Colonie’s Executive Chef Brad McDonald may have an intimidating resume (Alain Ducasse, Per Se, Copenhagen’s foraging sensation Noma) but the salt-of-the-earth Mississippi boy isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. We headed north with McDonald to Island Creek Farm on Cape Cod, where he’s been sourcing his oysters for nearly five years, but which he’s only recently started visiting. As McDonald tells us: “We’re at a point where we can develop very close relationships with our purveyors. This trip was spawned from a desire to see their production, but also to check out their surroundings and see if there is any forageable sea vegetation.”  This dedicated approach to ingredients has earned Brooklyn Heights’s Colonie rave reviews; in fact, the only non-local item they feature is Spanish octopus, which, says McDonald, is “unequalled from a ‘consistent quality of product’ point of view.” Luckily for us, there are plans afoot to open a space in DUMBO in the very near future, just steps from our office…

The nerve center at Island Creek Farm, Duxbury, MA.

Island Creek’s C.J. Husk takes advantage of low tide to forage for sea vegetation, a key ingredient in Chef McDonald’s Winter Oyster Stew.

Inside Island Creek’s “oysterplex.”

Another day at the office.

In order to wade, you need waders.

L to R: Island Creek’s Dana Hale, Colonie Sous Chef Johnny Black, Husk, McDonald.

The goods.

Making the soup stock.

Colonie’s Winter Oyster Stew with Foraged Sea Lettuce.         

Chef McDonald enjoying the fruits of his labor.

THIS ISSUE FEATURES:

David Cross: The Beast Inside

Adepero Oduye Should’ve Won An Oscar

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When I met David Cross, it was in a studio space in Williamsburg filled with old furniture, taxidermied animals, and medium-volume American rock music. Cross was being photographed for the pictures that will accompany this interview, and in the interest of efficiency, he had asked if I could speak to him while the makeup artist prepared him for the shoot. I got to the studio a little early, was frightened by a small stuffed tiger, and then sat and thought about Cross’s career, and particularly the way in which he has participated in several of the most acclaimed comedy series of our time, sometimes as a co-creator (Mr. Show), sometimes as a principal (Arrested Development), sometimes as an occasional guest star (Modern Family), while at the same time maintaining a career as a stand-up comedian (his last album, Bigger and Blackerer, was released in 2010), an author (his book, I Drink For a Reason, was published by Grand Central in 2009), and a writer-producer (The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret, a show he created and stars in about an American “businessman” in London, has run for two seasons on IFC).

It’s an impressive amount of work that maintains an impressive level of quality, which isn’t easy to do in any discipline, let alone in three or four at the same time. Maybe that’s why he came up with the idea of combining the interview with the photo shoot: more time to do good work elsewhere. Lest it seem like I am in the tank for Cross or anything, he arrived about five minutes late, and his beard was too bushy. But he was cordial, spoke clearly, and didn’t flail his arms around or make crazy faces while he spoke. We began by talking about Brooklyn, and specifically the fact that Cross and his girlfriend, the actress Amber Tamblyn, have recently moved to DUMBO. He answered the first few questions while he was getting pancake makeup put on his nose.

Ben Greenman: Since this Q&A is for Brooklyn Magazine, let’s start by talking about your recent move to Brooklyn.

David Cross: I should say first that while I’ve been to Brooklyn over the years, I’ve only been a resident for a few months. I want to get that out of the way first so people don’t accuse me of pretending to be something I’m not.

BG: How did the move come about?

DC: I had lived in the East Village for ten and a half years, and it got to feel like a different place. There were two factors. The first was the mall-ification of the area. We have two 7-Elevens.

BG: Who needs two?

DC: Who needs one? There’s that and a Subway and all these stores that don’t really need to be there. If I’m in the El Paso airport, fine, but the neighborhood had all this unique character that it no longer has. Then there’s the weekend crowd. I have a dog, so I have to go out at night to walk it, and there’s vomit on the ground, and drunk girls screaming “doggie!” I’ll give you an example: there’s this spot on Avenue B that used to have great dollar-burgers. Now it’s a place called Billy Hurricane’s.

