associate with the US military and are protesting its support for Israel by not participating.

And to that, Abbott responded on X: "Bye. Don't come back."

READ MORE SXSW weighs in after Texas governor tells artists pulling out of the music festival because of the US Army 'don't come back' (msn.com)

All the Musicians Who Have Left SXSW So Far:

Eliza McLamb

TC Superstar

Shalom

Mamalarky

Lambrini Girls

Proper

Gel

The Curls

cumgirl8

Horse Jumper of Love

Abe Batshon

Buffalo Nichols

Buggin

Scowl

BODEGA

The Armed

TAGABOW

Reyna Tropical

Being Dead

Proper

Enola Gay

Farmer's Wife

Kneecap

Gavin James

Robert Grace

Chalk

Mick Flannery

Sprints

Soda Blonde

Cardinals

Gurriers

NewDad

Farmer's Wife

Mei Semones

MEDUSA

TC Superstar

Omni

Trauma Ray

Mamalarky

Subsonic Eye

Birthday Girl

Groa

Winona Forever

Little Marzan

Tetchy

Discovery Zone

Friend

Lady Apple Tree

Allegra Krieger

Jess Cornelius

Lip Critic

Godcaster

Lucía Beyond

May Rio

Greg Freeman

babybaby_explores

The New Eves

Ben Aqua

Bloomsday

Strange Joy

Madison Baker

Luge

This is Lorelei

Conchúr White

Fantasy of a Broken Heart

Tomato Flower

Merce Lemon

Gold Dime

Vera Ellen

Vilagerrr

Font

Fust

Kolb

Frances Chang

Sarah Morrison

READ MORE Full List of SXSW Musicians Greg Abbott Has Told Not To Come Back to Texas (newsweek.com)

Conversation 8 Comments

#SXSW #boycott 2024 #Texas

[wonderlesch]

B Stands for Best Food and Best Drinks - South Dakota

B Stands for Best Food and Best Drinks - South Dakota. Here find the Best Brunch, Best Bars and Best Cocktail Recipes South Dakota Style. Cheers!

Hello and welcome to my Travel Destination Guide Best Food and Best Drinks – South Dakota. Here I will be sharing South Dakota’s Best Brunch locations, Best Bars and Best Cocktail recipes South Dakota Style. Let’s travel. Best Food – South Dakota All Day Cafe is located at 2101 W 41st Street in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Their website states the Cafe is casual cafe and bar with a patio…

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#A Few of my Favorite Things #All Day Cafe #Best Drinks #Best Food #Buffalo Bodega #Cocktail recipes #Foodie Tribe #New Blog Post #Pierre Collins #Saloon 10 #South Dakota Foodie #South Dakota Life #Tally&039;s Silve Spoon #The President Cocktail #Travel Destination Guide

[678084224567]

1 plus- tech squeeze box, sonic coaster pop, eel, yukari fresh, qypthone, oh penelope, hideki kaji, flippers guitar, kahimi karie, maki nomiya, takeshi nakatsuka, fullkawa honpo, buffalo daughter, towa tei, yoshinori sunahara, metafive, denki groove, original love, frenesi, pitcher56, macdonald duck eclair, polyabc, naivepop or petitfool, strawberry machine, motocompo, our hour, pine*am, misswonda, overrocket, elektel, doopees, cymbals, citrobal, liz, namasenda, hannah diamond, gfoty, sophie, qt. 2 dorlis, cornelius, air, tweedees, charli xcx, ag cook, i am robot and proud, easyfun. 3 ymck, omodaka, aira mitsuki, saoriiiii, coltemonikha, koto, genki rockets, ram rider, rocketman, sexy-synthesizer, hige driver, de de mouse, kyary pamyu pamyu, lidalt valsa, pal@pop, dahlia, emily hashimoto, minuano, aprils, vanilla beans, pizzicato five, capsule, puffy, uffie. 4 monari wakita, pizzicato one, les 5-4-3-2-1, portable rock, miharu koshi, urbangarde, yes mama ok, asako toki, chocolat, ozawa kenji, nona reeves, kaseki cider, hoff dylan, halfby, kyoko togawa, halcali, caroline polachek, waffles 5 100 gecs, planet 1999, danny l harle, life sim, donatachi, dorian electra, hi posi, takako minekawa, hi-speed, poison girl friend, 800 cherries, roly poly rag bear, miette-one, novafase, sugar plant, chappie, miho asahi, jaccapop, star guitar, fpm, yasumiyasumi, kumisolo, hal 6 tahiti 80, one star, kenzo saeki, charlotte gainsbourg, yasutaka nakata, yasuharu konishi, neil & iraiza, cubismo grafico five, suitcase rhodes, sawa, immi, tommy february6, daoko, teddyloid, momo mashiro, natsume mito, lou doillon, stereo total, april march, lets eat grandma, flume, shygirl, sfire, analemma, mutsumi inoue, slayyyter, that kid, gameboi, boy sim, food house, gupi, akiko 7 akiko wada, fumie hosokawa, kyoko koizumi, les cappuccino, makoto miura, sweets robots against the machine, anamanaguchi, she, k-taro takanami, dimitri from paris, chari chari, umru, shinji kuno, dorian, clairo, girli, sega bodega, recovery girl, ursula 1000 8 spank happy, final spank happy, venus peter, salon music, swing show, urban dance, chabe, round table, slime girls, clover & sealife, manon, hnc, deko, internet girl, tokyo ghetto pussy, spavegirl gemmy, kero kero bonito, aika, alice longyu gao, fraxiom, cake pop, dylan brady, poppy, doddodo, dj scotch egg, germlin, milky chu, milch of source, ryoma maeda, tomggggg, metro trip, bansheebeat 9 cibo matto, miho hatori, roboshop mania, miniskirt, three berry icecream, pasteboard, luminousorange, ryutist, shin rizumu, meg, sylvia55, modern girl & sniper, copter4016882, perfume, sunny day service, 80_pan, marina & the diamonds, idiot pop, com truise, tofubeats, petset, lamp, fujin club, sweet vacation, swinging popsicle, grimecraft, she is summer, laura les, world order, pictogram color, girls tape store, lamb, bobbies rockin chair, marino, marinon, ozawa kenji, mini kyute, einsteins, mobo moga, emily, cosmetic robot, cobrah, shugo tokumaru, deee-lite 10 star guitar, crj, izukoneko, helen love, noelle, raymond scott, mizuno mari, felicita, afrirampo, waffles, holly waxwing, chris lee, figurine, kyunchi, worldwide princess, btt3rflyblood, ⣎⡇ꉺლ༽இ•̛)ྀ◞ ༎ຶ ༽ৣৢ؞ৢ؞ؖ ꉺლ, chocolatre, murmur, oster project, pollyanna, risette, soleil, the sweet onions, goichii, lele et moi, shiho nanba, shino kobayashi, cool drive makers, esrevnoc, gomes the hitman, l<=>r, marble guitar case, nice music, hicksville

#save

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark (4) Peter Parker X Stark! FemReader

A/N: So this is the longest chapter I’ve written for this so far! And it’s one of my favorites. Also my mom surprised me with a Nintendo Switch to make up for the fact that I haven’t been allowed to leave the house since March so I’m hoping to get another chapter of this out this weekend but there’s also Animal Crossing now so.......... As always let me know your thoughts on this or if you want to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter!

Word Count:  8346

Warnings: Mention of drug and alcohol abuse, swearing I think

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Tony’s voice is painted with the smile he wears as Pepper walks into the living room.

“You saw me two days ago.”

“Two days too long.” He says before kissing her cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“That’s because this is just a stop. I’m not staying. I’m picking up Y/N.”

“You’re taking Y/N…?” He trails off in confusion.

“We’re going to get mani/pedis, do some back to school clothes shopping, and maybe get dinner. I want to get to know your daughter better.”

“She seems fine with hanging out with everyone except me.” Tony says dejectedly. 

“You’re an acquired taste.” Pepper teases before placing a quick kiss on his lips. “Give her time. She hasn’t had even a week of having a father yet.” 

“What time will you be back?” He asks, already knowing that he’ll have to fill his afternoon by himself.

“Six or seven maybe?” Tony glances at the Stark Phone that he’s actually started carrying with him now that it’s more personal. Natasha had snapped a picture of Y/N at, apparently, your favorite place in the whole city, which looks like a big book store. You’re not even looking at the camera, you’re carrying a ton of books and yet reaching for another one, but you’re smiling which is more than he can say for the past few days. When Natasha sent it to him, he immediately made it his background and lock screen. It may not have been a week, but you’re definitely becoming his world. “I’m going to see if she’s ready to go.”

You take one last look in the mirror, trying to decide if this is the outfit you want to be seen out in the world with famous Pepper Potts. Maybe you should change and dress up, but you’d rather be comfortable if you’re being honest. So instead of a dress or a romper, you’re in a pair of ripped denim shorts, a Rolling Stones t-shirt that you found at a thrift store a few months ago for so cheap but it’s in such good condition, and tie dyed high tops. You had thrown your hair into a ponytail with a red scrunchy only because the humidity was too much today. There’s a knock on the door. “Come in.” Jerk It Out by Caesars is playing over JARVIS, but he turns it down as Pepper walks into your room. You are in the middle of putting on the heart shaped pendant that Nana had given you for your thirteenth birthday as Pepper stands across your room.

“You ready to head out?” You glance back at the mirror once more time as you see Pepper in a red cocktail length dress.

“Do I need to dress up?” You ask, suddenly worried that your shorts and t-shirt won’t cut it in Pepper’s world.

“Honestly no. I probably should change. I came from a business lunch at this overly posh restaurant. If you’re good waiting like five minutes, I’ll go change.”

“Yeah I’ll be fine.” You grab a bag from your pile of bags, throw your wallet, a testing kit and then wander down to the kitchen to grab some low snacks.

“Rolling Stones?” Tony asks in mock surprise. “Couldn’t wear something like AC/DC or Black Sabbath? Have some taste if you’re really my daughter.”

“If you’re having doubts, I’ll go home to Nana and Pops.” You say as you throw the applesauce pouches in your purse.

“Nope. Not happening. I’ll forgive your subpar music taste, but we’ll get working on music education soon.” You just roll your eyes. You weren’t going to admit to him that you already listen to AC/DC a good chunk of the time and when in the right mood you listened to Black Sabbath.

“Y/N Miss Potts wants to know if you want her to grab you a pair of sandals for your pedicure.” JARVIS asks.

“I’ll grab a pair.” Turning to make your way back up the stairs, you walk back into your room. Grabbing the first pair of sandals you see. As you walk out your door, you see Pepper walking towards you in a loose white top, denim shorts, and a pair of sandals. “That’s the most laid back I think I’ve ever seen you.” 

“That’s because you see me coming from SI most of the time and I have to dress up for that. But we’re going for comfy and casual now.” She smiles at you. “Did your dad see your shirt?”

“And give me crap for my subpar music taste? Yeah.”

“I had a feeling he might.” 

“That’s why he’s not invited.” Pepper laughs.

“It’s not because we’re going shopping and for mani/pedis which he would be miserable at anyway?”

“That too. But still, if he hates on the Stones, he’s not invited.” Pepper lets out another laugh as the two of you walk back into the kitchen. 

“What joke did I miss out on this time?” Tony asks.

