It’s been awhile since I did one of these so I’m a little behind in my articles; forgive me, please. But this piece on wine packaging in the June issue of Fast Company was one of my favorites to write. And research—I mean, really, when else am I going to get the chance to knock back a liter of wine a night for weeks in the name of my career!

I first met the suave Frenchman Jean-Charles Boisset at the Compostmodern conference in San Francisco. He kissed my hand, and I swore to write an article about him (really, that’s how easy it is). He gave an excellent presentation about how his Boisset Family Winery is one of the few true innovators in the wine making industry. As you can imagine, it’s quite a stuffy business; let’s just say when it comes to resisting change, you could till a vineyard with the dragging fingernails of a traditional winemaker. But Boisset, concerned about the fact that wine regions are shifting so rapidly due to climate change—we’re talking Champagne grapes in England, people—focused on dematerializing the wine packaging process. The result is a flashy, metallic, low-impact Tetra Pak that not only looks great in your Hollywood Bowl picnic basket, it has honest-to-goodness excellent wine inside.

The amazing art peeps at Fast Company have once again wrestled all this information into a great online slideshow, which illustrates the thought put into these glorified juice boxes. Besides the fact that making a Tetra Pak uses far less energy and creates less waste than a glass bottle, the packing and shipping is so effective that Boisset can fit the same amount of Tetra Pak wine in one of their trucks as compared to 28 trucks carrying glass bottles. And no joke, it actually behooves you financially to buy the Tetra Pak over the bottle:  You will get a liter of wine in a Tetra Pak compared to the standard 750mL in a glass bottle, for the same price. That’s 33% more wine! I can already see a whole new brand of environmentalist out there:  The Eco-Wino.

Here’s the piece as a PDF, with a bit more information and images.

On the outset, it seemed like an impossible task. Canvas the streets of New York, gawk at each architecturally significant property in the city, dream up 25 perfect walking itineraries, tear through them at marathon pace and still manage to eat gelato every day. But I did it. And now everyone is asking…how? Now that I’m back in LA and able to rationally analyze my behavior, I’ll let you in on a few of my secrets.

Best wayfinding: You’re already familiar with my most popular tool, Google Maps. I showed off my New York Hit List early on, where I color-coded about 200 locations that I planned to include. Now my question is: How did people ever write guidebooks before Google Maps? Not only could I easily check addresses and directions, I could have completely cheated my way through this whole process with this magical “street view”! Maybe I never even left LA? You’ll never know.

Best recording device: Should you ever need to write some things down while walking, I recommend the tiny Rhodia notebooks, which can easily be held and concealed above or beneath your iPhone to quickly scrawl some on-the-fly information. Doubles as a fan. And if you’re desperate, a coaster. And once, I smashed a bug between its pages.

Best bible/weapon: Speaking of books, I read a lot of them. I probably read about 20 books on New York architecture. But this one, the 1055-page AIA Guide to New York City, was the only one I really needed. The most remarkable thing about it is not that the two clinically-insane authors, Norval White and Elliot Willensky, pretty much identify every single notable building in the city (that’s all five boroughs, mind you), it’s the fact that this book is funny. I’d stand there, trying to find deep meaning in the Stern’s Dry Goods building, when all I really needed to do was read their take: “It reeks of birthday cake with vanilla icing.” Done and done. This article in the NY Times about how White had to edit the fourth edition after his sidekick Willensky died in 1990 gives you some idea of what kind of prose we’re talking about here:  “The parts written by Mr. Willensky, he says, include “all the words with sound effects” — words like ‘cheesy, hmmm, enjoy!’ The two men had no major differences, he says, and he is making sure the new guide will keep that Willensky flavor. “I’ve even faked some for him,” he says.” If you live in New York, you must own this book. Enjoy!

Best bag: Patagonia’s Atom was the perfect day trip sack for lugging around the previous two items and my iPhone, plus a few tubes of lip condiments, my wallet, and a Metro card tucked into the oh-so-convenient chest-crossing pocket. The outer mesh pocket was also good for stashing a bottle of water. I found out about this incredible bag when visiting Patagonia for a story I wrote for Fast Company; the folks there told me it was designed to hang on your shoulder like, say, the slain fowl that hunters would carry back to camp. I like to think of myself as a hunter of buildings.

