“The Break In-Between”

Comfort.  A word familiar to us all.  On the surface, comfort is a state of ease, convenience, solace.  The American vernacular is, in fact, comfortable enough with the word that we’ve turned it into a noun when placed in front of certain words: comfort food, comfort level, comfort zone and the like.  Our need for survival has evolved, more so socially in recent years perhaps, to extend far behind the basic three for surviving life.  Food, water and shelter keep us alive and thriving but what keeps us sane and grounded and engaged is our personal definition of the word. Comfort.

We see it on the billboard ads for our favorite soft drinks.  We see it on a stroll in the park in the afternoon in mid-May.  We see it in a café on a snowy morning in December.  We see it everywhere we turn, someone finding comfort in or on the things around them.  Comfort is a bowl of spaghetti or a cappuccino with extra foam.  It is a nap on a lazy summer day or a Sunday cocktail with two olives.  It could be a run across the Williamsburg Bridge or a run to the corner deli for a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

Comfort is the essence of who we are, truly as living beings.  Comfort, for the most part, is not necessary for survival but it is essential to human nature and it keeps us moving forward even when it is simply a break in between.  The challenge, naturally, is finding comfort even when uneasiness seems to be all around.  To put it plainly, that large cup of coffee with room one buys every day before facing the hectic work schedule is comfort in knowing that the job may be hell but this cup of coffee keeps me sane.  And that’s what comfort is.  Its finding solace, a piece of sanity if you will, amongst humans’ most pressing journey: navigating life.

And so, with that said, here’s a little piece of my comfort:

Writing when no one’s watching.   Drinking coffee quietly in the middle of a crowded room.  Women with eyes that smile.  Blueberry Pancakes with Maple Syrup.  When the bass drops.  Picking scabs.  Beyoncé before the ring was on it.  Eating a messy sandwich awkwardly in public.  Sylvia Plath on a good day.  Louie C.K. on a bad day.  Extended bathroom visits.  Large glasses.  Stretchy sweaters.  Gurgling babies.  Recognizing a familiar voice.  The sound of bubble wrap as it pops.  The feel of wet sand escaping through the spaces of my fingers.  The smell of a firecracker just after it burst.  The Park in early spring.  My comfort.  My sanity.

By Omaria Pratt

cup of tea and sunshine

cup of tea and sunshine

Posted in East Broadway Blog, Journal, Peter's Field Blog |

Yes

Over the years here in New York, I’ve come to realize that it very much a place of Yes.

Yes, I can make it here.
Yes, I can work multiple jobs.
Yes, I can take that extra shift.
Yes, I can pay too much for that drink.
Yes, I can work for free to gain experience.
Yes, I can have a crazy long commute from Brooklyn.
Yes, I can party until 2 am on a weekday with the new clients.
Yes, I can live in a super small apartment.
Yes, I can deal with the excruciating summer humidity.
Yes, I can dart through the tourists to get to work on time.
Yes, I can walk 1 mile both ways to Trader Joe’s for groceries.
Yes, I can walk out my door and find anything and everything.

And you know what?- Yes I think I will have another cup of coffee now.

Posted in East Broadway Blog, Journal, Peter's Field Blog |

Meet Maggie

Meet Maggie.

You must have noticed the “Maggie’s Kitchen” label on our pastries. The scones, the nut kisses, the cookies, the muffins. The list goes on. Maggie’s Kitchen has been in business since September of 2011 coordinating with Pushcart Coffee. A sister business, if you will. We are so lucky that we have our very own, bona fide pastry chef who works hard to make sure that you enjoy every aspect of your visit to us.

Some background: Maggie was 22 when she was working at a tech start-up company. It was a fun environment, but not really her cup of tea. Then it hit her – she had always loved baking, and her friends knew her for it. Maggie is the type of person who loves to bake in spring time and on rainy days. So she decided to go to culinary school.

Maggie attended The Institute of Culinary Education. It’s not far from our Peter’s Field location. She spent 9 months working hard, coming up with recipes, and learning the serious (yes, serious) science behind baking technique. Her favorite thing to bake? – Pies. She’s obsessed with pies (One Thanksgiving she baked 7 different pies).

So which product in Pushcart Coffee is Maggie most proud of? Her scones. She spent a significant part of her life in London. To Maggie, scones should be amazing, rich, and not too sweet. For the most part in the US, you get dry, biscuity scones. Maggie wanted to present a real, traditional scone the way she thinks it should be. Thanks to Maggie, right now you can choose from Oat Cranberry, Lemon, or Raisin scones.

