Court Street’s Seersucker hosts RHI benefit by Erik Penney
I
like Seersucker and I have for a while; let me get that out of the way right off the bat. I’ve had brunch there a few times, lined the stomach with excellent grits and eggs, and then headed next door to the Gowanus Yacht Club for outdoor beers on sunny Saturday afternoons. But their Southern-inspired menu of comfort food favorites deserves a more extensive treatment than I am prepared to give here. Today, I would like to talk a bit about one particular evening I had at Seersucker last week. This evening wasn’t about food or even good times, but instead about doing something small to help an organization in need, and a neighborhood that’s been brought to its knees. We all know about the hurricane. All of us who live in Red Hook have been affected by it, some more than others. Many homes and apartments were flooded, their contents destroyed, the inhabitants reeling and - in many cases - left with little help from the City. Our neighborhood went dark and cold for days on end, and as we all followed the news of neighborhoods and subway lines being restored throughout Manhattan, I know we couldn’t help but wonder whether anyone remembered we were still here, and still in trouble. In the middle of this, stood the Red Hook Initiative (RHI) - an organization well known to all of us as a valuable pro-
vider of health and education services for the underserved youth in our congenitally underserved neighborhood. In the storm’s aftermath, RHI seamlessly went from their traditional mission into full-blown disaster-recovery mode, providing hot meals, blankets, clothing and personal products, water and medicine to many, many Red Hook residents, as they continue to do. This was all unanticipated and stretched a thin budget even thinner. It was in this context that I heard of the fundraiser at Seersucker to benefit the Red Hook Initiative. This was called “Pork for New York,” and Seersucker was selling four pulled pork sliders with green tomato BBQ sauce for $10, Victory Prima Pils draft beer for $5, and cups of caramel corn for $3 to munch on while we waited. There was also a very large and prominently displayed tip jar on the bar, the
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contents of which were to be earmarked for the RHI. We got there shortly after the official 6:30 pm start; there was already a line to get in. Truth be told, it was hard to tell whether the people there came for the cause or the cheap food, though I suppose it doesn’t matter much – money is money. The line never shrank, and by the time we left at around 7:30 the restaurant had run completely out of pork and was offering fried chicken instead. The tip jar was being filling with $20 bills. The bartender was slinging beers and popcorn as fast as he could. This all gave me a good feeling to be a part of, but I still felt detached, knowing that Red Hook - just blocks away - was still without power or heat. Many resi-
ing. It was eerie, shadowy, but not entirely pitch black as we walked south along Van Brunt Street. There was an odd ambient light, a gloaming, which was totally out of place. It wasn’t until we got closer to the source that I realized what it was. There was a police spotlight attached to a generator extending far into the sky. This was the only source of light for blocks - the generator’s persistent hum, the neighborhood’s new white noise. It reminded me of the scene in Apocalypse Now when Captain Willard reaches the last US Army outpost upriver, a post where a scattered, decimated and undersupplied group of soldiers are defending a bridge, but it’s clear that they have been overrun and defeat is certain.
“In the middle of this, stood the Red Hook Initiative (RHI) an organization well known to all of us as a valuable provider of health and education services for the underserved youth in our congenitally underserved neighborhood.”
dents were struggling mightily to make it through another cold night. The sliders were excellent. I ordered two sets of four for myself, one more for my guest, and beers and popcorn while we waited. The pork was excellent. These were big chunks of juicy, earthy pork shoulder, slowly smoked for hours and hours until they gave way at the slightest touch. The flavor was heightened by the tangy, fruity sauce and served on a deliciously mushy potato bun. Simple and perfect, and they were dealing them like blackjack cards from the bar. The sliders were piled high and the whole thing was worth more than $10. So, like many I dumped some substantial overage into the tip jar, never feeling like it was enough to address the enormous financial deficit that existed all over the neighborhood.
There is no organization; the noose is tightening. It’s every man for himself. Every soldier that Captain Willard encounters as he searches for the commanding officer is mad by having confronted his own mortality. This is how it felt that night. We had been forsaken by the City in the same way that those soldiers had been forsaken by the army at that bridge. All trappings of a civil, orderly society had been lost. It was surreal, and it should not happen here.
us still have a big hole to dig ourselves out of. But I keep reminding myself that in many small ways, the people in our neighborhood banded together to help each other. I have since heard of so many little fundraisers, benefits and food & clothing drives for Red Hook. I’ve seen people who have been devastated by the storm volunteering to help others. When I see that, I realize how lucky I am to live where I do, know the people I know, and why it will take more than a hurricane to hold us back. Seersucker 329 Smith Street (corner of Carroll) www.seersuckerrbrooklyn.com
I made it to my apartment in total darkness, let myself in, looked around and found that everything was safe, locked the windows and left. But the mood has stayed with me ever since. Most of us have power back now, but most of
And then we headed on foot towards Red Hook. You see, ever since the storm I had been staying in a largely untouched part of Manhattan; I hadn’t really seen the neighborhood at night. I needed some things. I needed to make sure my unattended apartment was still secure. I needed to make sure it was closed and shut against the nor’ easter that was in the forecast for the following day. But I also needed to see my home, my ground-floor apartment that held 2 feet of water just days before, and the possessions I left behind, and in a way to reclaim ownership of what I had. I just needed to see it again and feel myself enter the neighborhood. I needed to re-establish control. We walked from Smith down a well-lit Union Street towards Columbia, then down President Street into Red Hook. At that point, the lights stopped work-
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Hours: Noon to 10:30 pm Tues.to Thurs.Noon to 11pm Friday.4pm to 11pm Saturday & 4pm to 10:30pm Sunday.
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