Prosechino

Today, Friday, 12 June, was my first day out of the 14 day self-quarantine required on my return to Florence and my first day out of the "lockdown" of the last three months. Admittedly, my particular situation was unusual in that during this pandemic, I flew to four states, beginning with a trans-Atlantic flight from Rome to NJ.  After a month in NJ in quarantine with a friend, I flew to Florida to be with my mother during her final days, and then to Denver and Chicago  to visit with my kids.  Traveling during a pandemic is not relaxing, so this first day of true "freedom" required celebration: a hair appointment and lunch at a neighborhood osteria.

At both Wave hair salon and Osteria da Fulvio, I am a regular customer. In both establishments, I knew I would have a warm welcome:  a smile, a heartfelt "Buongiorno" and "Com'e stai?" In the hair salon, the stylists know my name, a bit about my decision to live in Florence, and I know a little about their personal lives.  At the osteria, though, I am always addressed as "signora", but it is the complimentary Prosecco that signals recognition.

When I finished at the hair salon and we said our good-byes, I took a few photos along the Arno and walked to Osteria da Fulvio. I have eaten lunch here alone and with friends.  I hoped that when I walked in the owner would remember me, since I had been away for three months.  Once I removed my sunglasses and mask, I received a smile and another "Buongiorno"!  After a brief exchange, I was asked, "Vuoi  Prosechino?" Would I like a small Prosecco?  "Si, grazie."  From a tap behind the bar, Fulvio poured a complimentary glass of Prosecco, his offer of thanks for being a regular.

A move to a new city means that for a while, maybe a long while, a person is not known anywhere as a "regular."  This situation in which no one knows you, can create a positive "devil may care" attitude, or a negative state of loneliness.  When I first arrived in Florence in September 2019, I experienced both feelings.  Now, though, I am happier to be recognized with a smile and a complimentary Prosechino.  (Note- In this word, the "ch" is pronounced as a "k".) 

🥂🍾

Happy Spring!

Today is the first day of spring, with a hint of warmth.  I took two short walks today, but still no wandering in the woods.  Soon, soon.  The snow is mostly melted and the ground doesn't seem to resemble a mud pit.

To celebrate spring and end on a "sweet" note after a long day of work, I got a small sundae:  chocolate chip mint ice cream with wet walnuts and whipped cream.  No discussion, please, on the calories and sugar content of the sundae.  It was delicious!

When I was young, my family would go out for ice cream in the summer to the Old Milk Barn in Wayne, which sadly no longer exists.  The parking lot would be packed with families and couples on dates.  My father would park, ask our requests, and then fend his way through the crowds to the counter to order our cones.  My mother, brothers and I would wait, impatiently.  He would return with bulging cones of ice cream, balanced against one another in his large hands. 

Tonight's ice cream indulgence is a bit of preparation for summer and a tribute to the pleasures of being a kid.  

The Taste of Chicago

The Taste of Chicago is the world's largest food festival held each year in mid-July in Grant Park (which is also home to the huge concert, Lollapalooza). This year, 36 restaurants participated, along with specialty pop-ups and different celebrity chefs each day.  There's music, entertainment, activities for kids. I timed my drive to Colorado to coincide with this event, and today was our day to attend.

Admission to The Taste is free.  To sample the food, however, you buy groups of tickets and then use the tickets to pay for food and drinks.  (12 tix for $8) You can buy large plates of food (a meal) for 8 or 9 tickets, or a "taste" for 3-6 tickets.  Generally, the vendors offered different samplings for the large and "taste" portions.  We decided to go with the small plates, and in the three hours we walked around (interrupted by a 30 minute downpour), we sampled a fair amount of delicious food.  

Sabor Latino- Steak Mini Jibarito (steak between fried plantain cakes)

Star of Siam- Potstickers (We did not have the pad thai, even though it looked great.)

Austrian Bakery- Mini Schnitzel Sandwich; Altwiener Appelstrudel (both amazing)

Carbon Live Fire Mexican Grill- Tequila-lime Marinated Grilled Chicken Breast Taco (like being in Mexico)

Dominick's Finer Foods- Watermelon slice to refresh our palates

Iyanze- Hibiscus Sorbet

Pazzo's- Chopped Salad on Romaine Hearts

The Smoke Daddy- Pulled Chicken Mini

Music Tent- soul/swing music.  I needed a West Coast Swing partner!

Then, we had to decide how to spend our remaining tickets.  Jen wanted another taco and a sweet.  I wanted a sample of Eli's cheesecake.  We were able to sample all three.