We truly hope that you enjoy Maggie’s Kitchen pastries. They’re not made by a giant machine that doses out copy after copy of a cookie. Each scone is individually weighed, shaped, and baked fresh daily by Maggie.

Maggie and her Lemon Scones

Maggie and her Lemon Scones

Posted in East Broadway Blog, Journal, Peter's Field Blog |

what i mean when i say to go or to stay

When I interviewed at Pushcart four days after arriving in New York, instead of talking about coffee, I told Jamie about sipping chai in tea stalls perched in the misty foothills of the Indian Himalayas. For some odd reason, he hired me anyway. Still, I didn’t expect to stay. I was in love with movement, with the lightness of living out of a suitcase and traveling by whim. I came to New York because it was the next thing, because I needed a place to be for a while, because someone had a glorified closet I could stay in, and because I was getting a little weary of hauling my suitcase. My reasons for leaving might have been just as airy. I saved a little money from each paycheck for what I secretly thought of as my “escape fund.” The job at Pushcart was “just for now” until I found something to stick with.

As it happens, I stuck around Pushcart after all. The little East Broadway shop became a neighborly haven amidst the indifferent bustle of the city. Later on, moving up to the bigger, busier Peter’s Field shop as Sandy knocked lower Manhattan into total darkness showed me what we were capable of. I’ve learned to pull a shot of espresso, pour a rosetta into a latte, make a shift schedule for two shops and twenty peddlers like it’s a sudoku puzzle, and multitask in my sleep. I know the names and quirks of all the regulars.

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I’ve also become more sensitive to some things. I hate to watch the garbage pile up throughout the day. I hate it when people order their coffee while talking on their cell phones. I hate filling up my days with too many obligations, then rushing around stressed and annoyed at everyone because I’m running late. I hate when I become so busy with things of false importance that I forget to make time for living—cooking, enjoying a meal with friends, sleeping, lingering over a latte.

When I say, “are you staying or going?” or “can I put that in a mug for you?” it is an invitation to slow down, to sit down, to sip instead of slurp. I understand the appeal of a cup you can toss, a weight you don’t have to carry with you. In the past four years, New York is the only place I’ve lived for more than a year; believe me when I say I get the appeal of traveling light. But “to go” is a false promise. Nothing is without stakes. What we throw away doesn’t go away at all; our trash will outlast our bodies. Isn’t that a weird thought?

When we ask, “will that be for here or to go?” we are offering you a seat at our table. We have these cool new diner mugs. They’re heavy. They feel honest. They can be washed and used again and again. We have elegant new glasses for iced drinks too. Come try them.

For me, the weight of trash, what I see and what I don’t, has led me to a personal resolution. No more disposable coffee cups. Either I’ll make the time to sit, use my travel mug, or stand at the bar for a quick espresso. I don’t expect most people will do that, but take a moment to consider whether, this one time, you could treat yourself to a coffee to stay. You might get to meet Moe, who will regale you with stories of the old LES. Or you might see Ramsey watercoloring in the window at Peter’s Field.

A year and a half after that first conversation with Jamie, I am moving on. But it’s not the escape I prepared for. Grad school in the land of 10,000 lakes is calling. My departure is bittersweet. I’ll miss Moe and his muffins, Anthony and his mystery, Jenny and her dogs, Kyle and his pennies, Marc and his cortados. I will probably remember your names and drink orders long after a parade of new peddlers has wiped my face from your mind. Now that I’m no longer employed as a barista, I can say this—smile, take a mug, and tip your barista. It will make you both feel better.

Anyway, I’m taking a bit of Pushcart with me for the road.

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To Stay Culture

coffee to stay

 

by Omaria Pratt

“To stay” is a common phrase used in coffee shops to exemplify a customer’s desire to consume their order there, within the shop.  This expression is challenged by the phrase “to go” which may be emphasized, depending on which coffee shop you have entered.  With this culture taking form in recent years, the desire to have the right amount, consistency with each cup, and a pleasant experience, the phrase has taken a whole new meaning.  It no longer means a tray being given to you with a few paper napkins or a cheap plastic cup with the word Coke stenciled on it being shoved into your hands filled with Mountain Dew and a metaphorical timer being set for exactly seven minutes for you to sit, eat, and get out of there before the next wave of German tourists come along and nudge you out of your comfortable plastic chair.  The mindlessness that was once attributed only to fast food culture has shifted into the thoughtfully crafted coffee places that have appeared in New York City within the last ten years that, ironically, want you to stay and experience even if there aren’t enough seats.

