Perry Street and Bleecker Street

The swirling tile work, the stone face, the lanterns, and the date: I have no idea what these things signify. But the whole arrangement looks vaguely Portuguese, don’t you think? (And there used to be a lovely Portuguese restaurant right around the corner, but I’m not sure that means anything.)

West Third Street and MacDougal Street

Inside the Blue Note, in the dim light. And once the music starts, you don’t really care what the place looks like and might even want to close your eyes. Here’s the calendar of upcoming acts.

Eighth Avenue and 12th Street

My favorite newsstand in the city is Casa Magzines. (I used to long for it when I lived in London.) Recently, I noticed an article from Crain’s New York Business taped to the front door that called Casa a “magazine mecca,” which is about right. I’ve never asked for a magazine they didn’t have.

Washington Street and 13th Street

Looking out of rose-colored lenses in Artsee and onto one of the few walls of graffiti left in the Meatpacking District (which, wow, has its own website). The streets have been stripped of most of the meat hooks and are now filled up with boutiques (but Artsee has been around for years).

Mott Street and Prince Street

The resin pieces at Dinosaur Designs—the large cuffs and rings and chunky necklaces, the translucent bowls and platters with swirling patterns, the small plates and bowls that would be so useful for all sorts of things—are my newfound solution to gift-giving crises. (I wish I had an upcoming occasion.)

Spring Street and Mott Street

Frankly, I never think the rice pudding looks that exciting at Rice to Riches, but then I taste it and change my mind. (What did it for me last time was the tiramisu with a topping of espresso crumble.) Plus, they have Space Age plastic bowls and cheeky sayings displayed on the walls, and in the end, it’s a fun place to stop and refuel.

Murray Street and West Broadway

I like looking out of other people’s New York windows almost as much as I like looking into them. See for yourself some fantastic views here. (Above is what it looks like from my own window.) There’s also The City Out My Window, a new book of illustrations of the views of various famous New Yorkers, as drawn by Matteo Pericoli, whose earlier Manhattan Unfurled was lovely. Does looking out satisfy the same voyeuristic urge as looking in? Almost, it seems.

Elizabeth Street and Prince Street

It is ridiculous to set a detective story in New York City. New York City is itself a detective story.

                                                                  — Agatha Christie

West Broadway and Canal Street

Leftovers from Valentine’s Day. Does anyone want blue roses anyway? (Though I rather liked The Blue Flower.)

46th Street and Sixth Avenue

Happy Valentine’s Day! (And if you want to impress someone, or just entertain yourself, try this chocolate cake, which is pretty much the best cake ever. The recipe is from one of my favorite cookbooks, The Gift of Southern Cooking.)

Columbus Circle

A tablescape inside Robert restaurant, at the top of the Museum of Arts and Design. I had brunch here last weekend (a nice and spicy creamy cavatelli with sausage and kale, by the way) and thought the swank space (see-through furniture, panels of color, vivid orchids) would be even more enjoyable in the evening, with the lights of the city (Columbus Circle and Central Park) right outside the window.

Madison Avenue and 25th Street

This bit of Art Deco detailing caught my eye before dinner one night at Tabla, on the ground floor of the landmarked MetLife North Building. Always one of my favorite places to eat—and not only because of the lovely space, which includes an imposing staircase that becomes a bit difficult to navigate after a tamarind margarita—Tabla serves “new Indian cuisine” (which means bacon naan, tandoori octopus, lobster with a five-spice glaze, and crab cakes with Goan guacamole, among a long list of other things).

59th Street and Central Park West

I was admiring this gaudy gold against the gray on the corner of a wintry Central Park with no idea that what it caps is the U.S.S. Maine National Monument.

32nd Street and Broadway

Japanese dried seafood snacks inside a Korean market. (In case you can’t identify them, they are tiny crabs, flattened mackerel, and dried cod strips interspersed with sesame seeds.) I don’t remember the name of the store, but it’s near the subway station, if you have a craving for more.

Broadway and 12th Street

It’s always interesting to see what the Strand puts on the sidewalk for a dollar. (These are the books you take to the Strand to sell and they tell you they’re worth nothing but you can donate them, and you say fine and don’t care if they sell them on the sidewalk because you are not hauling these books back home in any case.) Always interesting to see which books no one wants and which treasures are misplaced out there (I know one person, at least, who probably wishes I’d bought The Best of Sail Trim.) And if you’re a writer, editor, bookseller, or reader, here’s a poem about book remaindering that you might find interesting.

42nd Street and Sixth Avenue

Coming out of the subway: the Chrysler Building, which was briefly the world’s tallest building and possibly still is its most glamorous.

Worth Street and Church Street

A couple of cappuccino cups left behind at the new RBC NYC coffee bar, home of the Slayer coffee machine from Seattle—one of only twenty in the world, I was told. The cappuccino here was indeed fantastic. (And the ginger cookies weren’t bad.)

46th Street and Sixth Avenue

You might miss it if you’re not looking for it, but Metalliferous is a good place to find if you need metal supplies: chains and sheets, ring and bangle blanks, earring wires, books and tools. (No gold, however.) I go here to stock up for metalsmithing classes at the 92nd Street Y, where, according to American Craft magazine, the atmosphere is “serious, but not academic.” (Browse the catalog of current jewelry classes here.)

Eleventh Avenue and 46th Street

Oh my: Daisy May’s BBQ is, I have to say, better than the barbeque I ate in South Carolina the last time I was there. (Here, I had an SC-style sandwich with mustard-based sauce and coleslaw on top, plus some baked beans and spicy collards.) It even feels like a southern place, with wood paneling and those crooked magnetic letters on the menu board that barbeque joints and depressing churches always seem to use out front.