“You had to be there.” You say instead of explaining. 

“It’s nothing.” Pepper says, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips. 

“I can’t tell if you’re corrupting her or the other way around.” Tony says as the two of you walk towards the elevator. “Maybe I should come along for supervision.”

“Bye Tony.” Pepper says, rolling her eyes before telling JARVIS to take them down to the garage. “So where do you normally go for back to school shopping?”

“Well we never had a ton of money, so Nana and I usually hit up the thrift stores. But I find great deals like this,” You motion to your shirt. “Four bucks and it’s basically brand new. Well as brand new as an old shirt can be.”

“Where are your favorite shops?” 

“We’d go to Buffalo Exchange if we were looking for more like dresses and stuff. Like that one I wore to dinner I got at the Buffalo Exchange on the lower East Side. But there’s also a handful of good mom and pop thrift shops in Queens and Brooklyn if you’d rather head over that way. Bayside Thrift Shop is a good one in Queens or there’s Out of the Closet in Brooklyn.”

“Which one do you have better luck at?” Pepper asks as they walk to where Happy is waiting for them.

“I’ve always had great luck at Bayside.”

“So lets start there and then we can head to Buffalo Exchange before mani/pedis.” Pepper suggests. 

“Where are we heading?” Happy asks as you and Pepper slide into the backseat. 

“Bayside Thrift Shop in Queens.” Pepper turns to you. “Want to put some music on while we drive over?”

“Really?” 

“Nothing you put on can be worse than what Tony puts on when he’s in a bad mood.” She says with a smile. 

“Um ok. JARVIS can you play my June playlist?” You ask before he can list that you have a playlist called Tony Stark Can Rot. For some reason you feel like she wouldn’t like that as much.

“Certainly Y/N.” The first notes of Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns N’ Roses start to play and you relax into the seat. If you had headphones in, it would feel like all the times that you, Betty, and Astrid had gone between Queens and the main island during the summer. The biggest difference was you weren’t crammed into the humid subway car and sitting to your right was your dad’s girlfriend, who was the farthest from the evil stepmother character from the thousands of books you read growing up. In fact, she is sweet and kind, someone you could find yourself loving easily. 

You turn your head towards the window and focus on the passing sights of NYC as you head towards the area you had lived your whole life. You could point out the hospital you had been born at if you turned down the right streets. If you went up a few blocks you would pass your elementary school, your middle school, and the school you’d be starting at in a little over a week. Your whole life up until a few days ago centered on this area of New York. That bodega was the first one you had been able to run to on your own and that’s the street you take to go the back way to Betty’s old apartment. “Missing home?” Pepper asks, seeing you staring out the window with longing.

“This place is all I knew for the longest time. I spent more time in Queens than I did in Manhattan.” You say with a shrug, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but you miss home. 

“You’ve gone through a lot this week. It’s ok to miss it.” Pepper’s hand rests on yours and gives it a little squeeze. “Queens can always be home, even if you’re living in Midtown.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever give Queens up.”

“Even when I’m in Malibu, I miss New York like crazy. It’s definitely home.” You listen to what Pepper’s saying as Happy turns the familiar path to head towards your favorite thrift store. He pulls into a lot across the way from the thrift store before getting out to open the door for you and Pepper. “Now, will you show me your favorite thrift shop?” Pepper asks.

“Easily. This place is meant to be shared.” You can’t help but smile as the three of you cross the street.

“What do you like the best about Bayside?”

“They tend to have a lot of graphic tees. Both of like the band variety but also just like sassy variety. And I could live in tees if I didn’t have to wear other clothes sometimes.” You admit as you open the door and hear the familiar chime. You see Anita at the counter as you walk in.

“Y/N! We thought we were going to miss you for back to school shopping.”

“Never! I have to come to Bayside.” You say, being completely honest.

“Where’s your Nana?”

“I brought my… Pepper this time.” You say motioning to your dad’s girlfriend, but not knowing how to introduce her.

“Well any friend of Y/N is a friend of ours. We thought you might be coming by, so I set a few things aside that you might be interested in.” Anita reaches behind the counter and pulls a stack of about four t-shirts out. Pepper watches as your face lights up. “We just got them in.” You lift the top couple up to look at the bottom couple. 

“These are awesome!” The black and grey shirts look similar to things that Tony would wear, but Pepper keeps that to herself. 

“I’ve got them. You keep looking.” Happy says as he takes the shirts from your hands.

“Happy, I can carry them-”

“It’s clothes, they’re not heavy. I’ve got it.” 

“Thank you Happy.” Pepper trails a couple steps behind you as you finger through the shirts handing. The first to get pulled off the rack is a Nirvana shirt with a yellow smiley face on it. Then a blue tie dyed Pink Floyd 1973 tour shirt follows it. 

“That’s one your dad can’t even try to say he was at. Three year olds weren’t allowed.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile at Pepper’s comment. You find another more classic looking Pink Floyd shirt hanging on the rack a few shirts back that you add to your pile. 

“If I had been wearing that would he have said I had better music choices?”

“Probably. He’s just judgmental when it comes to music.”

“The Stones are classics!” You argue as your hands run through the racks to fall on a Sweet Child O’ Mine Shirt. “Oh this one is a winner.” It has a faded look to it and you love that in your shirts.

“Definitely so.” Pepper takes it from the rack and hands it to Happy. “To be fair to all your tastes, I think this one is needed though,” she says pulling another Rolling Stones shirt from the rack and you smile at it.

“They are my favorite.”

“Tony would die if he heard that.” You shrug. “Wanna try these on?” Pepper motions towards the pile that Happy is holding.

“Sure.” But then an Eagles Hotel California Tour 1977 shirt catches your eye. “One more for the road.” You say before snagging the shirt. You try on the shirts you had found before getting to the stack that Anita had put aside for you. You look at the four finally. The first was a grey Pink Floyd 1972 Carnegie Hall T-shirt?! Holy shit! Your mind might explode. Then there’s a black Aerosmith shirt with a boombox with wings that says ‘Let the Music Do The Talking’ which is such a big mood. Underneath that one there’s a black Nirvana Unplugged in NYC shirt which you have been looking for forever since you love that album. And last but not least there’s a classic looking Guns N’ Roses printed on black shirt in a gold font. Anita knows you well. Four of your favorite bands and to be honest four of your new favorite shirts. So far all of the shirts fit pretty well, or even fall on the large side which is how you like your t-shirts. 

Pepper knocks on the fitting room door. “I found a couple things I think you’d like Y/N.” You open the door wearing the Guns N’ Roses shirt. “Oh I like that one.”

“Really?” You’re surprised that Pepper would be into band shirts.

“You think I could date your father and not be into what he considers some of the greatest musicians of our time?” Pepper smiles at you. “But also gold is just a good color for you and your skin tone.”

“I’m not going to be Iron Man at any point.”

“Wouldn’t want you to be. However I did grab these shirts because I think your dad’s reactions will be worth it.” You look at them and laugh. 

“He’ll never let me leave the tower wearing them.”

“So wear them around the tower to bug him.” You close the door and try on the two shirts. The first is a tank top that you probably never would have looked at had all of this not happened. But Pepper was right. Tony would react to it, hopefully. Across the black fabric printed in white the shirt reads ‘I’m A Female’. Then in pink it reads ‘Fe = Iron, Male = Man” before finishing in white ‘Therefore I Am Iron Man’. You open the door to show Pepper.

“If I walked into the kitchen one day wearing this telling him I was going on a run, how much of a heart attack would I give him?” Pepper doesn’t have a chance to answer before Happy does.

“He will lock you in the tower. And possibly never let you leave.” Happy states, knowing how protective Tony is even after only knowing this kid for a few days. 

“Worth it.” You and Pepper say with a teasing grin.

“Can I take a picture? That might be my favorite shirt so far.” Pepper asks. You nod and then, shocking even yourself, you throw your hand out in the standard Iron Man pose and Pepper snaps the photo. “I love it.” You smile and turn back into the dressing room before the flush takes over your face at the affection from your dad’s girlfriend. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts that want to invade your mind out of your head as you lift the last shirt up to change into it. 

This one is grey and in white letters say ‘Screw Your “Lab Safety” I Want Superpowers”. Your dad was going to hate it for sure, knowing so many scientifically modified people. But you love it. Plus it’s so comfy. You roll the sleeves a bit and then open the door to show Pepper and Happy.

“He’s going to hate that one as well.” Happy says the moment he sees it.

“Or he’ll laugh and say show it to Steve.” Pepper says, cocking her head to one side. “Either way, we’re getting it.” In your head you know you shouldn’t buy all the shirts that you tried on, but even if you let Pepper pay for the two that she found, the remaining ones should only come up to about thirty dollars, and you think you have that much in your wallet. You collect all the clothes in the dressing room, which Happy immediately takes from you, and you follow Pepper and him towards check out when your eyes fall on the most beautiful jean jacket you’ve ever seen. 

It was a medium wash jacket, that had been loved just enough that it was no longer stiff. It had some wear and tear in some spots, but it was loose enough that it would sit perfectly on you. You have to try it on. Pepper sees you debating about the jacket, but can’t figure out why you’re debating. “It’s a gorgeous jacket. Try it on.” You take it off the hanger, gently as if it was a child instead of a jacket, and slip it over your shoulders. Rolling the cuffs up a couple times so it didn’t hang over your hands you look down at the jacket, loving that it hits an inch or two below where your shorts do. “Now that is how a jean jacket should fit.” Pepper says, smiling that you found something you clearly loved on this trip. You slide it off your shoulders and the price catches your eyes. Yes, thrifting can be great, but the jacket is still fifty dollars even at the thrift store. You don’t have that much. 

“I don’t need it.” You say, not wanting to bring up that you can’t afford it even if you did need it.

“I’m not taking no for an answer on that. A jacket that looks that perfect on you has to come home with you.” She places her hands gently on it and lifts it from your hands. 

“Pepper, really I don’t-”

“Tony can afford it and it needs a good home.” Then it hits you, Pepper’s not going to make- no let you pay for any of this.

“You found many things today.” Anita says looking at the pile Happy and Pepper had made on the counter. “This is going to look the best on you.” She places a hand on the jacket that Pepper had added. 

“She pulls it off like no one else.” Pepper agrees. Anita and Pepper chat about the weather and honestly you’re not sure what else because you just watch as the number climbs. You’ve been coming here for years and never seen the number go that high. Your heart falls into your gut when the jacket gets added. Looking in your purse, you know you have about forty dollars to your name and that wouldn’t cover even half of that right now. But Pepper hands over a black card, similar to the one that Natasha used the other day, and doesn’t even stop the conversation. It’s like this money thing doesn’t even bother her. But it definitely bothers you. Anita puts the clothes into a cloth bag and hands it to you. 

“Thanks Anita.” You smile at her, but you don’t know when you’ll be back. All you’ll remember now is feeling uncomfortable for spending Tony’s money here. Happy opens the door and you follow Pepper out of the shop. Pepper is trying to make small talk but notices you looking nowhere but the ground. She takes the bag from you and hands it to Happy. 

“Can you put this in the car?” 

“But-”

“Five minutes?” She says. And technically, Pepper is his boss, so Happy nods.

“I’ll be right across the street.” She smiles as he walks across the street. 

“So wanna talk about it?” She asks, bumping shoulders with you.

