The Best Rainy Day

Under threatening skies I navigate down my one-way street in reverse, necessary to avoid the Greek Orthodox street procession that is the culmination of the three-day long street fair. Collecting friends, we jump on the BQE and into the traffic that slows as we enter Brooklyn and a downpour that will be with us for the rest of the afternoon. I exit at my old haunt, Atlantic Avenue, and we make our way down a crumbling Columbia, then over and down Hicks, skirting the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, until we arrive at our destination – the Red Hook Ball Fields.

With umbrellas, dodging drops and waterfalls from tarps, we listen to a mingling of English and half a dozen Spanishes and breathe in the smells of Mexican, Central and South American street food. For this is why we have come, to sample the freshly made huaraches, tortas, tortillas, tacos de chiles rellenos, ceviche, crispy hot empanadas de carne or queso glistening with hot oil, all washed down with tall glasses of jugo de piña, or the crowd favourite, horchata. Pupusas con chicharron, queso and jalapeño, or frijoles con queso, or calabaza, made by quick fingers dipping in the large bowl of soft masa dough, circle formed around the mound of filling, pinched together and flattened into a disk and thrown on the griddle, made to order while you wait. The crowds were thinned by the rain and the glowering skies rent by streaks of lightning and booming thunder, but that didn’t dampen the spirits of those who were there for the food or to play their weekly game of fútbol.

Slipping through the familiar beloved streets of Brooklyn, stitching the neighbourhoods together, weaving among the half-broken streets on the edges now lined with gentrification rising. Past warehouse shells and factories-cum-condos encrusted with scaffolding, down the narrow streets nearly to water’s edge and the new home of the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory. Dodging thick drops and laughing our way inside the old Bleu Drawes space transformed with ice cream machines and newly exposed brick wall and fireplace. A warm welcome from owner Mark Thompson to his cool treat – smooth, rich chocolate, crunchy butter pecan, intense (decaf) coffee that’s not too sweet. Dense and creamy, it’s Philadelphia-style ice cream, made without eggs and with turbinado sugar that adds a round note of caramelisation to every flavour.

Finally sated, we make our way back across the Pulaski bridge, up Vernon, and under the Queensboro Bridge toward home. We promise ourselves another pilgrimage under sunnier skies, before the summer’s close.