This blog is particularly for my sister and all my foodie friends (which is actually most of my pals). I know that Steph is interested in the food that I have been consuming. I have to say much of it has been amazing and needs to be shared (physically by the sheer portion size- wish my buddies were here to halve the calories with me- but also by verbal description and some photographs). Fellow Sunday Clubbers, our premise for our club was food and friends- essential things for happiness (mine at least), and together wonderfully symbiotic.
Sunday Club back home was based around home cooked food. My cooking here in the U.S so far not so much amazing, although there have been some decent porridge concoctions; a great spelt pasta, cauliflower, leek and chickpea bake (very popular with the mouse who evidently savoured the remnants from the worktop); roasted cauliflower popular; aubergine marinated in chilli, coriander, soy and ginger that was bbq-ed in Prospect Park and a pretty great frittata (heavy on the olives and feta for taste). Sabir enjoyed the meal I cooked, saying it was the best vegetarian cooking he had tasted. I was obviously flattered but also defensive- I can do better, I promise!
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| Dinner Jess style (compromised by NYC supermarket produce!) |
But should a cook blame their ingredients? I think in NYC I can. This is the city where it can be so reasonable to eat out, so accommodating to your every whim and dietary need and so blooming delicious that it just makes sense to have someone do it for you. With slogans plastered around the city like: 'Eat local, and by local, we mean your couch.' And: 'Calling restaurants is like slow walking behind tourists.' SO apps for food on demand, no talking necessary. You can also buzz the delivery dudes in, so you really do hardly have to move. You can see why ordering in is a temptation, positively encouraged here. As well, you don’t create a potential banquet for a mouse by using your kitchen. Conclusion about the NYC produce in supermarkets is that they are lacking in flavour; the displays, piled high, create a spectacle, but it is a mirage because the reality is that the produce is lacklustre. Even our organic cinnamon was lacking- we poured over half of the container into our porridge mix until it was an unsightly brown shade, because that was when we knew we would be able to taste it. Lyd and I have had to manoeuvre, try and test, to get it (almost) right. I message Lyd from Boston where I have made porridge, saying that the strawberries and mango atop of my tailored oats, quinoa, bulghar, sunflower seed mix with a snifter of cinnamon literally was like heaven in a bowl. That’s New England supermarket produce for you, she said. I miss my princess porridge shared with a friend! First Eve gone and now Lyd. Lucky I can app her a picture and it feels like we are eating together.
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Homemade salads mixed with AMAZING spinach dumplings
from Xian Noodle Place down the road |
Anna A has said during my stay in New York how happy it has made her; a friendship network with some established roots. A circle of loved ones does take the edge off and make life sweeter.
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| Anna A and I catch up; pre-dinner (of course) at a BBC launch |
Lyd and I discuss the prevalence of Americans in therapy. So many people she knows are in the depths of it and it is part of their life, health care package- it is just commonplace. The idea of therapy stresses us both out and we both know we would be at a loss what to say, panic before we go in and then feel a failure in the session. We sit with a cup of tea, sharing a cookie and we delve into a gritty topic about former loves. She burst out, ‘See, we talk more in 5 minutes than we would to a stranger, and feel SO much better!’
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| I bought this for Lydia to pop our NY photos in |
Sharing food is always comforting, probably a side of french fries (my sister's preference) or a bag of cookies (my preference) is a problem halved. I know one of my favourite recipes for a Chocolate Fudge Cake by Nigella, says serves 8, or 1 with a broken heart. Unfortunately, my dear sister, I actually don’t like fries that much (chip shop chips drenched in vinegar, yes). But I would share them with you in a heartbeat if you needed to absolve the french fry guilt or talk something out. I know you, Steph, like a little side of fries with everything. My only french fry story is a portion of awesome sweet potato fries in Philadelphia at ‘Hip City Veg’ but other than that, none to speak of, although there is time yet. AMAZINGLY delish food has been had daily. It has been enjoyed often alone but has been enjoyed much more when it is shared. Breaking bread together with friends makes for a happy princess.