“Talk about what?”

“Why the ground is so interesting?” Pepper takes a pause trying to give you a chance to speak. “Or maybe about why you went so quiet in one of your favorite places?” Normally, you’d just keep it to yourself but for some reason, you don’t think Pepper will judge you.

“We, uh didn’t have a ton of money growing up. Whatever money we did have went to making sure we could afford rent and my insulin and making sure that there was food on the table. So once I was about eleven, some of the other people in our building would let me run errands for them or watch their younger kids and they would pay me some pocket money for doing it. And that pocket money I saved in a jar throughout the year so that once I could go back to school shopping and twice a year I could buy Nana and Pops something nice from Christmas and their birthdays. We didn’t really celebrate many holidays, but the ones we did we celebrated really small. Santa would bring me clothes while my friends would get touchpads and toys and I didn’t question it because I knew that while their families didn’t have to worry about whether or not you were going to have to choose between buying medicine you needed to live or putting food on the table.

But Nana and Pops tried to make it so I didn’t feel that. So when I got the chance to go to The Strand or Bayside, it wasn’t picking everything that caught your eye because I was the one paying for it. So I would buy one or two books or shirts because I couldn’t afford to spend all that money if I wanted to buy Christmas presents too.” You play with Queenie’s tubing, not wanting to look Pepper in the eyes as you continue. “But in the past three days, Natasha, Tony, you, whoever, have made it clear that Tony’s made of money and that he’s fine with spending it on books, phones, clothes, whatever he or anyone else wants. But there are people out there that aren’t that fortunate. 

The money that Natasha spent buying me books the other day could have paid for my Nana’s medicine for a month. Or how much you just spent on clothing for me could have bought me clothing for the whole school year and bought Nana and Pops Christmas presents. Hell I looked up how much my new phone cost Tony and it could have paid for four months of insulin. That’s sixteen vials. But more importantly that’s nearly 1500 dollars. And I bet if I lost it, he would have a new one waiting for me.” Pepper lets you continue the rant, and doesn’t let you know that he added more upgrades to your phone than the baseline one that does indeed cost as much as your medicine does. But what she would rather talk about is why does your insulin cost that much? “You guys might not care about money, but it makes me sick every time that you drop this money on me. I’m not worth it.”

“First of all, you are definitely worth it and so much more. Tony has money just wasting away in the bank and likes to waste it on the people he loves. That means he’s going to drop money on you. But coming from the lifestyle you grew up in, it’s going to take some getting used to. Plus in his mind, he has fourteen years of Christmas presents and birthdays to make up for.” Pepper watches as your eyes go wide and knows that this might be the wrong thing to say. “But Tony is also up for doing things for charity. So maybe you can come up with an initiative that he can throw money towards for you. Like maybe fighting to lower the cost of insulin for others? Because while it’s not a problem now for you to afford it, why should it cost so much for others? Tony would definitely like to fight that. And that is something that SI can also get behind as well.” You look up for the first time since finding the jean jacket back in the shop.

“Really? SI would get behind something like that?” You ask, not understanding why a tech company would get behind something like the cost of insulin.

“Tony wants to look into manufacturing things to make diabetics' lives easier, which I told him he needs to talk to you about before doing anything. But your name is part of the company. You’re a Stark now. So anything that SI does, takes an interest in what you have an interest in. So yes, the cost of insulin is something that SI will fight for too. Help me do some research on who to support and we can start the battle as one of your first introductions to the world as Tony’s daughter?” You nod, knowing this is something you’ve always wanted to help with but never had the power to do anything about. 

“Thank you.” You say, before doing something without thinking- you throw your arms around her. Her arms wrap around you, but she’s not sure what she’s being thanked for. 

“What for?”

“Listening. Being here. Being human?” You say, joking about the last one, but it feels right.

“Of course. I don’t know how to be anything else.” She says and pulls on your ponytail a bit. “Now you want to show us around your neighborhood a bit before we head back to Manhattan?”

“You want to see it?” You ask, surprised that Pepper wants to see Queens.

“It’s part of what makes you you, so yes.” Happy finishes crossing the street to be back with the two of you.

“There’s a really great coffee shop up this way. Or if we go down this way there’s an amazing sandwich shop called Delmar’s. Oh and Pops goes to play chess at this park down that way.” You point out three different ways. 

“Coffee sounds like a plan.” Pepper says. You drop your arms, not wanting to hold on to her longer than you’re allowed to but Pepper keeps an arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the coffee shop you love. It was always a treat when you got to go, but the smell alone was something you had missed. They make all their syrups from scratch and you could spend all day there reading if you were allowed. 

As you walk, you point out the book shop where you sold the books you were done with to make some extra money, the apartment building that you, Nana, and Pops lived until there was a rat infestation, and the bodega that you used to go to to stock up on low supplies. You wave to some people that you know by face alone and smile at the feeling of being home. It feels nice to share this world with Pepper, and almost makes you wish Tony was here to show him what home feels like to you. It’s not throwing money around on things you don’t need. It’s the feeling of the sun on your skin as you walk around the streets you’ve known all your life.

At the coffee shop, Pepper buys you and Happy coffee, yours iced and his hot, as well as an iced tea for herself. “So I was thinking, we could go to Buffalo Exchange to try and find you some bottoms to go with the shirts we found for you, or maybe a dress or two? That way you have some clothes until the rest of your stuff gets moved from Queens?” You don’t say anything, but you know she’s right. You only have a few more sets of outfits and half of them aren’t appropriate for school. You force yourself to take a sip of your coffee as you nod your head. “We don’t have to Y/N. We can hold off.”

“No, we should. I don’t have that much stuff left at the tower and some of it is more wear at home type stuff.”

“Do you want to make a stop at your Nana and Pops house and get some more stuff?” Pepper asks.

“Can I?” You miss your Nana and Pops so much it hurts.

“Of course. Tony isn’t trying to keep you from them. And we’re already in the area.” You can’t stop the grin from exploding on your face. You know that Nana and Pops won’t have much more baggage you can put stuff in though so you turn to Marcie, who’s working at the counter. 

“Hey Marcie, do you guys have any boxes that you haven’t broken down yet?”

“Actually yeah. We got shipments in this morning of some stuff. What size are you looking for?”

“Big enough to put some clothes and stuff in.”

“Ah moving apartments again?” Marcie had helped you with boxes when the rat situation happened. “Rats again?”

“Not rats, but something like that.” You say with a teasing smile. She walks to the back and grabs the couple bigger ones.

“Will these work?”

“Those are perfect!”

“You can have them on the condition that you still come and get coffee occasionally.”

“Deal! I’m going to go to MSST so I’ll still come by!”

“Then the boxes are all yours.” She hands them to you and Happy offers to take them from you. Marcie looks at him with confusion but you wave it off.

“Thanks Marcie!” You say before returning to the table where Pepper sits.

“I’ll bring the car up,” Happy says. “Be back in five minutes.” 

“Thanks Happy.” Pepper says as Happy takes the boxes with him as he leaves the shop.

“You seem to know all the people at your favorite shops.” Pepper comments.

“New York is more like a small town when you think about it. We all go to the same businesses over and over again. Why shouldn’t we know the people who’s shops we frequent?” You shrug. “Plus Marcie is the best person to get boxes from when you have to move buildings. Then you don’t have to pay for them.” Pepper and you both drink your cold beverages as you sit waiting for Happy. 

“Have you ever traveled anywhere?” Pepper asks, wanting to get to know you better. You shake your head.

“I’ve uh never left New York. We never really had the money.” You glance out the window. “I don’t even have a state ID, much less a passport.”

“Well we can get you an ID sweetheart, that’s easy. And knowing your dad, he’ll want to get you a passport since deciding to take last minute trips is one of his favorite things. But if you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?”

“You’re not going to like plan a trip, right? Because you’ve spent plenty-”

“Y/N, I just want to get to know you. Now if Tony asks you, I would answer on the bet that he wants to take you wherever you answer.” 

“The kid in me wants to say Disney World because who doesn’t want to go. But I think the actual answer would be the Grand Canyon. I’ve always wanted to see if it’s as big as it looks in pictures. And the third choice would be London. So many writers lived there and I want to see what inspires them to write the way they do.” You look back at your coffee. “I’m not the best at picking just one place.”

“Never said you had too.” Pepper says, trying to catch your eyes. “I think all three are wonderful ideas. Maybe we should go there, but leave Tony at home to finish the deadlines he never touches.” You look up at her with surprised eyes. “Ok, maybe he can finish them before the trips and then come along because if I steal his kid for that long, I’ll never hear the end of it. He might take my job away for stealing you for that long, if it didn’t mean he would have to start doing work again.”

“Really?”

“You’re all he talks about these days. And I don’t see that stopping anytime soon. He’s not someone that’s easy to get to know. And I would say he’s definitely an acquired taste, but once he’s in your corner, having Tony Stark have your back is sometimes greater than having Iron Man. I hope you get to learn that. Because I know he desperately wants to show you how much he already loves you.”

“But he barely knows me.”

“There’s this thing about being a parent, so I’ve heard, where you love your kid so much from the moment they enter your life. That’s how he feels, and how he’s felt about you since the moment he saw you for the first time. Every night since you entered his life he said to me ‘God Pep, I didn’t know I could love a kid so much.’ And I don’t see that stopping anytime soon.”

“But I’ve kind of treated him like garbage?”

“And you think you’re the first teenager to ever say things to their parents like that? You have a better excuse than most though. Most aren’t thrust into having parents as late into life as you were, but you’re dealing with a lot. Most people also aren’t dealing with having Tony as a father. I give you props for that alone.”

“You’re the one dating him.”

“Yes but that’s different.” Happy pulls up outside the coffee shop. “Come on. We have all the time in the world to debate who has it worse in regards to Tony.” Pepper teases you. You turn and wave to Marcie.

“Bye Marcie!”

“Good luck with the move!” She waves before returning to the order she’s in the middle of taking. You follow Pepper towards the car and climb into the backseat. Happy drives you towards the apartment he had taken-picked you up from less than a week from. 

“Would you feel more comfortable if I stay in the car?” Pepper asks as you pull up and Happy puts the car in park. If it was Tony, yes. But you like Pepper. You want her to see the place that you think of as home so you shake your head. 

“Plus I want you to meet my Nana and Pops.” You swing the door open before Happy even has a chance to open the door for you. You’re too excited to see Nana and Pops. Usually you would just run up the six flights of stairs to the apartment, but you’re not going to subject Pepper and Happy to that just because you don’t want to wait for the slow elevator. So instead you bounce on the balls of your feet as you wait for the elevator. If not for your fear of elevators dropping, you would have continued bouncing the rest of the way up. But finally, finally, the elevator arrives and you count the three doors as you pass towards home. It’s weird to not have your key so you knock on the door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hear your Pops voice and you could almost cry. He opens the door and you don’t wait a moment before flying into his arms. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He pulls you away to say something, probably like ‘there’s no way you’re my granddaughter. You’ve gotten too big,’ but you push against his arms to wrap your arms around him again. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere. I got you.”

“Who’s at the door Lou?” Your Nana calls and it sounds just like coming home now.

“It’s me Nana.” You say even though the sound is muffled by your Pops’ chest. 

“Is that you babydoll? What are you doing here?” Your Nana rounds the corner and then you're out of your Pops’ arms and into her’s.

