Welcome to the Neighborhood: Brighton Beach, Brooklyn

In the name of small scale adventure, I’m spending one day each month exploring an area in or around New York City that I’ve never been to before. Welcome to the neighborhood. 

Earlier this year, in response to this series, my colleague-turned-friend sent me her suggestions of neighborhoods. Later, when she expressed interest in joining one of the tours, I was thrilled and began noodling on one of her original suggestions which would become my first Brooklyn tour. This month, we went to Brighton Beach.

The Brighton Beach neighborhood is located just east of the Coney Island neighborhood which I’ve been to as many times as a non-beach person who lives in New York City can be expected to go. (Every summer, I feel the urge to plan exactly one beach day. I thoroughly enjoy it. And then I forget beaches exist until the next sticky August.)

But Brighton Beach was more of an enigma. I began to research. According to City Neighborhoods, in the 1800s, Brighton was known as the “Riviera of the East,” attracting wealthy New Yorkers and visiting dignitaries with its ballrooms, bathing pavilions, hotel, and racetrack. As Coney Island (and specifically its amusement park) grew, as the Brighton Beach racetrack closed, and as the hotel moved inland and was later demolished, Brighton Beach’s luxury began to fade. 

I didn’t know any of this when my friend suggested it. What I associated Brighton Beach with was Russian heritage. From City Neighborhoods, “The most profound chapter in Brighton Beach’s modern history began in the 1970s, when large numbers of Soviet Jewish immigrants arrived, fleeing religious persecution and political repression. Drawn by affordable housing and the seaside environment reminiscent of Odessa (Ukraine) and the Black Sea, they transformed Brighton Beach…” 

There wasn’t a whole lot that could have made me more excited for the day until I was pouring milk over my cereal and received the following text from my friend, “would you be open to my bringing [my dog] along?” Thus began my first Welcome to the Neighborhood with a four-legged friend and, more importantly, said four-legged friend’s first beach day.

From the moment I got off the Q train, I was greeted by noticeably cooler and beachier air, Cyrillic signs, and a quaint gentleness. It was just before 10:00 AM. Our first stop was Toné Cafe, an authentic Georgian bakery. The space was intimate with a counter for to-go orders and a small seated area to the side. We opted to get some bread from the counter and ordered two tonis puri, a traditional bread. I severely misunderstood the size. I was handed a bag with two giant, fresh-from-the-oven, steaming, soft, pillowy, and delicious breads.

We took turns ripping bites of bread as we walked back toward the main stretch of Brighton Beach Avenue and I made a mental note to never go to Brighton Beach (or even neighboring Coney Island) without stopping at Toné Cafe. It was truly that good. 

“I feel like I’m carrying a newborn,” I said as the bread warmed my arm. 

Back on the main stretch, we popped into a Yemeni coffee shop for a caffeine and air conditioning fix. Admittedly, Moka & Co, is not specific to Brighton Beach—I have one in my home neighborhood—but it was my first time and, though I told myself I wasn’t going to get anything, the pistachio matcha latte called to me. Worth it.

If you’ve been following this series, you’ll know that many of my itineraries look the same. I find my coffee shop or bakery. I visit as many parks and bookstores as possible. I eat a lot. Then I eat more. When I started looking up stores in the area, I read about an amber shop (Kizima) and a gift store (Kalinka) but was most drawn to, of course, St. Petersburg Bookstore.

I’m not sure why I didn’t place together that this very Russian and Eastern European neighborhood might have a bookstore solely in languages I don’t speak but that was the case at the St. Petersburg Bookstore. And as that became apparent, I found I still genuinely enjoyed walking around the shelves and being in the presence of literature. We both immediately spotted The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, a familiar cover that transcends language. 

After the bookstore, we walked down to the beach. It was a perfectly pleasant day and I’d forgotten how peaceful it can be to meander. The beach was busy—children building sandcastles, teenagers tossing a frisbee, couples hidden away under umbrellas. The dog didn’t much love her first taste of ocean but she was brave all the same.

Back on the main street, we were deep in conversation when I noticed Kashkar Cafe, a Uyghur restaurant that had come up in my research. Their menu reads, “Kashkar Cafe has been operating since 2013. Cafe ‘Kashkar’ is a piece of Uighurs who lived in the city of Kashgar. And a dynasty of cooks handed down to generations through the centuries. Ethnically atmospheric yet cozy with good homemade food… Pleasant atmosphere, delicious cuisine, and most importantly, comfort.”

As often happens when I’m outside all day in the sun, I wasn’t craving food but it was too good to pass up (and I can confirm the atmosphere was very pleasant!), so I ordered a broccoli and tofu dish to go, anticipating that once I was home and showered and in my cozy clothes the hunger would hit. When I finally did eat my meal, it was flavorful and, of course, comforting.

The final stop of the day was a grocery store. It seems like a strange place to prioritize but I love grocery shopping and especially love an international market or store that has offerings outside my usual go-tos. There were several on my radar including Gold Label and Net Cost but we ended up at Tashkent Supermarket.

Tashkent Supermarket is Uzbek-owned and so named for the capital of Uzbekistan. The store is known for the hot food bars and authentic Central Asian specialities. The market was buzzing. Everywhere I turned people were scooping vareniki and samsas into carry out containers. While it was far too busy for me to try to figure out what was vegan from one of the buffet bars, I did pick up a bag of Russian pumpkin seeds so I could feel I’d had a full market experience.

Bag now filled with Georgian bread, Uyghur food, and Russian pumpkin seeds, I was ready to head home. At the last second before walking up the subway stairs, we popped into Bora Bora, a chain smoothie place, but a perfect stop for when you realize you’ve been outside all day with minimal nutrition or hydration. I recommend the açaí breeze power smoothie. 

I had managed to squeeze my July neighborhood into my one available weekend day this month. I Googled “Brighton Beach” for the first time the afternoon before. I have felt stretched incredibly thin lately and spending over 90 minutes on a train both directions should have made me feel antsy. 

But it didn’t.

I got a seat on the subway and cozied up. I put my phone on airplane mode and I opened a new novel. I let myself, for one beautiful moment, completely disregard my compounding to-do list at home, or the clothes I’d taken from my closet in a fit of frustration and left strewn over the bed in an attempt to get me to downsize and clean. I forced out of my mind the tasks on my work calendar that I’d pushed to next week and I reveled in the fact that I could get lost in a book only to come back to reality in an entirely new place. 

In busy seasons, of which I feel I am perpetually stuck in right now, it is easy to delay our goals. I could say I want to explore my city more, or I could make a structured plan to do so. Once a month. Somewhere new. No matter what.

This is my third year running a series of monthly challenges and every year when I begin, I have a slight fear. Will I be able to keep this up? 

It’s risky to dream aloud. 

But as I sit just past the halfway point of my neighborhoods, I find myself reflecting on all the ways it has opened my eyes not just to my city, but to my relationship with travel, adventure, spontaneity, and, impossibly, rest.

Rest is what sits on my mind as I plan my return to Brighton Beach. A return where my first stop is fresh Georgian bread and my second and final stop is a beach umbrella and several good books. Until then.