Take a look at our espresso bar surrounded by various accoutrements.  Demitasse spoons, diner mugs, espresso cups of various sizes specifying short and quick or long and lingering, saucers piled in stacks of three, things a top the La Marzocco machine all suggesting yes yes we want you to stay and have your coffee in a mug while the line rushes forward and people pass by and sit and watch until your last sip.  Not to say that “to go” is of the off putting kind that sends baristas into the mindset of snobbery where judgment loves company.  People have lives that require rituals like getting that large cup to go before rushing off to the office or having that muffin wrapped in a pastry bag as one disciplines themselves not to eat it on the way to a morning workout.  In New York City, lounging is a commodity that is often traded in for demanding careers and fast-paced environments that send us into an A.D.D. frenzy where our minds are constantly in “to go” mode until we hit our breaking point, which is usually Friday night.  And what happens on the weekends: Brunch.  Everyone “brunches”.  But I digress.  “To go” is what we, for the most part, cater to and while that is completely acceptable, the moment we get someone to say “yes to stay,” the static monotony of getting through the line shifts for a moment as reaching for the feel of a mug, rather than paper, actually makes us think that our overall environment is just as good as the coffee we serve.

Keeping on par with the social environment, the amount of waste we as a people produce in the world is phenomenally disconcerting. We all walk by the stray coffee cups strewn along the city blocks that seem to provide a home for the med-sized rodents and cockroaches but add to the waste pile we’ve created.  With this in mind, “to stay” is a phrase that emphasizes having time and having that comfortable knowledge that you are doing a small service for our environment.  The new tall ice glasses and our standard brown espresso cups are not only here for aesthetics adding a pleasant and inviting atmosphere but they’re here in thought, planned out, because plastic cups are not meant to be abstract street “art.”  To quote Ruth Reichl, “Pull up a chair.  Take a taste.   Come join us.   Life is so endlessly delicious.”

Posted in East Broadway Blog, Journal, Peter's Field Blog | Tagged , , , , |

luxury comes to laguardia houses

By Blayze O’Brien

The New York City Housing Authority (or NYCHA) is considering plans to allow residential development on 8 of its Manhattan properties. Of these, three are located within the borders of the Lower East Side. They include Baruch Houses, Smith Houses, and LaGuardia Houses. The plan calls for new apartments to be built on open space within these NYCHA properties, specifically the adjacent surface parking lots. The majority of the apartment units (about 80%) would be available at market rate prices while 20% of the units would be income restricted. The revenue generated by these new developments would in turn help finance repair and maintenance costs to an already beleaguered housing authority that is facing increased scrutiny from the Bloomberg Administration. Currently, NYCHA houses roughly 11% of the city’s population, making it the city’s largest landlord.

As such, nearby LaGuardia Houses which is home to nine buildings, a senior center, medical clinic, four playgrounds, and a former (but now abandoned) bathing/pool complex appears to be poised to feature two new buildings on it’s western border near Rutgers and Madison Streets.

nycha-infill-laguardia-site-4
Courtesy of Streetsblog.org

Despite the positive elements of this plan, many NYCHA residents fear that new luxury housing will destroy existing playgrounds, public space, and parking lots. Currently, there are no plans to eradicate playgrounds or any recreation areas within the housing complexes, only surface parking lots. LaGuardia Houses has 192 parking spaces, of which if the plan goes through, will lose 48, having a reduced 148 spaces if the new developments are constructed. New parking spaces would be created to make up for the loss but their location is still undetermined.

The controversy stems from NYCHA parking permits which have subsidized costs, sometimes having a flat $60 per year pricetag. Compared to the rest of Manhattan, the parking permit for NYCHA is very much in contrast to the rest of the city’s expensive surface parking lots which often require hundreds to thousands of dollars to obtain. Boosting the parking permit price for NYCHA parking lots may help finance the existing housing complexes as well as encouraging residents to use mass transit and take advantage of the Lower East Side’s extensive network of bike lanes. As the proposals move forward to finalization in April, let’s hope that a balance is struck to help accommodate New York’s consistent housing demand as well as NYCHA’s most integral problems, their aging infrastructure and of course better assisting the people who call these places home.

Posted in East Broadway Blog, Journal, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , |

evening on the lower east side

Thanks to our loyal customer, Matthew Anish, for this reflection on the neighborhood he loves. 

