Our Favorite Things We Did in Brooklyn

Brooklyn rarely announces itself. You spend a few days there and only later realize how much ground you covered, how many places quietly worked their way into the rhythm of the trip. On a recent visit, we didn’t try to see everything. We focused on places that felt settled, places that seemed to belong exactly where they were. These were the stops that stayed with us.

Food We Built Our Days Around

We started more than one morning at Russ & Daughters, which still feels like an anchor rather than a destination. It works whether you sit down or grab something to take with you. There’s a comfort to it that goes beyond nostalgia. It just makes sense to be there.

One evening was set aside entirely for Lucali. The pace is unhurried, and once you’re seated, the rest of the night falls into place. It’s less about hype than about committing to staying awhile.

For something more casual, Peck’s felt like a place people actually rely on. Relaxed, steady, and clearly part of daily routines rather than a stop designed for visitors passing through.

Walking, Views, and Outdoor Stops

The Brooklyn Heights Promenade never felt like something you had to plan. You show up, walk until you’re ready to turn around, and that’s enough. The view does the work without asking much from you.

Further along the water, Domino Park stood out for how naturally people used it. It didn’t feel precious or overly designed. People passed through, sat down, met friends, kept moving.

Some of the best stretches were the ones that weren’t destinations at all. A few blocks here, a detour there, and suddenly the walk was longer than expected.

Entertainment and Culture

An evening at the Brooklyn Academy of Music felt reassuring in the best way. The programming still takes risks, but the place itself feels familiar, like it’s meant to be returned to rather than conquered in one visit.

We also spent a night at Music Hall of Williamsburg, which hit a comfortable middle ground. Big enough to feel alive, small enough that the room still mattered. It never tipped into chaos, which made it easier to enjoy.

Brooklyn’s cultural spaces tend to get that balance right. Engaged, but not overwhelming.

Shopping and Design Stops

Time slipped by at McNally Jackson Books in Williamsburg. It’s the kind of bookstore that expects you to browse, pick things up, put them back, and eventually leave with more than you planned.

At Coming Soon, the mix felt thoughtful without being stiff. Objects felt chosen because they belonged together, not because they followed a theme. You could imagine living with almost anything in the space.

Both places felt edited without feeling spare, which is harder to pull off than it looks.

A Studio Visit Worth Making

Some of the most interesting stops weren’t traditional shops at all.

We visited the design studio of Research.Lighting, where fixtures are worked through slowly, with attention paid to proportion, material, and how things actually behave in a room. Seeing pieces mid-process made the work feel more grounded than finished images ever do. It felt like dropping into someone’s workday rather than touring a display.

That same sense of care showed up at Mociun. The store doesn’t function as a workshop, but it gives real space to local ceramicists and designers. The emphasis stays on the objects and the people behind them, not on trends or spectacle.

Both places shared a quiet confidence. Nothing was over-explained. Nothing asked for attention it didn’t earn.

Neighborhoods We Kept Returning To

Williamsburg felt dense without feeling frantic. Fort Greene felt calm and lived-in. Brooklyn Heights encouraged slower walks and longer pauses. Each neighborhood had its own rhythm, and none of them felt like they needed to compete for attention.

Closing

Brooklyn doesn’t reward rushing. The places that stayed with us weren’t always the most talked about, but they felt settled, clear about what they were, and comfortable staying that way. It’s the kind of place where favorites emerge naturally, and where coming back feels less like repeating yourself and more like picking up where you left off.