Hurricane Sandy Edition

With the NYC subways underwater, I’m stuck at home — fortunately, with power, unlike so many others in the city and surrounding areas. It’s strange thinking that so many of the places I’ve visited and posted about in the Porcelain Press are completely inaccessible to me right now (unless I decided to embark on a long trek on foot, which might actually be to my benefit, considering that I’ve gotten zilch physical activity since the day before Sandy struck), or they’re without power, or, for those spots downtown, potentially inundated by flood water from the rivers that swelled well over their banks last night.

Hurricane Sandy did bring with it two bathroom-related anecdotes:

• Our bathroom became a water storage facility (see photo). My roommate, K, and I learned during Hurricane Irene in 2011 that our tub doesn’t hold water overnight, so we prepped for Sandy by filling up the world’s largest Rubbermaid container, as well as three trashcans. These were for toilet flushing; our entire kitchen counter was covered with water-filled pots for drinking. I’m thankful that we didn’t need to dip into either supply.
• Flushing the toilet with conserved water is fascinating! K was adamant about not wasting the water we’d stored in the bathroom, so we’ve been flushing with it throughout the day. Despite my father being a plumber, I had no idea how this worked and was thoroughly amazed when I poured water from a trashcan into the toilet bowl and — woosh! — it flushed all by itself. Simple pleasures, simple pleasures.

Thinking of everyone throughout the rest of New York City today, especially those facing  flooding and friends waiting for power to be restored. Can’t wait to get back on the subway so that my life can resume a sense of normalcy, and we can all see each other again!

 

Employees Only

Employees Only (510 Hudson St.) is a fancy, art deco-style speakeasy with overpriced cocktails that’s a little too fancy for me, but the restroom was worth seeing.

You go up a few wooden steps to the “W.C.,” which has a heavy, dark door with a long strip of grooves down the center. The shiny wall outside the bathroom, decorated with a drawing of an old skyscraper, is rounded off at the corner, keeping perfectly with the 1920s spirit. Inside, the white-tiled bathroom is small, with a miniscule corner sink, but what’s most interesting is the artwork. Hanging above the toilet is a collage of black-and-white photographs from the period with women in all states of undress. Like, shirtless ladies lounging around smoking cigarettes, or pants-free women lying on the ground next to an old car. Bizarre, and probably offensive to some, but it was certainly a unique choice for bathroom decorations. I was also captivated by the angular white shade on the ceiling lamp – Employees Only really knows how to take a theme and run with it.

I won’t go back to Employees Only because it was too packed for me to want to pay an arm and a leg for a drink, no matter how well mixed it might be. In fact, some girl kept yelling at me because my small bag was in her face – well, honey, don’t sit at a table in bar that’s three feet wide at midnight if you don’t want things in your face.  Another cool anecdote: K and I picked up imitations of Tamara de Lempicka paintings in Paris, and a print of an original was hanging beside the bar.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

The Frick Collection

The Frick Collection is housed in an old mansion on the Upper East Side, so it’s fitting that its restroom is a grand affair.

For starters, you descend a broad marble staircase to the basement, where arched entryways and a marble bench welcome you. I’m not sure how cushy the men’s room is, but the women’s room has an entire lounge for primping and gossiping – it’s something you’d expect to see at a wedding at a fancy country club, where women sip their cocktails, re-apply their lipstick and whisper, “Did you see what Francine wore?! And that date she brought? Dear heavens.” An entire wall in the lounge is made of a mirror, and there are white, mirror-topped vanities on opposite ends of the room, along with large paintings of women in Victorian getups. Soft benches are strewn around the lounge, but I doubt they’re used often; who wants to just sit and shoot the breeze in a museum restroom, no matter how fancy it is? The restroom itself feels very vintage, which is fitting for a museum that exhibits classic pieces of art in the natural setting of some rich dude’s extravagant home. The stalls have dark varnished louvre doors, and the basic white sinks are pretty curved antiques with those annoying separate spigots for hot and cold water, which boil your left hand while your right hand turns blue. Although there were no cocktails to be found in the lounge, the bathroom did have a paper cup receptacle, ensuring that no gal goes thirsty when visiting the Frick.

