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Whenever I'm walking through Brooklyn Heights, there are certain buildings and dwelling of such reliable charm, beauty and interest that I invariably stop when I pass them and take a good long gander. The simple white, two-and-a-half story number at the northeast corner of Hicks and Cranberry—No. 59 Hicks Street—is such a house. It's not the most impressive structure in the area. But in its modest, village-like qualities, it is somehow very Brooklyn Heights-ish. It looks like it should be in some small town in Massachusetts, not in the middle of a huge metropolis. It is also evidently a very old structure, even to the untrained eye. For years, this was the home of the Heights Veterinary Hospital. And, as far as I can tell, that's what it was for a long time. Here's a photo of the same building from 1958, when it was already the a hospital for animals. Not only that, it was white, just as it is today. In fact, nothing about the facades seems to have altered in the last ...

Finding good food in South Bend, Indiana, can be a challenge. There aren't many eateries that are thought of as local institutions. But one place that was recommended to me several times was Rocco's, a pizzeria on N. St. Louis Boulevard. It was founded by Rocco Ameduri, his young wife Julia, and her parents Rose and Louis Simeri. All four were Italian-Americans from the region of Reggio Calabria, in the south of Italy. The younger couple settled in South Bend, where Rocco worked as a cook at Notre Dame, and Julia as a waitress. In 1951, they opened their own place, right next door to where the Simeris lived. The menu consisted of a collection of Simeri and Ameduri recipes. The original pizzeria seated only 12. (You can see photos of the original buildings below.) Today, it's still fairly small, but the squat, sprawling building seats 150 people. Rocco's daughter Linda eventually married Warren Verteramo, another Reggio Calabria native who worked in the kitchen in Rocco...

Given the number of boarded-up and abandoned motels that line its edges, Highway 301, which runs through eastern Virginia and Maryland, must have had a livelier past. I imagine that, before the huge interstate 95 was built, it was the thoroughfare by which residents of Washington D.C. drove to the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic shore. Today it is a sad, small tract. One of the only survivors of those more touristy times stands in Port Royal, which is best known as the town were the Union caught up with John Wilkes Booth. Horne's is a combination restaurant, gas station and gift shop, and an absolute trip back in time to an era when a well-scooped ice-cream cone and a junky little souvenir keychain were enough to etch a permanent holiday memory into a kid's brain. This Horne's was opened in 1960 (there were others), a time when a family vacation still meant piling in a station wagon and driving somewhere. The right side of the place as you walk in is dominated by a restaura...

Glad I found time to visit the very homey Happy End Diner in Greenpoint in 2012, and took in its wonderful semi-circular counter and stools, and menu of tripe soup, borscht, pierogis, stuffed cabbage, kielbasa, blintzes, pig's knuckles and Hungarian potato pancake (stuffed with beef goulash). Because its gone now. Eater reports that it reopens at the Brew Inn , a fancy beer bar, tonight. Silver Lining: it's still in the family. Martin Cyran, son of the founders of the Happy End, is the owner of the Brew Inn.

New Orleans is a town rich with historical food destinations, many of which served up food to match their fame. A great many lie within the French Quarter, and are well-patronized. An equal number, however, are beyond the Quarter's touristy borders. A more adventuresome spirit is required to reach them—the kind that doesn't mind a long streetcar ride or trip to a sketchy neighborhood. (Or one can just take a cab, I suppose. How prosaic.) Willie Mae's Scotch House is one such place. Hardly unknown, it's been renowned for its fried chicken for years. Founded in the 1950s, it sits on a corner of Saint Ann Street in the Seventh Ward. At one point, the building housed not only the restaurant, but a beauty salon and a barber shop. The Willie Mae of the name is Willie Mae Seaton, who was the chef for many years, well into her 80s. Her granddaughter, Kerry Seaton, now runs the kitchen. The house feels isolated. The effects of Hurricane Katrina—which shut down Willie Mae's f...

When will it no longer be necessary to write posts about how Tin Pan Alley is endangered, I wonder? I first wrote about the uncertain future of the stretch of old buildings on W. 28th Street—the historical home of the American Songbook—in 2008, when it looked like the former homes of myriad music publishing houses would be levels in favor of apartment towers. The media coverage that ensued and the economic crash of late 2008 helped save the buildings then. But the (still!) un-landmarked structures they're never been quite out of danger. Every year, it seems, a new threat arises.  In April, I reported that the strip of low-slung edifices—47 through 55 W. 28th Street—were again on the block. Read the Massey Knakal notice: "This Chelsea/Madison Square Park nighborhood has experienced a unique renaissance of hotel conversions, recent residential developments, office building restorations, trendy eatery's [sic] and excellent shopping. All retail units could be delivered vacant....

The Linebacker Inn, a South Bend bar within throwing distance of the Notre Dame football stadium, wins "A Good Sign" kudos three times over, for the above beauty... ...and this more humble, Coca-Cola-sponsored relic on the side... ...and for this painted sign near the entrance. Apparently "The Backer" is what the bar is known as by its regulars. You can't see in this picture, but a small sign on the door warns "This is a smoking establishment." Also, showing the tavern has a social conscience, there is a list of taxi services and their phone numbers above the "The Backer" sign.  The Linebacker Inn was founded in 1962 by a Notre Dame football player named Myron Pontios. The low, cinder-block building it's in used to be a drive-in (it's surrounded by streets on three sides). In 1984, current owner Elwanda "Al" Delinski bought the place. 

