Sinanation

Inside an unexpected residential Manhattan building, on an unexpected floor lies a 600 sq ft private club that I proudly refer to as Club M. Open only to the owner’s close friends and their referrals, this unofficial entertainment heaven is equipped with all the gadgets of a hip nightclub, the tools of a professional bartender and the alcohol of a well-frequented dive bar.

To the naked eye Club M is an ordinary living room furnished up to the limit with couches, stools, tables and a home entertainment system. One needs to look closer to see what lies beneath: a peek inside the refrigerator will reveal enough soda, alcohol and juices to fill up a bathtub but not a single nibbler to block the hunger. The cupboards topped with plastic cups and Alka-Seltzer. The walls decorated with souvenirs from nightclubs and jazzy illustrations. Numerous funky neon-colored sunglasses spread on the granite counter. All waiting anxiously for the moment when the lights go out and a static disco light covers the dance floor, an incredibly loud mix vibrates the windows and Musa preps up behind the counter for his famous alcoholic blue shot “the Windex”.

No set hours, tabs, reservations or bouncers (just Musa) Club M is there to cheer you up when you need it. Through my years in New York, this apartment and its extraordinary owner, my dear friend Musa have been amazing hosts to me. There hasn’t been a single event in this place that didn’t make me feel better than I did. It has been a second home, a cozy meeting-point and an ultimate nightclub (but, certainly not a reliable restaurant). Thus, I have all the reasons to be thankful for its welcome and dedicate this most recent mix to its ever-lasting legendary memory.

P.S.: Musa tells me he has another “dinner” party coming up soon at Club M. Won’t be able to make it this time, but I am sure it will be yet another amazing night.

Click HERE to download Club M.

I have seen some crazy shit during my time in the Big Apple, but I guess I must have missed this one. It all started with a status update by a friend:

Nyc subway…only place in the world you can see an overweight girl wearing nothing but green panties underneath when its 30 degrees outside :/

I should have guessed that Burak’s (who almost never rides the NYC metro like me) decision to ride the subway on a Sunday must have had a great reason behind it.

Here it is:

the 9th Annual No Pants! Subway Ride. Yes you read correctly! 9 years ago some whacked up person/organization woke up from their warm bed and said “hey let’s be lazy and head out pantless! let our legs enjoy the crisp insanely cold New York winter.” Other New Yorker’s saw their boxers/panties with urine stains on them and said “hey what a great idea!” They all jotted down the date and anxiously waited for next year when their bare butts, thongs, g’s, briefs, boxers and all the precious stuff they are meant to hold together could join in the frozen fun.

Less daring folks like me and Burak heard about the fleshy day and headed underground with the hope of glancing at some delicate Elite Model legs. I am afraid to think that the harmless hunt ends not according to plan with uglier, chubbier and saggier catches. Here are a few picks from the ever so crazy/wild Union Square:

“Istanbulers” can you imagine a similar day in the city of 7 hills and its consequences? If I remember correctly we had a “If you don’t have a swimsuit wear your underwear (white preferred) to the beach” movement for a few summers until it was officially prohibited by the government. The sights are mostly as disturbing as they are in NYC. Let’s pick the nastiest ones:

The night of 21 December 2010 marks the time when the Earth will line up in between the Sun and the Moon one last time before the new year.

Viewers in America, parts of Europe and the Eastern side of Asia will be able to observe the eclipse with naked eye. When the clock hits 2.41 E.T. the Earth will block the rays coming off the Sun, slowly turning the Moon’s color from white to orange and then to deep red. Turkey won’t be so lucky as it will already be morning for us here when the whole thing starts.

Keep in min that tomorrow also happens to be the day of solstice (the first day of winter for the Northern Hemisphere and the first days of summer for the Southern). The last time these two great events happened together was 372 years ago.

I say drink a few espressos and stay up late to observe.

SPƎNGLISH, a high-end t-shirt company that would plunge the popular sayings of our time into funky Spanish, has been Simon’s biggest obsession since the day I met him. The idea was great. The founder was the perfect fit. So we had all the reason to be impatient and teased Simon about the undetermined launch date whenever we had the opportunity.

