Journey to Brooklyn

As a Manhattan resident, it’s not uncommon to be Big Apple-centric and rarely venture out to the other four boroughs. It was with great anticipation, then, that I journeyed to Brooklyn last night.

With my good friends Sara and Leila in tow, I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge for the very first time. Apart from narrowly avoiding a collision with bicyclists racing by in the adjacent lane, the mile-long trek lived up to my expectations and then some. Panoramic views of the New York skyline...couples, families and joggers taking advantage of perfect low-humidity 75-degree weather…and a look at this summer’s much-discussed Waterfalls installation.

Upon arriving in Brooklyn Heights, we reverted from resident to tourist mode, trying to get our bearings with the help of directions printed out on MapQuest. Though legendary pizza purveyor Grimaldi’s was our intended destination, the inevitable long line landed us down the street instead, at Pete's near the waterfront.

Over some tasty and reasonably priced pasta ($36 per person for drink, appetizer and entrée), the three of us covered a lot of ground--a long-awaited promotion finally becoming official, ideal long weekend destinations (New Orleans and Savannah among them) and the often-complicated nature of sibling relationships. Sometimes, female bonding is more straightforward when you don’t share the same DNA.

The three of us shared a desire for dessert and our charming waiter--living up to the restaurant's tagline, "four generations of service" -- gamely attempted to entice us into having it at Pete's. I almost caved when he mentioned my Achilles sweet spot TiramiSu but resisted, knowing a different kind of homemade pleasure awaited us at The Blue Pig. Renowned for its ice cream, The Blue Pig delighted me just as much with the portion sizes— runt, piglet, piggy and hog. Though I ordered a runt-sized cherry vanilla shake, I left feeling more like a piggy.

After a stroll along the promenade and one last sweeping glimpse of the illuminated NYC skyline, we jumped on the 2/3 train back to Manhattan. Who says you need to stray farther than a neighboring zip code to go on a memorable trip?