I will never understand the anxiety of a forthcoming storm. Does three inches of snow and sleet really require the suspension of alternate side of the street parking, plows and salt trucks before a flake has fallen, and more than one of those infinitely annoying broadcasts: "we interrupt this program to bring you this special weather report"?
No. Get real. Snow in New York is rare and never as severe as predicted. If my front wheel drive Volkswagen can get over the snowbanks, so can a few paranoid New Yorkers.
The flurries didn't stop the hipsters from hitting Bedford Street in Williamsburg. Until about eleven, the streets were packed with people smoking cigarettes and leaning up against things and wearing tight clothes and ridiculous heeled shoes, despite street conditions. That must have been the witching hour, because after eleven, desolation set in. Even the cafes closed early. Finding a cab was purely up to providence.
I went out to Williamsburg for a birthday party buyout at Egg, a spot off Bedford known for their stellar breakfasts. Totally a cult Billyburg place, but the all-you-can-eat menu of southern snacks sounded appealing enough. I waited for an hour at the Bedford Street "mall," since a fire on the L train delayed my friend, who had to get a cab from Union Square at rush hour, no small feat. A fire in a snowstorm. Only in New York.
By the time we got to Egg, it was already packed. We shelled out our 30 bucks and hit the buffet. Fried chicken was perfect. Perfect. I'm not usually a dark meat girl, but I went straight for the thighs. Juicy meat, very crispy exterior. A fresh batch of macaroni and cheese came from the kitchen right after we got there. That was top-notch, too. Sharp cheese, very creamy, nice breadcrumb topping. I would have added black pepper had I seen any, but there was only hot sauce. Hot sauce it was.
Cornbread and biscuits were both on the dry side; a bite of each and I decided to skip the cards. Collard greens aren't really my thing, but my friend declared them wonderful.
The gaping hole was dessert. I was hoping for banana pudding, or at least a cupcake. Alas. No sweets. That sent us on a goosechase down Bedford, where the last available cafe, Verb Cafe--"We're closing in ten minutes," the not-so-friendly barista informed me--showcased some tired looking cookies and pies behind glass. It would have to do. A slice of apple crumb pie for my friend ("It would be better hot") and a chocolate chip brownie for me and it was back to the BQE and that other distant borough.
135 N. 5th Street
Williamsburg, NY 11211
218 Bedford Avenue
Williamsburg, NY 11211