A carload of friends and I had to flee Sheepshead Bay one Sunday evening like escaped prisoners on the lam. We'd started our expedition with the modest expectation of eating in one of the Turkish seafood joints that line the bay's concrete bathtub. What we discovered when we arrived—and saw crowds of diners milling in front of every restaurant—was that not only was it Mother's Day, but Victory Day as well, when Russians commemorate vanquishing the Nazis. Double jinx!
But hope loomed on the horizon. We jumped back into the sputtering Volvo and sped toward Coney Island Avenue, one of the city's best incubators of ethnically diverse eats. After side-winding down Avenue U, we hit the CIA (as its admirers call it) and immediately spotted a few unfamiliar new places: a Peruvian bodega, a Turkish gyro shop, and an Uzbekistani restaurant with lace curtains, which we feared would also be subject to the Mother's-Victory whammy.
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