Dear New York

What is it about you that intrigues me so much? Is it yellow streaks of taxis and crammed sidewalks and the abruptness of walk/don’t walk? Is it the tall buildings and skyscrapers from which to look out from observation decks, only to find a bright green postage stamp of grass in the middle filled with rocky verges, ponds and a million marriage proposals? Is it the snow and Home Alone 2 and the Rockefeller Christmas tree and the hopes of skating underneath it? Or skipping through amber leaves in Fall and sipping a pumpkin spiced latte hidden underneath a rib knit scarf? Maybe it’s the allure of Easter and new beginnings and pastel everything, so sickly sweet but so loving and inviting. Perhaps you are just a promise of summer, of fun days and the High Line and weather so hot, a five dollar popsicle melts down my arm and I just don’t care.

New York, I think I love you and we’ve never met.

I want to tell you this in person someday, but as with many things in my life I want to say them with food. With my nose in a sprinkle-heavy Magnolia Bakery cupcake or a Dough doughnut in Brooklyn. I want the best pizza served on a stand to a red chequered table by American Italians but I also want the worst of it, blotted with paper napkins and eaten standing up somewhere too filthy to imagine. I want a Cronut, just to see what the fuss is about, but maybe I’ll just watch the line from afar with an imitation of the real thing. I want to see the skyline a mess of stars and building lights, a glass of champagne in my hand or maybe my favourite, a Manhattan. I want to slurp a bowl of Momofuku ramen and wander to the Milk Bar to buy an outrageous cookie, one with cereal and chocolate and oreos and marshmallows and eat it sitting on a bench or on a staircase or in the park.

Like many things in this world New York, we must work hard to achieve our dreams but we must almost remember to find joy in the little things. To soften this long distance longing, a cookie inspired by Momofuku’s Milk Bar helps a little. It’s childlike and sweet, like glasses of milk and biscuits before bed, but rich with dark chocolate and a hearty pinch of salt. It’s a pleasingly well made bowl of cereal, the milk ice cold with the contents still crisp. It’s just a cookie, but it’s like a delicious memory I’m going to make one day.

Until then, New York. I love you.

Adapted from Shutterbean and inspired by the Momofuku Milk Bar