So back to New York and an account of some of the culinary delights. You know about 'The Hungarian Pastry Shop' and that cake, awarded to Lyd for her first run of the year. Hmmmmm, others sampled from there, let me see. Well in reflection, not many by myself- I did enforce a sugar ban on myself for awhile. Lydia had a few other delights, I did nibble some. A crazy style cheesecake slice and something heavenly with almonds. My sweet love is a good old chocolate chip cookie. Now I am in dangerous territory because there are cookies on every corner, even possibilities to order them till 4:00am. (I watched someone eating one on the subway, this morning in Boston, it looked soooooo good that I may well have drooled.) So I had quite a few of these from 'Silver Moon Bakery', conveniently and temptingly situated on the corner of Broadway and 105th. And considering how much I love the silver moon, it would have been rude not to partake in some bakery action from this gem. Lydia and I sat outside on my last day and both had a cookie; sharing my little habit made me feel not so much a junkie (Lyd bailed on her Pilates class when I mentioned I was going to head to Silver Moon for one last treat, she just had to come).
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Alone (with a children's book) and a damn good cookie-
I had to share this experience with Lydia |
The Easter breads and baked goods were extremely beautiful too:
My Easter Sunday dinner could have been alone but Sabir, Anna and I opted for Thai food in Brooklyn. Maybe not so traditional but perfect for us waifs and strays:
Thai food, well a particular Thai restaurant is a but of a fixation for Lyd and I. It has altered plans; causing us to rearrange and formulate new strategies in order to get to out favourite restaurant. We loved this restaurant on my first visit as documented in our 'The Princess and Hurricane' blog. We both are unsure about marriage but we both confess to loving the food so much, we would marry the papaya salad or possibly the chef (an elderly Thai woman) just at the chance of having it every day. More seriously though, Lyd is considering looking for an apartment right across from the restaurant (rent control is unlikely and the pain of moving would be extreme) or a long holiday to Thailand, purely on the basis of experiencing the papaya salad in the motherland. Seriously. Well, the latter option is more of a feasible possibility. We discover new things at our favourite restaurant. Realising they do an amazing lunch offer, we have only just ordered our dinner and are literally planning to bring Tosh the next day. Tricky. Lyd has a seminar and would have to leave Queens at 1:20 at the latest, Tosh has a flight back to Ireland which we hope to be from JFK and in the evening so our lunch plans can come to fruition. We have already decide on what the lunch will entail, and have taken Tosh’s order into our hands. Needless to say, we don’t make it. It would have been a disruptive morning. Instead we all head out for a run in Hudson River (second one for Lyd!) and head back for a porridge and rye bread (with the most luscious Pennyslvania Raw Honey I picked up from the Health Food Store). Eating home cooked food together, at the table and chatting, just can’t be beaten (only by a Centre Point papaya salad, I might dump a friend for that).
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Lyd did not want to postpone tucking in for the photo,
but she also understands the need for the blog |
Lydia and I question how greedy we are? We are already ordering in our heads a second item before finishing the first, planning our days and exploration of the burroughs of NYC around food. We head downtown for an amazing coffee avocado smoothie:
We search for coffee that does not lack viscosity and taste diluted. Hallelujah, hail Anna A, a non-coffee drinking angel for taking me here Cafe Pedlar in Brooklyn:
We discuss coffee with a fellow good coffee seeker in the magical 'Eataly'. We intended to eat at Penelope’s but there was a 2 hour wait, so we went walking and cam across 'Eataly', where Lydia and I both gasped and held onto each other, but for different reasons. I, for seeing the amazing .Flat Iron' Building and Lyd for realising 'Eataly' of course was opposite here and it housed great coffee.
This was quite the place. Cavernous with pockets of different places to eat: wealthy New Yorkers with fancy mini trolleys; queues at the gelato stand; coffee tasting area; stand up booths for brunching on 20 dollar scrambled eggs (they did look delicious); a restaurant-y type area; deli; bakery; patisserie; pasta making area; italian groceries. It was like Italy had thrown up in here. It was buzzy, very snazzy and kinda cool. We opted for a take out sandwich and sitting outside.
NYC is great for throwing seating into public spaces- you build it and they will come (or put some seating and they will come and sit). The sandwich was beautiful, intensely rich because of the heavy, quality ingredients. We supped our coffee and munched on the best tasting mango we had bought to date here. Both of us are in coffee ecstasy. We must have another one. We had only just finished our first. We headed straight back in, stopping for some photos in front of the 'Flat Iron' first.
The plan head been 'Penelope’s' and then 'Bed, Bath and Beyond'. We were on the tail end of the mouse situation and wanted to spruce up the apartment with a few items. Figuring we could treat 'Bed, Bath and Beyond' like a museum and enjoy our post Sunday brunch NY day. We did stop in 'Aveda' on the way and Lyd had a 10 minute facial.
