The two blocks in question at the hearing were Albemarle Terrace and Kenmore Terrace. Anchored on the north side by the gorgeous Flatbush Dutch Reformed Church and Parsonage, these two quaint dead-end streets are among the most charming and beautiful I’ve had the pleasure of visiting in Brooklyn.

I first learned about this tiny neighborhood when oogling real estate maven Mary Kay Gallagher’s neighborhood guide a couple of summers ago. I have kind of a thing for Brooklyn mews – I find their equestrian history totally romantic and fascinating. So one afternoon, I hopped on my bike and headed off to explore the Terraces.

Once I arrived (a long story involving a very flat bike tire and a bike that has not yet recovered), I found the neo-Federal rowhouses more reminiscent of Philadelphia than Brooklyn. Their original construction dates back to 1916-1917 at the hands of renown Brooklyn architecture firm Slee & Bryson, and Albemarle Terrace is the older of the two streets. The houses that line Kenmore Terrace are slightly more modern than those on Albemarle, and they boast some of the first examples of attached garages which allowed the well-to-do middle class families who resided on the Terrace to easily park their new-fangled cars.

There is a lot more fascinating history about these two picturesque blocks over at NYC.gov, and you can check out the full historic district report here. Also check out more photos over on Forgotten NY – or just head down to Flatbush and see them for yourself!

UPDATE: Ed just tipped me off that there’s an open house this weekend. I mean, if you’re in the market…

One of my very favorite elements found on the Brooklyn brownstone is the Acanthus, a Mediterranean plant first used in architectural ornamentation by the Ancient Greeks. Through the use of acanthus imagery can you see the influence of its historical period — and a visual key to its contemporary philosophy.

The acanthus is commonly found in Italianate and Neo-Grec architectural styles, and Montrose Morris over at Brownstoner has written some fantastic in-depth explorations of each period.

Of course for me it’s impossible to pick a favorite style, but I couldn’t help but fall in love with this humble stoop.

Built in 1856 and known as the William B. Cronyn house, this French Second Empire style home is currently owned by Vita and Charles Sibirsky. The Sibirsky family has lived there since 1981 and has grown Slope Music to include a dozen teachers and a notable conservatory. According to local blog City of Strangers, once upon a time the house used to be an ink factory – the Higgins Ink Company, which produced India ink – and once served as a conduit for runaway slaves.

Though Park Slopers have been admiring the lovely house for many decades, it was finally listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1982. And that evening as the golden light caught the mansard roof and cupola, I had a chance to meet Charles as he came outside to chat about old-timey cameras like mine. If only I could find photographs of the big blue house’s interiors…

I remember going into the store a couple years ago, and having Joe jokingly explain to me, “I’m here to give them their fix – I’m like a dealer, but for cards and comics.”   One of the staples of the owner/customer interaction was massive giving of grief on both parts; the store itself was all about the community Joe built. I visited the Dugout a couple of times during its last few days both to grab a couple boxes of cards, and talk a bit with Joe about his experience for the past two decades.

One story Joe told me was of the relationship he had with a father and son (pictured above) who had been coming to his store regularly over the past decade.  Mitch (father) and Yosef (son) had been frequenting the Baseball Card Dugout since he moved to the Court Street location.  Yosef and his dad both have a great love for sports and all things related and would come to Joe’s store to pick up some cards, or autographs and talk about how the local teams were doing. They all became such good friends that every Hanukkah, Mitch and Yosef would bring latkes and sour cream to Joe.

When it was time for Yosef to have his Bar Mitzvah, he wanted to do something to share his love of sports with other kids who might not be able to do it so easily.  As a result, he and his father worked together and created Champ2Champ, a charity that gives sports-related items and tickets to sick children.  It’s an amazingly nice program and Joe was always willing to do whatever he could to help, whether it was giving special cards, autographs, or other memorabilia to the cause.

The interesting part about the store, was that the story about Mitch and Yosef were no exception.  Pictured above is Joe with another one of his customers named George, who is a big sports fan (Go Mets!) and came in on the last day to say goodbye to the store he loved and his friend who ran it.  There were a number of other people who stopped in during the last couple of hours.  One of NYC’s bravest, a big Superman fan, double-parked a ladder truck filled with firemen outside the store so he could say goodbye.  Another person who had been seeing Joe at the store for more than half of his life told me about what an institution the store was, and how Joe would always do whatever he could to keep his long time customers happy.

While the Dugout may be no longer, Joe is not done yet.  In the true Brooklyn spirit – he’s already got a new project which you may have seen around.  He’s one of the guys behind the tasty (and local!) Powerball Energized Juice, a naturally-flavored energy drink.  So pick some up, and tip your glass to support a Brooklynite whose been spending decades making people happy.

Yesterday afternoon, I found a single Kodak slide buried in a long-forgotten drawer. Scuffed up with a crack down the middle, I crossed my fingers and said a prayer that it would be salvageable. I held it up to the light and saw a beautiful shot of a young family, posed with their three children, the littlest boy on two legs taking some of his first steps. Though I’m not sure where or when the photograph was taken (mid-1970′s, somewhere in Brooklyn?), I am fairly certain this is my first glimpse of the family who grew up in my house.