BG: Is the name ironic, do you think?

DC: No. And look, I’ve been to that kind of place before. I was that guy who went with a group of friends and tried to get laid and everything else, but it happened in other places, when I was traveling, maybe. I don’t know. It makes for a certain kind of neighborhood, and it wasn’t the neighborhood I wanted anymore.

BG: So what led you to Brooklyn?

DC: Well, I was in London working on The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret, and I came home to a huge stack of mail. Normally I’d just toss some of it, but I went through it all mechanically for some reason, opened every envelope, and there was one of those letters from a realtor. You know: “Hi, I’m Jim from Coldwell Banker, and I have some news for you about what your apartment might be worth.” This one seemed more specific, somehow: it had specific information about my building, and about the apartment, which I owned. So I called back, and the next thing I know, my girlfriend and I are getting all our stuff and shoving it into bags or closets so the realtor can show the apartment. We went out with the dog, and 25 minutes later we got a call that the apartment had been shown. It turned out there was a serious offer. These people just had a baby, and they had been on the rental side of the building, and they wanted to stay and own. So that’s it. I sold. When we started to look, we thought we might buy a place. We looked in Park Slope and other neighborhoods. In the end, though, we settled on DUMBO. We’re renting for a year, and then after that we’ll see whether we stay or not.

BG: How is it different from Manhattan?

DC: Some of the ways are obvious. There’s more space. It’s quieter. I sleep better.

BG: Do the people seem different?

DC: As I said, we’ve only been there a few months, so I wouldn’t want to generalize, but I have noticed there are some differences. I have a certain amount of celebrity. It doesn’t mean I get recognized, really; often I’m just That Guy. You know: “Hey, it’s that guy.” So far here, there’s none of that at all. People just go about their business and you go about yours. But I’m looking forward to spending some time there. I haven’t been at home much yet. It was like that in the East Village, too: in ten years I was probably there not more than three months at any one time. My schedule for the last two months has been crazy: I went to Los Angeles, to San Francisco. I’m going to Hawaii. It’s not a bad thing. I’m used to it. But it is tiring in its own way.

BG: You’ve done many projects over the years. Much has been good, not only in the sense that it’s been critically acclaimed, but in the sense that it’s clearly something that has been cared for by writers and directors and actors. Other projects have been more generic. It’s hard to say that one thing is better…

DC: You can say something is better. I mean, obviously it’s subjective, but given that, there’s pretty good agreement that some projects are better than others.

BG: Ok. So what if the things that are better fall into obscurity and the things that are worse somehow succeed? At this point in your career, does that bother you?

DC: You can’t worry about it. It’s out of your control. If you look at all the work I’ve done, for example, most people would agree that Mr. Show and Arrested Development are right near the top. In those two cases, they weren’t especially successful shows when they first came out. They have gained some popularity over time. I think that the same process might happen with Todd Margaret. And yes, it’s gratifying when time brings that appreciation. It’s not really about standing on a mountain and saying, “I am a genius,” though. It’s about getting the opportunity to do more good work.

BG: That’s a pretty wise answer.

DC: That’s why you should come to my Learning Annex class.

BG: Were you as wise when you were younger, or was it more frustrating then?

DC: When I was younger, sometimes it was very frustrating. Take Run, Ronnie, Run, the movie that grew out of Mr. Show. Bob Odenkirk and I made that movie and that was supposed to get us out there and make us Judd Apatow, you know? We were supposed to be making movies with this same group of people for 15 years. And when that movie failed, it didn’t just put the brakes on. It derailed everything. People went off on their own, to their own projects. It’s turned out ok, but it was very difficult to deal with at the time.

BG: You mentioned the opportunity to do more good work. Are you interested in broadening the kinds of roles you do? This year, for example, Albert Brooks has gotten lots of acclaim, and almost an Oscar nomination, for his role in Drive. Would you want to try your hand at drama?

DC: Sure. As you can imagine, most of the things that I’m up for are comedy. Sometimes they’re very broad; sometimes they’re physical. I love doing that kind of thing, but I also think that I would be interested in doing a more serious role.