The sun has retreated
         from its glorious
place in the sky
The dawn we delighted in
    is now a thing of memory
Do you really think this
    is now a thing of
memory
Do you really think this is a bad place to live?
Well, if you are feeling that way
Take a walk on East Broadway
   You will see
The Foward building,
children  playing in the
    school yards
Young lovers embracing
Hasidim passing by
   The Roman Catholic church
       standing on Grand Street
   The deli, falafel place
and the cafe
     appear in view
and yes, PUSHCART COFFEE SHOP
    where tomorrow I will drink a healthful cup
            of jasmine green tea
take a deep breath
   of urban air
Posted in East Broadway Blog, Journal | Tagged , , , , , , , |

defining our community

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By Omaria Pratt

A woman walks through the glass door of Pushcart on East Broadway one cool late morning. She carries with her a large purse, a set of keys, a cellphone and a stroller she pushes containing a small child oblivious to the world around him. She’s quiet and steady whilst maneuvering the stroller within the shop, confident in every step she takes. A few men sitting, sipping small black coffees offer to help, rising from their chairs and shuffling, as she wiggles through the door, but she kindly declines reassuring her knowledge of Pushcart’s terrain. She stops, silently praising her navigational skills, skills practiced with the same stroller (and child) through various tight spaces throughout New York City. Another spatial battle won, another geometrical puzzle solved. Her eyes set now on me behind the counter knowing exactly why she has come to the small inviting space behind Grand Street, just before you see the East River. I’m a familiar face to her, yes, but what is familiar is the smell, the sound, the sight, the medium coffee with space, the comforting knowledge of her surroundings. She, along with the stroller, approaches the counter just before a greeting from behind stops her in her tracks. She knows the greeting well and turns around to reciprocate. The small woman behind her beams as she recognizes a neighbor who lives on the floor just above hers. The greeting is simple, common and polite, but the smiles on their faces tell a story of neighbors knowing each other’s daily routine quite well. The exchange ends with the small woman behind offering, with no questions asked, to pay for the woman’s coffee. Our heroine steps back as she thanks the small woman and allows her to take center stage as she states, next time it’s on me.

From the familiar environment to the mission statement on Pushcart’s website, neighborhood and community surround the very core that is this coffee shop. The idea of community often times get lost in a vast city like ours, as we trudge along every day dodging strangers in the street and absorbing the music playing in our heads as we set our playlist for a crowded commute on the “6” train. But to walk into a place, sure of every corner and every rhythm, predicting who will arrive and accepting the small surprises that come along are truly what make a neighborhood special. As a peddler, a part of a rather unorthodox community that makes up the staff you see every day, I step off the train completely detached from the world around me but enter the shop often times aware of the smell of Hairbender brewing, the sound of small chatter behind the low thud of the stereo, and the sight of a regular customer who comes in at the same time every day experiencing the community around him in a slightly different way. Not only is this a corner coffee shop that allows someone a slight pause in his or her day, a pit stop between point A and point B, but a close look behind the glass door will show a micro-community at play with neighbors simply greeting the familiar, some living as close as one floor above and others as far apart as a borough, but all coming together in one place, perhaps brought by the love of coffee, but perhaps because this cozy space makes New York City feel, well, not so vast.

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Local Artist Series: Svetlana Eileen Blasucci

By Ashley Whelan

Ever since opening, a local artist series is something I’ve wanted to have at Pushcart Peter’s Field. Not only is the artwork a nice edition to sipping your coffee, but displaying a local artist also resonates with the core value of our shop, which is to promote the community.

The first artist, Svetlana, has been a regular cold brew customer from almost the beginning. One day she was carrying her camera and the rest is history.

fog

You can find 2 photographs from her series “Lost in the Fog” on display and for sale in the shop now.

In addition to showing her work, I also wanted to get to know her a little better and find out more about her passion for photography.

 

How long have you been a photographer? Where did you go to school? Did it start out as a hobby?

I have been doing photography for nine years now.  I started my photography interest at ICP (International Center for Photography).  I never actually saw photography as a hobby; it was always a passion I had ever since I started traveling the world at the age of 16.

 

Can you describe that “moment” (experience, emotion,) when you knew that photography was something you just had to do?

I had a few years where I convinced myself that I was going to be a Psychologist or even a filmmaker.  Those dreams all crashed when I took a black and white course in my freshman year of college at Wheaton in Norton, MA before I took my gap year. The emotion I felt was immense, I thought photography could help me understand myself.  It was more of therapy and discovery for me.  It helped me grow a lot.

 

What is your preferred medium and why?

Digital photography is my medium.  The reason why is because I like color and I believe color expresses emotions when looking at a photograph.  Each photo reflects off the viewer a feeling such as blue, which is considered a calm color.

 

Do you have a favorite artist or all time favorite piece?

One of my favorite artists is Damien Hearst. The reason is that he believes in expressing art in a way of things we fear such as a cow head chopped off or a decaying chicken.  His work is so dark and deep something that I am trying to express in my work.  Also I am a big fan of grotesque still life.  Still life can be created in any way; there are no boundaries.

