As you probably know, Dallas BBQ packed up last fall...and you'd never guess what's taking its spot...
On the other side of the street, Joyce Leslie is moving to Broadway and Bond. Perhaps a good spot for a bank?
Good! Need to stock up!
On the other side of the street, Joyce Leslie is moving to Broadway and Bond. Perhaps a good spot for a bank?
Good! Need to stock up!
To access the Win Won, you simply need to mosey down this inviting-looking passageway.
I stopped by a little before noon. No one was dining inside, where you're treated to a view of darkness and construction debris. The place seems to do a healthier delivery business.
For the record, I ventured further down the sidewalk to check out this other store front. Not much going on. The front door was open that led to a small hallway. I didn't stick around.
In any event, sure, the Win Won isn't the greatest Chinese restaurant that ever existed, but it's certainly serviceable. More important, though, it's an inexpensive alternative to an area now catering to a more upscale market. With more and more condos going up, this area caters to the yunnies. Witness the openings in the last year of more familiar white-bread chains on Maiden Lane, including yet another Subway, Papa John's, Chipotle and one of those expensive custom salad places. Meanwhile, the mom-and-pop places for non-executive-type workers are seemingly becoming scarce.
For now, the Win Won continues to operate while the 20-story Wyndham Garden Hotel at 20 Maiden Lane inches skyward. This one is a doozy: The hotel is L-shaped and wraps around three low-rise buildings that sit on the corner of Maiden and Nassau.
These shots by Lofter1 on Wired New York provide a better look.
Then it gets really beautiful:
At least, you could argue, Miranda has a job, as a lawyer. But the film pays it zero attention, and the other women expect her to drop it and fly to Mexico without demur. (And she does.) Worse still is the sneering cut as the scene shifts from Carrie, carefree and childless in the New York Public Library, to the face of Miranda’s young son, smeared with spaghetti sauce. In short, to anyone facing the quandaries of being a working mother, the movie sends a vicious memo: Don’t be a mother. And don’t work. Is this really where we have ended up—with this superannuated fantasy posing as a slice of modern life?