Monday Night Mojito

I was debating what to call this post because the beginning of the day was so different than the end of my day. The good news is that it started out badly but ended up being pretty great.

So let me start at the beginning...

After living in New York for more than 22 years I have kind of developed a thick skin. People will be nasty to you for no reason. This is truly evident on the subway. I feel like our subway is a kind of bubble. In it, everyone's true personality comes out. The gloves are off; this is who you are.

I take a B train, and it is one of those where all the seats are up against the windows. One long bench, if you will. A bench holds six average-sized adults. Everyone knows this. I entered the B train on my way to work to find a bench with five adults. There was a little room on both sides of a lady I had never seen before. (After taking the same train, more or less, in the morning, there is usually a repeating cast of characters.) As politely as I could, I asked her and the gentleman next to her to scoot over. The man moved a bit, but the woman, well, she blatantly ignored me. She looked right in my eyes with a blank stare. She refused to nudge. It was Monday morning and I was pissed off already, so this was really nothing I needed to deal with. So, with the same blank expression this woman was giving me, I in turn pushed my huge ass between her and the gentleman. Of course, I made apologies. "Oh sorry." But, I was not sorry. If the bitch couldn't move two inches, well, yes, she will get trampled by my huge ass, and yes, she does deserve it. The entire ride she made it her business to ensure I would not be comfortable, not moving an inch, so I had to be really squeezed in. I should mention that it's getting quite cold here at the moment, so being squished with a down jacket on is not fun.

So, why are people like this? I mean, I know that it is not about me. It is them. They have the problem; they have a crappy life and thus feel the need to make everybody else unhappy. But, really, all I asked her was to move two inches. That would mean she would have to sit just a tad bit closer to her neighbor. Is that so bad? You take the subway, lady, of course you'll end up being uncomfortably close to someone you never met. Ah..... mornings.

The rest of the day at work was okay. It was actually pretty uneventful. I often say that a monkey could do my job, but thinking about it now, I think that is an insult to the monkey's intelligence. :)

What I was most looking forward to was my dinner date with my friend, Elana. Yes, a Monday night out! I love going out on weekdays. Makes me feel like I'm not chained to my desk; that I have a life apart from these four walls.

We met up at Union Square Greenmarket - a sort of farmer's market - and had dinner at a place I have mentioned before in my other blog, Havana Central.

It's a Cuban joint - close to authentic. I had a fantastic herb-rubbed half chicken. I wasn't sure what to expect because my last experience there wasn't that great. But, the chicken was melt-in-your-mouth delicious. You don't usually say that about white meat, but this chicken was cooked to perfection. We shared their boniatos fritos; sweet potato fries. So yum!! I also can recommend their zesty corn-on-the-cob. It is kind of creamy and spicy and crunchy all at once. For drinks, I had a mojito. That is so unlike me; I hardly ever drink. But, I figured, why not. It was a strawberry mojito -- mmmmm. The fresito was sweet and minty, loved it!

After dinner, we walked a few steps to a new Argentinian chain bakery - Tisserie.

It's the type of place with miniature little tartlets and truffles. Pastries galore. It's not my usual thing as I don't eat 'cute', but after stuffing myself on dinner a little itty bitty dessert wouldn't hurt. We sampled a nutella tart, a dulce de leche tart, a chocolate diamond, and a tiger eye. The tarts speak for themselves, and the chocolate diamond was like a buttery chocolate cookie. The tiger eye was a small semolina-ish/almond-ish soft cookie with a chocolate button in the middle.

I love hanging out with Elana. She sees me as I am. We have known each other for almost eight years now, so there are no pretenses. She knows I have been, and still could be, a bad friend at times. She has seen me disappear and come back again. But, she has always been there. Always encouraging, always wishing me the best in life. We're both foodies, even though neither of us started out that way in our friendship. We often talk about that if it was our way, this bakery would do this or that. We both thought the fillings for the tarts were great, but the tart shells were way too hard. The chocolate diamond was blah - too buttery to be considered really chocolatey. The tiger eye was okay, but Elana didn't like it.

So a really great end to a day that didn't start off that way. Sometimes it's just important to focus on the things that are great, and pay no mind to the things that just aren't.

