A Walk Down Coney Island Avenue

Home Brooklyn Life A Walk Down Coney Island Avenue
Nizam Udin prepares Mediterranean delicacies at the Madina restaurant on Coney Island Avenue. (Yaffi Spodek/ The Brooklyn Ink)
Nizam Udin prepares Mediterranean delicacies at the Madina restaurant on Coney Island Avenue. (Yaffi Spodek/ The Brooklyn Ink)

by Yaffi Spodek

For many New Yorkers, the words “Coney Island” conjure up images of a wind-swept boardwalk with the Cyclone roller coaster in the background. But the famed amusement park is just one attraction at the end of a five-mile stretch that runs through the borough of Kings. In fact, much can be be discovered along Coney Island Avenue, a main thoroughfare in Brooklyn that begins in Park Slope and continues through several diverse neighborhoods until it reaches its namesake in Brighton Beach.  So one recent sunny spring day, I took the B68 bus down the avenue, speaking to locals and trying to capture the flavor of the people and places along the way.

I got off at the tip of Prospect Park, at Parkside Avenue, and began to walk. My first stop was the Madina Restaurant and Banquet Hall, a corner store with a maroon awning, featuring Indian, Bangladeshi, and Pakistani cuisine. Nizam Udin, a Bangladeshi immigrant, explained why he’s been working and living on the Avenue for the last five years. “My family isn’t here, but I needed a job and money,” he says. “All the Bangladeshi people live here together in one community, where they talk my language, have the same culture, and eat my foods. I have everything I need here.”

Olive skinned, with dark hair and eyes, and a black square-shaped chef’s hat perched atop his head, Udin typifies the ethnic vibe of the eatery. But the Medina restaurant does not only attract its natives. “Everyone comes in, white people, black people, and Spanish,” Udin says, dishing out some savory pieces of grilled meat from the display counter. “The white people like our chicken tikka,” he says, gesturing to a smoking plate of reddish chicken strips. “They also come here for our chickpeas and mosala vegetables.”

I was interested in learning more about the history of how people like Udin had settled here, so he pointed me toward the Punjab restaurant, the original Pakistani go-to place. “When we first opened in 1985, the neighborhood was rough,” recounts owner Tanveer Iqbal. “There was a lot of prostitution and drug dealing, but it’s gotten much better.”

Iqbal’s first customers were Pakistani cabdrivers who stopped in after their shifts. “Our place was only open 12 hours a day, and they asked for it to be open 24 hours,” he says. So he changed it and, to this day, Punjab is open at all hours. Business is thriving. “At that time, very few people lived here, but since we opened, this area started booming for Pakistani immigrants.”

After politely declining a sampling of fresh kebab and a cup of tea, I moved on. Outside of gas stations and automobile repair shops, ethnic restaurants are perhaps the most ubiquitous business on the avenue. Other shops of note are antique stores. Though it was close to noon, none were open, but several had handwritten signs promising that the owner would “be back soon.” So I satisfied my curiosity by gazing into the window at the eclectic assortments of ornate lamps, candelabras, and statues.

Next, I stopped in at the Gyro café, a funky-looking Middle Eastern joint that advertised Halal meat in the window. “The community over here likes grilled food,” said Muhammad Baig, 21, who has been working there for two years. “It’s healthier, with less fat and no oil.”

In the distance, tucked away on a piece of property set further back on the street is the Lahore fashion store, showcasing its ethnic Indian garb in the window. One could see mothers and daughters walking around, wearing flowing cloth outfits similar to those displayed in the storefront.

The Kent movie theater is a landmark on the Avenue. (Yaffi Spodek/ The Brooklyn Ink)
The Kent movie theater is a landmark on the Avenue. (Yaffi Spodek/ The Brooklyn Ink)

Moving along down the avenue, the red lettered sign on one building sticks out slightly above the others––it is the Kent Theater. Though it can only show three movies at a time, the decrepit theater–-with its worn seats, paper-thin walls, and small screens––has remained open. “We’ve been here for about 30 years, it’s like a landmark,” said Shizam Dalbarry, who has worked there for three of those 30. “It’s because we have the cheapest prices.” With a rate of only $7.75 for adults and $5 for children and seniors, the Kent is popular among local Brooklynites and visitors, especially on Wednesdays, when the price is $5 for everyone.