Generally, I found the artwork at the Frick pretty boring – I feel like once you’ve seen one painting of a 17^th century Spanish dude, or the Madonna with Child, or a huge ship sailing in a stormy sea, you’ve seen them all. But it was a unique experience to view the art in a parlor, a dining room a ballroom, a library (and so on) as opposed to the typical bland, cavernous rooms at a museum like the Met or the Louvre. My favorite part was the conservatory-style garden, complete with a bubbling fountain and fake frogs. It was the perfect place to sit on a Sunday afternoon, and I could have stayed for hours.

Restroom Rating: [rating=5]

University of California, Berkeley

Marq, who’d kindly let Rammy and me stay in his apartment while he summered in New Mexico, is a PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, which meant we were just minutes away from the campus on foot. I went for a run through the campus one morning, which was the perfect way to experience its beauty; everything is so green and lush, thanks to the temperate coastal climate, and there’s a lot of great architecture, including a gray clock tower that brought back memories of my college years at Cornell University. On our last morning in San Francisco, Rammy and I took a walk through the campus so that he could add to his collegiate t-shirt collection.

The restroom at UC Berkeley’s bookstore, where Rammy bought his t-shirt, is hilarious: it’s covered from top to bottom and side to side with blue and yellow, the school’s colors. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it was certainly unmistakably Cal, with its logo-ed soap dispensers, yellow and blue tile work, yellow and blue gender signs on the doors, and printer paper ads for a lecture on “The Paris Commune of 1871: The Original Government of the 99%.” How collegiate is that? Another mark of student angst was the graffiti on the toilet paper dispenser: “It’s your life. Not the school’s. Not your parents’. Not that guy out there’s. They all have they’re [sic] own life. So live yours.”(Hmm, I think Berkeley is a good enough school that I shouldn’t have to use “[sic]” when quoting one of its students…)

We sat on the steps of Sproul Hall for a while, sipping mochas from Peets Coffee and Tea, and watching swarms of wide-eyed high school students wander around anxiously, taking it all in and trying to decide if Berkeley would be a good fit for their college experience. It made Rammy and me, both Cornell alums, nostalgic for Ithaca, New York. I wondered why I’d never sat on the steps of Goldwin Smith while I had the chance, sipping a cup of Seattle’s Best from Olin Library. Oh, right, because other than homework, I didn’t do anything in college, including drink caffeinated beverages. Sigh. Visiting the Berkeley campus made me – almost – want to go back to school, immerse myself in learning and discovery. Almost.

Restroom Rating: [rating=2]

Chez Panisse (Berkeley, California)

Long before I knew what foodies were, and become one myself, I wanted to go to Alice Waters’ famed Chez Panisse, a longstanding Berkeley restaurant known for epitomizing fine local dining. Of course, when I first heard about Chez Panisse, I didn’t know that – nope, I read an excerpt of Waters’ children’s book Fanny at Chez Panisse, about her daughter’s experiences growing up in and around the restaurant, in American Girl magazine when I was 9 or 10. Pots served as Fanny’s playpens. That was cool. Rammy and I ended up staying a 20-minute walk from Chez Panisse in Berkeley, and I desperately wanted to go; when I read him snippets from the menu, which changes daily to accommodate what’s in season in the surrounding farms and orchards, Rammy wanted to go, too – perhaps not desperately, but he was definitely game.

Chez Panisse is dark inside – dim lighting, rich woods – and the restroom fits the mood, too. French posters hang on the wall outside, including a vintage one of two inebriated Frenchmen, failing miserably to get additional red wine into their glasses. The bathroom has cherry wood stall doors, cabinetry and mirror frames, and the sink, situated in the corner under a triptych mirror, is pebbled brass set into dark marble. The paper towel dispenser and trashcan are also made of cherry, making them the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen; who knew a garbage receptacle could be refined?