Best kicks: Everyone, and I mean everyone, wanted to know about my shoes! Strangers stopped me on the streets! People asked to buy them off me (and then bolted once I offered to let them smell the insides)! For weeks I looked for sneakers that might be able to handle the transition from weary daytime walker to fabulous gin-drinker of the night, but I couldn’t find anything sporty and functional. And then, a few days before I left, I came across these at an AIGA/LA fundraiser. They’re by TOMS, which means a child in need of shoes will also get a pair (however, I want to know, will they get these shoes?). Fitted with arch supports and decent tread, they were as comfy as can be. They shimmied down the sidewalk with me all summer, throwing disco ball-like lights onto my legs as I walked. Really, could you ask for anything more for $48?

Best home entertainment: Everyone who lives in New York should also own New York, the PBS documentary series (directed by Ric Burns, brother of Ken, and son of probably the proudest mother on earth). Although I recommend the DVDs, I would not recommend my method of watching them. I usually slipped them in right as I was falling asleep, exhausted from parading my fabulous gold shoes about town all day, and as a result, ended up sleeping through the Depression or having nightmares about Robert Moses trying to tear down my neighborhood.

Best fuel: This entire summer would not have been possible were it not for the Williamsburg coffee shop El Beit. Manned by a half-dozen adorable young men (and some pretty ladies, too) with fantastic music taste–Neil Young and Daft Punk back-to-back one morning–El Beit was a blissful home away from my home away from home. Thanks, mostly, to two things: A mighty Clover machine and the mighty Mario, also somewhat of a machine. I’ve talked about the power of Clover here before, sweet caffeine delivery device that manages to tease tomatoey flavors from my Kenyan shade-grown coffee. But I couldn’t really start my day until the bedheaded baristas radioed downstairs via walkie-talkie for a soft scrambled egg sandwich with fried sage and cheddar, on a Sullivan Street Bakery roll, slathered with butter and dijon mustard, and presented with a smile by the eternally chipper chef, Mario. A few days after I first had this sandwich, it was named best egg on a roll by NY Mag.

Best friends: A tiny deck of cards packaged to look like a travel book doesn’t offer any room for acknowledgements, so when the time comes I’ll have to take out one of those full-building-wrap ads in Times Square. Until then, I would love to thank Cookie and Trixie (above) for questioning my every move (”Are you sure you didn’t mean Beaux-Arts?” They’d ask me with their devastating blue eyes), and all of you who provided any of the following: a roof over my head, a sweet wicker purse, an air conditioned room to work on when it was 95, that much-needed pizza, walking companionship, gin, the best view in all of Brooklyn, guidance, bike repair work, a box of Kleenex, an escape, a rainy house party, advice, late-night giggles, a social life, tickets to Sex and the City, gin, late-night calls, a good point, the truth about Jon-Benet, or any of the incoming links that kept me from doing my work. You will all be graciously rewarded.

Sorry I’ve been away so long, but I’ll go ahead and blame it on the earthquake (it was scary!). I’m shifting gears back into La-La mode and will return next week with more regularly-scheduled programming.

You were loud, crowded, dirty, cranky, moist, and sometimes you smelled worse than the insides of the shoes I wore every day for two months (without socks). But I shall never forget the kindness (and gelato) I found in your shadowed streets.

During my walks, my zealous documentary nature (camera to face, staring at addresses, taking feverish notes) made many people think I was doing something much more suspicious than researching architectural walking itineraries. I think most people believed I was a private investigator or insurance adjuster as they watched me warily back through their windows. But other people, and rightly so, believed I was some kind of talent scout for America’s Next Model-Slash-Deliveryman. I made a promise to those people, and I’m delivering on it now.