BG: Let’s talk about a very non-serious role: Tobias Funke, from Arrested Development. There was a nice moment at last year’s New Yorker Festival when the whole cast got together. It seemed like that was a group you liked working with.

DC: I did, and that was a great event. We hadn’t seen each other since the wrap party.

BG: And it seems like the rabid demand for more Arrested Development will finally be satisfied. What happens now with that? New episodes on Netflix and then a feature film?

DC: That’s the plan, as far as I understand it. You get your news from the same place that I get mine. I think what will happen is that there will be half-hour shows for each character summarizing what’s been happening since the show ended, so that there’s no extra explanation that has to happen when the movie comes along.

BG: That seems like a smart way to handle it. Have there been any huge changes, as far as you know?

DC: For the actors or the characters? I don’t know exactly what will happen to Tobias. We haven’t seen any scripts yet. If I had to guess, I would say that Buster and Maeby have probably had the most drastic changes in their life.

BG: Even without Arrested Development, you’ve maintained a small-screen presence. You’ve been doing guest spots on Modern Family as a local politician who emerges as a kind of nemesis for Claire Dunphy (Julie Bowen). And then there’s The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret, for which you’re both star and creator. That’s filmed in London. What’s the main difference?

DC: There’s much more tea involved.

BG: Was working over there a good experience?

DC: I know that people in this business speak in platitudes, but the people who worked on that show really were one of the nicest groups of people I’ve ever spent time with. We would go out afterward and drink and hang out. Other places I’ve worked were great, but that kind of thing didn’t happen. It wasn’t their culture.

BG: One of the things about British shows is that they don’t have the same kind of breakneck production pace, which means that quality can be maintained. There’s this new version of Sherlock Holmes called Sherlock, and a full season is three 90-minute episodes. It’s hard to imagine that in American TV.

DC: That was a big draw. A season is six episodes, and you get to write all of them in advance, before you do any filming.

BG: Before you go, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask about Alvin and the Chipmunks. There was a controversy because you said some things that were critical of an executive who worked on the movie.

DC: I did. It was one woman in particular, a horrible, mean, bitter woman. I assume she’s bitter. But it wasn’t like I called a press conference to talk about her. I was asked a question in an interview and I was honest about answering it. The experience making the movie was awful and I said so. I got lots of supportive comments and lots of critical ones, but my favorite were the ones where people said I shouldn’t have kept the money from the movie. Say you do a job for me, something in my house, and I’m a total jerk to you. I won’t let you use the bathroom. I say there will be food for you and then there’s no food. At the end of the job, I pay you, and then after that you tell people I was impossible to work for. Does that mean you have to give me my money back? •

Make-Up: Brit Cochran • Hair: Bethany Brill • Location: Acme Studios
Models: Maria And Hannah @ Trump

H. Fredriksson Dress

Dusen Dusen cuffed tee from Life:Curated • Elizabeth Knight Jewelry shield earrings

Right: Jennifer Chun Suede Tank-Vest • Stolen Girlfriends Club Silk Flare-Pants From Dear Fieldbinder • Stolen Girlfriends Club Cropped Tee From Dear Fieldbinder • Left: Stolen Girlfriends Club Gothic Shirt Dress From Dear Fieldbinder

Samantha Pleet Artifact Jumpsuit • Collina Strada Shirt• Species By The Thousands Chasm Bangles And Trapezoid Ring • Won Hundred Hand Platform

Young & Ng antique gold cuff • DVF dress from Zoe

Sunset Park’s Adepero Oduye should’ve been nominated for an Oscar. There, we said it. Her performance in Pariah—as a Fort Greene teenager navigating the difficult territory of coming out—is truly powerful, filled with grace and humor; it stays with you long after the lights come up. But you don’t have to take our word for it, just enjoy this adjective salad from the country’s foremost critics: “incandescent” (NY Times),  “exceptional” (Village Voice), “unforgettable” (Rolling Stone), “luminous” (Washington Post).