Carbon- see above

Eli's Cheesecake Company- a small sample of plain

Churro Factory- 4 mini churros

Though some natives of Chi-town groaned when we said we were going to The Taste, it was a great day.  Definitely on the "Let's do this again" list.

http://www.explorechicago.org/city/en/supporting_narrative/events___special_events/special_events/mose/taste_of_chicago.html/

Shopping in New York?

I needed to get out of the burbs for a few hours, so I planned a Saturday morning of shopping and tango in NYC. Shopping meant: West Elm, City Bakery, Paragon Sports, and the Union Square Greenmarket. Tango: meant the morning practica at Dance Manhattan.

Once I got downtown, I stopped at Pain Quotidien, two doors from the 18th Avenue subway. (Last year when I took a tango class on Saturday mornings, I always went to this same spot, either for an apple muffin to go, or a bowl of steel-cut oats and fruit at the communal table. The woman behind the counter still remembered me. ) Next-- West Elm. As I walked, I noticed a line across the street, women mainly, waiting for a David Yurman sale, "30-60% off original prices". At West Elm, I selected two placemats and paid $3.47. Out of curiosity, I went to the David Yurman sale. There were at least 40 people in the sales area, compared to four or five at West Elm. The least expensive items were "specially priced merchandise", $250-$500. To purchase anything else would have required a small loan.

In the next block, I wandered into Books of Wonder, a fabulous children's bookstore. I happen to be re-reading Charlotte's Web, and noticed a copy in their "old and rare" collection. The book contained an inlaid bookplate signed by the illustrator, Garth Williams. The price: $2500. Another purchase I did not make. I crossed the street to City Bakery to buy their "Baker's Muffins" which are worth the trip into Manhattan even if you do nothing else. They're huge yeast muffins with cinnamon, raisins and apples @$4 each. Yum!

I walked another block to Paragon Sports to use a 20% off coupon I got at the Banff Film Festival. I was not successful there, and that was fine given that the sales tax in NYC would have eaten a significant part of the coupon. I looped through the greenmarket, bought Cameo apples, and admired all the cherry blossom branches (too inconvenient on the bus). On to tango.

At tango, the "shopping" is of a different nature. It's rarely comfortable to be a woman walking into a practica or milonga when you don't know any of the male dancers. Often, and especially in New York, guys want to have a sense of your ability before they ask you to dance. Even though I used to take classes at Dance Manhattan, it's been nearly a year since I went to the practice sessions. I recognized a few faces, all occupied. The best option was to take a seat and wait to be invited on to the dance floor. (Grrrr......no women's lib in tango!)

I wish I could say that my experience at the practica was pleasant and inspiring. But, it was not. The first dancer (whom I had met one other time) began to rub my back and neck while we danced, murmuring "why did we ever get out of bed this morning?" I played along, and we danced two sets together. He was clearly popular, with women circling him throughout the morning. The next guy walked away from me after one song saying that he "had to find someone else to practice with." (It is extremely rude to leave a partner before the tanda or set of songs is over.) Did I already say that egos can get very big on the tango floor? Who expects perfect connection after thirty seconds of dancing? The following partner was ok, though stepped on my toe. I accepted another dance with the back rubber, and kept up my "vamp" tango. At least he was a good dancer. The session wasn't exactly turning out how I had hoped, so during a break I packed up, blew a kiss, and returned home for a cup of tea and a baker's muffin that was worth the bus fare.

http://www.thecitybakery.com/

Sweet Medialuna

On alternate mornings in Buenos Aires, I would stop at the bakery next to my apartment and purchase "dos medialuna" for seis pesos (less than $1.50). The medialuna are shaped like a croissant. However, the outside is soft and brushed with a sweet glaze. While the inside is airy, the dough is sweeter and heavier than a French croissant. I ate the medialuna with Patagonia Wild Berry Jam that I bought at the local Disco supermercado.

I'll confess- I brought a few medialuna home with me. One I ate on the plane when we landed at 6:00am in Houston. Another I gave to a friend who is an avid bread baker. Secretly I hoped he could duplicate them here in New Jersey. I kept the last one on reserve in my freezer, and ate it this morning with the wild berry jam. Is it reason enough to return to Buenos Aires for fresh medialuna?

http://www.thefreshloaf.com/node/12224/medialunas-recipe-needed-argentina-breakfast-roll

Peaches

Today I ate my first peach of the season which I purchased on Saturday at the foodie mecca, Dean and DeLuca (Madison and 85th). It wasn't that "drip down your chin" kind of peach, but almost, with just enough juice and fragrance to bring thoughts of days at the beach, backyard barbeques, and peach pie. I was ostensibly in the city to go to the exhibit at the Whitney, but after an hour, my friend and I left the museum to browse Madison Avenue. Of course, it wasn't long before I was buying bread, fruit and pastries to bring home!

