Hotel breakfast was disappointing, as usual, with no yogurt in the “go boxes.” We had previously received instructions from the bike tour company and plotted our journey to the rendezvous point. We hoped, with any luck we’d be able to grab something to supplement our breakfast carbs along the way. There wasn’t much luck. The area through which we walked after exiting the subway in Brooklyn is just starting to develop, and there were no promising eateries or even bodegas along the way. Fortunately, there is a big Wegman’s grocery store at the Navy Yard near our destination. We availed ourselves of the facilities (trying to act like we belonged in an area that seemed mostly off limits to customers) and bought some yogurt.
The meeting place was a storage unit complex. This was odd, but makes some sense. We were early, so we just loitered outside. Eventually a family of four pulled up in a ride-share vehicle (it was a mile from the subway station, plus I’m not sure they were public transit riders) and asked if we were waiting for the tour. Shortly thereafter, someone waved us into the storage facility and then our guide appeared. He turned out to be the founder of the company, John. After getting bikes sorted for the six tour participants, we were off to see Brooklyn.
The tour was great. We explored a chunk of Brooklyn and experienced many neighborhoods and some fantastic parks. Our fearless leader was very knowledgeable about Brooklyn. I took a fair number of photos, but no notes (go figure), so most of what you get in this post is what interested me visually.
At some point beyond when hunger had started to be noticeable, eating was mentioned. I/we jumped at the first offered opportunity, worried that demurring might lead to hanger. Thus, I took my chances with “gluten-ous” pizza at Frank’s. It was very reasonable and very tasty (and I don’t recall any ill effects that may have happened later). When you’re riding for a big chunk of the day, sometimes you have to eat what is on offer. Our tour-mates seemed to enjoy it too, and they were dining every evening at Michelin-starred restaurants (a source of some ribbing from our guide—a foodie himself).
After more riding—the tour was slightly longer than advertised, I think because John was enjoying the banter and the day—we wrapped up back at the storage unit. After acquiring logo hats, we trekked back towards the subway. John had pointed out a hotel where we might get a cocktail in the chic DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass) area, but we weren’t feeling the vibe and wandered just a few steps more and stumbled upon Time Out Market New York. We took the elevator up to the roof and found a food court, restrooms, and a hopping bar. And it was Happy Hour. Does it get any better than this really? We ordered a glass of rosé and a Lisbon sour. We enjoyed them on the deck with some salty mixed nuts from the backpack. I wonder if this interlude was as responsible for our sunburns as the ride itself…
At some point during Happy Hour, I discovered that there was an outpost of Sugar Hill Creamery inside the Time Out complex. Sugar Hill had come up in my pre-trip ice cream research, but I assumed we wouldn’t get there because it appeared to only be located in Harlem. I am very happy we found it. I tried the Buggin’ Out and Neneh Cherry flavors and Maureen had vegan chocolate and a coffee ice cream with turmeric. Not to give too much away (we still sampled quite a few more frozen treats on this trip), but this was unquestionably the best ice cream we had in NYC.
At this point we’d had drinks and ice cream, pizza hours before, and a long day of riding. Some “real food” was probably needed, even if we weren’t sure we were hungry. We decided to revisit Miznon in Chelsea Market for their roasted cauliflower. It did not disappoint.
We knew we would finish our unusual dinner with leftover pub pie in the room, but first we took the opportunity to stroll along the High Line. We saw the new “Little Island” on our way there, though we did not attempt to visit. A recent article helped me to understand my ambivalence about that new “park.”
It’s clear why the High Line requires reservations on weekends, as the walking space is limited. The plants and art and close-up views of the buildings are great.
A full day. I’m pretty sure we slept well that night.