“We’re sorry to just surprise you. But we were in the area and Y/N has been missing you.”

“Never apologize for bringing her ho- to visit.” Your Pops voice is a little rougher than normal. “You must be Pepper Potts.”

“Yes, nice to meet you. And this is Happy, or um Harold Hogan, our head of security.” In the back of your mind you place the fact that Happy’s real name is Harold of all things, but right now you’re too focused on the fact that you’re home. “Y/N also needs to get a few more clothes and things so Happy has some boxes for her to put some stuff in.”

“That’s fine. She’s always welcome to come and get things. This may not be as fancy as where she lives now, but it will never stop being her home.” Pops voice rings out and Pepper can feel that he’s not welcoming them in like he welcomes you. 

“Pepper, will you come help me get the stuff in my room?” You ask. You know Pops probably isn’t happy with the way things are working out either, but leaving Happy, he can at least go over the security plan or something. Leaving Pepper seems just mean after how nice she’s been to you today.

“Sure honey.” Pepper smiles at you. She follows you down the hallway to the door where your name is printed in block letters on a piece of computer paper. “I like this.”

“Thanks, Betty made it for me.” You pull it off the door. “Do you think I can hang it on my door at the Tower?” Pepper nods.

“If you want to, I don’t see why you can’t.” You open the door and Pepper follows you into the room that is about a quarter of the size of your room at the Tower, yet feels more at home than the Tower. “So what is coming with this time?” Pepper knows that at least with most of the books and if you want any of the furniture, they are going to have to get a few men to move it. 

“I’m thinking mostly clothing and maybe some of my books. Not all of them, but at least a few of them. Oh and there’s a blanket I’ve been missing.” You walk over to the dresser in the corner and open the bottom two drawers, which are filled with mostly distressed jeans and shorts. “All of these.” You say with a laugh.

“How about I work on putting those in this box while you get the blanket and pick out some books?” Pepper suggests. You shrug, it sounds like a good enough plan. Walking over to your shelf, you have to stop yourself from calling out to JARVIS to ask him to put on music and instead pull your phone and put on your playlist instead. Have you really gotten that used to living at the tower? Before you can get to the shelf, you spy the quilt you want sticking out from the under bed boxes. 

You pull it out and hold it close. Part of you wants to unwrap it and drape it around your shoulders, but you know that you’d be wasting precious time doing that. So instead you trace your fingers over the different triangles of fabric. Pepper looks up and sees what you’re looking at. “Is this the blanket you were missing?” You nod and she comes to take a seat next to you on the twin bed that you grew up in. “It’s beautiful. Was it handmade?” Pepper asks, but doesn’t make a move to touch it since it’s clearly special to you.

“My, uh, mom made it.” With everything that has happened in the last week, Pepper hasn’t actually heard anything about your mom besides Tony talking about how your mom was a one night stand. “She was in a recovery program the first three months after I was born to try and get her recovered. Alcohol and drugs. Part of her recovery was making this quilt. Something to focus on as she went through withdrawal. It’s part of the reason I was placed with my grandparents. I was born two and a half months early and addicted to crack. So she wasn’t that fit of a parent. But they hoped that with rehab she would get better and come home. It, um, didn’t work like they hoped. She relapsed and they found her on the streets six months later dead of an overdose.” You don’t look up as you trace your favorite triangle, the peach colored one. “This is the only thing I have of her. I’d like to think she made it for me, but I think I know deep down, she only made it because the program made her.”

“She would have been lucky to know you.” Pepper says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“But she didn’t so…” You trail off. “But I have Nana and Pops. And I have Tony now. And I guess you and the Avengers too.”

“You got bonus family galore.” Pepper holds you close. “I got you and I’m not letting go.” She whispers into your hair as she places a kiss there.

“Thanks Pepper.” You lean into her side, before placing the quilt into the box at your feet. “I’m glad you got me.” You admit. 

It doesn’t take much longer to pack up the clothes and books you want from the room you love. There’s still other things you’ll need to come back for, but you can do that another day. You have the things you need to get you through at least the beginning of school. Before you know it, Happy is taking the boxes down to the car and you’re wrapped up in your grandparents’ arms once again. “You’re welcome anytime babygirl. You have your key for that reason.” Your Nana says into your hair. 

“I know Nana.”

“And if you need a break, you come on over. Being Stark’s daughter isn’t the end all be all.” Pops’ voice is aimed more at Pepper than at you, but you nod. 

“I know Pop.” You kiss both their cheeks. “I love you both. So much.”

“We love you too babygirl. Always have, always will.” Your Nana runs a hand through your hair. “Get going. You probably have big fancy plans for the day.”

“Still the same girl you know.” You say as you walk towards where Pepper stands. You follow her towards the door, but take one more look at your grandparents before you both start making your way downstairs. As you get outside, Pepper looks at you.

“Do you want to do more thrifting and mani/pedis or you want to call it a day? You still have next weekend? We can always do more back to school stuff then.”

“Do you mind if we don’t? I’m kind of exhausted.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did. Plus we can order food to the Tower and maybe watch a movie or something instead. Calm night instead.”

“That sounds awesome.” You say as Happy starts the drive back to the Tower. Going back to Manhattan took a little longer than normal, just because of the time of day. You scroll through social media, trying to take in your last day as Y/N Y/L/N. Tomorrow the news breaks about you being Tony’s daughter, so you’ll take the calm before the storm. Pepper is reading over things on her own phone, probably SI stuff if you had to guess. “Pepper?”

“Mmm-hmm?” She answers as she scrolls.

“Will the explosion from the news tomorrow be bad?” You ask before adding. “Like you dealt with when Tony announced he was Iron Man. Will this be that bad you think?” Pepper puts down her phone and looks at you.

“I don’t think this will be bad news. I think there will be questions, but that’s why SI has been putting together a lot of press packets for different situations. If the press tries to spin it in different ways, we will be ready. The most important thing we have stated in all of this, is that while Tony didn’t know about you until recently, he is very happy to be your father and he is doing everything in his power to provide the best home for you.” Pepper pauses looking for signs from you on which way you were feeling. “For now, how you feel about everything is going to stay silent because of your age and such, but eventually, if you feel up for it, we’d love to publish something about you and your dad together.”

“Why about me?”

“Because the public will want to know, but also because you are one day possibly going to be a face of SI. If that’s the path you wish to take. Again this isn’t a decision you have to make anytime soon. Right now, the focus is keeping you out of the press as much as possible.” Happy pulls into the garage as Pepper says all of this. “But I think the public is just going to be interested in learning about who you are because you are an extension of Tony and they like knowing about him.”

“I can understand that. But I don’t even feel like I know him all that well yet.”

“You will in time. I promise.” Pepper says as she walks with you towards the elevator you had left only a few hours earlier. You had grabbed the clothes from Bayside, but Happy said he would get the boxes and take them to your room for you. Upon arriving to the living room, Tony is surprisingly waiting for you and Pepper.

“My two favorite ladies, back already.”

“Finished early. Figured we could do a night in instead.” Pepper explains as Tony gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you have a good day kiddo?” Tony looks towards you and you nod before turning to Pepper.

“Thanks Pepper.” You say before giving her a quick hug. “I had a lot of fun today.” 

“Of course. I had fun with you too.” Pepper’s arms wrap around you, squeezing you back. And for a moment you can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to have a mom. Yours was out of your life moments after you were born. You let yourself relax in her arms for a moment before you feel Tony’s eyes on the two of you. 

“Uh, I should go put these things away.” You pull away from Pepper and make your way towards your room, canvas bags in tow without saying anything to Tony.

“It’s not fair Pep.”

“What?”

“She hugs you.” Tony whines as he plops down on the couch. “All she does for me is make playlists called Tony Stark Can Rot. How is that fair?”

“Now how would you know what her playlists are called?”

“I asked JARVIS to play some of her music so I could know more about her since she refuses to hang out with me. He asked which playlist and started listing them. To be fair it has some great music on it. But still, I would never make a playlist called Y/N Stark Can Rot.”

“You don’t name your playlists.” Pepper points out.

“Not the point.”

“The point is you're jealous that she’s closing herself off to you.”

“Maybe I am. She’s my kid. I want to know her. I want to do everything for her and with her. But everything I try backfires.”

“So don’t try so hard.” Tony’s brows pull together as he looks up at Pepper. “You suggested her friends coming over for dinner and that worked really well.”

“Yeah worked really well in that she told me about a teacher that hated her enough to throw scissors at her.”

“She also acknowledged that you’re going to be here for her from now on. That’s a success. So try doing small things like that. Don’t make huge gestures. Don’t you dare buy her a gigantic bunny. Try to let her get to know you. And don’t try to buy your way into her life. She hates that.”

“You literally took her shopping today.”

“We went thrifting.”

“What? All of that needs to be washed immediately!” Tony starts freaking out.

“This right here?” Pepper motions towards him, “This is the kind of reaction that will push her farther away. She loves thrift shops. She told me and we went to her favorite ones to look for clothes. She opened up about her life before us Tony. That picture on your phone. That’s a moment she shared with Natasha. You need to give her a moment to open up to you.” Tony notices Happy walking by with a couple of boxes. 

“What all did you buy her today?” 

“We stopped by her grandparents’ house so she could pick up some more stuff. She mentioned she was getting low on some stuff.” Pepper motions towards what Happy is carrying. “She really misses them. I think we need to give her time to see them too.”

“I’m not keeping her from them.”

“I’m not saying you are. I’m saying I think we should schedule times so she doesn’t feel that way. Also I told her that SI would start a charity fund to fight the cost of insulin.”

“Not against that but why?”

“She was feeling really uncomfortable about how comfortable we all spend on a day to day, based on her background with money.” Pepper says, not really explaining.

“That tells me less than nothing.”

“It’s her story to share. You’ll have to wait until she wants to share it with you.” Pepper kisses his cheek. “But you have an amazing kid.”

“I know that. I just want to know her like all of you know her.” Tony says frustrated. 

“Give her time.”

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[midrashic]

[headcanon] a map of hidden places i: new york city

{ a map of hidden places }

the first time james visits new york is more accident than anything; there’s a weapons expo and it’s january, and surely new york in january can’t be any more unpalatable than scotland in january. there are restaurants and boutiques whose names were, even then, synonymous with luxury, but james spends most of his time in the hotel room with the nanny playing with the puzzle ball he’d received that christmas. enid takes him to the natural history museum to see the mammoth bones, to central park to stare at the bare, shivering tree skeletons while he mounds old snow into various blobby shapes.

he doesn’t remember any of this; by the time he’s ten, new york is just a vague smear of concrete and solitude in his imagination, a glimpse of a faded marble facade that blends into all the other glimpses of all the other cities of everywhere else his father has ever had a conference.

for years, there’s the odd holiday abroad with his aunt, a trip with a school friend whose father owns a major hotel in the city or something. then there’s the navy. he learns new york in thirty-six hour stretches of shore leave, and he learns new york through the eyes of dozens of royal navy sailors, which mainly means that he learns very fast which bars near the harbor serve something roughly as strong as paint thinner for a measly two dollars per drink, or a dozen for a twenty.

but he learns other things, too. he saves up the days of walking on solid earth for the weeks when his feet won’t touch dry land and wanders into the neighborhoods that his well-to-do parents and guardians never let him anywhere near: bushwick, the lower east side, basically all of the bronx. new york city’s just hit its peak for violent crime, though someone only attempts to mug him once and gets a broken jaw for his trouble besides. the strangest thing for a brit is the gunshots that will ring out randomly, multiple times a night, but that’s true for every american city he’s ever visited.

he experiments with the subway. the tube in the 80s and 90s was no picnic, but hell, he learns, is a suspiciously empty new york subway car.

one strange thing: over the course of one particular weekend, he runs into a girl he slept with on shore leave in kingstown in a pizzeria named something uncreative like “48th street pizza,” an old university professor in a rare book store, a boy who was in the class above him at eton in bryant park, and then the girl again at a bar that night. (there is indeed a repeat performance.) this is a statistically accurate sampling of how often he recognizes a face from his past. back then, it was the third-largest city in the world, after tokyo and osaka, but it could sometimes feel very fatalistically small.

