Zoo York -- The Bronx

The Bronx -- or at least the two blocks surrounding the new (and old) Yankee stadiums -- are a whorl of scalpers, scammers, traffic cops, police vans, megaphones, and merchandise kiosks.

When we arrived on the scene, we needed tickets to the already in progress Yankees game and the scalpers desperately needed to unload tickets whose value was dropping by the minute. Adam fell into step with a dude who was waving a couple sets of tickets at passersby. For a moment, it looked like we were getting both tickets for $30, but the guy changed his mind at the last minute, so the sale went to his buddy, from whom Adam deftly scored two seats for less than the listed price.

Feeling high from the successful streetside negotionation, we hustled up to the front gates only to be turned away twice (by two different people at two different gates) because the size of Adam's messenger bag exceeded the allowed limit. One of the gatekeepers told us to go across the street to Billy's -- where, when someone at Billy's said they'd watch our bag for "only twenny-five dollahs" -- we quickly realized that everyone on this street is in cahoots.

We stuffed Adam's bag and all his gear inside my purse and tried again, this time at yet another gate. After a little bit of whining on our part and a lecture from the barely-legal kid manning the gate, we were finally allowed through.

It was worth every penny and all the hassle, as the Bronx Bombers gave us a good show and I got my much dreamed about hot dog. Some chick even sang America The Beautiful and a picture of an honest American baseball fan (and presumably a farmer) wearing denim overalls flashed across the Jumbotron.

I found myself moved again -- this time almost to tears (or at least to tear), by the US's ongoing maintenance of collective (and public) patriotism. I mean, what's more American than standing amidst a bunch of slightly drunk strangers while they garble every other line in what is arguably a more poetic song than the national anthem itself?

In Pictures

The customs guy stole my oranges and the Tim Hortons kiosk near our gate didn't have anything remotely food-like, so I got stuck with Ritz Bits for my 5 am breakfast.

A protein bar that the customs guy didn't vet.

Adam's breakfast plate at Pig and Egg. Grits, scrambled, and kale.

Ginger Boylan and yogurt cup at El Butt.

Internet password for El Butt's WiFi.

Brooklyn -- Part Deux

Every square inch of Brooklyn is in use.

The streets are lined with row upon row of contiguous (if incongruous) patchwork walk-ups, Vietnamese take-out windows, junk stores, book stores, abandoned factories with punched out windows, and identical (and slightly sad) 'organic markets.' Space that isn't claimed by buildings is in high demand by a revolving coterie of neighborhood cats, kitchen gardens, clothes lines, graffiti artists, rusty BMWs, taco trucks, delivery trucks, purebred dogs, city benches, and make-shift thrift shops.

The result is exhilarating and somehow comfortable, but navigating it on five hours of sleep is exhausting. So, we took a late afternoon nap in a hotel bed that was far too soft and clean for New York -- in a room the size of a closet.

Dinner was at the slightly worn, but wildly popular, Lodge, where we spent far more money on healthy versions of classic American dishes than they were worth. But the jolly little candle on our table, two pints of Doc's hard cider, and a slice of warm apple pie a la mode made up for it. We even laughed at each others' jokes -- just like a real date!

Afterward, we trucked it down to Zebulon Cafe Concert, where we managed to snag a table just in time for Peru Ana's performance which included digital video and a dude on a xylophone. We were flagging again by the time Adron took the stage, so we only stayed for another half hour, during which time she played Biciletta, warbled like a bird (literally), and covered probably at least three octaves.

We Heart Brooklyn

BROOKLYN -- Flying into New York City for the first time is probably something most people remember for a long time. I know I will. For ten minutes leading up to Manhattan itself, there are views of sprawling horseshoe-shaped houses with acres-wide manicured lawns and bright blue swimming pools. Gradually, these opulent spreads give way to crowded suburban townhouses, then rows of industrial-looking tenements, and finally you see the water. I got a little thrill when, in the middle of it, I saw a greenish-looking sculpture in the shape of a woman -- Lady Liberty, and she was beautiful (I blame this sentiment on the thrillingly-contagious American nationalism already creeping into my consciousness).

Once inside Terminal B of La Guardia, I caught myself listening for public instances of impoliteness, evidence, I believed, of New York identity. But within five minutes of being in Williamsburg (a gentrifying neighborhood in Brooklyn and site of the iconic novel, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn), I found myself forgetting all about the admittedly likable conservatism that is characteristic of Ottawa and giving over to longing for an upstairs unit in one of Bedford Avenue's grungy five-story apartment buildings.

We have already eaten grits, spicy kale, fried black pepper potato bombs, and free-roam eggs at Pig and Egg, a laid-back restaurant that grows its own produce in the Catskill Mountains. We lounged this off in McCarren Park, and we're now at El Bett, a hipster hangout whose music playlist alternates between Black Sabbath and Spanish guitar melodies. We we're drinking ginger Boylan and trying to blend in with all the other twenty-somethings wearing skinny jeans and big sunglasses.

I'll post pictures tonight.

