In June, I started a painting of a hospital room. Filled with black garbage.
I dined at Taj Mahal on 6th Street. Not to be confused with Raj Mahal a few doors east, or Taj which is a few doors West.
Enjoyable dinner excursions this warm month also included (pictured left to right): Banjara (excellent Aloo Gobi) on 1st Avenue, 3 of Cups (I have beaten a path from my house to this pizza place) also on 1st and Le Barricou in Williamsburg (good French food if you find yourself in Brooklyn).
Brunch was very much enjoyed at Alias on the Lower East Side. One of a handful of places where I can get biscuits and gravy. This part of LES is absolutely nauseating. Who are these people? Tourists? College kids? Young investment bankers? I don't know, but they all talk loudly and in the same California sounding accent. Seems like these days its rare to hear a good ol' regional accent from someone under 40.
And of course our very regular joint, Il Porto in Clinton Hill. For the last year we have gone here almost every Friday night. I order the same thing every time. We walk the 15 LONG blocks, no matter what the weather; sweltering in the summer, trudging through knee deep snow in the winter. When I'm really hungry, the long walk hurts. But every time I walk back I feel wonderful.