(ABOVE: The Three Musketeers: Sinan, Musa, Simon)

We kept abusing his business mind with his slow progress although he was never tired of saying “Paps it is on the way. Launching next week. Launching next month.” He never gave up his incredible spirit. He never ceased to network with anyone who welcomed his amazing social skills and unbeatable energy. The good news came my way a few weeks ago: at a time when Simon’s BBM contact list reached over 200 people; at the point where we have given up hope and thought our socialite friend was carried away by the sweet social scene of New York.

SPƎNGLISH finally launched and I must say I am deeply impressed. I confess “it was worth the wait”.

After months of brainstorming came out a t-shirt brand that embraces all the good of the Spanish culture and uses it to create its own funky identity. It is charming, modern and sophisticated.

The website is the biggest proof of SPƎNGLISH’s great spirit. I say check it out and order a few t-shirts to take advantage of the final drops of warm weather.

I am hoping to get Simon to send over a few samples to Istanbul. My favorites are “Green Go” and “Beverly Hilli Pollas”. He already knows I will be a good mobile ad campaign.

I became a fan of this place too late and can not recall when I first went there. In the middle of Chinatown in New York, in a forgotten alley, in between massage parlors and somber apartments you will find a bright red label that reads “Gold Flower Restaurant”. That is where you need to head to find Apotheke. Totally abandoned during the day and irresistibly full during the night, Apotheke is a cave of alcoholic wonders.

Around 11 pm, as you make your way into Doyers St. you will see a well-suited man with a hat guarding the door of the most unusual place at that time of the night. You will hear a buzz of music pumping out of what appears to be a restaurant. Once inside you will be amazed by the gothic exposed brick, red velvet, dimmed light decoration. The only window in the place will be covered in dark green wine bottles. The bar will be filled with not bartenders but cocktail experts dressed in white scientist coats. The menu of drinks will amaze you. The music will put you in a great mood. That will be the moment you will become a fan of this surprising cave of alcoholic wonders.

There will be a long line of visitors during the weekends (won’t bother you if you are friends with James at the door) and once inside, you will have a blast. If you ask my advice, go to Apotheke on a Wednesday night once in a while to appreciate the music and taste the amazing drinks in peace.

Femme Fatale and Pepper Infusion from the menu are my favorite. If you want to get jiggy, try a glass of the House Absinthe (be ready for some good show during its preparation).

Even though they said “please” I can’t help not writing about this tiny lounge hidden behind a delicious NYC hotdog shop. Please Don’t Tell (PDT) was the best entertainment for us on a quiet Wednesday night. Out of Luke’s Lobster in East Village, our appetite satisfied with delicious lobster rolls, we walked up to St. Marks Place to stumble into Crif Dogs. Inside the shop my friend made his call through the antique telephone booth found on the left side. Right after our friends who couldn’t resist the Crif sour cheese dog, were done with their food, a tiny door on the other side of the booth opened up to call us in.

It was easy to tell that PDT is a toughened up speakeasy from the people who have walked out of the booth before us. Some were in shorts and some in nice dresses. Anyone who knew someone inside was welcome. Dressed up with a black interior, dimmed lights and mummies of wild animals, PDT welcomes visitors to a wide corridor of a few booths and a sophisticated bar.

The cocktails (which change every season) are unique and worth trying. The short menu of food found on the last page is also too delicious not to notice. One other essential thing to notice here is, as my friend Can Paksoy mentioned, the list of house rules hung up inside the restrooms.

I close the door of apartment 29E one last time. My keys out of the keychain, I take one last glimpse at the gate that welcomed so many family members, friends and lovers. I leave it with good thoughts. Happy to be its patron for the past few years. Relieved to be able to separate from it with such determination and contentment.

Resigned from work and out the apartment that I called “home” since graduation, I spend the rest of my H1-B visa days in New York catching up with the city, hanging out with friends and making a list of everything that will be different once I am back in my home country. In between countless glasses of drinks, sweaty dances and plates of the most favorite NYC food I get closer to the day of my flight to Istanbul. I keep re-organizing the four large bags carefully packed to check into the plane to become close to the cold idea of departure. I realize it will be tougher than imagined. Never because of New York, but because of the people I will be leaving behind.

