We found ourselves back in Brooklyn yesterday for the birthday party of one of Charlotte's little classmates. Despite being a dyed-in-the-wool Manhattan snob, I have started to warm to Brooklyn of late, although I'm about a decade and a half behind everyone else, it seems. My old attitude was that as nice as it inarguably was -- it was still only Brooklyn. Nice, right? That all said, I'm as familiar with Brooklyn's byways as I am with say -- Shanghai's (read: not very). I knew Williamsburg for its rock clubs and Peter Luger. I knew Coney Island for Astroland, the Mermaid Parade and "The Warriors." I knew Brighton Beach for Neil Simon and ass-whuppin' Russian eatery, Primorski. I know Brooklyn Heights for "Moonstruck" and the age-old adage that "it costs more to live with a view of the ocean than it does to live in the ocean" (precisely the reason why real estate in this comely neighborhood often trumps Manhattan in terms of affordability). As picturesque pockets of New York City go, it's tough to beat Brooklyn Heights. Beyond that, Brooklyn was largely a vast mystery to me. I don't know my Red Hook from my Green Point.I have more to say on this, but it'll have to wait.