It’s not surprising, of course, that Oduye was so convincing as a 17-year-old Brooklynite, considering she was born and raised in Sunset Park, one of seven children of Nigerian immigrants. She was also asked by Pariah writer-director Drew Rees to do some serious research, and found herself briefly immersed in gay Brooklyn subculture—as Rees tells it: “[Adepero] killed it. She was always willing to go there for me, without self-consciousness and without flinching. I had her and [co-star Pernell Walker] go to Dave & Buster’s in costume, to see what it feels like to be a masculine-identified woman in a straight environment. I had them go to a gay club so they could see how it feels to be a masculine-identified woman in a lesbian environment.”

This level of dedication came naturally to Oduye, who actually started out in pre-med at Cornell (following in her father’s footsteps); luckily for all of us, Oduye soon caught the acting bug, in no small part (as she told the Denver Post) thanks to coming across Robert Duvall in The Apostle on afternoon TV—the role for which he was nominated for an Oscar he would lose to Jack Nicholson. Oduye might not get her Oscar this year, but at least she’s in good company. •

Giovannio wide-brim straw hat

Mercura wire-rim sunglasses

photos Samantha Casolari
stylist TJ Gustave
make up John Barnett
hair Lacy Redway
location trumbull STUDIOS

text by Henry Stewart

photos Samantha Sutcliffe

If we handed you a map of Kings County, could you identify the borders of South Greenfield, Blythebourne or Vanderveer Park? According to a 1919 map, all were once recognized Brooklyn neighborhoods, though contemporary denizens would cock their brows at a neighbor’s insistence that he or she lives in any of them now. Some neighborhoods seem constant; others get renamed, or are swallowed up by surrounding communities, or simply vanish from the map. In our own time, there are several Brooklyn neighborhoods of which you may never have heard, whose boundaries could quickly become blurred in the collective consciousness of Brooklynites old and new. To the ears of the next generation, Georgetown might sound as alien as Van Pelt Manor does to our own.

For now, it’s a subdivision of Bergen Beach, on the site of a development planned in the 1960s called Georgetowne Greens, which was never built, according to Forgotten NY. Housing, though, has been built over the ensuing decades; it practically looks like Florida down there now, just without the palm trees (or any trees, really). Other such endangered neighborhoods include Mapleton, which stands where Bensonhurst, Borough Park and Midwood bump up against each other; it was developed around World War I, and its most prominent feature is the expansive Washington Cemetery. Remsen Village is a subsection of East New York that takes its name from Remsen Avenue, which cuts through the ’hood like a vertex through a triangle. (The Remsens were a family of Dutch settlers whose New Amsterdam roots go back to the 17th century; they also lend their name to Remsen Street in Brooklyn Heights.) King’s Bay is a large rectangular area on the eastern end of Sheepshead Bay whose history is not so easily dug up. For starters—do the King’s Bay Houses give the area its name, or vice versa? “I am pretty sure that the houses are named after the area,” a staffer at the local community board tells us. And if anyone can tell us where Kensington ends and Parkville begins, you’d be the first.

No part of Brooklyn has more micro-communities than Victorian Flatbush, where 11 byzantine subdivisions occupy two-and-a-half square miles between Coney Island and Flatbush avenues, from Caton Avenue to Avenue H, many no larger than a few square blocks. “Each of the eleven neighborhoods is unique, with their own architectural styles and histories,” according to one real-estate website, but how long before these particulars are forgotten—before Albermarle-Kenmore Terrace is as lost to history as Westminster Heights Park?

jean-michel basquiat

Vans Era Pro, $52 at KCDC Skate Shop  • Spitfire Novocaine sunglasses, $38 at Alter  • Debora Lipman nail polish, $16 at CatBird  • FSMNY gold crown ring, $80 at  fancysexyme.com  • Montana Gold white spray paint, at Artist & Craftsman

Whale bottle-opener, $23 at A&G Merch  • Harry Allen gold banana bowl, $280 at The Future Perfect
Goorin Bros. Old Gulph hat, $125 • AMERICAN OPTICAL safety glasses, $79 at Hickoree’s Hard Goods Alessandro Zambelli gold soup can, $18 at The Future Perfect  • Jensen jta-475 turntable, $149 at Insound

truman capote

Dan Funderburgh

city park wallpaper, $150 (per roll) at Flavor Paper  • Kaweco pens, $25-50 at Modern Anthology  • Ashtray from MeMe Antenna  • ROYAL typewriter, from Ugly Luggage  • Porcelain cat figurine, from Ugly Luggage  • Silver lamp, from Ugly Luggage