First, this Fed Ex guy in Brooklyn. When I shot the brownstone next to him he made a face like he was hurt. “Why don’t you want to take a picture of me?” he asked. Before I could say of course I did, he had put together this pose of jovial hand gestures, while his friend, obviously more shy in front of the camera (or perhaps unable to make clear hand signs in gloves) just giggled and looked down. “So are you gonna make me famous or what?” he asked as I started to walk away. At the very least, I said, I could put him on my blog. “Make me famous,” he nodded, as if that was all it took.

Another row of brownstones, this time in Harlem. This guy from Oz Moving (that’s ozmoving.com should you ever need “the wizard of moving”) actually put down his boxes just so he could pretend he was just happening to strike this laid-back pose on the sidewalk by the time I walked by. “What’s that gonna be in?” he asked. “GQ?” I wish, I said, but it’s just for my blog. “Well, all right!” he said, and started humming as he hoisted his boxes back up into the air. The boy’s got talent.

More famous photos.

Forgive me, those of you who thought I fell victim to the notorious man-eating parakeets of Staten Island. But as hard as I tried to farm it out to a group of guys selling Circle Line tickets outside the Empire State Building, the truth is, this book can’t write itself. As I head into the final stretch I wanted to leave you with something to debate in my extended absence. One of the first things people would ask me when I told them I was doing this project was, “Well, Miss Hammer Toe, what’s the best building in New York, then?” It’s a question that’s impossible to answer because as everyone knows, there are ten. And here they are.

The Maritime Hotel: Maybe I’m a sucker for porthole windows. But when I saw this baby looming on the Chelsea horizon, I felt like my ship had come in.

Navy Yard housing: This is one of a long row of abandoned houses in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Every time I happened to ride my bike past it, it was cloudy, raining or getting eerily dark. Coincidence? You tell me.

Palazzo Chupi: It’s impossible to capture the glory of this Julian Schnabel-designed building in the West Village because it’s like the architectural equivalent of a mullet: business on the bottom, wild pink orgy on the top. I came back here several times, just to make sure I wasn’t being too hasty when I decided that this was probably one of the most exciting things to happen in New York, like, ever. It is. As a woman walking her dog by me when I took this picture said: “Holy crappers.”

Bayard-Condict Building: Grab yourself a slice of Two Boots pizza (right across the street), position yourself on a bench, and pay this foamy, frilly lady some serious attention. At first I was sad that such a gem was stashed away on this tiny strip of Bleecker. But then I realized it was better this way because it was our little secret.

124 E. 19th Street: Tucked into the “Block Beautiful” near Gramercy Park is this single family home. You can go right up and look in their windows to see the entire inside, too. It’s topped with one of the precious little stepped-gable roofs I got excited about every time I saw in New York, because I thought to myself, wow, this really is New Amsterdam.

What My Father Gave Me: Yes, I’m counting Chris Burden’s Erector-set skyscraper as a building! It’s as big as other structures on this list. But I’ll also count the elegant slab of the GE Building behind it, with the best observation deck in town. Spend your afternoon in the open-air Top of the Rock. You’ll get a great view of the tourists wedged into the tiny cages atop the Empire State.

Secretariat: The Lever House is pretty but UN’s site on the East River makes for one of those stop-and-gawk moments as you’re walking around New York. I came up the stairs onto Tudor City, stopped in the middle of the street, and almost got hit by a car. That’s how good it is.

Barclay-Vesey Building: Please allow me this one semi-sentimental entry. I remember during the 9/11 coverage, as steel and glass buildings splintered like toothpicks, one building that seemed to be holding steady in the midst of it all. Its slanted profile and series of setbacks gave it some kind of weird Babylonian temple vibe, which was even creepier with smoke and flames swirling around it. Of course we know now that this building, widely considered the first Art Deco skyscraper, was heavily damaged. But it has been restored, right down to its delicate hibiscus carvings, which sure do look awesome next to the new WTC7. A true survivor.

Westin Times Square: Someone is going to revoke my design writing license for claiming this as one of the best buildings in New York, but I don’t care. No architectural statement is so perfectly suited to its surroundings. I want to have a dress made out of this.

Dennett Place: I think I’ve said everything that can be said about these amazing little apartments in Carroll Gardens. And that’s not even the half of it.

See you back here in a few days.