Further down the block, approaching Avenue I, looms a large fruit store. Though it seems quite ordinary, I like to think of it as forming a symbolic bridge of sorts between the Pakistani community and its neighboring Jewish contingency. The sign on the awning reads “Kosher/Non-Kosher Eastern Fruits and Vegetables. Once you pass that corner, you enter into obviously Jewish territory and a stretch of several miles where most of the businesses cater to the local Orthodox population.

Kosher restaurants, pizza parlors, clothing stores, yeshivas, and synagogues, fill the blocks. Bearded men in dark suits and women in skirts and head coverings traipse up and down the avenue. From the classic Mendy’s deli to Café Venezia, a more upscale Italian restaurant, to Japanese sushi and a Mexican-styled place called Carlos and Gabby’s, there is no shortage of variety.

Eichler’s, a well-known Judaica store, occupies one large corner, displaying Hebrew books, CDs, and Jewish ritual items in the window. Cheryl Lieberman, 23, has come to Eichler’s all the way from Israel. “I’m visiting my parents who live here and of course I had to stop by Eichler’s,” she says. For $10, she bought a set of stickers displaying Hebrew letters to be placed on her keyboard, designed to guide her as she types in her new language.

A few blocks down is Pomegranate, a 20,000-foot gourmet supermarket that opened less than two years ago. Pomegranate has revolutionized the world of kosher food in Brooklyn and beyond. Specialty items include imported foreign cheeses, exotic flavored dips, sushi, and dry aged meat. “We take the whole concept of Kosher shopping to another level,” says Mayer Gold, the store’s manager. “The community was ready for a store that would bring them those new products.”

Moving further down the avenue, I pass by more of the same, with some funeral homes, Dunkin’ Donuts, car-leasing dealerships, and more gas stations interspersed. But my eyes are drawn to Sahara, a large restaurant near Avenue S. A sign in the window proclaims it to be “NY’s #1 Turkish restaurant.” Intrigued, I walked in, and found myself in a large, dim, but classy restaurant. “We opened 23 years ago,” Moroccan manager Gabriel Benedict tells me in accented English. “We serve authentic Mediterranean food, like shish kabob. Russians come here, Turkish people, Jews, Muslims and Israelis.” He says the place can seat 600, and also has a small parking lot, no small feat on an avenue where property values are high. “I love this street, Coney Island Avenue,” he adds,” but you don’t have enough businesses here.” He points out two smaller stores across the street, which he says keep changing owners.

Around Avenue V, the scenery begins to shift somewhat. There are rows of two-family, semi-attached houses dotting the avenue for about a five-block stretch. That’s also when the Russian vibe begins, as Jewish-owned businesses are replaced by Russian ones, all the way to the end of the Avenue. The bus gradually fills with white-haired older women struggling to board with their shopping carts. The avenue curves to the left, as the B68 reaches its final destinations: the Coney Island boardwalk at Brighton Beach.

It’s still early in the afternoon, and the boardwalk is peaceful, a stark contrast to the hopping nightlife of dancing and drinking that typically takes place after dark. Children whiz by on scooters, mothers wheel carriages, and bikers and joggers rush by. Snippets of Russian and Hebrew are overheard amongst the conversations of the people all ages and backgrounds, who are sitting on benches, enjoying the warm day and the refreshing ocean breeze. A few toddlers play in a beachside playground, sharing the sand with a flock of sea gulls.

Tatiana Grill and Restaurant is strangely quiet, barely recognizable at this time of day as the nightspot of choice, as waitresses wipe down tables in the glare of the hazy sunshine. A few paces down is “Russia on the Beach: Moscow,” a bar advertising a breakfast special. Four men sit around an outdoor table, though clearly nobody is eating.

“For us Russians, vodka is like American Coca Cola,” says Igor Birger, one of the men, gesturing to his drink. Startled, I peer into his cup to find that it’s only filled with coffee. “Vodka is our drink of choice, but even for us it’s too early to drink,” Birger replies with a laugh. He jokingly refers to one of his companions as “the godfather of the Russian mafia.” Interestingly, the mafia man politely refuses to be photographed with his face showing. Meanwhile, Birger explains that about 80 percent of the local population is Russian, and when they’re not working, they often come to sit on the boardwalk with friends. “We come here now to enjoy the beach,” he says. “And it’s free.”

It is indeed. With that in mind, I sit down on a wooden bench facing the blue waters, at the far end of Coney Island Avenue.

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