The city that never sleeps is always eating.

For the privilege of eating our fill in New York, we paid with the clothes off our backs. Literally. That's thanks to Northwest Airlines (aka. "The Devil of the Skies"), who turned our hour-and-a-half layover in Minnesota into a fifteen minute mad dash to catch our connection. Needless to say, our bags couldn't run that fast. So if we happen to look a little haggard in our first few days of photos, you know why.

When we'd left Portland, the forecast for the weekend predicted some unseasonably-late snow, so we were pretty pleased to wake up Saturday at P's uncles' house in New Jersey to find 75 degree weather. If left to our own travel plans, we probably would have blown off the touristy sites in favor of more food, but P's uncle Warren swept us out of the house and into the city for a walking tour of Midtown. In the span of two hours, Warren gave us an in-depth architectural history of more sites than we would see for the rest of the week. Empire State Building. Check. Chysler Building. Check. Central Library. Check. Grand Central Station and a nearby Earth Day festival. Double check.

Not to worry - the rest of the day was spent tracking down food. After a pleasant outdoor lunch on Bryant Park, we rendezvoused with A's friend Hannah at her Brooklyn apartment. Still thinking of New York in terms of Portland-scale (a hang-up we'd have for most of the trip), we decided to take a "quick" jaunt down to Red Hook to find some key lime pies we'd heard about. Hannah, the most seasoned of the three of us, knew the trip would take over an hour, but she was easy-going and we were determined, so we ventured out undeterred. After a long subway ride, we were treated to an even longer walk across a warehouse-district of chop-shops and housing projects. Safe? Maybe not. Classic P & A trip? Most definitely. Still, Brooklyn is a funny place; where else would you emerge from a half-mile of identical project complexes to find a full organic farm and an IKEA?

At long, sweaty last, we reached our destination - Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies. This was a very good thing, because at this point Hannah was beginning to doubt not only our navigational skills, but the very existence of key lime pie in Red Hook. But there it was, hidden inside a tropical-oasis garden center on the end of a pier. The name of Steve's place is accurate because they serve nothing other than key lime pie, doing most of their business with grocers and special pie orders. So did we really venture to the furthest tip of Brooklyn to eat a whole pie? No - we came for the Swingle. This delicious confection consists of a miniature key lime pie, frozen, dipped in chocolate, and on a stick. It is cool, tart, creamy and refreshing. Simply put, it blows other stick-foods out of the water. The corn dog, the popsicle, the kebab - none of these delicacies compare to the glory of the Swingle. A is already planning home-spun Swingle tributes to enjoy over the Portland summer.

Thus revived, we decided to get dinner. Back up in Williamsburg, we headed to Fette Sau, a Brooklyn barbecue joint that is essentially a well-decorated alley. At the counter, we selected from assorted piles of meat and paid by the pound. At the bar, we ordered local microbrews by the half- or full gallon. This was bulk eating we could get behind. Our baking sheet full of food included pulled pork shoulder, spicy sausage, pork ribs, burnt-end beans, half-sour pickles, and yeasty rolls. The ribs were underwhelming, but everything else more than whelmed us. The pulled pork was sweet and tender and brightened by the vinegar sauce served on the side. We devoured the smoky-sweet beans and loved the half-sours (see the parallels between deli pastrami and bbq?). Still, it was the spicy sausage that stood out above the rest, especially when accompanied by the sweet Georgia BBQ sauce and sopped up with a bit of fluffy roll. They tasted like spicy kielbasa and P swears they were braised in Coca-Cola. Despite being washed down with some Black Wheat beer from Sixpoint Brewery, all of that salty food put us in the mood for some dessert.

You all know that we have a special place in our hearts for carts, so it should come as no surprise that we got our dessert from a truck. Not just any truck, but a truck with fine dining credentials. Started by a former Le Cirque pastry chef and his friend, Dessert Truck has been serving $5 gourmet desserts for the last year from a corner near NYU. These are gourmet desserts for the people. A and Hannah both opted for the obligatory peanut butter and chocolate concoction: a chocolate mousse with a creamy peanut butter center and caramel popcorn on top. It was delicious, playful, and reminiscent of childhood treats - an upscale Reese's peanut butter cup, if you will. It must be said, however, that P's choice took the cake (or, rather, the bread pudding). The decadent chocolate bread pudding (almost like an ultra-rich mousse) was topped with a creme anglaise and, not having had enough pork for one evening, P opted for the special bacon infused cream. Oink, oink.

This may seem like a bout of frantic eating (all of the food above was consumed in the span of four hours), but in all fairness, we were on deadline. The next morning we would be leaving the city for two days to visit P's grandparents in Scranton, PA, a place not known for its rich culinary legacy...

or is it?

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Steve's Key Lime Pies - Pier 41, 204 Van Dyke St, Brooklyn; good luck figuring out a close subway
Fette Sau - 354 Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn; L @ Bedford
Dessert Truck - University Pl. nr. 8th St.; 6 @ Astor Place; N, R, W @ NYU/8th