Who's Going Chicken Huntin'

Without fail, every single time P goes on a road trip, we get some natural disaster here in Brooklyn.  He is somewhere in the distance,  unaware, unconcerned, frolicking happily.  As far as I can surmise, it is accidental.  There's no way he could know. There have been rare tornadoes, threats of hurricanes, Nor'Easters, you name it, all when he goes away.   Many areas of the city flooded, not from the storm surge but instead from heavy amounts of rain which caused the locations to vary widely.  Subways turned into waterfalls and unfortunately illegal basement apartments became tombs for unprepared residents. who drowned before they could escape.  A horrible new tragedy.  

But before all of that madness took place, I was in innocent bliss preparing Chilled Cucumber Soup with lots of fresh, vibrant herbs.  A perfect girly lunch! I blended it, then set it in the fridge to chill whilst I set out on a voyage to find what I call the Chicken House.  A hunnerd years ago I took a walk and discovered a cool old house with a fenced in front yard chicken coup with a bunch of gorgeous exotic looking chickens.  I've not been able to get that house out of my mind since.  At the time Brooklyn was full of chickens.  I always worried what would become of all those poor birds once the thrill was gone of housing them.  Whatever did happen is a mystery, but now they are all but gone completely.   So, I was determined to find this magical house to hopefully visit the last survivors.  I knew it was within a mile vicinity, but several previous attempts to locate the house proved futile.  

Chilled Cucumber Soup

But today, I struck gold.  There it was, just as I remembered, but this time with only one solo chicken in the yard.  However a few small ones were elevated in a pen.  

This house was hard to forget.  It is a stand alone, which is uncommon for this area.  I Googled it to see who the chicken owners were because a man with a dog emerged as I was outside gawking, trying to get the darn chicken to pose for my camera.  The dog and the man seemed very friendly and warm, another oddity.  It turns out the house has another unusual bit of history.  Built in the 1860s, one of the owners was Tollner of Cage and Tollner, what was the city's oldest restaurant and another major fascination point for me.  That grand restaurant was tucked away in the seedy Fulton Mall yet seemed to be a very high end place with gorgeous interiors, filled with interesting people.  Then it was sadly turned into a TGIF one day.

The house has been everything from a majestic farmhouse built at the intersection of two old Indian trails, to a lavish party house, to a crack den and deviant center and now home to a bunch of millennial housemates with chickens in the yard and organic gardens in the back.  It's known for it's mysterious underground tunnel that apparently doesn't lead anywhere but has everyone perplexed as to it's original use.  They claim in the article several folks were violently killed inside those walls.  I don't claim to be officially psychic but I have to admit, I get major vibes from this house.  Before I knew any of this history, I have been so drawn to find it again, to stand facing the house, and to see those darn chickens. 

How Come 24 Hours Baby Sometimes Seem to Slip Into Days

Pasta girls know the deep rewards of a glistening bowl of simply dressed noodles.  Tons of garlic and a couple of spoonfuls of pesto, red pepper flakes, Parmesan and Extra Virgin Olive Oil , all tossed with pasta water was all this girl needed to restore her faith in humanity.  A heatwave had spoiled my fantasies of creating selfish, incredible dishes and long adventurous walks while P was away.  Instead I came home each night and after rehydrating, I'd shower and immediately fall into bed.  I was barely able to put on a pot of boiling water, let alone be creative.  But then something incredible happened as I lay there listening to the air conditioner.  Instead of my mind filling with useless thoughts, I was flooded with a giant sense of gratitude and luck to be here, in Brooklyn, at this time, at this moment, alone but not feeling lonely.  It was like the whole room, the whole apartment was breathing in and out with me.  Everything was filled with this beautiful peace and stillness.  Yes, it was hot riding home but I took a long shower and felt refreshed and invigorated. Yes, I was tired but now I was home from work and I could watch dumb movies or read stupid articles about whatever I wanted while relaxing comfortably!  It'd be cool to make something new but honestly, what makes me the most happy is a large bowl of pasta dressed as my mood in that moment.  So every obstacle popped like balloons from my mind, until I was left with a perfect stillness.   I'd never been able to feel this level of contentment before, not like this. 

And it was all real.  I ate, then made a huge glass of lemon seltzer and settled in for a night of incredible solitude. 

What a Glorious Feeling, I'm Happy Again

Nerd Alert!

I wasn't always a dopey nerd.  I started as one, then had a moment of coolness but it seems I'm reverting back to my roots as the clock ticks on.  I would not have even known unless my sister hadn't constantly pointed it out.  She laughed at me all the time when I walked, rode my bike, hooked worms for fish.  She just shook her head like I was the dippiest thing she'd ever seen.  She was a goofy nerd lover though so it worked out!  We had such fun times together and still do. 

Every summer I look forward to our giant thunderstorms and hearing that crack of lightning, another reminder of my Midwestern upbringing.  This month we're getting a good run of showers.  P was gone on a road trip, I had to work late and got caught in a huge downpour, so it was so refreshing to get soaked to the bejesus and not care.   I can barely see at night when it rains so I wore my glasses and used my fingers as windshield wipers as I kept eyes wide for pesky pot holes. 

Like a crack addict, I always head straight to the pasta while P's gone to fill those emotional holes.  It's not the best way to handle your feelings but so far it's the lesser of all the evils.  I sauteed a bunch of mushrooms and stuck chunks of mozzarella into warm oiled noodles along with pepper flakes.  There are several types of pasta dishes.  This is of the quick variety but they're all satisfying, it just depends on where your head is.  If you're ravenous and need quick relief, a big bowl of al dente noodles like this can be heaven.  If you need food foreplay, then taking your time to cut all the good vegetables and slow simmer the sauce is best.  Slicing the garlic thinly and buying real Parmesan to grate over top, taking no shortcuts, can be a real event. 

All I care about is enjoying these moments and the more I do, the more they seem to happen.

All I Leave Behind Me Is Only What I Found

P took a road trip to see a jam band music festival with this brother in Scranton.  I texted him that New York had air quality alerts due to the heavy stench of old Burkenstocks coming over from the Northwest.  Old man hippie stank thick like a fog.  I thought it was funny.

Meanwhile, rain hit the area hard and taking the subway gave me the opportunity to finally try this new little Mexican joint under the overpass.  I had no cash and the morning cook didn't know how to operate the credit card machine.  At a stand still he decided to let me slide like Wimpy, promising to pay for my tacos another day.

These times are when I feel so 'unMexican', so uncool.  Some crazy hybrid awkward geek mutant that can't speak Spanish or even convey a simple promise.  My sister busted me right away when I told her the story.  She knew I would become way too chatty nervously trying to explain that I would definitely come back that afternoon to pay.  I ended up sounding like Miss Jane in one of her screwball episodes.  What a nerd turd I can be sometimes.  It's a leftover from my Midwestern days where if you ever did anything wrong in society as a Mexican child you must immediately become convincingly trustworthy and sound.  In other words you never wanted to start any trouble or make waves.  Certainly never be caught unable to pay at check out.  My mom was big on always being presentable and not giving anyone ammunition to become hostile. I took this to heart.

But this guy looked like he could care less if he ever saw me again,  Apparently old lady goobers aren't captivating.  Made me feel even worse. My dorkiness aside, its as if people are less connected every year, less human, less feeling.  Less moved by each other.  We're moving too far away from our natural animal communication abilities.  Not many people look you in your eyes anymore. Do you notice that?  There is a lot to see in those peepers, for me anyway.  He had no idea how psyched I was to finally try this place.  How I thought it was so brave to start a business in this corner.  How happy it made me for them that it most certainly paid off.  How the rain made this moment possible in a sweet chance encounter that made me feel even more linked to this man, making my tacos.

Later, after work I walked back to pay my debt and to try another offering for my dinner.  This time with more social armor up.  This morning it was steak, so I bought two chicken tacos. I waved at him,  happy to see he was still working but the gesture was not acknowledged, although he motioned to the cashier that I owed from this morning.

Later I sat in my apartment enjoying the chicken taco with a huge iced lemon seltzer considering how we're failing more every day at humanity.  If you can't conjure a little love with a simple taco exchange on a rainy day then I fear the end is surely not far behind.

All the Way Back in the 70's, It's You!

Going back to write old posts I'm seeing a troubling pattern here.  P goes away.  I eat pasta. How telling. It's definitely a girly pleasure that he doesn't get. He has no connection to those soft silky buttered carbs gliding down his lonely throat on a cold Midwest night.  And I love to cook but somehow not if it's just for myself usually.  When I do, its gotta be something exciting but more often I lean towards comfort foods, things that make me feel loved.  Like this giant plate of linguine with jarred Vodka Sauce and added ground beef.  

These skinny noodles feed not just my belly but my heart and my soul and my mind because we go way back.  I knew them before they were called pasta. To when eating that boxed Chef Boy R Dee spaghetti kit helped me be that latch-key kid of the 70s.  When all my friends had their parents home after school, mine were starting a restaurant that required all of their time, day and night.  But my mom always left money so we could make the trip to Hep's Dairy store and a little extra for pop and Seyfert's BBQ potato chips.  That meal fostered feelings that something was there warm and giving.  I bought into it full on.  I would gorge like a puppy and then sleep satisfied and content after watching all the night time variety shows.  You can't replace real love with food, believe me I've tried.  But you can patch that hole pretty good if you get enough of it. 

Even though I love being alone, when P leaves it must trigger that old void.  Hey, we all survive our childhoods though, unless we don't.  Some don't.  Now I do it just for the good eats and a little nod to that goofy little Carol Burnett lovin' kid back on Schele Avenue.  

Received the latest CD batch of my husband's newest incarnation and my new steel toed bad ass boots for work.