As undulating glass and metal towers rise on both sides of the western entrance of St. Mark's Place in the East Village, the four-story brick building at 23 Third Avenue looks more and more like a forlorn totem of the street's past. It is currently occupied by the eatery Archie & Sons (which has applied a very 19th-century-looking painted sign to the western wall) and King's Magazine, a shabby all-night newsstand that has been there for as long as I can remember. Before Archie & Sons arrived, it was briefly St. Mark's Pizza, and prior to that Tahini (which also went in for painted wall ads). For some years before that, this was the home of a nice, cheap falafel joint called Chickpea. The structure was likely built sometime in the 1850s. From 1852 to 1960—108 years!—is was owned by a single family, until a descendent of that clan, Marie O. Gregory, sold it to Sam Gabay and Louis Ameri. Gabay was a Turkish immigrant who came to America as a boy in 1905. He later e...

Across from Cinema Village on E. 12th Street—a very nice block on the Middle Village—are a trio of old brick buildings. The one in the middle, 15 E. 12th Street, is particularly handsome, having retained its original lintels and cornice. Particularly earning my notice was a carving in the middle of the cornice indicating the building had been erected in 1873. Pretty old, even by Village standards. It has been home to the Marquet pastry shop since 1993. The large central window on the second floor would indicate that this was a commercial building of some sort, and that there was a business on the second floor. I've seen other similar display windows on old building in other parts of the city. The date in the cornice would also point to an early mercantile life for this building; private residences rarely proclaimed their erection date on the facade. I cannot find any evidence as to who built the thing or first occupied it. But old Certificates of Occupancy from 1933 show a store in...

The Great Annual Pumpkin Impaling went on as scheduled at the Cobble Hill corner of Kane and Strong Place, with dozens of tiny Jack-'O-Lanterns finding their private cast-iron spike in the afternoon hours of Oct. 31, just prior to trick or treating hours. As reported earlier, this will be the last year the impressive gourd display will occur. I spoke to Jane Greengold and her husband, the people who live in the corner brick building, about their decision to end the local tradition. It turns out they are not moving away. When asked why they chose to stop mounting the smiling squashes, they said, "It's complicated." Mysterious. Talking to the couple, I also learned a few tricks of the trade. In order to light up the many small pumpkins, they drill holes in the back of the vegetables and then thread miniature Christmas lights into the holes. Anyway, I took the Greengolds up on their invitation to contribute a Jack-'O-Lantern this year. That rather large one above is...

Les Sans Culottes East, the uncelebrated but steadfast old-school French restaurant on Second Avenue near 57th Street—and an early subject of my column "Who Goes There?"—has closed after 37 years. When exactly it shuttered, I do not know, but it appears to have been sometime in May. But the interior is gutted and the phone has been disconnected. A sign in the window—captured in an Instagram photo —says the owners lost their lease. The joint opened in 1976. It was owned by the same family throughout its run, with various members of the clan to be seen around the place, performing the duties of host, waiter, cook, etc. Prices were always low, for French food. And the restaurant had an interesting calling card. Once you sat down, an enormous basket of fruit and vegetables and a wire stand garlanded with sausage arrived at your table. You picked off what you liked and ate. It was on the house. Here's what I wrote about the place back in 2008: Who Goes There? Les Sans Culotte...

Who goes to The Hat? Well, I do, that's who. Or, I did. Often. I lived on Eldridge Street from 1988 to 1994, when the area was still pretty scruffy. I soon learned of The Hat and it's cheap, hot, nourishing food and inexpensive Mexican beers. Mexican cuisine wasn't as common back then as it is now, and The Hat's kitchen work passed muster. At least with a not-especially-savvy twentysomething, anyway. Over the years I've seen all of the things I associate with Ludlow Street back then disappear: Todo Con Nada, The Pink Pony, Max Fish, Ludlow Street Cafe. The Hat will be the last man to fall. (Aside from Katz's, of course, which I place in a separate, 19th-century category.) Here's my Who Goes There? column : Who Goes There? El Sombrero Restaurant (The Hat) El Sombrero Restaurant—known to one and all simply as "The Hat"—is the last bit of the old Lower East Side to grace the northernmost block of Ludlow Street. Not the old, OLD Lower East Side; that n...

Cinema Village, on E. 12th Street in the Village, is one of the last great, small, movie theatres left in the city. It typically shows foreign and indy films, and retains a distinctly movies-as-art-conscious aesthetic. The movie house was built in 1963. I don't know how it's hung on all these years. It's wonderful neon sign—currently only half lit up—dates from its founding. I find the aquamarine hue very soothing.

The Upper West Side doesn't have much grit these days. But there are still a few lovably dingy corners. Stubbornly continuing to throw some dirt on the shiny shoes of Manhattan's most sanitized neighborhood is The Dublin House. This 79th-street Irish pub has a ludicrously grand presence on the street. Its absolutely fabulous, one-story-tall, neon harp announces its presence from blocks away. Surely this must be a tavern of great note, the tourist much conclude upon gazing up at its neon glory. Then you walk through the double doors and see this: A narrow, fairly nondescript bar with a linoleum floor and a low acoustical-tile ceiling, a row of stools along the right, a row of two-seater booths to the right. There's an old Timex wall clock near the front and a pay phone cubby in the back—two sure signs a bar has been around for some good time. There's also this fairly spacious room in the back, which I'm certain was added in more recent years. No doubt it's used f...