 

Is there something you always ask yourself or think just before you push the button?

It’s not what I ask myself before I press the button, it’s the feeling I get.  When shooting any photograph I bring my feelings into my work.  I want the viewer to feel what I felt as I took the photograph.  I want them to ask themselves why I took it and what appealed me to that certain subject or object of choice.

 

If you could take your art in any direction without fear of failure or rejection, where would it lead. What new thing would you try?

The one thing I am not good at is still life.  I would love to improve that and work towards creating stronger images and understanding how does one create the perfect still life.  What makes still life what is it?  Is it self explanatory? I think it’s a deeper process than just putting fruit on a black backdrop and shooting it.  It’s the thought and lighting that counts.  I want to understand better lighting.  Images are stronger when the lighting is set up right. 

 

What do you like particularly about the photos we are featuring in the shop?

Those two photos are of a series of twenty photos called “Lost in the Fog”.  The idea behind the shoot was to express psychological fear within a landscape setting.  Each photograph has a dark and light side.  The dark side is meant to overwhelm the light side.  The light and dark are fighting each other for some kind of acceptance.  My two photos express a part of me.  They tell a story of someone who feels they are going to be abandoned. I was in Russia and then given up soon after my birth.  My mother was an alcoholic and she couldn’t take care of me.  Whenever I shoot any photography it always has depth and a greater meaning to the photo itself.  I think people fear to face what scares them and instead they should embrace it especially in art. 

 

What allowed you to capture these images? What do you remember about the moment/shoot?

Honestly, I was at my Aunt’s house and it was extremely foggy out.  Now at first I didn’t think any of the photos would come out as I wanted them to.  Fog is weather I enjoy because it goes on for miles and it covers the earth in this eerie sense of loneliness. Everything vanishes and you succumb and become one with it.  I captured these images because I like fog and I wanted to have the memory.  Fog leaves a beautiful mist on tress and leaves and droplets of water reflects onto other things is beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Journal, Peter's Field Blog | Tagged , , |

the importance of a smile

Maybe you’ve noticed our smiley face cookies this month, or the donation boxes for Smile Train. Here’s our peddler Liz Fullerton to tell her story, which converges with Pushcart Coffee and Smile Train. 

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I never planned on living in New York City. Never. Although, for some reason, my dad thought it was likely to happen. He figured since I can communicate in 5 languages,  I would be a hot commodity. I’d be working at some big organization, running around being very important and very needed. Alas, being a dumped, defeated, and dejected Peace Corps volunteer with no graduate degree, there were few prospects for me in that sphere. So why did I move here, you ask?  I moved here because I had fallen in love. Within a month of arriving, I landed a job at Pushcart Coffee. I wasn’t busting around interpreting, or helping the international community, or showing the world that the USA cares. But I was being important in other ways  - running around making coffee for you fine folks, becoming part of the NYC community, and showing that I care.

Let me tell you more: I was born with a cleft lip and palate. Maybe you know what it is, and maybe you don’t. In essence, it’s when your lip and palate (the roof of your mouth) don’t fuse while you are developing. It’s a very common birth defect, and it’s also very obvious. Luckily for me, I was born in a country where I could have surgery immediately.  Growing up, my family would occasionally donate to an organization called The Smile Train. Donations help to provide a cleft lip and palate repair for a person in a developing country – a country where there isn’t as much understanding about the defect, where the mother is blamed, and where the child is shunned. The organization’s main office is in New York City, and as a small town girl across the country, I was far removed from the reality of the office. I pictured it right next to some fancy shop like Tiffany’s, the sunshine blocked by the shadow of the Empire State Building.

After working a couple of shifts at Pushcart, waves of nostalgia hit me – volunteering, children, and the international community. And WHAM! – It hit me: maybe I could do some volunteer work for an organization that had a huge, global impact, and a very personal nature: The Smile Train. I looked up contact info on their website, and I sent in my resume, thinking that the worst they could do was refuse me. To my utter astonishment, they needed someone who could speak Russian, and they were thrilled that I reached out to them. I went in, and to this day I volunteer as a translator on an as-needed basis. I guess this is what my dad imagined: me, using my skills and my talents to do something good like this.

So it comes to this – I wanted to connect the two places where I worked, and luckily the owners at Pushcart Coffee were very supportive of the idea. We asked our baker to make a Smiley cookie for us to sell in the shops. Proceeds from this cookie will go to The Smile Train. When you buy this happy little cookie, you’re going to help make a happy little child -  a child who will be proud to smile. We hope that as you sip your coffee and nibble on this cookie, you’ll smile too knowing that you made a bit of a difference.

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