“How can you leave this city?”, “Life back home can’t even compare to the life here”, “Don’t you think you are making a mistake?” flush out of familiar mouths like bullets in a machine gun. Partially damaged with doubt, but still strong with confidence and determination, I hold on to my decision to move. I go back reminded how to love until it makes one shiver. I go back being re-thought the undeniable support of brotherhood and the importance of friendship. I go back with the necessity of trust carved on my head. I go back to end the longing for the family. I learnt a ton, yet I still have a long way to go.

I know so much will change. I leave to meet the ones who left before me. I leave cherishing the memories of the ones I leave behind. Time difference will interfere with Musa’s daily “I left the office, what’s the plan for dinner?” calls. I will not be able to personally observe his “my friend, how many wives do you have?” conversations with laid-back cab drivers. Burak will have to move his morning catch-up calls to my office to the late afternoon. Gorkem’s great last minute trips from Chicago to New York will now require 11-hour flights to Istanbul.

Le Bilboquet will not be blocks away for me to drag everyone there for lunch or dinner. Luis will not be taking his unavoidable after-work movie naps in front of my unnecessarily massive TV. Selim’s unique sunglasses will not always be there during the sunny days to brighten up the day. The holy brotherhood of 25 Mercer will dissolve into the hype of Cihangir in Istanbul.

Vermont will be off the navigation map, no longer able to accommodate the weekend ski trips. Hamptons will be too far away to observe the vicious ocean waves (Tara would know better :)) and luscious weekend estates. The intoxicating happy hour will cease to be an amazing weekend ritual. Delicious sushi will not taste as good. Tasty Mexican food will not be as common. The heartbreaking, heart-stopping models of Union Square will be too far away to observe.

Yusuf’s “the best of” compilations will no longer apply to favorite destinations. Shopping will not be such a bargain anymore. Greg’s “come out tonight” messages will not conclude in actionable decisions. Olivier’s weird faces after listening to each of my mixes for the first time will be stored in memory. Eda’s incredible vintage boots will not longer take on the streets.

It will be tough not to have Leslie as the princess of our guys-only dinner outings. Ece will be showing off her flips in a different park far far away from New York. Simon’s latino parties will have one less Turkish attendee.

Miles will be recorded in kilometers. Pounds will change into kilograms and blocks into steps. The Empire State will be the Bosphorus. There will be a replacement for everything, but the true friends New York so gladly introduced me to along the four glorious years I have spent here. Continents away technology will help with communication. Days, months and years apart, memories will help narrow the distance to what was once. I hope it will be easy to leave the fast and greedy island., but I know that it will be difficult to part from the people I have shared it with.

Celebrating great memories and wishing for even better days, I leave you with a mix dedicated to the journey from one home to another.

I expect to see you all. This time in Istanbul.

All my best,

Sinan

I can’t put these amazing restaurants & bakeries in order so I will just list them alphabetically. I have written formal reviews on most so I am putting links to their actual pages. Hope you can visit all some day.

Le Bilboquet: French. Must Eat: Mushroom Risotto, Tuna Tartare, Poulet Cajun, Filet Mignon

Bistrot Bagatelle: French. Must Eat: Tuna Tartare, Cote de Boeuf (for two), Poulet Fermier Roti et Truffle

Bianca: Italian. Must Eat: Gnocco Fritto (fried puffy dough rectangles with Stracchino cheese), Spiendino di Mare (grilled shrimps and calamari on a skewer), Carciofi Fritti (fried baby artichokes with crispy parsley), Tagliatelle alla Bolognese, Panna Cotta

BondSt.: Japanese. Must Eat: Spicy Tuna Roll, Miso-glazed Sea Bass, Tuna Tarts

Chop’t: Fast Healthy Food. Salad wraps

Cipriani Downtown: Italian. Must Eat: Baked Tagliatelle, Seafood Risotto

City Bakery: Croissant, Hot Chocolate

Commerce: American. Must Eat: Bread basket, sliced rare beef tataki, marinated hamachi ceviche, Porterhouse for two

