"The steak is a little toasted, but the pork loin should be fine," I explained, manning the spatula in one hand and a Porkslap in the other.

"Yah, we should have put the all the new coals on one side and left the other side open," the grilling expert announced. Sporting a Slayer T-shirt, LA Dodgers hat, a mustache reminiscent American West and smelling like a Grateful Dead show, he gingerly prodded the steak with his index finger. "How long ago did you flip them?"

Acknowledging my inferior understanding of cooking steaks, I relinquished the spatula, "Maybe a minute or two ago."

"I'm Foster, by the way," I interjected, extending my hand around the grill.


Knowing only two people at a packed rooftop party in south Williamsburg, I had smelled an uncharacteristic smoke pluming from the holes of a Weber and took point on the grill. Lightly burning my fingers on the handle of the grill, I quickly flipped the steak and pork loin. With a spatula in hand, I watched the colors change on the Manhattan skyline.



The Williamsburg Bridge.

My conversation continued with Craig for 20 minutes or so. Despite his quintessential Williamsburg appearance, Craig was a managing director at a five-billion dollar convertible arbitrage (google it) hedge fund. He also was an Economics and Computer Science double major. Some people you only meet in New York City.

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