The peach reminded me, too, of a favorite poem, "From Blossoms", by Li-Young Lee. It was the first poem of his that I ever read, and for years (until my wallet was stolen on a crowded subway in Brussels) I carried a verse with me.

"O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach."

Here's the link for the entire poem. To hear Lee read the poem, is joy itself.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=171754

The Poetry of Flowers

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886): gardener, poet, correspondent, recluse, "Belle of Amherst".

Sometime before June 13, 2010, I plan to see the exhibit "Emily Dickinson's Garden" at the New York Botanical Garden. The exhibit has two components: inside the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory and a "poetry walk" on the grounds surrounding the conservatory. Inside the conservatory you'll see typical garden flowers such as foxglove, delphinium, hollyhocks (could they be seven feet tall?), roses, daisies, hydrangea and more. (I use the word "typical" with more than a hint of envy since the flowers on display look nothing like the flowers I try to grow! Seriously, the foxglove must be four feet tall, ditto on the delphinium. If I only had a gardening crew...) Additionally there is a facade of the Homestead (her home) joined by a short path through a garden to the facade of her brother's home. Apparently she spent a great deal of time going back and forth. Outside the conservatory, there are shade gardens, herbs, and the most spectacular row of peonies. Nested in between all of these flowers and plants are placards with poems by Dickinson. Some are small so they fit in with low growing flowers, while the ones outside are like the oversized cards in Alice in Wonderland. I took the time to read most of the poems, though my companions were not that interested. Either way, it's all lovely.

After all that walking and Victorian culture, we drove the short distance to Arthur Avenue for a totally different cultural experience: Little Italy of the Bronx. Since we were there Sunday around 5pm, many of the shops were closed. However, several bakeries were open, including my friend's favorite- Madonia Brothers Bakery (2348 Arthur Avenue/ 718-295-5573). There I bought a puffy loaf of onion bread, ciabatta, and a variety of biscotti. When we walked out of the bakery, we must have had the look of "Where should we go for dinner?" since a couple crossing the street asked us if we would like a dinner recommendation. They raved about Enzo's, a local favorite across the street from where we stood. So, that's where we went.


http://www.nybg.org/

Asheville to NJ

I'm home. In eight days I drove 2, 258 and this Jersey Girl has pumped A LOT of gas!

The return trip took me just under 12 hours door to door, including a quick stop to pick up dinner. Each leg of the ride from Asheville to NJ was smooth and pleasant. Highway 26W out of North Carolina cuts through the mountains and for a long stretch I shared the road with a single truck. Then 81N to 78E. The only place there was traffic was on the GSP for a brief stretch. All the way home, I listened to Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, which was completely engrossing and read aloud beautifully.

In the early part of my drive, 81 crossed through Tennessee. At a convenient spot, I pulled off for gas. Next to the station was a Kozy Kitchen and I decided to get an egg sandwich to keep me going. It was about 9:30 and guys were sitting on the porch. They said good morning and looked at me, clearly an out-of-towner. Inside the restaurant, there were steam trays on the left and a large, bright dining room. An older gentleman behind the counter smiled.
 

"What can I get you?"

"I'd like an egg sandwich."

"On toast?"
"Do you have a roll?"
"No. How about a croissant?"

"Are your biscuits homemade?" I realized this was a ridiculous question to ask in Tennessee. He just smiled patiently.
"I'll have the egg on a biscuit."

He wrote a ticket and said, "That'll be 98 cents."

In the meantime, a clean-shaven young guy walked in. He was wearing a white tee shirt, jeans, a small tattoo, and a tight face. He asked for three pieces of bacon on a biscuit. His bill was $2.19. The bacon looked good.

"Could you put a piece of bacon on that egg sandwich?" I asked a waitress behind the counter.
Then I asked the gentleman the new price so I could pay. He replied, "I'll catch you next time."

The waitress who was wrapping my egg sandwich in red and white checked wax paper shouted, "Do you want salt and pepper with that dar-lin?"

"Yes, please."

I turned to the gentleman to pay, but he just grinned largely and waved his hand. Didn't say a word, just shooed me away.

In the car, before I even pulled back onto the highway, I ate the egg and bacon on a biscuit. You could win someone's heart with that food.

http://www.whitelily.com