& then he’s in new york fairly often as a junior agent, but he doesn’t really tap the veins of the city until he’s a double-oh.

the thing about new york is that, for all that you tend to run into people you haven’t seen in years fairly frequently, it’s a great place to disappear. there’s no way to cover every possible exit when planning an ambush and a thousand laundromats, bars, and, hell, magic shops to duck into when you’re being tailed. vaguely seedy fleatraps that bill themselves as “youth hostels” where you can rent a room for four months and leave without anyone having asked you your name. the city seems to boast a disproportionate number of people sitting alone in the corners of coffeeshops, bars, hotel lobbies. it’s the first thing he thinks of when the name shows up in a mission briefing or news article: the pure relief of being quietly ignored, of being anyone, of being no one. he kills a drug kingpin and sips espresso at a café patio ten feet away as the police begin to boredly take statements. he garrotes a man in a bodega bathroom and no one notices for three days because it’s always out of order anyway. new york makes it so easy, so very easy to let a face become a file become a statistic. it has a carelessness with its people that he’s used to seeing in the third world, in places where the corruption is overt, in places that don’t even pretend to have a functioning police system. new york doesn’t care about you.

it also makes it so very easy to pick people up.

in a lot of ways, new york is a lot like london. it’s not every city in the world where you can get a sandwich at four am because the son of a bitch you were surveilling spent five hours haggling over uranium shipments with his contact, which was four hours and fifty minutes longer than he needed to spend. there’s a certain level of mercenary profit-seeking required to keep a sandwich shop open all night, damn circadian rhythms.

but new york takes it to excess. in london, you can probably find 24/7 takeaway within a reasonable walking distance, but in new york, you’re guaranteed to have at least five in the immediate neighborhood and eight more if you’re willing to go a little further for a substantial uptick in quality. during a particularly frustrating bit of downtime not longer after the quantum incident, bond strolls into a midnight karate class for no other reason than he’s bored and wants to see what kind of people can only do karate in the middle of the night. it’s a surprisingly friendly bunch, two night shift workers, a sleep-deprived college student, a jumpy little tweaker, and a single mother who decides to do this with her scant two hours of free time weekly. it’s taught by a petite woman who hits with the precision of an architect and used to practice jiu-jitsu competitively until a back strain caused her to switch to a sport with more standing and less rolling around on the ground.

he does try to sleep with her, but they actually end up sharing a platter of nachos in between (fittingly) manhattans at a bar and chatting about differences in karate conditioning techniques and shitty b-movies. the bartender joins in for the latter. he walks away that morning to another endless round of negotiation with the cia feeling strangely refreshed for a man who got no sleep and no sex.

bond ends up censoring his new york reports more than any other locale, not because missions go wrong in new york more often than anywhere else, but because they tend to go wrong in utterly baffling and sometimes embarrassing ways when he’s in new york. in the reports, he changes the timely plague mask-wearing flash mob that allowed him to escape his pursuer to a traffic jam, the girl wearing a dress made of lettuce that beat a terrorist into submission with her tomato purse into a well-placed police officer, the message he got painted on his nails in gold glitter to a simple note (it worked, the fsb searched him and found nothing and apparently manicured men in brioni are common enough in the city that no one even gave him a second look). new york is many things, but it spits on the dignity of the profession.

felix hates new york, hilariously. he calls it “the big asshole.” he hates the garbage sitting out on the streets, the way you can never tell whether a puddle is rain or urine, the flimsy little metrocards, the food deserts, the traffic, my god, the traffic. (bond has to agree: it’s bad. he once walked to laguardia instead of waiting for a taxi.) the only places he hates more than new york are minnesota and south sudan, which are the foreseeable consequences of a boy from texas spending his first winter away from home in the midwest and being a sane person with a functioning sense of smell. but for some reason, international criminals turn up in new york a lot more often than they do in ann arbor or south sudan, so felix has no choice but to spend sometimes weeks or months at a time in his third-least-favorite place in the world.

(bond knows why he really hates new york: in 2003 he was chasing a jewel smuggler and ran straight into a fruit cart. he was washing fruit juice out from behind his ears for a week and he lost the target. after that, anyone would hate this place.)

when bond is in midtown west, he makes a point of stopping by the trenta tre pizzeria, which boasts pizza that isn’t oily, isn’t too chewy or crisp, and boasts a sauce with a salty-to-sweet balance of flavors that make his eyes roll back in his head. he’s had the real deal, pizza lovingly crafted by hand, topped with buffalo mozzarella, and wood-fired in a tiny neapolitan back room. he knows better than to tell an italian--or anyone who he needs to think of him as a well-traveled sophisticate--but he prefers this.

coincidentally, the pizzeria is located next to a bodega that displays its fruit on wooden stands on the sidewalk. behind the peaches lives a cat, well-fed and sleek and a shameless thief of chicken parm pizza toppings. he doesn’t know her name--the owner is from rural ethiopia and doesn’t speak english, mandarin, arabic, french, german, spanish, russian, or any of the four other languages bond speaks--but in his head he’s named her selina after that greatest of feline burglars, catwoman. selina is good company after a violent mission, and almost never sheds on him, which is more than he can say about the other cats in his life. if he lingers after the pizza to pet her a little longer, no one needs to know.

the events, the new trends, the previews, the releases, blah blah blah. the access is touted more than it actually matters. he’s sure that- if he actually lived in new york he would appreciate the convenience of dwelling in the obligatory stop of every tour and the go-to place to drum up media attention. but he doesn’t and he has enough frequent flier miles that his grandchildren will probably be getting complimentary upgrades and if he really wants to be at the premiere of a much-hyped performance of la traviata he’ll make it there somehow. he does notice that the access has given new yorkers a strange sense entitlement--when a fashionable event happens someplace other than new york, the resentment is deeper, the sense of loss sharper--as if everything important should happen in new york. still. he brings home a tea flavored with the newly discovered ruby chocolate months before it becomes widely available as a souvenir for q. there are compensations. 

when q finally punches down his fear of air travel for long enough to make it to new york, bond keeps him out of manhattan. they drift around brooklyn and queens, wandering streets balanced on the knife edge of an existence that is almost suburban--dogs everywhere and strollers between the specialty shops and markets. they sit in a soda fountain famous for its egg creams and share a sundae named after elvis. q orders three different sodas--he’s a connoisseur of exotic beverages--and pronounces the house blend the best cherry soda he’s ever tasted. bond smiles at him around his ice cream float. the place is packed, every seat filled, but here, at a little round table tucked into the corner, he and q might as well be invisible, being aggressively ignored by everyone except the soda jerks. just two people, forcefully alone together. the last two people in the world.

#007 fest #teambondvillains #fandom: this is the end #relship: your loving arms (keeping me from harm) #ch: secret agent man #ch: shiny new steamship #event: gee brain what do you want to do tonight 2019 #ella headcanons #series: a map of hidden places

[toddlazarski]

The Best Bites of 2019

Shepherd Express

2019. The year before, hopefully. The prologue to 2020’s change, maybe. God or Kali or whomever you wish to charge with these sorts of responsibilities, willing. The end of the beginning of the end of discord, the endless fire, the storms and dread, the corruption of soul we’ve all learned to live with over the past few years that feel like a lifetime.

In Milwaukee, 2019 was the year we were rewarded the Democratic National Convention, and the year we immediately tried to grapple with how we would handle hosting the Democratic National Convention. It was the year, as if we were Austin, as if we were Portland, as if we were ourselves a plucky place of progressivism and forward-thinking, our very own food truck park opened. And, at the same time, it was the year it became impossible to log onto any social media without being inundated by hems and haws and shouting-at-cloud mewls that the city suddenly had legal electric scooters on the street. It was the year Syrian civil war refugees opened a Mitchell Street gem of kefta and baba ghanoush and good nature at the most destination-worthy restaurant in town. And it was the year a racially-charged acid attack occurred against a Latino man entering a southside taqueria. It was the year Sherman Phoenix rose, literally, out of the ashes of the 2016 Sherman Park riots. An opening that barely preceded Milwaukee becoming the first city to name racism a public health crisis.        

For me, calorically, it was also a calendar stretch of one step up and one back. It was a time of too many fancy burgers, of swearing off fancy burgers, and then reading about The Diplomat’s Diplomac, and then the Birch & Butcher happy hour special, and then the other one with the ampersand (Glass & Griddle). It was the time of swearing off meat entirely, tempering that to limiting meat, trying to go “Impossible” meat, then realizing my daughter had never been to Sobelman’s. A frigid Monday, empty dining room, impossibly cheery waitress and a jalapeno and three cheese-smashed double patty was all that it took to fall back off the wagon. Or is it on the wagon? Either way, it was also the summer that felt like I spent half of, at least, inside a car with intermittently functioning AC, pit-sweating, contemplating which tiny to-go plastic container of bright green or dark red or burnt orange sauce to douse on yet another pastor taco. I ate at every taco truck in the city in ‘19, or tried, or got close, maybe. Out of curiosity. Out of assignment. But as much so out of moral obligation, as some kind of personal corrector to the current tenor of division, of strife, of unease. And as a reminder of comfort, of the spicy, dangerous, gaseous whiff of hope.  

Here are some of the other ways I’ll remember ‘19.    

13. Italian Beef - Rosati’s

I grew up in the hyper-regionally-specific sandwich heaven of Buffalo, NY. There a “beef on weck” order from near any corner bar or grocer or butcher will yield a horseradish-spiked roast beef stack piled within a crusty German baker concoction known as a kimmelweck—a roll topped with caraway seeds and coarse salt grains of the likes you might use on your sidewalk in February. Whether it’s a little bit drippy or dry, it will likely singe sinuses, bloviate with beefiness, finish with unnecessary and addictively enjoyable sodium-ness. Everywhere that isn’t there, you can find Western New York ex-pats gathered in some corner of some bar, Bills hatted, commiserating, whispering of favorites from places with foreign-sounding names like Schwabl’s, bemoaning the wonder of why it’s so hard. But there’s a difference between hard and unknown. 

Here, Chicago’s Italian beef is another simple, but under-served regional sandwich delicacy. Offering even an apt representation of the au-jus-dripping bombs that can be found on every other corner in our big city neighbor to the south would be itself somehow singular. Rosati’s is a Chicago chain that serves just such a purpose. 

