The first fish I ever caught was taken in the Hudson River on the west side of Manhattan. I used a soft plastic lure with a lead head jig—a very realistic-looking fake fish with a hook coming out of its back; its tail trills as you reel it in, mimicking a swimming bait fish.
This was the summer before I opened annisa. I had always been fascinated with the idea of fishing, but up until then I hadn’t had the time or wherewithal to learn. Fearless Jennifer, my then partner, had taken us to Kmart in Ohio and bought rods and reels, and my mother’s boyfriend, Ivan, had taught us how to cast. With plenty of time to kill (no pun intended) while we were looking for restaurant spaces, we became part of a small motley fishing community centered on Pier 40, where Houston Street hits the river. The major players were Matt Umanov, a guitar-store owner who is actually allergic to fish and whom I met at the bait vending machine (yes, these exist and look just like soda dispensers); Toby, who was in charge of the pier’s redevelopment program (at the time, they were going to turn it into a park and had architects from all over the world visiting to submit their bids for the structure); Candy, a caterer, and her musician husband, Dave, who worked for Matt; Brian, a construction worker who lived above the Rocking Horse Tavern; Jerry, a laundromat owner straight out of a kinder, gentler Sopranos; a mother (no one can remember her name, sadly) whose son played soccer on the roof of the pier; and Annis, who, back then, was twelve years old (he subsequently became a chain-smoking superintendent in the neighborhood). Often, someone would fire up the barbecue, cook some hot dogs, and pop open some beers, and a spontaneous party would occur. It was one of the few places since high school where I felt as though I “fit in.”