Never Have to Leave My Room Again

THE COUNTDOWN

We're going to Brooklyn! In two nights and three days, we will be cooling to the Tropicalia beats of Brooklyn scenestress, Adron, at the Zebulon nightclub on Whythe Avenue. The only thing on my mind will be 'mojito or...a double?'

You're not going, but you can listen here: http://adron.muxtape.com/.

Follow our adventures in Brooklyn, Manhattan, and New Mexico on my new-old blog, BITE HARD.

Saturday Afternoon

Pingvin lakrids courtesy of Sine whose regular licorice deliveries and fantastic Danish fashion will be sorely missed now that she is back in Denmark.


After longing after it for years, I finally bought origami paper! Here is a paper crane and...a human Adam.


Hungry fox (which I gave up on, but Adam managed to finish) eating a cracker.

Mister and the Missies

Squeaker

Automatic

Every time we go on a car trip to 'Big Box Land,' I pack a snack.

This is an impetus that was trained into me by my father who never leaves the house without a bag of apples, bananas, peanuts, crackers, cookies, and cheese (plus, a big bottle of water). One of the best food memories I have, in fact, is of a sandwich that Dad made for me in our second-hand Jetta, which was parked outside a strip of outlet stores in Freeport, Maine, where my mother and brother were shopping. My Dad hated (still hates) shopping, and I, the most babyish member of the family, was feeling tired that day. It must have been during an era when you could leave your kids in the car for short periods of time. I remember having a nap in the afternoon sun in the backseat of the car, and when I woke up, Dad was back from his quick jaunt to a grocery store, where he had picked up cups of yogurt, a packet of deli-shaved turkey breast, and a bag of soft dinner rolls. He ripped a hole in one of the rolls and stuffed it full of turkey meat before handing it to me. Best sandwich of my life.

Here are shots of a recent car picnic with Adam. Leftover Pad Thai from Pho Mi Bog Ga in South Keys and a warm potato and mushroom perojki (a filled sweet bun) from Perogies, located only a block from IKEA (you'll no longer need the $1 breakfast to help you power through the store!).

Down By the Bay

First outdoor picnic of the year! Adam has been wanting to go down to the river for a month, and, last weekend, it was finally dry enough to sit outside and listen to the geese coming home.

Our picnic was made up of the amazing food haul we got at Shiraz on Friday afternoon. We got some of their pressed yogurt (a huge treat and well-worth trying if you have the chance), a container of mild baba ghanoushe, and some cinnamon-dusted walnuts, plus a beautiful jug of French walnut oil, some soft dates, guava juice, and a glass jar of sour cherries. The next day, I sliced some cucumbers and sweet red pepper, and packed up an Iranian picnic worthy of ringing in the new season.


And...like all my best dates with Adam, this was one of those really satisfying afternoons that happens when we're least expecting it.

I Had a Dream I Was a Vigilant Sidekick

Apple Grumble

Last night, Adam set me an alarm for 6 am, as I was slated to do an early morning airport run for Sarah and Jeremiah (who are flying to my old stomping grounds in Whistler!). When I awoke, it was cold in our place and drizzly outside. A bit gray, I admit, but what perfect weather to bake something sweet for breakfast. I decided to make an apple crumble to use the last four New Brunswick Cortlands that have been languishing in the back of my fridge. Wanting to make the crumble as a breakfast food, instead of a dessert, I cut way down on the sugar (and used raw sugar instead of brown), added only a few dobs of butter, mixed raisins in with the apples, and sprinkled sliced almonds over the crust. The result was a much drier and far less sweet version of my mum's crumble with a toasted almond-oat topping that reminds me of granola.

So...I gave it the hybrid name of grumble.

Topped with some of the 2% yogurt Jeremiah gave me in the bag of hand-me-down perishable groceries he gave me at the airport (this is a Soucie sibling tradition designed to prevent food spoilage/waste while one of us is out of town), the grumble was a rich-tasting, but healthful breakfast...for me, that is. Adam's still asleep.

Cold Mitten Friction

When Jeremiah and I were growing up, my dad used to apply Cold Mitten Frictions to our hands and faces after school. Yesterday, he reminded me about this old trick in an email, saying, 'take it from one beaut to another...stay natural. plus, it's cheaper and doesn't require any demand on your time. scrub your face 'hard' in the mornings with a cold mitten friction and you'll have the best countenance in Ottawa.'

Cold Mitten Friction: Get a bowl of cold water and a washcloth. Grab one corner of the washcloth under your thumb. Wrap the cloth around your hand as shown in the illustration above. Take the free part of the cloth hanging down from your hand, fold it toward the palm of your hand, and tuck it under the edge of the cloth crossing over the palm of your hand.

Dip the mitten in the cold water, and, starting with the hands, rub the skin briskly in an up and down motion. Proceed up the arm, briskly rubbing all areas of the skin.

