Botte di Ferro by Ben Gassman

If you’ve ever loved someone, and hated them almost as much, then there is a play in Red Hook, Brooklyn that you need to see. Botte di Ferro lets you into a relationship that cycles relentlessly through euphoria and agony from adolescence to adulthood. Written by Ben Gassman, Botte di Ferro combines depth of emotion with precise and inventive direction from Tara Elliott.

Phone conversations, trips to the candy store, hospital visits, and study abroad escapades all bring us back to a Neapolitan pizzeria under the watchful gaze of Mount Vesuvius. The actors are completely vulnerable, wearing all of their emotions like tattoos.

The waiter (Alessandro Magania) and piazzola (Laura Caparrotti) guide the audience and the couple through an enchanted evening. Everything is a specialty of the house, including pizza, clams, and beautiful embellishments. They each give soliloquies that demand the eyes and ears of every audience member as they pour their hearts out in beautiful Italian. You don’t need to know what they’re saying. You can read it in their eyes and hear it in their voices.

She (Layla M. Khoushnoudi) needs just one scene to flash her “evil” wit, intoxicating affection, rage, and despair. Her capacity to inflict pain on Him is matched only by her willingness to suffer it again and again as the relationship hits its peaks and valleys. She knows exactly what she wants right now, but no one knows what she will want next.

He (Jess M. Barbagallo) doesn’t know what he wants. He can’t tell Her or the audience what’s going through his head. All he knows is he wants Her, no matter how fiercely they fight, or how many times he sabotages himself. The good moments are so good that it’s worth saying “Yes” to love now, knowing that tomorrow it could all unravel again.

The romance is too intense to handle for the entire production, so director Tara Elliott devised a brilliant way to give the audience periodic snippets of relief while keeping it hooked. The first comes thirty minutes into the play, when emotional fatigue starts to set in. Just when you think you can’t handle another beautiful disaster, the cast breaks into dance and lifts the audience out of heavy emotions and into carefree, creative bliss. For a few of these enchanted moments, you can breathe before being thrown back into the waves.

Botte di Ferro skips the shyness and pleasantness of the early stages of a relationship, giving the audience a heavy pour of real emotion. There is no like, no nice. There is love, hate, ecstasy, pain, truth, and lies. You will want to always never be in a dysfunctional relationship ever again for the rest of your life.

Balancero

On a sleepy September morning, off the corner of 31st Avenue and 37th Street, I noticed small wooden seats arranged under a small oak tree, and the gentle beat of "On & On" by Erykah Badu coming from a tiny café. The awning read, Balancero: artisan coffee and baked goods. Two blocks from the roaring engines of Steinway Street, this café provides a welcoming respite from the daily realities of life in New York City. It's nothing short of magic.

There weren't any customers around, but when I looked through the window I could see a slim barista prepping sandwiches for the day. In no hurry to return to my apartment, I waited until he arranged the sandwiches and approached the service window.

 

"Good morning. I love this song."

"Erykah Badu. She's a genius."

"I'm Sam." 
"Shone. It's like Sean with an 'A' at the end. Can I make you some coffee?"

"Please. Black drip. Medium."

 

This was my first exchange with the owner of Balancero. It was a simple conversation, but it represented one of the features that make Balancero exceptional. It's a pure, pleasant, uncomplicated experience. I reached for my wallet to pay for the coffee.

 

"What's the rush? Pay later. Enjoy."

 

The coffee smelled earthy and sweet. It didn't have a distinguishing characteristic. It was just coffee, but better - like Shone had caught the real coffee out of a sea of admirable imposters. I sat outside to watch the neighborhood wake up while my coffee cooled. Other customers strolled to the window, often accompanied by their dogs and kids. Many of them clearly knew Shone well, and spoke with him in a language I didn't recognize. They talked and laughed together like family. A tall man sat down across from me. We introduced ourselves and exchanged small talk. We shared a love for basketball, and talked about our experience playing and watching the game. He told me that many of the customers were from Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia, and Slovenia. He recounted the ways the neighborhood evolved since he first moved here. It turned out we were close neighbors. When I finished my coffee, I approached the window to pay and say goodbye to Shone.

 

"That was the best coffee I've had in a long time."

"Thank you. We like to say 'let coffee be coffee again.' Cheers, see you tomorrow."

