Brooklyn-Style
Hyper slick terraced courts, late night parties, and next gen grandma's cooking
SCHEDULE:
9:00am | Lincoln Terrace Park // $Free
10:15am | Agi’s Counter
We pushed off early last week with our sights set on the courts in Fort Greene Park. Brooklyn can be dicey tennis-wise though—there are simply way too few courts for a borough named Kings. Only two parks—McCarren and Prospect—even have a reservation system. Almost all the courts in Brooklyn are some version of walk-on only, including Fort Greene which was an epic fail on this morning as it often is. We scrambled to Van Voorhees Park where we're among the few players desperate enough to hit on these heavily crevassed makeshift courts located in the armpit of a BQE interchange. Shut out as well.
According to the USTA, since 2020 the number of people playing tennis has jumped more than 30%. NYC residents buying season tennis permits has also exploded during those same five years, by about 20% per year. Many of these newbies it appears, live in hip Brooklyn. Add to that the unfortunate reality that no new courts have been built in the city since Prohibition, and the two of us kvetching and ping ponging from park to park looking for a place to hit in Brooklyn at 8am is nothing new.
Fortunately, we're experienced interboro playas so we don't venture to Brooklyn without a back-up back-up plan. Almost always that is Lincoln Terrace Park, one of the easiest courts in the city to simply walk-on. And maybe for good reason: it's a heavily trafficked schlep to this park in the belly of the borough, straddling the border of Crown Heights and Brownsville; the courts are extra weathered, super slick and beyond fast, almost unplayable for us non-regulars; and in glorious Brooklyn fashion, the 3 train rises from underground right along the court's eastern fence, accelerating and screeching inches from the doubles alley every few minutes. There's also the incident right out of a Law & Order episode that took place a few years ago just inside the court's main gate, which maybe we won't go into.
It's definitely not Boca. Thankfully though. There's also a lot to love about these always available courts. There are eleven of them on three stone terraced levels (hence the name of the park) which gives the courts an unusual Romanesque grandeur. Everyone knows Charlie, who holds down the sign-up sheet like a chair ump. In fact he is the chair of the local non-profit which has been keeping these courts bustling for over 60 years, serving the neighborhood’s large Caribbean community. Some locals call it the "Rasta Country Club," and for decades it has come to life in the evening as crowds gather to watch the better local players do battle. Vendors show-up and the jerk chicken sizzles, breadfruit roasts, and goat stews. Throw in some drinks and many a night it's a neighborhood party under the lights until well after the posted 1am closing. "New York is about making the best of what you got," one of the spectators recently pined. "These courts aren't the best, but we've made the best of what we got."
When we arrived the other day, people were anxiously waiting and Charlie was nowhere to be found. On mornings like this we often mutter about giving up on the goose chase, maybe we should just skip tennis and eat. But we didn't, as we never do, and Charlie showed up, order was restored, and we got on a court. The tennis, like Brooklyn, was messy and chaotic: wild swings, framed shots and balls from all courts flying everywhere…plus lots of apologizing that no one could hear over the screech of the 3 train. We walked off relieved neither of us got injured, wishing there were a little roti and a couple of rum punches waiting for us outside the gate.
We were in the shadow of lunchtime when Dave parked the new Blüber in a meter spot and Hungry Like the Wolf. It was too early for roti but we kept it local and went Eastern European at Agi’s Counter in Crown Heights. Chef Jeremy Salamon not only lovingly borrowed his Grandmother’s name but infused her Hungarian roots into a casual up-scale menu. Located on a block of Franklin Avenue frozen in the 90s, Agi’s vibe is a mix of classic diner and chic café. And while it may not be your actual Bubbe’s home, once inside, you can imagine her working the stove.
The Green Devils called from the menu sign outside: picture red carpet deviled eggs, luxurious and paparazzi ready. Chef keeps the yolks squidgy inside a cocoon of bouncy whites and tops with a whipped cloud of mixed yolks and sunshine. Both halves are plated on a bed of EVO and garnished with pickled cucumber and the cutest of dill trees. Because they look so pretty, I suppressed my urge to indulge the whole bit at once, pushing through with my fork as if we were on a first date and I pined for a second. Note: I’m still waiting on his call.
There are a handful of cozy tables in the back but we like a good counter and they have two with windows—one in the front with a view outside and the other facing the kitchen, close enough to catch the cook’s banter. We’ve never met a Tuna Melt we didn’t like and Agi’s elevates the Jewish Deli classic. Their Confit take is served on griddled potato pullman with alpine cheddar and accompanied by a side of cabbage slaw and mustard. The buttery bread provides just enough bite to support the tender blue-water filling.
The front of house team all beam with welcoming smiles and an enjoy-your-stay attitude, while being well versed in what’s being served and how to pronounce the unpronounceable Hungarian dishes. One of our faves, the Palacsinta, is a warm handkerchief crepe with seasonal fillings and a healthy block of butter sailing on a golden sea of syrup. It is simply divine eats and yes, we botch the name every time.
As you’d expect from a James Beard nominated chef, Agi’s bakery game is all-pro. Along with a classic NY style Cheesecake, they offer Sacher Torte on Fridays and Donuts on Sunday. All of which pair dashingly with an Iced Ovaltine Espresso. And because I’m an undisciplined glutton, I ordered a chunky slice of Spanikopita Babka Loaf, warmed of course, for the ride home…
SCORELINE:
11s: Paul 2, Dave 2
21s: Dave 🍩, Paul 2