I went to NYCC this past weekend. Here are some photos:
My uncle is about to pass. My uncle, who allowed me to live in his house when I first moved to New York. My uncle whose daughter gave me my first full-time job after grad school. My uncle who would send me and the rest of my cousins $20 each Christmas, despite each of us pushing 30. My uncle the Scrabble competitor and trash talker. My uncle who would buy Blue Label Johnny Walker during family occasions. My uncle who had the best goddamed steak recipe I’ve ever tasted and passed it down to me.
I’ll miss you, and thank you for everything.
This past weekend I had a brunch date with Diana at Cosme, the NYC-based restaurant of Enrique Olvera (he opened up Pujol in Mexico City, where I ate during my friend’s birthday trip). The prices were decent for the large of amounts of food that we ate, compared to Olvera’s flagship eatery where my 6-course, 2-hour meal cost me about two-hundred US dollars. Of course, everything at Cosme was served family style (or at least it could be; Diana and I shared plates), and the portions were more than adequate for two people. Here’s what we had:
Drink: Michelada with Geyser Gose. Hands down the best Michelada I’ve ever fucking had — and I’ve drank a lot of Micheladas.
Plate 1: Chicken Chilaquiles with Salsa Verde. It was a bit messy trying to scoop onto my plate, but that’s probably because I’m a klutz. Still, it was your standard chilaquiles, and I was very impressed by the very fine slices of jalapeño peppers.
Plate 2: Duck Enmoladas with Mole Rojo and Creme Fraiche. It was so good with the duck cooked to perfection, and the mole sauce was very reminiscent to the flavors I had at Pujol (though I reckon the mole wasn’t age for a year as opposed to Olvera’s famous Mole Madre).
Dessert 1: Churros With Mexican Hot Chocolate. I think these were better than the ones I’ve had at Pujol: a nice, crisp exterior and such a delicate and fluffy inside.
Dessert 2: Husk Meringue and Corn Mousse. Perhaps the best dessert I’ve had in a long fucking time. The flavors were intense: a nice saltiness with a subtle sweetness. The texture is what you’d expect from a masterfully-crafted meringue, and the corn mousse was delicious.
All in all, if you’re in the Flatiron area, go here.
For Brett, Mr. “I Take Photos Of Roofs”, each time he leaves “This photo lacks context” on my goddamned Instagram.
Each time I go to work, I’m bombarded with advertisements along my subway commute: posters and marquees about technical colleges, campaigns for new phone apps and websites, and the occasional breast enlargement ad.
I can’t help but notice the design and art direction of each ad. More often than not, the typography isn’t as tight as it should be: the kerning between letters are inconsistent, especially around the more common letters with space issues like “S”, “O”, and the combination of “A” and “Y”. This isn’t so much of a typographical problem for the corporate ads who can pay for quality designers, but rather everyone else. It just seems there isn’t as much careful attention to detail to the type. In my head, these type of companies just hired a recent liberal arts graduate to design their ads… or worst yet, an intern with an inattentive art director.
Now don’t get me started on stock photos and photos in general. It seems that every local ad just goes to iStock and download whatever image best suits them, and it shows: happy looking students who appear too beautiful to go to that school, travel photos that look too goddamed generic, and way too miserable-looking drug abusers on substance abuse ads. I’ve learned from design school and my various jobs that stock photography and footage is the troublesome, double-edged sword in the creative world: sometimes it’s a necessary evil when a designer runs out of options, but it’s best to use your own images or hire a professional photographer to take the photos you want.
Lastly, I notice the messaging and copy: more often than not, these ads are trying to be clever and edgy but most of them can’t seem to find the right humor. In the end, it’s a clusterfuck of incomprehensible satire. On the other hand, sometimes there’s too much copy on ad, and as a subway rider, you usually don’t have the goddamn time to read a fucking paragraph. My advice is to keep the message short, simple, and absolutely concise. Riding on the train now, I’m looking at three ads whose headlines end with questions (“is this a job or purpose?” and “Have you found the you in you?”). Not only are these pretty dumb rhetorical questions, but they’re followed by a massive amount of tiny-sized text.
Well that’s my rant on design of commuter ads. Get your shit together, New York.