Happiness is... a pink frosted cupcake and a cup of tea.

Po·dunk (pdngk) n. Slan.
A small isolated town, region, or place that is regarded as unimportant.


No matter where you live in the world, no matter who you are in the world, a crappy day is a crappy day, for everyone. For some reason people feel like since I live in New York, I only have fabulous days - that I'm Carrie Bradshaw and have something to do every night. Loneliness is loneliness wherever you go.

So, when a great day happens, I take note and appreciate it for all that it is.

This is happiness...

I really should spent less time feeling sorry for myself because my life is good. Not good; great! Because of the great city I live in and a good, good friend, a mundane Sunday afternoon turned into a pretty fabulous day; probably one of the nicest I've had in a long time.

Elana and I do 'sunday brunch' on a semi-regular basis. I'd say, every couple of months, or so. We have always gone to a brunch place that was a standby for us; it rarely disappointed. We wanted to try something other than Penelope, so it was Elana's idea to venture to the Lower East Side because she had remembered during a recent meandering seeing a few brunch places in that area. It was a bit windy and cold, and we really didn't know where we were going, but spotted a 'tea room'. That's all it said, and I think there was just a letter-size piece of paper scotch-taped to the window that said 'Podunk'. We were in the mood to eat and were hungry, so kept going.

We spotted a couple of L.E.S. hipsters and asked them about a good brunch place. Without hesitation, one of them said Café Orlin. I knew about this café. I read somewhere, or perhaps it's in my Hummus File, that this was a joint owned by Israelis -- supposedly quite popular and always packed. But, we were keen to try it.

The wait at the café was only about 10 minutes and the wind died down. The guy seating us was Israeli, but of course, and said our name the way it should have been said. Eee-la-na. I had thought of it when he said our name, but Elana actually mentioned it. Respeck to the Ilana/Elana name!

We both had classic Israeli breakfasty/brunchy items. I had malawach, which is a fried dough, sort of like roti, and topped with over easy eggs and a tomato sauce. It came with olives and Israeli pickles - heaven. Elana had shakshuka, another one of my faves, and it was spicy in the right way. Delicious.

So another great brunch place, which is what we were after, is what we found. But the best part of the day came just a little bit later. Elana was in the mood for something sweet, so we decided to find that tea room again. And we did!

Words are hard to describe what this little tea room was like. There were antique-y items all around, and mismatched furniture and tables and chairs, and a bookcase full of interesting looking books. The menu was full of tea choices - there must have been a hundred different kinds, easy!

I will admit that it wasn't a cheap place. Most of the menu choices were more than $20 for a tea setting of two, but we found Tittle-Tattle, which was a pot of tea for two and cookies and cupcakes. What more can you ask for? We got a blend I don't even remember the name of anymore, and two of each of the following: gorgeous pink topped cupcakes, chocolate chip cookies, shortbread cookies and almond cookies -- all of this was $18 in total, and they didn't accept gratuities. I confessed to never having tea before from a tea pot. Exciting stuff! I was even silly and asked Elana to take a picture to commemorate this occasion (pic above).

Apparently, according to the owner (an interesting woman that had a kerchief on, an Amish-y dress, and Grandma Red Riding Hood glasses), the Tittle-Tattle tea service was enough food and tea for a couple of friends to have over a bit of gossiping before heading out on their way. Well the gossiping did occur - it was a lot of fun, to be transported out of the city even for just a little bit.

And now to some thoughts I've had about the place post-visit, and post-Internet research. Elana and I didn't know what a 'podunk' was, so I looked it up online when I got home. A small place, with the connotation of it not having important significance. I almost felt like the owner was putting herself down a bit. But then, I started reading reviews about the place, and I noticed how a lot of people were saying that she was nasty to them at certain times, and how she would get upset if people came to look around but decided not to stay. I had remembered a vintage sign above her at the counter that said NO SNIVELLING. It was strange; it seemed like she knew she had a good thing going, a safe and quite haven away from the crowds and pretentiousness, and if there was any negativity entering her small square foot home, it would be met with a disproportionate anger of some kind. I have to admit she did seem a tad bit off. She explained the tittle-tattle name of the tea service like she felt like she was on to a good thing, and wanted everyone to be as excited as she was.

