sonja s.'s Profile

Dr. Zimmermann was great. Unfortunately, the staff and structures that surround him are all blisteringly incompetent, rude beyond measure, and otherwise worthless. For all the fancy trappings, my experience was intensely frustrating and an unfathomable waste of  time and money. I recommend in the strongest possible terms that you take your uterus somewhere else. Like Planned Parenthood. Or Duane Reade. Or the internet, even. Anywhere but here.

I cannot say enough about how much I love Sara and her team at Onelove Photography. They were a joy to work with from beginning to end, and we could not be happier with our gorgeous wedding photos.

We got married in my husband's uncle's backyard, so we managed every detail and every vendor, from the wholesale florists to the caterers to the portable toilets. We were blessed to get great service from all, but none were more professional, patient, fun and easy to work with than Onelove.

Our photographers Jen and Phil were the picture of grace under fire--even when I was tearing my hair out moments before the ceremony with relatives hollering at one another in three languages, they had nothing but big big big smiles and words of encouragement for my crazy (and diverse and wonderful) family. They really captured spirit of our simcha and put everyone at ease.

Best of all, we had our pictures almost as soon as we got back from our honeymoon!  We could not have hoped for better. I would recommend Onelove in the strongest possible terms.

Yelpers, you've let me down when I needed you most! Bland, overpriced, terrible service, and for this it gets four stars? For shame!!

A family emergency brought us to the North Suburbs from the coasts and we all desperately needed to eat somewhere, without having the first clue of what might be good or where to find it.  Sure, maybe Midwestern Indian food was a misguided choice, but we're an adventurous lot--so I turned to you, trusted Yelpers, and this, THIS is what i got in return for my trust:
We arrived at about 7:30. After a 15 minute wait (so it was Saturday, i'm not complaining) we got stuck in a booth in the back corner of the dining room. 15 more minutes of sitting and we got water. 20 more minutes of sitting or so, and someone decided it might be nice to take our order. Fine, ok, you're the BFD in this town, I'll cope. But then...then the people who were seated just after us are paying their check and it's been an hour and my uncle's run out of bad jokes and there is STILL no sign of our food. Half the dining room is now empty. No food. When we finally flag somebody down and inquire about it, our (lukewarm, excessively bland, overly oily) food arrives, with a 'complimentary' plate of rice nobody wanted. By the time we got the check it was after 10pm. An all around unpleasant experience I couldn't in good conscience recommend to anyone. Blech

After splitting a $16 feast with my boyfriend (just returned from a sojourn through South India) at Udupi Palace last night, I felt compelled to write out this five point plan for the Future of  Indian Food in America.
Step One: Re-brand all "Indian" food North Indian/Pakistani food so that South Indian food can take its rightful place as the one and only Indian food worthy of the name. If it's not a vegetarian, bathed in sweet coconut or nosebleed spicy, I just don't want to talk about it.  
Step Two: eliminate the pretenders. That means you, Washington Square Park Dosa Guy (ok, i like you, but you're destroying the MOVEMENT), and you too, SF's Dosa. Down with "California Style Dosa".  Up with idli sambar!
Step Three: Metal plates, ubiquitous in actual India, are far too scarce stateside. Metal plates are a must.
Step Four: No more Tikka Masala. Ever
Step Five: Stop ordering your own entre. That's just dumb. A meal for two should be $20 with tip.
*Fuck Dosa.

If there is only one reason you can think of to schlep out to Flushing this weekend, let it be the best dosa in the city.  If you think Dosa Guy cornered the market, you've obviously been missing the real stuff, though the Dosa Hutt's charms are not for the faint of heart. It's an epic schlep (my journey involved a long ride on the 7 and followed by a sweaty trek on the Q27 bus) but you should be thinking of this as a destination anyway. It's the journey (not to mention the UN blue laminate decor and the bustling local ambiance) that makes the Hutt special.
Here, they serve the sambar in Dixie cups because their sambar is so esophagus-scalding  good, it needs no fussing up.  The dosas are light and perfectly crisp, the thick, spicy chai is bottomless and with the Ganesha Hindu Temple right next door, there's never a dull moment. For the uninitiated, a chance to experience a corner of the city you might never otherwise see, and relish it.