Of course, aesthetically or on paper, there’s not much list-worthy about a soaked Italian hoagie roll, barely holding it’s earthy contents, leaking greasy debris all over wax paper like it was an old Saab who’s main attribute was character. But then you get closer: it’s a living sandwich form of a closeup on an Arby’s commercial, with infinite folds of beef wedged like an overfull linen closet, so bursting with folded towels you’re afraid to open the door. The thin rug of plasticky, half-melted mozz is optional. Though the glossy, shimmering hot giardiniera should be mandatory, with its oil-slickening and bright, peppy pickled punch.   

But this is still a package of lizard brain enjoyment, of Ditka-esque machismo, with an essence and soul that is all two-fisted, garclicky pigout. It’s the perfect brown meal when you’ve had too many, when it’s too cold, when football is on, when it is followed by a slice of either thin or deep dish—both also apt Chicago representations here. Enjoy life and don’t be ashamed. You can love an Italian beef and still, later, after you swallow, sing along to “the Bears still suck.” 

12. Sloppy Johnny - Boo Boo’s

A 6-buck price tag and a name that harkens cafeteria appetites and Adam Sandler jams doesn’t really inspire notions of much other than a nostalgic budget lunch.    

But then you see one on the table in front of you, alongside the inspired rotating roster of obscure hot sauce bottles, and ideally next to a steaming bowl of creamy onion-cheddar soup. The sandwich, which derives from a New York City bodega specialty known as a chopped cheese, comes in a fresh-baked, beautiful baguette—crusty outside, pillowy inside—which houses barely visible meat, all the scrags seductively tucked under blankety rivulets of piping white cheddar and pickled peppers and rumors of mushrooms. While I used to come to this address for whiz-spattered ribeye, the Johnny is a bit perplexing in its polish. It is fat guy food all cleaned up, as button-down and put-together a presentation of chopped beef indulgence as might exist in town. 

Giving the flat-topped package a second to cool off is the only challenge. Along with the lack of alcohol to wash it down, or assuage said wait. But there seems to be no other shortcomings to the lunch, or anything about the quirky, aggressively friendly spot that replaced and immediately made us all forget the Walker’s Point Philly Way. The sister biz of nextdoor Soup Brothers, Boo Boo’s shows the Milwaukee Soup Nazi’s comfort food flavor rigor and peculiar touch extends neatly to the realm of sandwiches. 

11. Carbonara - Zarletti

It’s hard to balance summer in Milwaukee. There’s an at-once need to makeup for six months of living in a place where it hurts your lungs to breath natural air with an overwhelming roster of stuff to do. Of stuff to do outside. One solution might be doing something of calendar noteworthiness with a level of relaxed removal. For me I’ve found an annual tradition of attending Bastille Days’ nighttime 5K. Yet instead of stretching and putting on too-short shorts, I park myself at a table on Milwaukee Street, sip a Negroni, spoon roasted lamb and perperonata onto charry bread, and await a big, hearty pasta while watching the more ambitious sweatily charge toward a finish line and away from their true appetites.  

Zarletti’s sidewalk cafe on a summer night can feel very European, very sophisticated, well-heeled. But the carbonara is at it’s core quite basic. Yes, it is the embodiment of those aspects of Roman food anyone recently back from the Old Country will annoy listeners with: simplicity, freshness. Egg, Pecorino Romano, garlic, onion. Here too there is a vomitorium-like abundance of sauteed pancetta. And a reminder of how that perfect deep bowl of al dente can somehow hit all the comfort points of all the different life epochs: childhood mac n’ cheesiness, first apartment spaghetti nights, that trip to Italy. And now, in the night’s growing darkness and fanfare, it’s a special new tradition to feel apart from the race, and part of a different one—finishing every last salty morsel of piggy meat before my stomach says to stop.

10. Tacos de carbon, desebrada, chorizo, pescado - El Tsunami

I’m not entirely sure the silky, sour creamy, Serrano-based light green emulsified salsa found about so many southside taquerias is homemade—such is the ubiquity. And, at this point in our relationship, I’ve gone too far to ask. So, I will continue to happily, ignorantly, scoop and spurt over every possible meatstuff served between National and the Airport, from 35th to the Lake.  

Of these, the fare at El Tsunami holds a special sort of siren song sway, pulling me past La Canoa, away from my beloved Chicken Palace. In fact, of the two locations of Tsunami, this is the one without alcohol. And the fact it is still somehow preferred should be all the endorsement necessary. The petite counter-focused diner always feels like a happier, spicier Edward Hopper vision, especially with snow falling and cozy smoke plumes billowing about from the flattop that seems to be always full of approaching-happy meat. 

In taco form, an order of carbon yields smoky, charcoal-forward, tiny-diced and juice-spurting nodules. The desebrada is a chocolatey, shreddy deep-stewed beef, with the depth and earthiness of the kind of thing grandma might cook when it’s cold out, when she hasn’t seen you in a while, when she got up real early, even by her standards, to start. The chorizo balances salty, greasy, satisfying pork bombast with foodie subtlety—what is that? Cinnamon? The pescado makes fish fries seem benign, lacking abundantly in tortillas and salsa. 

There are other routes—the diablo sauce, a color only seen in dangerously fast and tiny sports cars, is a special coat for any fish dish. But it is the tacos, cilantro-y and satisfying, that remain the supreme vessel for green salsa dousing. And, either way, I’m leaving with some to go: a few containers of verde, just enough to carry a little Tsunami with me back home, to the fridge, enough to pull me through the far too many non-taqueria meals of life. 

9. Any pizza - San Giorgio

Maybe it’s because I’m not a car guy, and get no thrill from “peeking under the hood,” and not enough of a cook to have much interest in “seeing how the sausage is made,” but I’ve never cared a great deal about the concept of “open kitchen.” They wear aprons, can handle industrial-grade pans, are comfortable working close to a flame—I get it.   

But then I found myself for the first time at San Giorgio’s “pizza bar,” contemplating how beautiful a concept, how perfect a term, when I heard one pizzaiolo, upset about peel placement or arugula quantity or something or another say to the other, “I’ll kill you.” Huh, I thought. They really care. 

While few inside the scene seem to put any stock in the VPN certification (the official delegation delineating true Neopolitan style pizza, regulating everything from oven type, to temp, to how much your dough balls must weigh—yes, it’s a bit ridiculous, and, yes, it’s a cost), all aspects of the pizza pedigree of San Giorgio show just such immense, aggressive, sure, threatening, pursuit of craft. In the Sopranos sense of the word, all ingredients, all dishes, seem to be worthy of respect. 

Try the Quattro Formaggi, a delightfully oily meld of mozz, provola, fontina, and gorgonzola. Or the San Giorgio, bright with arugula and fennel, salty with crispy pancetta, topped, almost unnecessarily, somehow cohesively, with a sunny side egg. Pay plenty of appropriate focus on anything featuring San Marzano tomato carnage. As a gravy it goes well with anything from basil to spicy soppersata. As Instagrammable goopage, it is bright and popping, with no need of a filter, reminiscent of all things you picture of Italy in your mind.   

It all still ties back to the beating heart. And by that, I mean the 900 degree Stefano Ferraro oven, hand-crafted, of course, in Italy. It is a muscular, room-dominating hulk, a ravishing blue-tiled beauty, fire-kissing, turning doughiness halfway to toast, letting the Maillard Effect do its enzyme action work, warming, blackening, making a messy marriage of tomato and cheese. Airy corpuscles form around the crust edge, yielding heartening bites of carb char. It is quick cooking, piping hot delivery for all satisfaction points. What pizza was for us as children, pizza can be for us again, here, downtown on a classy wine-soaked date night or pre-Giannis show.  

On subsequent visits I’ve found myself, while pulling away the first slice, lifting the edge and checking  the undercarriage to admire the cooking and note the sweet char. Each pizza pattern is unique from the last, like the spots on a Jaguar. So, maybe I am into looking under the hood afterall.   

 8. Burger - Foxfire

The last thing anyone needs from the internet is another burger list. Or even a list with burgers on them, ranked, in some kind of personal application of rules and regulations that strives toward objectivity, scientific method, a justification of juiciness pontificating. 

Yet, in 2019 arriving on a listicle is the only validation. And the burger at Foxfire, served Thursday’s out of the back of Hawthorne Coffee, deserves to make listicles that aren’t even covering burgers. So, while Palomino griddles the best sit-down double-digit-dollar burger in town, and Kopp’s remains the heavyweight of gluttonous eat-in-your-car, American Graffitti old-school comfort and mouthfeel joy, Foxfire strikes the perfect balance between craft and simple. The double patty package is reasonably affordable, is cooked basically to temp, is coated with unfussy American cheese. But the availability is limited, enticingly so. It is topped with only pickle and onion. But the counter is suggestively stacked with esoteric hot sauces. It is what to have for workday lunch, generally, in a coffee shop. But the meat crust and luscious give are worthy of foodie discourse, elevated terms like elevated. The duality in a microcosm: the fries here are reminiscent of the stringy, crispy spuds found at McDonald’s; but they can be topped with little-seen Aleppo pepper.    

My grandfather used to say that it is impossible to declare a “best,” that such distinction has to be qualified. He lived in the innocent era before internet lists. And, unfortunately, before being able to try the burger at Foxfire.  

7. Chicken 65 and Garlic Naan - Cafe India

My wife often jokes that I only want to eat food in taco form. And they say all good jokes are based in truth. So it came in handy that my natural instinct for bread-as-vessel kicked in when, aggressively, irresponsibly, I ordered my Chicken 65 “extra hot” at the Bay View Cafe India. Within two fork bites it became clear something, anything, more than water, was needed to extinguish, to buffer, to assuage boiling buds. Garlic naan was handy, was originally used like a starchy tongue sponge, and then, somehow inspired, I packaged all subsequent chicken bites within the cozy, garlicky, craggy confines of the bendable bread. Thus my version of Indian tacos was born. Built out of necessity, maintained out of deliciousness.   

The Chicken 65 has long been my Indian deep-menu go-to. Huge-bite, deep-fried chunks of tender boneless chicken, bathing in fiery, oily, red-orange stew chocked with hunks of pepper and onion and curry leaf. With its shimmering finish and intense afterburn, it’s a dish that often feels like a turmeric-laced Southern Indian version of Nashville chicken. 

Apparently nobody really knows where the dish name came from—some claim the number just refers to the birth year. Others, to either the number of chile peppers or the number of pieces of chicken. It doesn’t matter, historians likely have just had too difficult a time stopping eating, or slurping water, or fanning the mouth. But now at least we all have documentation of the dawn of the Chicken 65 taco.   

6. Chicken Shawarma, Kufta Kabob Sandwich - Pita Palace

Sometimes go-to’s are made by convenience, sometime laziness, maybe it's economics, every now and then it just comes from plain exceptional, ceaseless taste, of the kind you never tire of, week after week, appetite after appetite. When I became Iucky enough to stumble into a house purchase a pita toss from this sprawling Layton Ave chateau of Mediterranean comfort food, the “go-to” calculus began to spin endlessly, like a slowly turning vertical rotisserie.   