We were blithering on to the sales assistant and left realising that real coffee with body has a totally different effect than diner style coffee we had been drinking. Combined with the richness of the sandwich, the mango and 'Bed, Bath and Beyond', we both felt so incredibly awful (I could have cried), we got on the subway and went home! Serves these little princesses right! No amount of cups of hot water could right the wrongs. ICK! We may have learnt our lesson because the following week we finally made it to 'Penelope’s'. We had attempted to get there during Hurricane Sandy, then last week too. Thwarted. My last Saturday in NYC we were determined to make it happen. Post yoga I would walk like a maniac there, put our names down for a table, head to Eataly for a coffee (JUST ONE) and await Lyd, who would be off the back of pilates and with luggage as she was heading to New England for 2 nights. From 'Penelope’s' she would be closer to Penn Station and I would do a bit more exploring in this area and then head uptown for a Saturday evening of blogging on Broadway. It all worked out. Lyd said that the waffles were some of the best she had. Perfect texture, citrus butter divine and the blueberries with maple syrup, the blueberries… The ones we had bought from the supermarket had tasted like water. These blueberries were so scrumptious, if one had rolled on to the floorI would have picked it up and popped it back on my plate, or straight into my mouth! My eggs and home fries were uber tasty and we went half and half on our meals to experience the best of both worlds. Now, I am embarrassed to say, we did debate ordering a third dish to share. We even discussed it with the waiter. It had all been soooooo good that we did not want it to end. Nutella french toast and strawberries. We discussed it at length. Lydia tells me that miserable looking couple, who had spent their brunch on iPhones, were giving us disgusted looks. It could have been for gluttony or for the fact we were having conversation. We remembered last week and we stopped ourselves.
More brunching was had. Lyd says if she answers a Skype call from her sister on a weekend, her sister’s reaction is, ‘Why are you not at brunch?’ It definitely is what this city does. So we had lovely 'Miriam's', an Israeli style brunch with Miss Anna A:
My favourite cafe pre and post yoga in Chelsea was ‘Cafe Champignon’. Lyd had recommended it for the wifi and baked goods. I managed to steer clear of these until the last week where recognising that my days were numbered, I caved and bought the yoghurt cinnamon muffin (allegedly low fat). It wasn’t all that actually. Not a patch on my ‘Silver Moon’ cookie. Damn. If only I had one sooner, I would not have lusted so longingly after it. The healthy egg white wrap was a go to for taste and virtue. I question the health because on (about) wrap 5 I noticed dripping, greasy looking cheese dotted throughout. I certainly must have tasted it but was perhaps in denial. The smoothie was a great discovery. Blueberry, banana, peanut butter and almond milk was a fave medley.
My time in the Big Apple had come to an end. My last week was punctuated with the same sadness as when I had left my Amsterdam home. So a last week full of NYC lasts. Mexican food in De Mole, Queens:
This Mexican meal was supposed to be a brunch, but often we had got distracted and didn’t really feel like brunching, even when we set out to. I did come across a blog called ‘Bitches Who Brunch’, intended to act upon their advice in Boston but just didn’t quite feel like eating that type of food.
A brunch at our local diner, Metro (first day in NYC):
Mexican food in Blue Chip, Queens (they make their own tortilla chips and immediately bring these out complimentary on your arrival, and you can ask for more!):
Japanese with Anna A, the girl who knows her sushi and we went shoeless on low tables and we cooked our own food:
Saber brings us coffee and cake in the park:
There is food absolutely everywhere. My thrill on one of my first days here was seeing a business man, briefcase in hand and hot dog in the other. Wish I could have snapped that one. I wonder if the dogs realise the irony as they wait in hope at the hot dog stand:
We share popcorn and m&ms at a show on Broadway. Lydia blames Adam for wanting to buy theatre treats. I tell her about the time that us Wolff children took Mama Wolff to see Wicked and Adam had fell off his training/health kick wagon. He fell hard. He was so looking forward to the big bag of Maltesers he would buy for the show. He managed, though we were almost late, to grab me a water, him a bag of Starburst and Revels (sadly no Maltesers) and Steph and Mama Wolff a glass of wine. (Steph, already tipsy from a boozy dinner and luncheon in London did not need this thoughtful treat. She fell asleep with her feet up on the chair, after calling one of the characters a bitch; hysterically laughing for about 5 minutes at an inappropriate moment; spilling wine on the seat in front and her final act: proceeding to snore. Adam who is a musical lover- Lyd thinks this ought to encourage her beau, as Adam is a real man and Maltesers would surely take the edge off the cheesiness of a show- said he would never sit next to Steph again and he would be making sure he purchased his Maltesers first).