But it’s not the bathroom I came to Chez Panisse for: it was the food. And the food was magical. Simply magical. And literally “simply,” too. Everything was so fresh, so local and so carefully prepared without a single dash of stuffiness. Before our meal, Rammy and I noshed on a side of anchovies (weird, I know), served with fresh sourdough from Acme Bakery. I started my meal with a basic green salad, topped with baked goat cheese rounds. I ordered Riverdog Farm chicken cooked under a brick with polenta, romano beans and salsa verde, and my entrée was just plopped on my plate – but that’s completely okay, because when food tastes this good, who needs garnishes and fancy presentation? The chicken, which was deboned thigh meant, was likely the best, most tender, most flavorful chicken I’ve ever eaten in my life; I guess that’s what happens when you can read in the menu exactly what local farm produced the chicken, sans hormones, de-beaking and garbage food. I finished off my meal with summer berry sherbet, topped with a berry compote – its bright flavors and colors made it the perfect light, refreshing way to end an incredible dinner. Rammy and I were both completely won over to the joys of eating local. If you are in the San Francisco area, you must go to Berkeley to experience Chez Panisse. (In town, you’ll also get to enjoy the antics of the Berkeley bums who sit on the sidewalk, smoking weed, playing violins and wearing animal suits that make them look like grownup versions of Max from Where the Wild Things Are.)

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

Cline Cellars (Sonoma, California)

By the time Rammy and I got to Cline Cellars, our last stop on our wine tour, I was sadly getting tired of drinking wine, and everything was starting to taste the same to me — although I did really enjoy the rosé. I spent most of our time at Cline wandering around the beautiful grounds, and taking pictures of flowers and fountains, and that gorgeous glass of rosé (see below).

Cline isn’t situated on a hill, so the grounds didn’t have an expansive view of Sonoma Valley, but there were vines and flowerbeds scattered all around the large house that served as the store. A sign in one of the rose gardens pointed toward the restroom, so I walked down the path toward the outdoor bathroom building, which had an overhanging roof and an oak wine barrel next to the entrance. It was fairly basic inside, except for an antique-looking chest and a trunk that looked like it was made of bamboo or something. The water came out of the faucet like a rain shower. What was best about Cline’s restroom was the view: an open window looked out over the rows of grape vines and let in refreshing California summer air.

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]

Adobe Road Winery (Sonoma, California)

Each of our wine tasting experiences was unique, so it’s hard to pick a favorite. Like all of the California wines I tasted, which kept being “the best wine I’ve ever had” one after the other, I enjoyed each tasting room experience equally but for different reasons. We were the only patrons at Adobe Road Winery’s tasting room that afternoon, so we got undivided attention from the woman behind the bar, who was outgoing and lots of fun, and told us cool stuff about the winery — like the fact that the owner is into racecar driving, which is why her business card had a rubbery texture like a tire.

I told her about the Porcelain Press, and she thought it was cool but felt Adobe Road’s restroom might not be up to par — she was wrong. The bathroom was painted a soft buttery yellow with a rusty red doorframe. There were lots of pieces of art, including an abstract painting over the door, a print that walks through the story of Cabernet Sauvignon (from earth to glass), a painting of bottles and grapes, and a racing poster. A glass jar on the toilet held crazy-shaped potpourri stuff, and a wire frame hanging on the wall held glass candle votives. The sink was stocked with pomegranate soap, and there was even a bottle of lotion on the windowsill. Well done, Adobe Road.

This was our last tasting before we left Sonoma for a couple of Napa wineries on our way back to San Francisco, so we finally bought a couple of bottles of our favorites to take back to Marq, who was letting us stay at his place in Berkeley. Adobe Road was a perfectly Sonoma way to end our short sojourn in the town: a casual hour or so with a friendly person pouring up lots of delicious wine; we felt as if we were hanging around the kitchen with an old pal.  Have I said yet how much I love Sonoma…?

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]

Vine Alley (Sonoma, California)

There’s a collection of tasting rooms on the south side of Sonoma Plaza make up “Vine Alley,” including relative newcomers Envolve Winery and Bryter Estates. They all share an antiseptic — but sparklingly new, clean and fresh — restroom that doesn’t match the warmth and friendliness of Sonoma (jeez, just typing those last five words made me miss that place terribly). 