 

I walked home thinking about how extraordinary that visit was. It was so clearly the way a café should be. I couldn't wait to return and learn more about Shone and Balancero. In the weeks that followed, I met more customers, picked up a few Serbian phrases, and felt like part of my neighborhood in a way I never had before. Shone (pronounced Shawn-A) has an unmatched attention to detail for the design of the shop, the flavor of the beverages, and customer service. His past work at Employees Only and Macao instilled in him the importance of quality in both the product and the experience. He gives every customer his undivided attention, and adds fine touches that make the simplest orders feel special. He perfectly wraps the pastries by hand with a Balancero sticker, rips the straws so customers can easily remove them without worrying about germs, and makes drinks with precision. The man will stop at nothing to help another person. "Inspiring" doesn't begin to do him justice. After my introduction to Shone, I had the pleasure of meeting Zoki and Mia. Zoran (or Zoki) is a talented and experienced chef who makes delectable sandwiches and pastries. Some of his fresh daily creations include:

  • croissant sandwiches with prosciutto, tomato, mozzarella, and pesto
  • vanilla and chocolate custard doughnuts
  • plain and chocolate croissants
  • sweet and savory overnight oats

Zoki also has a masterful ear for music, and creates playlists that complement the mood of each day. On rainy days, customers are likely to hear the soothing strings of Ali Farka Touré. On sunny ones, he plays a combination of funk and jazz that creates a low buzz of energy. Customers sway with to the rhythm. The music and food entice first-time customers to try something new, but it's his welcoming and patient personality that brings them back for a daily dose of positivity. Mia shares Zoki's passion for music and hospitality. Her parents have both enjoyed successful careers in the business as artists and club owners, and Mia has absorbed so much of their knowledge. She has amazing stories to share, and fantastic recommendations for music. She adds a burst of vibrant energy to the café that provides a perfect afternoon pick-me-up. Placing an order with Mia feels like visiting a good friend for an impromptu catch-up session. Together, Shone, Zoki, and Mia built a culture out of their café. Beyond enjoying the experience, their customers play a major role in creating it as part of a positive feedback loop. The pleasure of getting a coffee there is feeling like you are part of the scene, part of the magic. The regular customers know each other, often spending an hour together talking about life, listening to music, and smiling as dogs and babies pass by. The regulars magnify the welcoming vibe, encouraging passersby to stop for a refreshment. Those new customers often return for the coffee and company. Balancero brings people together through a bond of mutual appreciation for life - for taking a moment to pause and share time with friends and acquaintances. This is what keeps me coming back. I've learned about the history of Astoria, the experience of immigrating to the States, the challenges and joys of opening a business, and the importance of community. When visiting, try not to come in a hurry. Take time to say hello, order a drink, and enjoy it in the shade. You'll likely meet a fellow customer (and a dog!) and enjoy spontaneous conversation or the simple pleasure of quietly enjoying the coffee and music together. Last, try out some Serbian! Here are some useful phrases to get started:

  • dobro jutro (doe-bro yoo-trow): "Good morning"
  • Živeli ("jiveli"): "Cheers"
  • vidimo se ("viddy-mo-say"): "See you"
  • ciao ("chow"): "Hi", "Bye" --> This one is technically Italian but we use it for everything.

 

Lessons from Starting Therapy

I had heard it from friends, acquaintances, and blog posts: "everyone should go to therapy." Did that really apply to me? Blanket statements are often hyperbolic, and my understanding of therapy was that it was a tool used to treat people with serious emotional trauma, depression, and other issues that I didn't identify with.

Over dinner with one of my best friends, the idea that maybe I could benefit from seeing a therapist became more attractive. My friend shared that they had been going to a therapist and enjoying the sessions, and thought that maybe I would be interested. I agreed to take the therapist's contact information down, and pondered whether to actually give them a call.

My biggest concern was not that I had some deep-seeded issues that I was ignoring, but that I would be wasting the therapist's time, and my money. There isn't anything obviously wrong with me. I'm happy. I feel generally fulfilled in life. I love my family and friends. I'm grateful to be who I am. What could we have to talk about?

An introductory session with the therapist put my concerns at ease. "Therapy is a tool we can use to work toward becoming the best version of ourselves, whatever that looks like to you. You don't need to have experienced a big trauma, or have a disorder, to reap the benefits of talking with a therapist." Reassured that this could be worth our time and effort, I decided to follow through and schedule weekly sessions.

By the fourth session via Zoom, I was crying on my keyboard about things I hadn't thought about in years. They weren't big-time traumatic events, but things that I had consciously or unconsciously decided to bury and leave unattended. Without addressing them, they clearly festered under the surface, and brought me to tears so many years later. Each time we reflect on these experiences, I feel that sadness, but the way that I think about them is changing, and the actions I take during the week to improve my relationship with them.

I'm so grateful to my friend for suggesting therapy to me, and I sincerely hope that whoever reads this gives it a thought. It's fantastic to have a professional, to whom you have no emotional ties, listen to what you're feeling, give you some ideas about how to work with those feelings, and help you achieve your goals. They can identify things you didn't know were there, and provide you with tools that you already have to improve your relationship with yourself and others.