To be fair, we did roll up here with a party of 11 for a late dinner on a Saturday, so I guess waiting another hour and a half after the time of our reservation is fine. It's fine. You know why? Because despite some slow service and the very, very long wait, B-Star Bar was honestly the best place I've ever eaten with a party of 11. Our table in the covered patio was cozy and intimate without being cramped, our food coordinated its arrival, and everything was fresh and tasty. In a party with several vegetarians and equally many red-blooded meat eaters, nobody went home hungry or disappointed. I dug the Taco Duo with black carp, and the mango mimosa was delish. Like the whole neighborhood, B-Star is still definitely underrated.

Sunset Market (@25th and Irving by the Kosher butcher) reminds me why the Jews and the Chinese have such a natural affinity.  

The supermarket looks like the dime-a-dozen dirt-cheap produce markets, Chinese bodegas and hardware stores that line Irving on the not-so-trendy side of 19th Avenue. But don't be fooled--we asked the locals, and this is the place to go if you want the cheapest and most authentic that the Sunset has to offer. Don't be intimidated by the bags of half-rotting produce on 'super special' or the elephant-head sized Jackfruits priced-to-move--Sunset Market is the real deal when it comes to fresh, affordable produce, specialty items and 30 lb bags of rice. Or fresh tripe, if that's your thing. We scored three bags of sundries, snacks, fresh fruit and Chinese veggies for just under $30. Suck on that, NYC.

Ok, there is something painfully 'only in new york' about this sprawling, intentionally decrepit museum across from the 5 Pointz in Long Island City. Am I impressed with the industrial-public-school-as-art-space concept? Indeed. Charmed by the creaky floorboards and too narrow toilets? Way. Allured by funky smell (for the uninitiated, it smells like the Salar Jung Museum in Hyderabad). Most certainly.
And yet ...

Maybe it was just the current exhibition, but I was, ahem, slightly underwhelmed by the actual art. The museum itself is utterly worth seeing, and the Leandro Erlich: Swimming Pool was one of the coolest things I've ever experienced in a museum, ever.  But I was really surprised to see parents taking their young children into some of the other exhibits. I think giving so much space over to installations and video is what makes PS1 distinct from MoMA in midtown, but when did installation get so confrontational? The overall effect on this most recent trip was loud, creepy, and distressing, and the volume on some of the video art made it hard to enjoy other pieces nearby.  Not a place I would take young kids or older parents, unless they're visiting from Germany.

This is my favorite train. So long as I live, even the L Taravel on the underground MUNI will never be as dear to me as the Q-train. Every single place this train goes is totally great and totally underrated. Every aspect of the ride from Times Square to Coney Island is delightful, and every stop deserves exploring. Mark my words,when the new census comes out in 2010, the Q line will be the city's new International Express, the new 7. Brighton Beach station, represent.

So, you've just spent an hour on the R-train getting out to Forest Hills, and then another 20 minutes or so wandering down 108th Street, past the Holocaust Memorial Corners and the YM-YWHA and a dozen Sephardic temples and 16 yeshivas and 45 podiatrists offices (and the offices of Mazeltov Borukhova). And you're thinking to yourself, you know what I could really go for is some Ukrainian borscht. Or some spicy fish kebabs. Or some Israeli salad and naan...I'm not too sure. Only I hope it's certified kosher and that I can definitely give tzedaka for the Chabad-Lubavich movement on my way in, and oh yeah, I'd really like to practice my Russian. If only there were a place I could experience every significant linguistic, gastronomic and cultural variation of Judaism simultaneously, preferably while enjoying a delicious and affordable lunch.

Welcome, my friend, to Registan. They've been waiting for you.

  Registan is smack in the middle of the strip-mall like heart of little Bukhaira, Queens' Uzbeki-Jewish community. The food--a certified kosher blend of Russian, East Asian and Middle Eastern dishes with a special Central Asia twist--is to die for. The service is Russian speaking, but the menus are printed in English and Russian and you practically can't go wrong, so don't worry so much. You didn't schlep all this way for a 4 dollar bowl of soup, it's the experience you're after.
Forest Hills may be the only place in the world where you can find Persian amba next to industrial tubs of Marshmallow Fluff and pickled herring with grated beats. Similarly, Registan offers an authentic mix of food and cultures not found anywhere else in the city (or possibly the planet). Where else would the entertainment shift seamlessly from Russian crime drama to Israeli pop concert, without anyone so much as batting a lash? Where else could you drink freshly squeezed beet juice with beef tail soup and Orange Fanta?

Oh Bukhairan American Community. You are so endlessly entertaining.