And yes, that is the quiet sound of my heart melting.

The camera would be coming home to Brooklyn!

Not long after ironing out the logistics, a heavy package arrived for me at work and I delicately unwrapped it, not knowing what to expect. Inside was a green military-style case with some of the most beautiful mid-century gear I’ve ever seen. His granddaughter helped me unpack the case, discovering old film boxes and her grandfather’s ephemera along the way. When we were done, a gorgeous Leica IIIf rangefinder, in its original leather case, alongside a full line-up of accessories, was looking back at me.

Now the fun starts. I’m taking the first roll to the developer tonight!

Now, I know I could grow one myself. And I fully intend to start next summer. But I recently stumbled on an article (and then another, from the New York Times) about the history of fig trees in Brooklyn, and my curiosity was firmly rooted. Could I identify fig trees from the street? Are there any in my neighborhood? How about in the parks of Brooklyn? COULD I PICK SOME FOR MYSELF?!

So I embarked on a search. I know Park Slope, where I live, and neighboring Carroll Gardens, where I regularly bicycle, was once the provenance of many an Italian-American family. And since Italians immigrants began bringing fig trees with them to Brooklyn in the 1880′s, surely there must still be fig trees here. Right? Lo and behold:

After weeks of keeping an eye out for errant fig trees, I found two on my way to develop film. (a sign?) No ripe figs in sight, but certainly their overgrown boughs were heavy with fruit. I found two more on another long walk home, buttoned-up and well-pruned, but with succulent purple gems.

I couldn’t resist. I do recognize the gift. The summer is good.

Grace Court Alley is one of these such streets, nestled into a cozy nook off Hicks Street. Forgotten NY reports that this tiny street, along with neighboring Hunts Lane, was once “home to the stables of Remsen and Joralemon Streets, which parallel it to the north and south.”

Predictably, the former stables are now home to ultra-lux residences, but many of the original details remain – both inside and out. In fact, if you’d like a peek at the inside of one such drool-worthy home, check out this recent listing on Brownstoner. Swoon.

But me? I’ll make do until I win the lottery and take my camera out for a leisurely stroll…

Check out the story of their Brooklyn roots below, via this unabridged company history:

"Cyrus, Frank, and Charles Jones founded what was to become Grand Union in 1872. They called the business the Jones Brothers Tea Co., starting with one store in Scranton, Pennsylvania, where the shelves were stocked with coffee, tea, spices, baking powder, and flavoring extracts. The brothers expanded the business steadily, branching out with new stores in eastern Pennsylvania, Michigan, and New York. By the time it built its headquarters and warehouse in Brooklyn, New York, the company was known as the Grand Union Tea Co.

In 1912 Grand Union was a 200-outlet chain store with operations across the country. In addition to its business establishments, the company supported a small army of 5,000 door-to-door salesmen and delivered goods in horse-drawn wagons. The brothers incorporated the Jones Brothers Tea Co. in 1916.

…

[Grand Union] helped evolve the supermarket concept by demanding that the spacious supermarkets be designed carefully so as not to overwhelm customers used to smaller shops. Shield suggested breaking down the open spaces by building more walls and dispersing special product displays throughout the aisles. By the mid-1950s, Grand Union operated about half the number of stores it did in the 1930s, but the stores turned out nearly seven times the volume of sales. By then the company had outgrown its Brooklyn headquarters. It opened a new facility in Elmwood Park, New Jersey, in a red brick tower that was later to become a community landmark."

There are many better informed sites where you can read about the details of the controversy, but what about the casual Coney fan? I love going out to the shore and enjoying concerts or ballgames at KeySpan. I thoroughly enjoy people-watching along the boardwalk, especially at the Mermaid Parade this weekend! And of course, summer isn’t summer without an icy cold drink and a hot dog at Nathan’s… as long as you get a side of those piping hot crinkle fries with a little plastic red fork.

But Thor Equities CEO Joe Sitt begs to differ: he recently said in an interview with NY1: “Every one of these buildings is just horrible, rundown relics with nothing exciting about them. I hate to say it, but the great buildings of Coney Island disappeared 80 years ago.”

Save Coney Island is trying to fight back, though, with a proposed historic district, a massive PR campaign and some good old-fashioned grassroots organization. To find out more about their proposal and see some beautiful vintage photographs, check out this brochure. And to find out what you can do to help out, click here.

I took my camera along for the tour, so check out the shots below for more information about what’s at stake!

Juan Rivera kicks off the tour with a brief history of the Shore Theatre, and how Nathan’s hot dogs came to be so famous.

Built in 1925, The Shore Theatre watches over the corner of Surf and Stillwell. Originally a Lowes Theatre, it once held a capacity of 2500 for a grand variety of live shows and movies.

The wood-framed Shore Hotel, built in 1903, and the Herman Popper building, 1904. The former housed small-scale hotels and the latter, a distillery and tavern.

Another shot of the Popper building, now next door to a bumper car funhouse.

The Child’s Restaurant, built in 1917. Once a family-friendly oasis, it’s now home to the Coney Island Museum and an active sideshow.