FiELD NOTES (3 pack), $10 at Hickoree’s Hard Goods  • TRUMAN journal cover, $110 at Hickoree’s Hard Goods Tombow 8900 pencils, $19 at Hickoree’s Hard Goods  • Bone comb, $30 at Hollander & Lexer  • Black singing sparrow, $10 at  The Future Perfect  • Altered antique plate, $44 at A&G Merch  • THUNDERWING PRESS letterpress notecards, $39 at Hickoree’s Hard Goods  • MENSCH frames, $225 at Moscot  • LOVE AND VICTORY His/Hers/Ours decanter set, $98 at love-and-victory.com Apple candle, $7 at A&G Merch  • Elephant porcelain container, $49 at The Future Perfect

patti smith and robert mapplethorpe

Polaroid camera at Dijital Fix  • Kraft Notes notebook,  $7 at Dijital Fix  • Tourne pencils, $4 at Brook Farm General Store
Horse figurine at Ugly Luggage  • Vinyl at MeMe Antenna  • astali feather and bone necklace, at astali.com • Marina Matia skull bracelet, $28 at Giorgie Jewelry

Jutta Neumann Tony sandal, $295 at Hollander & Lexer  • Button doll, $55 at Hollander & Lexer  • Hollander & Lexer Rose Water + Essential Oil 2, $25 at Hollander & Lexer  • Resin butterfly at Hollander & Lexer  • Jumbo hourglass at A&G Merch  • Black rosary and leather shell necklace, $15 at Hollander & Lexer  • Magnifying glass at A&G Merch  • crosley traveler turntable, $130 at Insound

Dear SLG,

So, hey, I grew up in Bay Ridge. I recently moved to Williamsburg and I’m getting all sorts of grief from old neighborhood friends about being a yuppie-scum gentrifier. What should I tell them? Are they right?

Thanks, Bay Ridge-iamsburg

Let me tell you a story: once, a long time ago, I loved a woman. It lasted a little while and then it ended. We parted as friends. She was a singer. She went on to date a guy who was a musician. After they were together about a year, she had a minor success providing the backing vocals for a song written by another artist, a man who wasn’t her boyfriend. She was successful because her vocals were beautiful, and also because she herself was beautiful: she was in the video for a moment, and people had to catch their breath when they saw her.

Her boyfriend, who had previously respected her, started to carp and complain. He told her that she hadn’t done a good job with the vocals. He told her that the performance was thin, that it was lacking in real passion and fire. He was complaining from envy, of course, pure and simple, but she couldn’t see it. She felt terrible being criticized this way by the person whose approval she depended upon the most. She fell into a mild depression and stopped singing. The second man, the artist who had hired her to sing backup, started being more supportive, because he sensed that she needed his support, and slowly she vacated her relationship with her boyfriend and entered a new relationship with him.

They got married.

They moved to Williamsburg, where they live upstairs from a bar; for a while, they ran a blog where they tracked all the new Mexican restaurants. I think it was called “Holy Mole.” They bought a Saab. At some point, she stopped talking to me because I made fun of the way she would only buy organic produce. So, in short, yes, your friends are right.

Dear Self-Loather,

I’ve been hearing all about this new entrepreneurial Brooklyn economy… How can I get in on that shit?

I can’t disclose the answer in print. You understand, right? Everyone would want in. Once I hinted at the answer on Twitter and people just went nuts. So here’s what I’ll do, just for you. Put $50 in an envelope and send it to me, care of Brooklyn Magazine. When I get it, I’ll send you back a tip sheet that will tell you everything you need to know about breaking into Brooklyn’s new economy.