From hummus to arayes to lentil soup, all of the counter service spot’s dishes ring true. But it’s the sandwich section that brings me back, never wears out, with cheap, voluminous meat torpedos nestled inside tender, stretchy shrak bread. They are made of tight, but ambitious construction, braced by pickle buttons, onion and tomato wedges. The chicken yields variable cubes and scrags of spitted meat, some crisp, some soft, velvety garlic sauce making the bundle swim, sing. Or there is the kufta kabob, two skewers-worth of beefy, grainy-textured links, slicked with creamy tahini, the whole deal rife with mint, parsley, sumac, and the kind of otherworldliness that you watch Bourdain for a taste of. Kick either up with a side of the piercing, pungent Thai chile garlic sauce, a sauce with a confrontationally acidic spice profile, a flavor reminiscent of little else at all, just this side of a manageable amount of mother-in-law spleen.  

It’s the kind of place you spot from the air on approaches back to General Mitchell, a giant red neon glow of ‘Welcome Home;’ the kind of place your realtor might not mention, but you find it and know your property values will sustain, that it will also salve rote Mondays of yawns and kitchen ennui for years to come. It’s the kind of place you are endlessly happy to live near by, for when you don’t know what to cook, or, really, even when you do.  

5. Xiao Long Bao Dumplings - Momo Mee

“Eat with care” the menu warns, an enticing challenge, like something you might find on a waiver from a restaurant you learned of from “Man vs. Food.” To me it reminds of an internet-learning wormhole of food blogs and Youtubes on where to find the Shanghai delicacy in a back alley shop in Chicago’s Chinatown. And then, more challengingly, more importantly, how to actually eat a dumpling filled with soup. As an experienced Xiao Long Bao taster—twice—I can state the process is mostly so: Put a drop of soy sauce in your soup spoon, lift the dumpling from the top, place in the spoon, nibble a tiny hole in the top as a steam valve, slurp some broth out, and then, when the temp feels right, shoot it like an oyster. Then you sit back and feel worldly, self-satisfied, sated. 

But as long as you don’t puncture and spurt, or, really, as long as you “eat with care,” you are bound to end up happy, letting umami zest and warm salty pork wedges in hand-crafted dough baste the tongue. The disparity of eating this, here, in the base level of a building seemingly still warm from the factory, hits with the arrival of the steaming bamboo basket. Or, really,  with the Schezuan wontons, or the Cantonese claypots—anything you can order amidst the plasticizing Walker’s Point condo sprawl. As the neighborhood loses its soul, it’s character, one more hastily constructed Millennial molehill at a time, Momo Mee more than holds the line.   

4. Alambre - La Flamita

Certainly one of the buzziest events in town this winter would have to be a recent Ash Kitchen takeover, featuring James Beard-nominated Minnesota chef Jorge Guzman. The spot, an open hearth concept from Dan Jacobs and Dan Van Rite, is the new restaurant of the Iron Horse Hotel. The event spotlighted Mexican street food. Yes, at one of the priciest hotels in town. Black beans were $6; rice, a cool $5. And while probably delicious, probably well-intentioned, it sounds a bit like paying Fiserv prices to see a really great high school team: gimmicky at best, condescending at worst, and to any that spend time contemplating what and how we eat, a bit puzzling. If you want taco truck fare, why don’t you go to an actual taco truck? 

That very same Sunday night anyone with the hankering could have taken a short cruise west, on National, and subjected their appetites to La Flamita’s weekly special of one-buck pastor tacos. Cut by a big man with a large knife, direct from the trompo—one of the few of the Lebanese-rooted vertical spits in town—greasy, salty, piggy turns of earthiness are spiked by pineapple hunks, upped by arbol salsa that pokes through each bite like it has something to prove. Or, even better, it being Sunday and a day of fun after all, you could have an alambre. Mix your pastor with asada and with chorizo and with gooping, melting queso, the whole thing congealing into a warm, grandmotherly embrace of a taco mix mash, everything punctuated by peppers and onions. Plopped on top is a steaming baked potato, because they want you to be happy, full.   

It is the ideal meal for someone who can’t decide, yes, but also who wants it all, who won’t settle, who wants to soar, like Costanza on the wings of Pastrami, to an Epicurean taste fete of grease and meat sweat pleasure. But you can also stay comfortably on the street, barely 12 bucks in the hole, with leftovers certainly, alone in the car, beyond judging eyes or the formalities of waiters, to ponder life and appetite decisions, and wonder how many more you have room for. 

3. Tlayuda - La Costena 

If you have little kids you probably go to the Domes 300 times or so per year, or so it seems; and because it’s there, you probably go to Honeydip Donuts across the street maybe just a few times less. Heading south then, passing La Costena and it’s beckoning redness, the HGTV optics of an A-frame mini house-cum-taco truck is refreshing, promising in its cutesiness, alluring if only for the hope of something different. 

And different it is. Start with a pastor, my personal barometer of a taqueria’s worth. So often simple scraps of salted pink pork do the trick, but here it is decidedly less piggy, moister, deeper, somehow more seasoned and cheffy. Or try the asada, a 100-level taco order, but here redolent of butcher freshness, liberal salt, flattop love. Really you can tell from “hola,” by the friendliness, by the slowness, by the perfectly-quoted wait times from the counter man: Costena may well be the premier taco truck in town. 

Then, working your way through the menu, you get here, to a Mexican pizza, a NYC-slice-consistency, corn-shelled ship of salty flavor. The tlayuda is basically begging for you to take a picture, posturing with the bright allure of the flag of our neighbors to the south, popping with the reds of tomato and chipotle salsa, the greens of lettuce, avocado, the whites of queso, svelty sour cream, it all kept grounded by a swab of creamy refrieds, topped by a generous smattering of your carne of choice. Objectively, that choice should be chorizo, the grease-running ground sausage bits so rife with garlic, so equally charry and wet, that it makes any other kind of meat cover seem a bit tepid, a bit too-healthy.   

And sometimes this is how traditions are born, out of a need to get a little person out of the house, out of a desire to let them sleep off dreams of cacti and sausage fruit trees from Namibia in the backseat while dad sates creeping hunger and insoluble curiosity. Such is the joy of family, when you realize even proximity to Sobelman’s, to Oscar’s, can be beat, by this, a whole new world of car-meal, of pizza-esque joy, of something different. Long live the Domes.  

2. Brisket Burger, Hot Chicken Sandwich, Pimento Cheese, Cheese Curds - Palomino

It’s hard to keep track: Where are we all now on Palomino? Are we still mad they raised prices? Disappointed that it’s less bar and more restaurant? Stuck in a provincial mode that makes us yearn for cheap frozen tots and Bingo? Are we upset that they took a look in the mirror, didn’t coast, made an effort, and made their food much, much, much better? Or have we all just kind of forgotten it?  

Maybe I shouldn’t question. Just appreciate the fact I can walk in on a Friday night at 8, find whatever table I want, or a spot at the bar, and order any one or combo of my favorite things to eat in Milwaukee.  

There’s no better way to ruin an appetite and a doctor’s wishes than starting a feast with the curds. Elongated oblong bricks of a battered, sheeny shell, barely housing liquefying magma ooze, seem to get almost transported from fryer to wherever I’m sitting and leaning forward. Such is the temperature, the still oil-shimmering, post-bath promise. Stretchy and rich, airy and crispy, endlessly goopy, it’s a snack only matched in Southern-leaning decadence by the pimento cheese. This is piquant-popped velvetiness, the dream of what grown-up grilled cheese can embody, when plopped atop the accompanying charred toast.  

It takes will, recklessness, irresponsibility to keep going at this point. The hot chicken thigh, barely saddled inside a buttery brioche, is helped by two things: greasy slicks of mayo and house hot sauce aid gullet passage; also the heft is constructed so that if you put it down, it might fall apart. One must push forth, in delicious punishment. Then there is the brisket burger. No other burger in town is so good at avoiding overtopping, overhyping, overpricing, a balance of kitchen art and pleasure. Like it is no big deal: fresh ground meat, American cheese, onion, pickle, silky mayo-y special sauce. Here is what it would feel like if you could sit down at a Bay View bar and eat a Kopp’s masterpiece sided by an IPA on a chill Friday night, where you can also remember your growth-spurt 16-year-old appetite, even while pushing 40.

If there were ever a case to be made for it being OK to find a rut, to never stray or explore, to find your caloric Cheers and never think about going anywhere else, Palomino would lead my argument. 

1. Bahn Mi - Pho Hai Tuyet

There’s rarely a person that borrows my phone that doesn’t make the comment, the note: “You have a Pho Hai Tuyet app?” It’s there, near the front, proudly prominent, a bit out of place near Lyft and Instagram because it’s a by-the-airport dive in a converted fast food shack with endless out-of-commission fish tanks, and, for some reason, a stage. It is also known, has garnered a bit of a cult following for a fat guy sandwich of near-perfection. Or, it was, actually. 

Pho hai shuttered quietly, but inevitably, to anyone who’s been recently, sometime between this past spring and the future of our discontent. Still there was shock to those of us who thought the sandwich would always be there: the big French baguette bed, crispy, succulent pork scrags, garlicky mayo, heaps of cilantro, crispy jalapeno punches.    

To write about it hurts, like a eulogy, where you need to remember the bad and mix it with the strange to paint a picture. As it happens I have a friend who informed me that, once, while eating inside, he could hear something audibly scampering in the ceiling panels. Out of loyalty, out of sandwich-love, I practiced willful ignorance. I have another friend, a writer sort, who sports a Pho Hai polo shirt in his author bio pic. It seems like some sort of hipster ironicism, unless you know how much he loves—loved—the sandwich. And, really, what are we but not physical manifestations of our past meals and meal memories? A collection of those calories and reminisces.

Even as we look ahead, to more eating, to big city, big event pedigree, to maybe ending the national embarrassment, to 2020, to a promise of new vision, as we yearn for responsibility and reason, to, well, to... who knows? Whatever happens, whatever is next, I will never delete my Pho Hai Tuyet app.

[therappundit]

October 2018 -*PlayLi$t of the Month*

Ooooo it is getting awfully spooky out there, folks...

Temperatures are (finally) plummeting, so for this month I have the perfect score for you. Tis the season for grimy rap music, and with new releases from the likes of Roc Marciano, Styles P,  Sheck Wes, and Westside Gunn, the chilly sound of autumn is officially in full swing here on the east coast. That being said, this month’s list also includes a diverse array of talent from Grand Rapids, New Orleans, St. Louis, Richmond, and beyond (plus an extra deep “honorable mentions” section, to further champion all of the great new tracks out there). So please enjoy some of my favorite songs from the month of October...

1. “Dolph Lundgren” - DJ Muggs & Roc Marciano

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43R-lDAhhjg

(Another month, another dope Roc Marciano project. What stands out on KAOS is the chemistry between Roc and DJ Muggs. With this special MC + producer joint album, the two underground icons joined forces to create a street soundtrack that is at once both a throwback and a breath of fresh air. Roc’s persona on records is unparalleled, he packs a 70′s hustler’s soul in the body of a modern gangster. Place those bars over Muggs’ dark soul samples, and you have yourself one helluva album.)

2. “40 Acres” - Chester Watson

https://soundcloud.com/chesterwatson/40-acres

(On first listen, Chester Watson sounds like a clone of Earl Sweatshirt. The Miami-by-way-of-St. Louis MC certainly possesses a dark, monotone delivery that is eerily reminiscent of the vibes channeled by the former Odd Future standout, but rest assured, Chester is an artist more than capable of standing on his own two. If “40 Acres” doesn’t make you want to check out his new Project O album, then that’s your loss - this track is fantastic.)

