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Muss Development LLC |
If This Is Brooklyn, Why Ever Leave?
THE
NEW
YORK
TIMES
By Sarah Ferrel
THERE is something that feels a little illicit about checking into a neighborhood hotel for a weekend, even if the man you are checking in with is your own husband. But we can see a bit of the building that contains the New York Marriott Brooklyn from the back of our house, and we are curious. The New York Marriott Brooklyn is installed in the first 7 floors of a 32-floor mixed-use building in downtown Brooklyn on a busy street that feeds into the Brooklyn Bridge, behind the Supreme Court building. It is part of the much-heralded Brooklyn renaissance, of which the chief manifestation is the huge Metrotech complex of offices and banks and brokerage firms. The top floors, which are offices, have the views. The entrance is modest -- in fact, easy to miss if you don't know that it's there. Beyond the revolving doors, short escalators, lined with green plants, lead to (and from) the reception area, under a trompe l'oeil dome, through which a prettily painted cloud-streaked blue sky is visible. We arrive at the same time as a Swissair crew, which answers one of our points of curiosity, to wit: Who stays in a hotel in downtown Brooklyn? More than a few people who look like tourists are milling around and, later, in the elevator, we shall see a charming young couple who cannot be anything other than honeymooners. Having crammed a whole weekend's worth of errands into a few hours, we are ready for rest-and-recreation when we check in at 4 p.m. This leaves us just time to drop our bag in our room (of which more later) and rush off, before we lose momentum, to the movies, specifically to Jean Renoir's ''Grand Illusion,'' which is playing at the nearby Brooklyn Academy of Music Rose Cinemas. These theaters are another recent Brooklyn development, having opened a little more than a year ago, about the same time as the Marriott. We have not been to the Rose Cinemas before, and discover one of many examples of the old made new, or put to new uses, that abound in our borough. The adjacent BAM Opera House remains as it was, a splendid neo-Classical space given over to Baroque opera and avant-garde dance and all points in between. We have made a dinner date with friends at Gage & Tollner, a landmark establishment (inside and out) on Fulton Street, a two-minute walk from the hotel. The restaurant, which opened in 1879 and has retained its opulent decor of polished brass and mirrors and lincrusta, deals largely in seafood, as evidenced by the display of bright-eyed specimens on ice just inside the door. It is a festive evening, with gaslights flickering romantically and choruses of ''Happy Birthday'' erupting from three separate tables. Back at the hotel, we examine our environment. The sixth-floor room is spacious with big windows looking out on a shallow light well. (The lack of a view comes as no surprise; we have long known that the plutocrats and bureaucrats on the top floors had a monopoly.) The restrained pattern of the valence matches the spread on the king-size bed, an enormous cabinet houses a minibar, television screen and drawers, there are heaps of thick white towels in the bathroom and all the other comforts of a major chain. The best amenities are four really big pillows on the bed, and two more in the ample closet -- enough to build a comfortable nest for reading in bed. And, among the bathroom goodies, the best sewing kit ever, including six colors of thread threaded into six needles. Local color consists of prints of the Brooklyn Bridge, a Brooklyn map and calendar of events and a copy of Brooklyn Bridge magazine. Sunday morning brings a room-service breakfast, ordered the night before and delivered, at an advanced hour, exactly when promised. This is my idea of a total treat -- not only the food, which in this instance is just fine, but also the accouterments: the tiny pots of jams and syrups, the silver dish covers and coffeepots, the pretty china on the pretty flowered tablecloth on the table that is rolled in on silent wheels. Every day should start like this. Tom realizes that he has forgotten to water the houseplants, and returns home to do so, which allows me more time to loll luxuriously with the Sunday papers. Downtown Brooklyn has more than its share of architectural eccentricities, and one of the most startling is a former firehouse, built in 1906, which is, well, sort of a terra-cotta Byzantine high-rise. It is in scaffolding for the moment, but you can get a good view from across the street. Some of our other favorites, which we pass on our stroll, are the Macy's (formerly Abraham & Straus) on Fulton Street -- downtown's main drag and here the pedestrianized Fulton Mall -- with its splendid Art Deco elevator banks and, perhaps oddest of all, the Dime Savings Bank of New York, just off Fulton on DeKalb. The bank, a Beaux-Arts Greek temple on a grand scale, is built on an irregularly shaped piece of land, so that its facade is narrower than the rest of it. Look at it dead-on, and you may believe that something has gone wrong with your peripheral vision. Inside, you may well believe that your mind has gone funny. The giant dome, supported by marble Corinthian columns inset with truly giant silver-leafed dimes, is stupefying. A little farther down DeKalb is Junior's, a delicatessen, bakery and restaurant whose cheesecake is the stuff of song and story. Junior's, which opened in 1950, is in its third generation of family ownership; that its founder, Harry Rosen, lived to be 92 is all the proof that you should need that cheesecake is good for you. All of which is by way of preface to our settling down at the counter, which, like all the tables, is decked with bowls of many kinds of pickles and other condiments that go with the giant sandwiches, and ordering slabs of the gorgeous substance. Neither of us is able to finish -- portions at Junior's are huge, and when the menu lists things like Mountain High Sundaes and Skyscraper Ice Cream Sodas it isn't kidding. We had planned an excursion to Brooklyn's cultural center -- the Brooklyn Museum of Art, the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and the charming little Prospect Park Zoo, all a short subway ride away, but the afternoon has suddenly become late, and, probably because of the cheesecake, we could do with a nap before dinner. Rest is winning out over recreation. Back at the Marriott, which now feels like home, we tidy up for dinner, then go down to the bar. Although there are comfy chairs and banquettes, we prefer to sit with our elbows on the black marble top of the bar itself, a rectangular island supported by carved Ionic columns at each corner, with an island-within-an-island stacked with exotic bottles and a glistening copper espresso machine. The drinks are large and tasty, and mixed and presented with such panache that we order seconds to enjoy the show. (It's not as if we have to drive, or even walk, anywhere farther than the elevators.) On the way into the dining room, the Archives Restaurant, we examine memorabilia on loan from the Brooklyn Historical Society; five vitrines devoted to the Dodgers, the Navy Yard, Coney Island, Brooklynites and the Brooklyn Bridge, respectively. We experience a warm glow of civic pride. People have dressed up for Sunday dinner in the dining room. Unlike Junior's or even Gage & Tollner's customers, most men are in jackets and ties. A large family party, headed by a clergyman, is particularly notable for its decorum. The room is pleasant without being distinctive, the food is a cut or two up from standard hotel fare and the service is solicitous without being annoying. Tom has the Australian lamb chops with mashed Yukon gold potatoes and rosemary merlot essence; I have the Black Angus filet mignon with baked potato and asparagus. Not adventurous choices, but cooked as ordered and succulent. We choose a California zinfandel by Chateau Souverain from the fairly priced list, and drink it with pleasure. Monday morning dawns as, well, Monday morning. We make ourselves tea and coffee from the in-room supplies and check out. The streets are bustling, the suits and cell phones are back in force, and it's time to get on the subway and turn ourselves in to our own offices.
The Hotel
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