Each tasting room had its own key to the restroom; I borrowed one from Bryter, one of my favorite tasting rooms (more on that below), that was cleverly attached to a Bryter cork and a metal charm that said “Cheers.” the bathroom had beige stalls and turquoise tiles, and because it was unisex, there was a urinal. The end.

Honestly, I was sad that the tasting rooms didn’t all have their own bathrooms because it prevents me from properly telling all of their stories — not to mention that I’d looked forward to blogging about Envolve’s bathroom (their tasting room had a sink but no potty room) so that, someday, now that Ben the Bachelor is single again, I could move to Sonoma and show him the post, and he would marry me and I could drink delicious wine to my heart’s content. Right. (And that, I promise, is the last time I will ever mention “The Bachelor” on the Porcelain Press.) Suffice to say, I LOVED Envolve’s rosé and really wanted to pick up a couple of bottles of Bryter’s sparkling wine. So good! But I really didn’t feel like checking a bag on the flight home, just for wine (I’m not that much of a lush); instead, I left plenty of reasons to go back to Sonoma. I’ll leave you with a plug for Bryter: they’re into art, too, which is cool; the woman behind the counter was AWESOME and gave us a really personal tasting experience; and they give you chocolate and almonds to gnaw on while you’re sipping the wine.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

Sonoma Barracks (Sonoma, California)

After I bought an authentic Panama hat from South American Secrets, and could shield my eyes from the bright late morning California sun, Rammy and I walked to the northeast corner of Sonoma Plaza and checked out the historic Sonoma Barracks.

Sonoma is all about the public restrooms, so there was one here, even though we were just a couple of minutes away from the one in Sonoma Plaza. (If only it were as easy to stumble on a bathroom when wandering around NYC!) The entrance to the hallway of bathrooms was behind the fire pit in the barracks’ open courtyard. The hallway was fittingly rustic with rough wood walls, and each bathroom had a dark wood door. There was nothing exciting in the bathroom — all white and stainless steel — except that, even this dingy restroom was outfitted with toilet seat covers. Maybe it’s a Cali thing or maybe it’s a West Coast thing, but I have never in my life seen such consistent availability of toilet seat covers. They were in nearly every restroom that I used while in California, and they were always fully stocked. Impressive.

My brother, who read every word on every plaque when we went to the baseball hall of fame in Cooperstown, New York, when we were kids, would have enjoyed the museum in the barracks, but there was too much reading for me. It was pretty snoozy, I thought, for being a pivotal part of history (location of the 1846 Bear Flag Revolt) and being in such a hot tourist town.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

Maya (Sonoma, California)

Rammy and I went back and forth on where to spend our cash and calories for dinner in Sonoma, a diminutive paradise for foodies, and finally decided on Maya. I’ve enjoyed Mexican cuisine since Chi-Chi’s arrived in my hometown when I was a kid (it’s embarrassing that I once considered their food to be good…), and now that I’m gluten-free, I like it even more; I love how easy it is to find gluten-free options on a Mexican menu, so I can be excited about my meal without having to cheat. And Mexican food is pretty good at absorbing all of the wine you drank without having a proper lunch…

Maya’s restroom wasn’t as fantastic as its food, but it did appropriately carry the requisite south-of-the-border theme, with mismatched tiles in red, yellow, green and blue. Other details included brown vessel sinks, wire-wrapped conical wall sconces, dark wood stalls and a vase of fresh flowers in many of the same colors as the tiles.

My meal at Maya, crab enchiladas, was delicious and satisfying, the perfect heavy combination to prepare for day 2 of wine tasting (I admit that it’s both nice and unfair that I have a high metabolism). I also liked that we got both red and green salsas with our complimentary chips; Chi-Chi’s certainly didn’t do that, which may be part of why I never opted for all the free chips and salsa I could have eaten when I was a hostess there back in high school (did I really just admit to that in a public forum?). And since the meal was so good, I was glad we opted for something in a mid price range so we could splurge at Chez Panisse when we got back to Berkeley. More on that food and restroom adventure later!

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]