it lead to a little walk down Bowery
which lead to my first walk down Mulberry through the Feast of San Gennaro festival, which started tonight. First night + cool weather, light rain = the Feast wasn't a total nightmare. Give it time, though.
At the far end of the festival, just down from Prince, there's two booths worth of famously good restaurant (Torrisi Italian Specialties, WD-50, the Breslin, and Frankies, among others) selling their own takes on festival food. Tonight they were all briskly doing absolutely no business at all. I'll probably regret not sampling their wares tonight when I try to get food there a day or two from now.
There's famous chef Wylie Dufresne manning his own stall. When I said WD-50 was selling food it was a lie, I should have said it was Dufresne's new sandwich concept that was selling sandwiches. That would have been the truth. I am sorry for having lied to you.
If I can't be found at the fancy food, you should look for me at any place advertising corn dogs.
Actually, maybe not. These just look like the kind from the grocery store. What's it take to get a proper freshly-dipped corn dog around here?!
But there's plenty of properly fried dough. At every turn, just about.
The pinwheels of sausage do smell good, I cannot deny it.
Also terribly tempting: a "Ridiculously Spicy Pickle"
So I saw this, and I took a picture, and I got yelled at by a carney
The yelling-at went like this:
"Hey! What are you taking a picture of, you doorknob?!"
"Yeah, right. I bet you take lots of pictures of bananas."
But seriously I was! Didn't you hear that recent This American Life where they talked about Rasta bananas being the most popular prize at theme parks this summer?
And from earlier today, there was this band going up and down the street behind a priest who was blessing all the stalls:
So, in conclusion: San Gennaro is a big annual festival in honor of the patron saint of Naples, they honor him by essentially bringing the Jersey Shore to Little Italy for ten days and this whole thing is happening right outside my window. Anthropologically speaking, I'm thrilled.