3. “Vetements Socks” - Sheck Wes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvntmsHRNa0

(Truth be told, I had very little expectations for this MUDBOY project. I didn’t even appreciate the breakout hit “Mo Bamba”, but I really do appreciate Sheck Wes’ full length debut. I always say whatever your style is, do it well, and at least provide some form of perspective. For all of Sheck’s youthful inexperience, poetic shortcomings, and scattered focus, he has released a project that captures his energy, his taste in music, and that he is a raw, talented artist with a lot on his mind. “Vetements Socks” brings to mind one of the early hits of another young Harlemite, that being “Peso” by A$AP Rocky. While far from the classic New York-centric hip-hip sound, MUDBOY is an album that successfully paints pictures of where Sheck is in his life right now, and it feels like the NYC sidewalks that I stomp around on today.)

4. “Southside Sector” -  Big Kahuna OG feat. Fly Anakin

https://schemeteamallstars.bandcamp.com/track/southside-sector-prod-ohbliv-feat-fly-anakin

(Every Mutant Academy release I have heard is pretty dope. However, certain projects really do an excellent job showcasing one specific MCs potential as a uniquely talented rapper/writer, as opposed to just bars over beats. Big Kahuna OG’s new Weapon Ox tape is possibly the best album of his catalogue thus far, and I can’t recommend it enough.)

5. “CL Smooth” - Willie The Kid

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWtr3bUFNE8

(Low key, Willie The Kid has been dropping dope music since he popped up on the scene again in 2017, after a hiatus. His Things Of That Nature tape is another one of his filler-free releases, and I find this “CL Smooth” shout-out especially, well, smooth.)

6. “'94 Ghost Shit” - The Alchemist feat. Conway & Westside Gunn

https://soundcloud.com/alan-the-chemist/the-alchemist-feat-conway-westside-gunn-94-ghost-shit

(Since hearing the IG teasers many months ago, Griselda fans have ben clamoring for the release of “94 Ghost Shit”. They/we finally got that wish granted when Uncle Al unleashed the Conway and Westside Gunn helmed banger on his site. Just a loosie, or a teaser for the trios long awaited Hall & Nash 2 project??? For now, we at least have this tough as nails joint to keep in rotation for the foreseeable future...or at least until WSG drops Hitler Wears Hermes 6 on Halloween!.)

7. “Boss” - Little Simz

https://soundcloud.com/littlesimz/b-o-s-s-1

(Is this the solo debut of a UK artist on the Pundit PlayLi$t!? I believe so! Little Simz has been on my radar for a while now, but with “Boss” she finally has what feels like a smash to me. The beat is a head nodder and Simz uses it to showcase why she is a fierce MC that deserves respect from her fans and peers alike.)

8. “Life In Crooklyn” - Planit Hank & DJ Evil Dee feat. Jeru The Damaja, Buckshot & AZ - Life in Crooklyn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=korr8p6lDhk

(A simple, but effective piece of NYC nostalgia that is knocked out the park by an elite line-up of legendary New York legends. Jeru, Buckshot and AZ are no doubt some of Brooklyn’s finest to ever pick up the m-i-c, and they each lend their magic to this one.)

9. “We Got Everything” - Styles P & Dave East

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTfMYCFhzi8

(Not a lot of hype went into the release of Beloved, Styles P and Dave East’s collaboration album, but nevertheless the project is solid from top to bottom. “We Got Everything” benefits from an ear-worm of a hook, and thumping production that suits both MCs.)

10. “Uproar” - Lil Wayne feat. Swizz Beatz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WYAX6onqbM

(No, The Carter V did not live up to its’ unfairly lofty expectations...but it’s still a good album, and an even better display of how well-rounded Lil Wayne can be as a MC. “Uproar” is far from the headiest track on C5, but it’s great example of classic Weezy swagger, on top of being a fun reboot of G. Dep’s “Special Delivery”...and any time I have the chance to s/o G. Dep on my monthly playlist, I’m going to jump on it!) 🙏

*Bonus - Honorable Mention [extended edition]*

“Take It All” - Fatima feat. Roc Marciano

https://fatima.bandcamp.com/track/take-it-all-feat-roc-marciano

“Fuck 12” - Quavo feat. Offset

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4IjBNBCnZo

“Rap Charlamagne (Say What I Want)” - Pardison Fontaine

https://soundcloud.com/pardi/rap-charlamagne-say-what-i-want

“Magic Tricks” - Lucky Seven feat. Conway

https://soundcloud.com/luckyseven30/magic-tricks-feat-conway?in=luckyseven30/sets/53creebadluck

“Preach” - Swizz Beatz feat. Jim Jones

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRfP0S985D8

“Never Fight An African” - Styles P

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5i6lv5wgKc

“Stoop Kids” - Mir Fontane feat. Fetty Wap

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Ik3iwCPm1E

“still water [flow water pt. 2]” - Cambank$

https://soundcloud.com/camgotthejuice/stillwater-flow-water_pt2-prod-2spvced

“The Suppliers” - 38 Spesh, Jai Black & Daniel Son

https://soundcloud.com/lil-eto/38-spesh-x-jai-black-x-daniel-son-the-suppliers

“Understood” - Mick Jenkins

https://soundcloud.com/mickjenkins/mick-jenkins-prod-kaytranada

“Hating” - J-Live

https://ambrosiaforheads.com/2018/10/j-live-hating-maga-lyric-video/

“Dotty X & The Sen” - Sadat X & El Da Sensei

https://vindig.bandcamp.com/track/dotty-x-the-sen

“Episode 11” - Mooch & Farma Beats feat. Maverick

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_vWEUr7yEMI

“IScream” - Bodega Bamz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5mmVrKaV0w

“Hot” - Flu & Rigz feat. Mav Montana & Eto

https://soundcloud.com/fludust/2-hot-feat-mav-montana-eto?in=fludust/sets/rigz-a-piece-of-the-action

“Black Mags 2” - The Cool Kids

http://2dopeboyz.com/2018/10/19/the-cool-kids-black-mags-2/

HAVE A HAPPY HALLOWEEEEEEN  🎃🎃🎃

[ICYMI: Last month’s list below]

https://therappundit.tumblr.com/post/178500049856/september-2018-playli-t-of-the-month

#PlayListOfTheMonth #The Alchemist #Conway #Westside Gunn #Roc Marciano #DJ Muggs #KAOS #big kahuna og #mutant academy #fly anakin #MUDBOY #Sheck Wes #Swizz Beatz #Exorcist #Halloween #October 19 #10/19 #HWH6 #FETTI #Lunchbox #Alchemist #craig mack #Lil Wayne #Chester Watson #Sadat X #El Da Sensei #flu #rigz #mooch #maverick

[keepingupwithlinmanuel]

But I ain’t goin’ back because I’m telling your story

My earliest memory takes place in a bodega on Dyckman Street in Washington Heights. I am three years old, and walking hand in hand with my Abuela Mundi. Abuela Mundi isn't biologically my "abuela" grandmother, but she lives in my house, feeds me, tucks me in and walks me to and from nursery school. She took care of my father when he was a kid in Vega Alta, Puerto Rico his parents never stopped working, and when I was born, she came to take care of me and my sister our parents never stop working. It's a hot summer day; there's an open hydrant on Beak Street and I can see the top of the Cloisters across the park as Abuela and I walk down Seaman Avenue. Dominican and Puerto Rican flags hang from nearby windows.

The bodega's glass door is covered in Corona ads and half-scratched decals. Merengue plays on the stereo as Abuela Mundi exchanges a wink and a smile with the man behind the counter. We walk past aisles of plantains and canned goods to the storeroom in back, where we see Abuela Mundi's true passion: three gleaming Vegas-style slot machines. For the next few hours, it will be my special job to pull the machine's arm as Abuela feeds it quarters, watching rows of fruit spin around and line up just so, hoping for the lucky spin that will make her rich and change her life. She wins some quarters and sinks them back into the machine. The bodega man gives me candy, I'm pulling the arm for Abuela, music is playing and life is good.

If In the Heights has any particular genesis, it's the memory of this day and so many others like it. I grew up in Northern Manhattan, and if you've ever even driven through the neighborhood, you know that music comes out of every corner. Salsa horn lines wail from fire escape windows; bachata guitar lines blare from pimped-out car stereos. As a teenager, my father was the president and maybe the only member of the Puerto Rico chapter of Debbie Reynolds Fan Club, so we grew up on a bizarre diet of Juan Luis Guerra, Marc Anthony, Fiddler on the Roof and Camelot. Meanwhile, my friends and I obsessed over hip-hop music: I remember poring over Fat Boys albums and forcing my school bus driver to teach me the words to "Beef" by KRS-One.

I wrote the first incarnation of In the Heights my sophomore year at Wesleyan University. In the winter of 1999, I applied to put up a new show in the student-run '92 Theater. At the time, I had one song and a title: In the Heights. I was given the theater for the weekend of April 20-22—now all I had to do was write a show. I barely slept, I barely ate; I just wrote. I put in all the things I'd always wanted to see onstage: propulsive freestyle rap scenes outside of bodegas, salsa numbers that also revealed character and story. I tried to write the kind of show I'd want to be in. Two remarkable things happened. One, we broke box-office records for the '92 Theater that year—it was insanity. Two, I was approached by John Buffalo Mailer son of Norman, a senior at the time. He loved the show and said, "My friends and I are starting a production company when we graduate, and we want to help you bring it to New York." I said, "That sounds awesome," went to the cast party and promptly forgot about his offer.

Fast forward to the summer of 2002, when I meet director Tommy Kail for the first time in the basement of the Drama Book Shop. John Mailer has made good on his promise and has founded Back House Productions with Tommy, Anthony Veneziale and Neil Stewart. I've just graduated, and Tommy is breaking down what he likes about Heights and what he would do if he directed it. Two thoughts occur to me. The first is: "This guy is smarter and understands the show better than anyone I've ever met." The second is, "Crap. I have to completely rewrite this show."

Over the next year, while I teach seventh grade English at my old high school by day, Back House hosts at least five readings of Heights in its various, pupating stages. Producer Jill Furman comes to a reading, enjoys herself and joins us on the journey. Rent producer Kevin McCollum comes to a reading in June 2003. He digs the music, he digs the bodega and he wants more. His producing partner, Jeffrey Seller, concurs, and the hard work begins.

Fast forward to January 1, 2007. I'm house-sitting for my parents tonight, writing this essay in exactly the same room I wrote the first draft of In the Heights. I'm not alone in this endeavor anymore: I'm sure our brilliant book writer, Quiara Hudes, is up late tweaking dialogue, and our arrangers, Alex Lacamoire and Bill Sherman, are orchestrating the latest music at Alex's house. Somewhere Tommy is working on script notes, and Andy Blankenbuehler is refining and tightening his incredible choreography. The payoff for me will be in late January, when my Abuela Mundi comes to see the show for the first time. There's an Abuela character in the show now, Abuela Claudia. She plays Lotto every day, hoping for the lucky numbers that will make her rich and change her life. I don't know what I've done to deserve the luck I've had, but while I'm here, I'm pulling the arm for Abuela, music is playing and life is good.

#lin manuel miranda #family #broadway.com #writing #twitterico #photos