Here’s some good news for anyone who owns an iPhone and uses calendars and color-coding to keep their OCD at bay: Google has finally released a Google Calendar app for iOS. Until this point, the best option was to import one’s Google calendars into iPhone’s native calendar app — a less than satisfying solution, like drinking Pepsi when you really wanted Coke.
No more importing, no more clunky third-party apps; Google Calendar has arrived for iPhone. And as Google has been known to do, they didn’t just create an equivalent calendar app — they made one better. Features include “Events from Gmail,” which automatically creates events from your important emails, “Assist,” a smarter autocomplete, and “Schedule View,” a more streamlined, intuitive, mobile-friendly look at your calendar. Factor in the app’s predictably attractive aesthetics, and you’ve got a helpful, user-friendly product that might be a busy New Yorker’s new best friend.
We’re listening to…
Little Jackie, the combined efforts of singer/songwriter Imani Coppola and producer Adam Pallin, has a unique sound all its own — think pop meets soul meets old-school hip-hop. Both Coppola and Pallin are native New Yorkers, and Little Jackie’s tracks have an undeniable hook, largely thanks to the former’s smokey-smooth, moving vocals.
The Stoop, Little Jackie’s 2008 debut album, was a favorite with critics, even if it didn’t quite seem to get much traction among the masses. 2011’s Made4TV and 2014’s Queen of Prospect Park didn’t fare any better commercially, but are fantastic albums nonetheless. Take a step off the beaten path and give New York’s own Little Jackie a listen.
Staff Pick: I’m eating…
This nocturnal Asian fusion-Filipino bistro masquerades as a dive bar, tucked rather inconspicuously among the other restaurants and, well, dive bars that line the avenues of the East Village. On a crowded Friday night like the one I spent here, you probably wouldn’t realize that beyond the mass of beer and cocktail swilling twenty-somethings jockeying for position at the bar lay tables where a waitstaff served up a mouth-watering array of meats.
I had a like-butter cut of brisket, followed by what was probably the best pork bun I’d ever had in the City (served open-faced, and intended to be curled in one’s hand like a taco), while my friends dined on roasted pork belly, beef tongue, and chicken katsu. The DJ spinning house music perilously close to our table and a pushy but well-intentioned waiter were the only drawbacks to an otherwise great meal, which we washed down with cucumber mimosas and calamansi whiskey sours.