Fulton Market
Nostalgia.
Pondering the impact that the senses have on evoking memories. Old batteries smelling of childhood; a story told to me by someone else but one that resonates with me and I envision my own memories associated with the smells of games and crafts and zoos. “I Melt With You” plays on Pandora and I am 16 again, driving with friends, singing along to the words. Wrongly, probably, in the days before correct lyrics were only a click away.
Fulton Market has long been one of my favorite parts of the city. Urban, industrial, and constantly moving, I always feel energized when I am here. It is my go-to for a good restaurant recommendation or for meeting up with someone.
It is a different neighborhood now.
Even three years ago this was a place of a few, really good restaurants dotting a landscape of food warehouses and empty lots. In the glory days it was possible to drive in for lunch or dinner and, easily, find a parking spot.
No longer.
Fulton Market today has many good places to eat, or drink, and many fewer warehouses. Construction trucks and paraphernalia line the street. Parking is at a premium.
There is a new energy. More people walking the streets lined by shops, housing, and restaurants.
The Hoxton Hotel provides refuge from this unseasonably cold morning. The lobby is bright, not-too-crowded, and warm. The latte is the perfect blend of milk and coffee and the seating is plentiful and comfortable.
Saturday morning brunches, friends and families meeting up, tourists gearing up for a day of sightseeing.
I am surprised that it is so easy to relax here, and to focus. Lots of people moving in and out; the hotel, the coffee stand, the bar, and the restaurant all invite foot traffic. The music is loud enough to distract but not so loud that it is hard to talk. The soundtrack is whatever the newest, hippest d.j. spins.
A place to warm up before venturing out into the cold.
Post script:
Old photos of Fulton Market found online via Bing by my dad:
