No One Mystifies Me Like You Do

I used to think I'd be interesting forever because... I don't know why actually, just assumed it would be so.  Never had a reason to believe I'd remain anything other than fascinating to myself at least.  However, all the sudden, I'm not so taken.  All the sudden I feel like one of those old ladies they nominate for makeovers on daytime tv shows.  All the sudden I feel very unimpressive in many areas.  Like a lot of women, I see room for improvement.  I try to look at myself. Taking down each little trait like the Christmas ornaments off the tree and examining them.  Looking at all my attributes after years of just shoving them all in the back of my closet like shoes.  I have some great qualities that when polished up and cleaned are more impressive than I thought actually.  But some of what I imagined were my highlights turned out to be non existent or illusions. Like trying to pick up snowflakes.  Huh.  Seems like a really bad idea to consider yourself so much.  Too bad I can't seem to stop.  

Cooking is one of the most honest things I know how to do.  It's one of the ways I know to really live in the moment.  You make quick decisions in the kitchen. It's fast paced, which I like. It's self pleasing.  You need to start with a plan or occasionally just spontaneously begin.  You become forgiving and supportive of yourself.  You learn patience and to use your sense of humor.  Music plays a role and can inspire.  You lose yourself in it and I love when I'm not examining, I'm just doing.  I make everything a damn study.  And when I cook, that goes away.

It's theraputic alone time, diddling with yourself and getting your own needs met.  Concentrating on one task allows a focus that is uncommon in our daily lives anymore.

I had this great idea to make a cabbage roll casserole.  I blanched the cabbage leaves and made a huge cabbage bed. Then stuffed it with ground turkey, tomatoes, garlic, onions, shredded cabbage and herbs before wrapping it all up like a present with a parmesan cheese bow on top.   Baked at 350 for 40 minutes and it was pretty special.

I haven't figured yet if distractions are your actual life or something you do to avoid your real life.  If it's the latter, I think I'm screwed because I've managed to fill my days with a myriad of pastimes.  Just like this dog that fixated on this squirrel.  I use cooking to divert my attention away from forming any definite conclusions about myself.

And the Days Go By Like a Strand in the Wind

P went to a coworker funeral this morning and I went to spend the afternoon with a friend.  Felt funny him leaving in a suit and me all chipper hoping for sunshine and lots of laughs.

I walked through downtown Brooklyn there and back.

Moonstruck Diner on 2nd Ave, my bud's favorite.  I had the Greek Salad and she had her usual grilled cheese platter with fries and a Coke.  Any good diner's staple.

H and I have gone to diners for years and she always gets the same thing and eats like a quarter of it.  She made me appreciate diners for the conversation and easiness of the whole experience.  Laid back yet hustled and noisy.

They took out the booths and put in little bistro tables and the waiter looked disappointed in our order.  Then don't call it a diner!  They already upped the price tag on these menu items to well beyond their worth anyway, so keep your specialty items and pocket the profit and leave me the eff alone!  And bring me a cawfee!

Walking past some of these places  in the East Village I have specific memories attached to over the years when we first moved here.  Instantly I get pulled back into those days, all the mystery of the new terrain, and the history and the memories being made at the same time.  Being taught New York 101 by the men we called McIntosh, Jackson and Halverson on the easiest ways to get from bar to bar in all the neighborhoods and then to the nearest subway when you've reached your limit.  And how to pour your friends in a late night cab when necessary.  It seems easy until you are the one responsible for doing it.  Where does your friend live?  Should you get a cab facing uptown, downtown, across town?  Do they have money, can they talk?  It actually does need to be taught.  This was before GPS and cell phones mind you.  And you were wise to listen to the tried advice of these professionals.

That was years ago but I love how specific times in your life become whole chapters.  And you can go back sometimes and read them and it all comes to life again.

Everything changes and some things stay exactly the same.

You Don't Know How it Feels to Be Me

We got out of the habit of eating out when I lost my job and we became seriously broke.  Then I started enjoying to cook more and opted to eat in instead of going through what felt like the hassle of getting ready and making a production out of just eating.  Don't get me wrong, I celebrate and enjoy food immensely.  Just everything was reevaluated at some point and it became less important. First we didn't do dinners, only brunch and breakfast but often at least.  Then my schedule put the skids on those fun times.  Now we really only go out to dinner if there is bad news to break, family or friends in town and in any case, it's never just the two of us.  It is always with a third party.  I used to bitch about it until I realized, I don't really care.  If I want to go to a restaurant, we could go anytime.  We have amazing delivery options, so that is still alive and well.  It's not a bad thing.  It's just how it is.  You go through phases but also, I want to know exactly what I'm eating right now.  I like choosing the ripe tomato and the crispness of the greens going on my plate.

So a relative was in town and decisions did have to be discussed so to a dining establishment we did trek.  John's of 12th Street. It was my choice.  Matt loves pizza and we wanted an old timey sort of feel, white tablecloths, male wait staff.  It was all of these things and the food was good.  The food was not great but by no means bad.  Sometimes you want 'good' though.

I had one of the specials, a gnocchi in a brown butter sauce.  And I think I either bullied Matt into getting the other special which was some orange ravioli or I pushed him to try something more fun than one of the regular entrees he was leaning towards.  I persuaded P to get pizza, so we could share. He doesn't care.  P's not a foodie.  He likes food and he can understand when it's really good but he doesn't live and breathe it like I do.  He doesn't think about it and write about it and cream over a good sauce or cut of meat.  He wasn't preoccupied with what he'd get given the choice of a full Italian menu.  He didn't understand my inner turmoil when faced with traditional verses specialty mains.  An amazing lasagna or linguine with clams made well could kick the shit out of any special.  But was it worth the risk?  These are the problems i had that night. He touches on it sometimes but he can never fully know what food really means to me.  All that it encompasses.  It's probably for the best.

We sat next to that huge ass candle that's been burning since prohibition or something.

Avocado pesto bruschetta for an appetizer.  Good.  And old New York Italian just good was exactly what I truly wanted in food that night. http://www.johnsof12thstreet.com/index.html