That kind of makes me think of an article I read recently about the cupcake empires that seem to be cropping up in New York City. The very 'in the know' Halloumi, of Nigella.com, pointed this article out to me and others. So, we know that the owner of Magnolia is pissed with the owner of The Buttercup Café, and now there are all these little cupcake offspring all over the city, and even in Brooklyn. They all want to give you a perfect experience catered by sugary treats, right? But since when did all the backstabbing and bitching have to become a part of it? Give me an untainted cupcake please, with no politics behind it. The owner of Magnolia said that what she has created cannot be taken away; what has she created? Sitting in a cute place with a picture-perfect cupcake perched in front of you? A bite-size escape into sinful eating? Is she actually claiming that she has patented a feeling? The feeling of being 100% content with life, even if it is due to the sugar rush one is feeling at that exact moment. Such bullcrap. As long as the cupcakes all over the city, and all over the country, and all over the world, for that matter, are still delicious who friggin' cares that it was her idea first. You can't patent a feeling, woman. Get over yourself.

Maybe the owner of Podunk knows this. Maybe her little oasis, her 'little place of no particular significance', does not want to make a big mark. She is nestled between two brownstones, on a quiet, treelined street, in the Lower East Side. Maybe her place doesn't have the guise of peacefulness; maybe it IS peacefulness. Well Elana and I were certainly at peace. And I can't tell you if it was the perfect combination of butter, eggs, sugar and flour that did it, but happiness can be found in a cupcake with a baby pink buttercream frosting.

Autumnal Flavors Gone Bad

Last Friday, my sister and I took out a good friend to dinner for her birthday. Since Elana was the birthday girl, she chose the place. The place she picked out is known for its lovely and affordable Italian food - Gennaro's (pictured above).

Elana had raved about the portabello and potato tart with goat cheese she once had there. You don't have to say goat cheese twice for me to be all over it! So, we shared that as an appetizer - divine! The 'tart' was base-and-crustless, it was more of a tower of potato and portabello mushrooms with a glorious caramelized crown of goat cheese. This gorgeous creation was seated on top a throne of balsamic-soused sliced beets. Fab!

Then, came the main course. Ever since discovering my foodie-ness, I have taken to listening closely to the 'specials' as I think this is when the chef gets inventive and offers something you may never find anywhere else. The Fall breeze blew ferociously outside on probably the coldest night so far this season, so I was happy to indulge in a pumpkin ravioli in a butter and sage sauce. I'll be on the level here - the chef wasn't being inventive that night. Everybody knows that pumpkins go with sage, bla bla bla. But, I never had a pumpkin ravioli before, so who was I to argue?

I should have known there would be something wrong when the plate came. It was a gorgeous and big round plate, and in the middle, a miniscule 5 or 6 normal-sized ravioli. I don't usually go for the supersize meals, but I figured, this wasn't a fancy place where they call dinner a couple of tiny pieces of steak, a swirly sauce all around the plate, and a parsley sprig on top. This was an Italian place -- I wanted to Mangia! Mangia! -- ya know what I'm saying? Well I didn't let that cloud my view of this meal as I was getting pretty full on the fab ciabatta bread and the tart.

However.... there are times when a cook will go a bit overboard on the seasonings. Basically, my dish tasted like dessert rather than an entree. It was sweet! And not in a pumpkin-is-a-sweet-savory-dish sort of way, my meal was sweet, as in, just pour some chocolate sauce over the thing and don't forget the whipped cream. I'm not sure if it was the sprinkling of nutmeg and cinnamon, or if there was actually sugar on top of the dish, but it was the first time eating something and being surprised how sweet it is. Usually, I'm happy if something is sweeter than I think it is -- but that's when I'm eating dessert. LOL.

I won't not go to this place again, because the menu had lots of things I was drooling over. I like those sorts of places -- where you really can't decide, and it's because EVERYTHING looks so good!

I figure the chef was just very excited about the seasonal flavors -- but he may have gone overboard with it. I'm not a food critic at all, but that meal should have been on the last page of the menu, under Warm Chocolate Cake with Ice Cream!