ON HOT SUMMER DAYS, the Venice Beach Boardwalk bustles with the frenzied verve of a Moroccan bazaar—the crowds are thick; the sights and performers are peculiar; the energy is palpable.
But on this evening, as a gentle February breeze whistles by, the scene is markedly quieter. The sun yawns in the distance, a hazy blend of honey and soft pink rippling across the sky. The street vendors are packing up their wares and the decibel levels have dropped, but the area’s vivid character remains intact—in fact, it feels more pronounced, focused, tangible. This is Venice stripped of the spectacle, and what’s left behind is vaguely reminiscent of its Italian namesake: raw, moving beauty, full of ripened textures and idiosyncrasies.
Well, it’s been an interesting few days here at Handlebar. Unfortunately for those of you who regularly read the site, it hasn’t been quite as interesting, mainly because we haven’t put up any new content. But there’s a good reason for that: At some point late last week, an unidentified doofus decided to inject malicious code into our scripts. If you tried to check out the site over the weekend or early this week, you may have been redirected to some online contest scam—sorry about that.
We’re happy to announce, however, that as of now it appears that we have resolved the issue. We’ve been in touch with the fine people hosting our server, and they’ve given us the all clear. Rest assured, we’ll be redoubling our protective efforts and will be keeping a vigilant watch for this type of thing from here on in.
That said, expect some kickass new content in short order here at Handlebar—we owe you guys, and we’ll make good on that promise in the upcoming weeks.
So please do click over and explore the site freely once again, because we love having you around. Now if you just leave your SSN and bank account info in the comments, we’ll be sure to send out your FREE gift!
—Yang-Yi Goh and Jeremy Wolf
Co-Founders, Handlebar Magazine
This week, Gorillaz, James Murphy and Andre 3000 score one for capitalism; Paris Hilton commits an auditory crime against humanity; Courtney Love earns her place in the Twitter Hall of Infamy; Pixar returns to form with its first female-driven feature; Suburgatory successfully breaks every sitcom rule in the book; and CM Punk lays the verbal smackdown on Chris Brown.
WHILE LIVING IN LONDON a few years ago, I discovered that virtually all of the stereotypes I had heard about the United Kingdom were true: it rains all the time, Britons have bad teeth, and their food sucks.
As both Paul Krugman and NPR have elucidated, the current cuisine was standardized during the Victorian era, when early urbanization and industrialization forced Londoners to eat canned goods, preserved meats, and root vegetables that store well. The culinary bastards that emerged from that period include lard-rich meat pasties, gravy-laden steaks and bangers, and unimaginative, oily fish and chips, sometimes served with a sad afterthought of mushy peas.
That’s why I was intrigued to discover The Fat Radish, a British-influenced eatery in New York City’s Lower East Side. Opened in October 2010, the restaurant is a spin-off of Silkstone, a premium event planning and catering company, and the brainchild of Ben Towill, Phil Winser, and Executive Chef Nicholas Wilber. With curiosity and high expectations, a friend and I decided to check it out.
THE HEAT IS officially on.
Since Linsanity began, the Knicks have gone 9-2. They topped the likes of the Mavericks, the defending champions, and the Lakers at home. They slipped up against the lowly Hornets and Nets, but they responded after each defeat. Just three of the Knicks’ last 11 games have been on the road, though. Linsanity swept through Washington, Minnesota and Toronto and the legend continued to blossom with each victory. Tonight, the time has come for Jeremy Lin and the new Knicks to face their toughest challenge yet.
Tonight, Linsanity heads to South Beach.