Vintage overalls, white shirt and vintage neck scarf from 10 Ft. Single by Stella Dallas
Button-down shirt from What Comes Around Goes Around

Nicholas K white jacket from Life:Curated   • Yigal Azrouel blue coat
Shipley & Halmos white striped shirt & jeans Brooklyn Denim Company knit cap
Woolrich Woolen Mills blue vest

Love Brigade pants • Lost Art fur hat & cape • Nicholas K leather coat from Life:Curated
Vintage boots from 10 Ft. Single by Stella Dallas   • Camo vest from Feltraiger

photos Emiliano Granado
styling Priscilla Polley
prop styling Stephen Caputo
grooming Brit Cochran
location Acme Studios
models Cole, Kyle and Samba @ Red Management

Text And Photos: Amanda Park Taylor

Interesting homes are created one of two ways. The vast majority are created either by trained professionals or enthusiast-residents. Pros are pros, accredited, or apprenticed. Enthusiast owners follow the pros, read their books, magazines, and blogs, and Pinterest themselves into a frenzy of careful detail and curatorship.

The other kind of remarkable home is much rarer. It is the product of personality. It’s a house without design icons (no Eames chairs or antler lamps), but with a purpose. Rather than prove a point about its owners’ curatorial prowess, it serves its residents’ higher-order needs.

The Bushwick house of Gian Carlo Feleppa, and his partner Jennifer “Frosty” Hoopes, is amazingly and wonderfully in the latter category: it’s a four-story brick mansion chockablock with mouldings, stained glass, and fantastic woodwork (and other people: the band Shellshag are roommates, and brother Tim Feleppa lives on the top floor. “He’s the bat in our belfry,” says Gian Carlo). But it hasn’t been renovated to within an inch of its life. Except for the addition of an amazing outdoor shower, it’s hardly been renovated at all.

Instead, Feleppa (guitar) and Hoopes (bass), formerly of the bands Emergency Party and The Mink Lungs, have filled the house with collections that feed their passion: making, and listening to, music. Just inside the front door a (very) old wind-up 78 RPM phonograph presides over shelves and shelves of 78 discs. “I love this thing—I can take it outside in the summer: no batteries needed!” crows Gian Carlo as he cranks, then demonstrates how to modify the player’s volume by stuffing a woolen hat into it (there is no volume control and, hatless, the thing is LOUD).

Band art from invites and posters mixes with an eclectic collection of vintage posters, photographs, and prints. A row of very pulpy novels crowds the top of an organ in the front hall. Mannequin torsos (and other parts) lurk in corners and loom from the walls. A disco ball spins in the kitchen. The aesthetic is decidedly “More is more.”

But the real collection awaits upstairs, where thousands of LPs line the walls of the living room, hallway, and master bedroom. “The bedroom’s M through Z,” Gian Carlo explains, as though that’s all that needs to be said about sharing one’s sleeping space with a 15-foot wall of music. Not to mention the collection of 45s that fills another, smaller wall, and the five-foot stack of board games next to the bed.

When asked about his aesthetic, Feleppa looks back to his days as a buyer of used records, and visits to sellers’ homes. “The places that were inspirational to me were the places that had records everywhere. You know, you’d go in and there’d be records on both sides of the toilet.” But the records aren’t just for show, or, heaven forbid, commerce. “The problem with selling records is that then you don’t have the records anymore,” he explains.

The turntable in the living room (not to be confused with the turntables in the front hall, music room, or their four-year-old daughter Ea’s room) is the focus of the home—Gian heads for it almost immediately, and pops a record on. Contemporary Brooklyn indie rock gives way to The Coasters, which then cedes the deck to “Heidi,” Ea’s current obsession. The reshelve pile, larger than most people’s entire record collections, grows a little bit more.

But there’s surprisingly little chaos—Hoopes and Feleppa have managed to tame an astounding number of objects and create a home that is both comfortable and inspiring, from its basement collage studio to the music room, where he records a couple of records a year, these days mostly on the sitar. Some of that is Hoopes’ doing: there are no records around the toilet, and some conventions are maintained. “She’ll come home and immediately put the curtains down for privacy. And she goes and I immediately put them up again. I’m an exhibitionist—I’d walk around naked all day in front of open windows if I could.”

With a house this cool to do it in, who can blame him? •