All of these food treats have been made all the more merry with a band of friends to share it with. How lucky we are to be able to enjoy such wonderful tastes and in abundance. So I am learning to frequently dine alone; attempting to avoid over eating, although this is much harder without your friends to share and chatter to distract. I write, read and observe and ask for doggie bags. But to be honest, sometimes the food would serve 3 people and many more than that in a country not so fortunate. I really notice this in Boston. It makes me feel uncomfortable (not just in the tightness of my pants, but generally about the world). I thinks about it more because I am alone again. No friends, tempting to order a side of fries or cookies. Just to fill the hole. Food just tastes different with friends.
I am more accustomed to dining alone as time goes on and I get older. I remember Eve in Kantiang Bay, Koh Lanta, our magical cove where our friendship was formed, being called selfish by a waiter. She did not want to move tables for a group of four that had arrived at the restaurant. She was on her own, sat on a table for four but there were plenty of other options for the group, maybe just not such a nice view. She didn’t want to. It is hard enough travelling alone, eating alone. I know what she means. As I sat, one, on a table for two, plonked at the back of ‘WonderSpice’. I scanned my environment. Near the exit, toilets and staff access, I was in the least desirable part of the restaurant. I felt forgotten and out of the loop. A few evenings before I had come here for thai food because I LOVE it and had moved from a table for four as it busied up. I volunteered the move because I could see the waitress struggling to seat arriving customers. So I was sandwiched between two couples on their date nights.
So while it can be lovely to have a big bag of popcorn to yourself (Steph; Moy, Fee and I blame you for the popcorn addiction we all suffered- only realising it was an issue when we all confirmed that we stood stuffing fistfuls into our mouths and grabbing the next handful before the first fistful was even finished), but sharing a bag with Anna A at the movies on a Sunday night was so much more pleasant. Don’t get me wrong, we still shovelled it in. Maybe slightly more moderately than other popcorn indulgences and Anna perhaps not as much as me- she snacked on sushi while I devoured the first part of the bag. Made me think of Adam again. He had gone to the cinema with his buddy, James. James expressed concern that Adam being his date, as opposed to his girlfriend, meant no handbag in which to sneak in cinema snacks. Adam opened up his winter coat like a dodgy pimp/street watch salesman. No worries, James. Check out my pocket areas in my North Face. Turned out Adam’s coat was far better than James’ girlfriends handbag; he expected it to traffic Maltesers and sweets, but James’ cinema snackage opened a whole new world to Adam. Cheeseburgers. McDonald’s Cheeseburgers. James had three, Adam two. These are big boys. (James changed from his gym t-shirt into his work gear in front of Steph and I and we both found it difficult to avert our eyes from his ripped body and both raised our eyebrows in appreciation as he left the room.) Friendship with a side of cheeseburgers. Not for everyone but works for these beasts.
So, friends, I miss you all but am happily ever after, here in Montreal. I am supping a coffee and typing away. The song that I always hear when I miss my sister, Adele’s ‘Hometown’, is playing in the cafe and I am emotional (Steph told me of when she was working at Glastonbury and she was there before all the festival goers had arrived; she watched the sunset over the fields and as they sound checked with that Adele song, her heart could have burst with the magic of the moment- alone, intoxicated with bliss) .I am alone but feeling elated. Morning run and some strawberries and oats for brekkie, made in my cosy air bnb. Stronger from Boston and the beauty of crossing the U.S/Canadian border over a spellbinding sunset, drenched in significance for me. I will have Portugese for dinner. Portugal holds a special place in my heart; special spiritual times with my sis. This city, Montreal, is her birthplace, so when I walked to my digs in the moonlight last night and smelt the grilled fish at the top of the road, it all just fell into place. My heart soars with happiness and thoughts of sister, family and friends. I am never eating alone because they are always there, on the side. Friendship with a side of food temporarily flipped to food with a side of friendship. My angels on my shoulder, travelling worldwide and keeping me company when I am dining alone.
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Boston (strong): salad and sunshine
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