Ed’s Lobster Bar: Seafood. Must Eat: Lobster Rolls

Fat Witch Bakery: Brownies

Gemma: Italian. Must Eat: Foccacia, Chocolate Calzone

Magnolia Bakery: Must Eat: Banana Pudding

Momoya: Japanese. 162 West 21st Street, New York (corner of 21st & 7th Ave.) – (212) 989-4466
Must Eat: Yellowtail Jalapeno, Crispy Trio, Crispy Shrimp Salad

Tomoe Sushi: Japanese. 172 Thomson St., New York. No reservations. Must Eat: Hamachi-Kama with extra lemon on the side, spicy toro roll, California roll, spicy tuna hand-roll

Via Quadronno: Italian. 25 East 73rd Street, New York – (212) 650-9880
Must Eat: Lasagna, Bip Bip Panini, Tiramisu

Wolfgang’s Steakhouse: American. Must Eat: Steak for two, Filet Mignon

Woo Lae Oak: Korean BBQ. Must Eat: Glass noodles, Ribeye, Filet Mignon, pear crumble

My visit to La Barra (250 Broome St. between Ludlow and Orchard) wasn’t planned or based on any recommendation. This tiny restaurant with enormous taste sits quietly on a typical Lower East Side street with emerging denim, thrift and costume jewelry shops sparkling around it.

You’ll enter with little expectations trough a tiny door decorated with a dripping A/C on top of it . Your eyes will be able to examine the whole place within seconds. You’ll wonder what type of food will come out of the open kitchen equipped with a little electric oven, two cooks and a bartender/cashier revolving around it. You’ll know you can’t judge this place by its looks after sustaining yourself so hard not to get a 3rd order of the homemade guacamole spiced up with an extra splash of lemon. The seafood ceviche will grow your appetite and a single order of the steak and shrimp tacos will not be enough to suppress it. They say great gifts come in small boxes. At La Barra great taste comes in small portions.

The Addams Family has finally made it to Broadway. Their Gothic mansion rises up in the middle of the Central Park surrounded by the glittering lights of the city that never sleeps. The dark has never been this funny. The dead has never been this friendly.

The Addams family, led by the elegantly gaunt and seemingly undead Morticia and her ever-devoted husband Gomez, is in turmoil. Their daughter Wednesday, now 18, finds herself falling in love—a sensation that is unsettling for both her and her family of endearing misfits. When the teen invites her new boyfriend, Lucas Beineke, over with his “normal” family to get better acquainted with the Addams household, comic chaos (including everything from an amorous giant squid to mixed-up potions to a scorching tango) ensues.

Despite a few unnecessary acts and a somewhat cheesy plot, the musical delivers an extremely funny glimpse into the life of the most exotic family on TV. In my opinion, the opening act where Fester awakens the dead fails to make an impressive introduction to the family. A more interactive entrance with some clever lines could have made a better impact on the audience. Yet again it should be entertaining for the younger crowd to watch the living dead prance around the Central Park and dance to the well-choreographed Addams Song. Although all the characters were exactly I imagined and expected them to be, it took me a while to get used to the girl that plays Wednesday. It could be that I am still stuck on the Christina Ricci version in the 1991 movie.

Other than a few edible complaints on the whole musical, I was extremely impressed by the performances of  Nathan Lane and Bebe Neuwirth. Bebe’s complete embrace of the Morticia character, from her pose to the unique way she walks, was mesmerizing to watch. It was equally entertaining to guess her age given her impressive figure. As always Nathan Lane works all his genius to put out the best in the character he plays. Gomez is reflected in the best way possible as a man deeply in love with his family and the values of his ancestors.

Jackie Hoffman is the key laughing machine with her impressive role as Gradmama. Her advices and the tales of her past are extremely entertaining. Carolee Carmello as Alice Beineke and Zachary James as Lurch are the two characters that support Grandmama’s funny gestures. Fester on the other hand is stuck at being nothing more than a coordinator of the whole plot. He appears now and then as the tour guide who summarizes and introduces the upcoming acts. The only scene where he gets a break and delivers a great performance is when he serenades to his love, the Moon.

I say go meet the family before they leave Broadway (at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre).