Back in my trick-or-treating days, I don't remember ever throwing away the sacred vestments of Halloween. Each cloak, each cape, each plastic prop and mask was a transformative charm that could be endlessly repurposed and reused. Apparently, even in a struggling economy, such frugality is no longer in vogue.
Some aspiring wizard is missing his broom.
Not far from the dumped magical implement was this slightly used pumpkin. There's something menacing in the way it stares out from atop its throne of trash:
Why is this guy smiling?
In an attempt to lower my spending a bit this winter, I forwent brunch yesterday to make myself breakfast. In the process, I discovered something completely mind-blowing and wholly evil: Aunt Jemima Complete Pancake Mix. When they say complete, they mean it. All it needs is water, some whisking, and a hot griddle. It was all too easy to make. Though the resulting pancakes were horribly misshapen, they tasted awesome and took no more than five minutes to make from start to finish. This is something I don't need. I have seen the devil and it is thick, golden batter. Oh, sweet, sweet devil.
After a three week stay, my mother left for back home oversees on Tuesday. For a farewell dinner, I took her to the Peter Luger Steakhouse. At $83 for a finely aged steak for two, it's not a bargin but it is a damn good meal. The meat was buttery in that Food Network/Travel Channel talking-head foodie show sense and absolutely tasty. We made sure to leave enough room in our stomach for deserts. She went with the cheesecake and I went with the apple strudel, both with real shlag. Yeah, it was good.
If there was one low point to the meal, it was the service. Our waiter was nice enough but he didn't seem all there- we'd ask for something and he seemed to forget over, and over, and over again. It wasn't a big deal but it added an unneeded note of frustration to the meal.
It's not every day that I actually get a response to something I post (almost never) so I didn't want this comment, in response to my mini-rant to get buried in the ever-growing strata of blog posts. Here's what I said:
...A man in a suit was handing out pamphlets. Well, I assume that's what he was doing because he handed one to the man walking about fifteen feet ahead of me. However, he conspicuously turned his back as I approached and remained fixed, looking away, as I passed by him and down the stairs.
I want to sincerely apologize if you believe my actions where intended to intentionally ignore you. When at a train station, one always tries to give campaign material to people leaving (for the "pm" rush hour traffic) the station and those who are entering (for the "am" rush hour") in order to maximize one's time and impact. So, again, I apologize if you believe I intentionally ignored you or if your feelings were hurt. Be well and have a productive remainder of the week.
Walter Mosley
I can't say that I understand exactly what he's saying. If he wants to give pamplets to people leaving and also to people entering, isn't that everyone who is accessing the station? Or, if he's saying he gives pamplets to people entering the station in the morning and then to those who are leaving the station in the evening, that doesn't wash either because I was entering the station in the morning. Therefore, I ought to have been targetted. I wasn't. Still, it's flattering that 1) he found my humble blog post and 2) responded. Dialog, people. That's how the healing starts.
Sometime between the July 4th weekend and tonight, I found myself addicted to Vietnamese coffee. I don't know precisely when it happened but happened it did. Iced or hot, I had to have it. Already twice since Sunday the urge for it has driven me to procure either Vietnamese or Thai cuisine just for the coffee (Thai coffee is very similar to the Vietnamese variety). This afternoon, I decided to take matters into my own hands. At $3 a cup, I figured I could obtain the implements to make the stuff myself. I could and I did.
As most of these enterprises tend to start, my first step was googling the bajeezus out of the thing and seeing what I could find. What I found was that this type of coffee consisted of dripping coffee (traditionally with chicory) over sweet condensed milk. The only necessary equipment is a filter to do the dripping which fits over a glass that holds the milk. One trip into Chinatown later, I had the filter ($5.50), some coffee with chicory, and a couple of cans of condensed milk. I was on my way.
The rest is rather elementary. I put the coffee grounds into the filter, put a bit of the milk into a mug. I put the filter on the mug and boiled water into the filter and, five minutes later, I get one steaming cup of Vietnamese coffee. All addictions should be this easy.
I'm now curious as to if I can get a reasonable facsimile of this to work with powdered milk. If I can do that, I can finally ween myself off the world's worst office coffee. A man's gotta dream.
I went a-wandering for lunch today and paid the price. Not the ultimate price, thankfully, but a price.
I don't remember now where I had intended to go but I found myself on Chambers street and very, very hungry. By chance, I was standing in front of the Soda Shop. The front was all glass so I took a peak: it looked like a cross between Beefsteak Charlie's and the candy shop from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, in other words, an old school ice cream parlor. I went in.
I ordered a burger because, among the hodge-podge of mundane fare, I figured this at least would be safe. I was wrong, so very wrong.
When I got the burger, it came on the bun with some sort of sauce and nothing else. Nothing on it, nothing on the side. There was no onion, no tomato, no lettuce, no nothing. The burger did come with a salad. I could have converted the side salad into fixings but that would only have multiplied this burger's crime. Besides the salad, there were fries, a few fingers of somewhat warm steak fries. They weren't good.
When I flipped off the top bun to take a look at the burger I found, staring back at me, a homogeneous gray-brown mass. I don't know if it was boiled or processed by some other infernal means but there were no char-marks to indicate any sort of grilling or pan-frying. It was a mass of moon meat, a protein hockey puck. And salty. Dead Sea salty. It was pure ground evil.
This bad a burger, in this town, I did not think was possible. I thought the forces of culinary darwinism would have pushed this monstrosity to extinction long ago. No. Some La Brea like tar pit abyss has hid and nursed this burger away from the world... until now. It was the broodwich made flesh: the Harmburger. And I ate it. I ate it because I was filled with Sinistar-like hungers. At that moment, I would have eaten the One Ring with Frodo's finger still attached. There are prices to be paid for this trespass. I am prepared to pay them.
There was one bright spot. Being that I was in a soda parlor, I ordered an "Old Broadway" which had iced coffee, vanilla creme, and whipped cream. It was quite tasty. But not nearly enough to overcome the harmburger. Only years and years of therapy, prayers, and electric-shock therapy can do that. Excuse me while I go burn off my tongue.
It ain't easy to find a good pun to go with curry but I, I am a master of the form, and, basking in the glow of dinner, I was inspired to rarefied pun-ish heights (I am the pun-isher).
Dinner was yellow curry with beef from Thai 101. Curry is not normally on my culinary short-list but, tonight, I was inspired. Inspired but not blind, I also ordered, as a backup, nice, safe fried rice. However, the curry, a bit sweet, a bit spicy, hit the spot so completely that the fried rice has been relegated to the fridge for tomorrow.
Those are some big shoes to fill.
My bigfoot post got a wee bit of attention which is cool. I really think that the bigfoot community needs to distinguish between the researchers whose undertakings are honest, scholarly, and those people trying to turn a buck, make a name, or just hijack the forum because they can. Maybe this whole to-do will push people in the right direction. We'll see.
Getting crabby.
I watched all four episodes of After the Catch yesterday, the last one when I really should have been in bed. I don't know why The Deadliest Catch captures my attention so completely but I am like an Opelio crab caught in its pot and I can't get out. After three or four seasons, you'd think all the tales have been told (and, honestly, they have) but I haven't tired of them. Not a bit.
Showtime.
My cousin, Paul, arrives this Friday to stay with me to start off his summer vacation. He wants to see a show but doesn't know what show to see. I get the feeling he doesn't actually like theater over much but he wants to do it because, as he said, it's a New York thing to do. Well, plenty of things are New York things to do, like taking a dump on the edge of a subway platform, dodging hobos, and bitching about gentrification. I told him to find a couple of shows he wanted to see. He's having a hard time coming up with anything. At $40+ a pop, even via TKTS, I figure he should see something because he wants to see it, not because he feels obligated to see something, anything, in the pursuit of the New York state of mind. (Where have you gone, Billy Joel?) I suppose we'll figure something out.
I'm going to watch Anthony Bourdain slough his way through Indonesia on the TV. I like his caustic brand of narrative - he's a man after my own heart. Plus, I've got nothing more to say (yeah, right).
I kinda sorta overspent on lunch today but I had a hankering for some Vietnamese food today so I splurged on Viet Cafe.
I hadn't ever eaten there before but it's very conveniently located vis-a-vis my job and it scratched the itch I needed to scratch so I gave it a go. I just had Vietnamese over the weekend in Philadelphia so it's weird that I wanted it again so soon. Who can say why our inner mysteries move the way they do? In any case, I didn't fight it.
I had an order of crispy spring rolls (Nems) and a bowl of beef fried rice. Both were very good but the Nems were a bit overpriced, I think, for the portion that I received.
Or maybe not. The whole thing ran me $16 before tax and tip which isn't too terrible but equals about three lamb-over-rices from the Halal street cart. It was good enough that I would definitely go back for more but it's a bit too pricey for more than a once-a-month lunch-type thing. Still, it definitely answered my inner gourmand.
I walked over to El Cofre to get something for dinner. I hadn't been there before but an ex-coworker had given it a good review. I ended up walking out with a sausage soupy rice which, I must say, was excellent.
While I was waiting for my food, I was looking at their TV which was tuned to Telemundo. A Rebecca Romijn movie was playing. The Spanish title was "Mujer Fatal". Wouldn't that translate to "Fatal Murder"? Aren't all murders fatal or did I miss something? [EDIT: I missed something. "Mujer" means "woman". Thanks, Angel.] One good thing I saw was an ad for Modelo beer with a boxer and masked wrestler arguing at a bar. At one point, the wrestler had the boxer on the bar and pinned him with a quick three-count. That's good stuff. And I had no idea what they were saying. Yet, I have a strange craving for Modelo beer...
This has nothing to do with anything I just talked about but, yesterday, I saw this woman as I was waiting outside the movie theater prior to seeing Indy IV. I can only describe what I saw as... the mega-visor! I think she may be the member of a rogue street welder cult but I haven't been able to confirm it.
(And yes, that is Morgan Freeman's brother checking her out from across the street.)
I want a crepe. I do not want a ham and cheese crepe, a seafood crepe, or any other of the so-called savory crepes that pepper the menus of the local bistros around the 'hood. What I want is quite simple: a nice crepe au sucre or, if I'm perhaps feeling a bit more decadent, a crepe avec nutella. In short, I want a simple sweet crepe, maybe with a cup of coffee or cappuccino. Unfortunately, I can't find a single solitary spot anywhere in the brownstone vastness that is Fort Greene and Clinton Hill. It's not much to ask, is it? If anyone knows anything let me know. I am growing desperate.
Right about now, I am tired, dead tired. It's been awhile since I've gone out two nights in a row early in the week. This morning, I'm paying the price. Ian, a friend of mine, is visiting. He came for his sister's wedding and used the occasion to come down into the city. Monday night, we just hung out at Rope on Myrtle. Last night, we went to meet up with his friend Baba and a few others at the Indian Cafe. The food was excellent but the talk was even better.
I usually avoid getting into geo-political discussions with people because it tends to get emotional in all the wrong ways. Baba has no such qualms and jumps into that murky pool full-bore, yelling "Cannonball!" as he goes. Ian, having past experience, tried his best to stay on the sidelines but, worn down by gin and tonics, he finally couldn't help himself. My own views were closer to Baba's than to Ian's which made things a bit more interesting at the end when, as the restaurant closed around us, the heat went up a few notches.
The battleground was a rocky wasteland of colonialism, neo-colonialism, and the moral prerogative of nations. It was interesting, fun stuff to discuss that I don't get to do much. I loved it.
A wrinkle was provided from a Columbia U. history professor who happened to be at the bar and became a second front of battle: the professor, being British, and Baba, being Indian, made for an interesting back-and-forth. I enjoyed just listening to them fence with each other.
In the end, a good time was had by all. Not counting the chickens and other animals that died to make our feasting possible, the only casualties were our own (mis)conceptions. That, and my sleep, my precious, precious sleep. I need some coffee.
I went to lunch at Sophie's on Chambers Street with an ex-coworker. He had introduced the place to me last month. That outing, I had a good fish stew. Today I had a steak sandwich and I was blown away. It was awesome. I almost ordered a second one to take home with me. On top of that, it's a seriously cheap eats. I think my sandwich, soda, tax and tip came to nine dollars. What-a-bargain. That is a bargain for me.
My evening was swiftly descending into the sort of hell reserved for mid-level managers and ambulance-chasing attorneys. I got an "invitation" to attend a work conference call because of things I shan't discuss at this time (it will only make me angry- you won't like me when I'm angry).
I had to cancel the beatdown I was scheduled to receive in MLB '08 and scramble around to find something to eat prior to the call. I was going to go to the supermarket but now I didn't have time. All I could do was wander down Myrtle looking for somewhere, anywhere, I could get something fast.
Luckily, there are plenty of choices on Myrtle. I ended up at The Jive Turkey. I hadn't tried there before (but it was on my list) and I walked out with a turkey BLT and a side of mashed potatoes. I gotta say: the turkey was impressive. It was moist and had a nice flavor to it - there were some nice cajun spices working in there. The potatoes were choice too. It was definitely just what I needd and got me through the phone call. Needless to say, I'll definitely be back.
I felt pity on the poor sap handing out fliers outside the subway stop this morning so I took his offering on my way into work. I am only now, as the first hunger pangs of lunch arrive, looking at it. It is awesome. It is not awesome in an "ooh, I want to try this place" sort of way but more in an "I can't believe somebody did this" kind of awesome.
First of all, the place is called 'WrapStar". I am, oddly enough, a fan of the pun, in general. However, this pun is truly awful. In case the name didn't strike enough fear into our hearts, the logo design is a cartoon (stereotypes for the win!) rapper (wrapper?) talking into a wrap. A juicy wrap by the looks of it as it is spitting squeezings out in every direction. I don't usually talk to my food. Sane people usually don't. I think it's clear that the restaurant is insane.
It's insanity was confirmed* by the presence of a 5% "package charge" that will be levied on each purchase. Packaging, really? How much packaging are they doing? Will they wrap the wrap (ha ha!) in bubble wrap (too late!)? The food better come in a styrofoam ark of the fast food covenant. Or, I could skip the whole deal and just get some street food.
The only choice, the sane choice, is street food. Plus, I don't want some madman talking into my lunch. * I refuse to even acknowledge "Fresh Food Fizast".
I like to drink the office coffee, not because it is good (it isn't), but because it is free. Let me be blunt: it is truly rotten. However, I've come up with a way to make it somewhat less rotten and cut down on the actual coffee I'm consuming.
There are more than a few tea drinkers on my floor (damn tea drinkers!) so, warming on the ebony hot plates of the industrial coffee machine, there tends to be one pot of coffee and one pot of hot water. One day, as I contemplated the juxtaposition of these two diametrically opposed pots, I had a vision. It was my office kitchenette road-to-Damascus moment.
I took my mug, put in a copious amount of powdered creamer and then, instead of pouring in the coffee as usual, I poured in the hot water and stirred until I had about a third of the cup filled with the powder and water - combining the melange into something approaching milk. I then filled up the rest of the cup with coffee.
The result is a mild cup of coffee which tastes better and cuts down on my caffeine intake. It's full of win and, by using some of the hot water, I get to stick it to the tea drinking elites (take that tea-drinkers!).
Note: I am, in matter of fact, a tea drinker. English Breakfast. Old school.
Well, I was able to do it- I was able to score a copy of GTA IV tonight instead of tomorrow (I wasn't about to go fetch it at midnight). So far so good, it's graphically extremely impressive, it controls well, and it boasts a great script. Niko is a very likable character for someone who is essentially a thug, though not just a thug- he's got a mysterious past, a heart of gold, and a song in his heart. A thug with a heart of gold... doesn't that describe every GTA lead character?
I've only completed the first few missions - really, they're thinly veiled tutorials but they do a good job of drawing you in while handing out the requisite instructions on different gameplay elements, such as driving, shooting, brawling, and dating. Yes, dating. And you will like it.
Below are some photos of GTA IV ads I spotted around town:
...and the Corner Deli (Why? Because... just because):
Call it coincidence, call it synchronicity, but lately I keep hearing about Go Go CURRY!. This is a Japanese curry chain that has opened up its first restaurant outside of Japan here in NYC. The primary location is off of Time Square but, according to the website, they also serve it at The American Grill Diner in the East Village. I'll be in that neck of the woods this afternoon so I'll have to give it a try.
I probably should have mentioned it yesterday when it was more topical but... I didn't. What I did do was go into Thai 101 for lunch. It was my first time. I don't eat much Thai food, not for reasons of taste but because it just doesn't come up much. Out of sight, out of mouth. What caught my eye was the Thai beef salad on the menu.
My mother makes a great Thai beef salad. Actually, I guess she does because I've never had it. But I've heard over and over again how great it is. So, it dawned on me to try Thai 101's beef salad to create a basis of comparison for whenever I finally get to try my mother's version.
Unfortunately, because it has been a day and a half since I had the Thai beef salad, my recollections on the exact flavor have become a bit hazy. However, I did enjoy it with the slight caveat that it was a bit salty, nothing to deter me from having it again though.
Slowly but surely, I'm making the rounds of all the local eateries. I can't always go to Maggie Brown or Chez Lola... or can I? (No, I can't.)
I went to Maggie Brown for breakfast this morning. I think I'm addicted to the Maggie Brown Eggs (the secret ingredient is horseradish!). I sat at the bar and watched the bartender make homemade Bloody Mary mix. I think she's the only one who does this, though, and she only works on Sundays.
It was about 10:30 AM and a guy sitting at a table ordered up a Guinness. This man is obviously trying to get some serious business done this morning. Either that, or he likes to drink his breakfast... Drinking breakfast? Brilliant!
After the eggs and some coffee, I hustled down to the Brooklyn Flea. I wasn't expecting much, being that the day looks to be on the edge of misery, but there was more going on than I had thought. I desperately need furnishings for my apartment but nothing caught my eye. I did however enter into a raffle for a table made of old bowling lane wood. I might go back this afternoon if either it doesn't rain or the fates smile down on me and I win the table. In any case, I need furniture but I lack inspiration. I need a design-epiphany.
Here are some shots from the flea market taken through my iPhone (where the heck did I hide my digital camera?):
The Clinton Hill Foodie did a nice little writeup about Kif, a Moroccan restaurant in the 'hood. I've passed it once or twice walking around but haven't tried it yet. I lived in Morocco for a few years so I'd love to find a good spot that offers the true cuisine. Too often, Moroccan restaurants do nothing more than pass off generic Middle Eastern food. Hopefully, this spot will deliver. I'd love some good Moroccan kafta (not Lebanese!) but I fear that may be too much to hope for. Actually, I'll take anything, as long as they have more on the menu than the inexplicably ever-present Merguez sausage.
I went to Chez Lola for dinner tonight. It's the second time I've been there and both times I've had a really good experience: great food, great atmosphere, friendly peeps. I'm hooked on their spicy salmon burger. I've had it both times. I need to break out and try something new next time.
My "Favorites of 2024" List
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Here we go again.
*MOVIES*
New Year. Similar format. :) I will continue with my 2 list method. As
always, first list will be my top 10 movies relea...
Returning Shortly
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Well it's the new year, and my new game room is completed. So its time for
the blog to continue. Thinking of getting the podcast going again. Plans
are in ...
