Great story short, while I was delivering the twins at Lennox Hill, my dad walked over to Central Park to pace away his nervousness. A professional looking gent riding along on his bike dropped his leather breifcase. My dad witnessed it all but couldn't get his attention in time to return it. So he picked of the briefcase and stood in that same spot for 15 minutes hoping the guy would return. He never did. So my dad brought it to the hospital and called the guy (business card was inside) who was so relieved. In exchange, the guy gave my dad this book, that I most defiantly recommend for those that live in or love NYC. Sylvia is featured in the book. So dad wanted to eat there while he was visiting this time around. Since my dad read about her a year ago, she has since passed away. Her family still owns/runs the restaurant. She had a fascinating story as she was born into the South, but her life was shaped here in the city.
Soul Food. Black-eyed peas, fried chilcken, catfish gumbo. Tastes better than it looks.
Dad & Andrew outside Sylvia's. My dad wanted to walk there. Pre-babies, I would have joined him. He walked the 70+ blocks and many avenues. And we rode the subway. We gave him a 1.5 hour head start.
Harlem graffiti wall-art.
Still haven't been inside. Their Amateur night is on my list.