(Modded directions from the The Gilead Institute)

You're Blocking My Sun

Mustard Egg

When I was growing up, one of the fast and easy breakfast foods in the Soucie household was called, simply: mustard egg. I don't know the evolution of this 'dish,' only that my mother loved it -- and still makes it from time to time.


To make one, melt a bit of butter in a pan, crack an egg into it, and then use a wooden spoon to break the yolk and stir up the egg a little. Before it starts solidifying, place a slice of bread on top, and cook until the egg firms up. For an extra special touch, flip it over and fry the underside of the bread in the remaining butter. Then, just slide it onto a plate and spread a thin layer of mustard over the egg. Finally, S&P it and then eat it all up.

X Country

My first time cross country skiing in...probably fifteen years!

The Next Level

Today, I took the 'green smoothie' to the next level by using black kale instead of spinach. Black kale is a popular winter green in some parts of Italy, but it's starting to become more readily available in North America too. The health benefits of black kale are many -- and, even when steamed, it makes a really sturdy base for winter salads or as a bed for marinated tofu.

Lucy warned me that the kale would have a stronger taste in drinks than baby spinach does. Even so, I think with a little more ginger and maybe a few leaves of mint, I could really develop a taste for this smoothie.

Green Smoothie (Intermediate Level)

1 ripe Ataulfo mango
four small stalks black kale (chopped into two inch slices)
small cube of ginger (peeled)
1/2 cup kefir (or more)
1/2 cup of cold water
1 tsp Udo's oil

Blend for a couple minutes on high. Drink!

Snert

I drove Miss Lucy to Dutch Grocery last week, and loaded up on paprika flavored potato chips, fluffy Dutch mustard, sliced rye bread, farmer's meatloaf, twenty kinds of licorice, and a large container of frozen pea soup (cutely dubbed 'snert' in the Netherlands). I packed some of the soup in Adam's lunch last week, and although he wanted to like it, he didn't.

I think the problem is that he'd never tasted pea soup before. It has a bit of an earthy, feet-like taste that takes some getting used to. As a kid, I couldn't bear the smell of it, even though my mother, a closet French-Canadian, loved the stuff. And now I appreciate why. The kind I bought at Dutch Grocery is thick and smokey with colorful shreds of carrot and generous bites of pork and bacon. Plus, I added half a snop of walnut oil and a fuzzle of ground black pepper for garnish. Delicious!

Still...eating something so hearty and hale this late in the season almost seems quaint, like patronizing the final dregs of cold weather with the appropriate food choice.

Camera Shy

The reason I haven't posted any pics lately is that my old bean had our point-and-shoot on his epic journey across North America. Here's evidence of the Canadian legs of his trip.


Top of the mountain in Golden, BC.


Middle of a steep run.


Break time on one of the tamer runs.


Two total fools. You know it.


Kevin, Shaelin, and Kristine. I miss those guys and want to meet that little one.


Amelia, Rebecca, and a little bit of Carl in the background. Ditto my above comments.

Burrrrritos!

Still no camera, so you'll have to imagine your own image of what I made for lunch!

First, open a can of black beans, dump them into a colander, and rinse them off a bit. Next, put a little pot on the stove, turn the heat on low, add some oil, and finely chop half a small purple onion, adding it to the pot. Then add in a clove of finely minced garlic, a spoonful of cocoa powder, a pinch each of nutmeg and sea salt, and a spoon of chipotle pepper paste (made by pureeing a can of chipotle peppers).

Cook this mixture until onions have turned slightly translucent. Then add the beans and the juice of half a lime. It's done when it looks creamy and is the beans are heated through.

Meanwhile, heat up a couple flour tortillas and shred some lettuce with your chef's knife. I also grated a bit of nippy white cheddar to melt over the beans. Assemble, and they're done!

Warming, quick, simple, cheap, and delicious. Oh yeah!

Drink All Around!

I'm home alone for yet another week! Which means that I don't always eat...'meals.' Not structured ones, anyway. After having a dinnertime snack of Purity gingersnaps and Sussex Golden Ginger Ale (native Maritime treats!), I decided to clean out the old system with a kefir smoothie.

Recipe

1 overripe nectarine (including skin)

1/2 cup kefir and whey

1/4 cup orange juice

CIMMABIN!

Today's Lassi

1 Ataulfo Mano (Yes, they are in season again! Hurrah!)

1 Cup Organic Pinhedge Farms Low Fat Kefir

1/2 Cup Water

1 Tablespoon Ground Cinnamon

Ataulfo Mangoes are also known as Honey Mangoes because they're so sweet and smooth. They also taste slightly of pine, but that's part of what makes them great. They're about $1.19-$1.69 each right now. Worth every single penny and all the fuel it takes to bring them from Mexico. Buy them by the case! (I do.)

Canadian Winter Tip #1

Wear rugby socks! They're waaaaaaay more comfortable than tights (which always ride up or down), not as hot as long undies, and much warmer than plain old jeans. They also stay up all day long, which you can't say for most knee socks.

A Peach

A late summer peach, canned by Megan who does everything with prefect precision. She managed to get these to taste mildly tart and maximally peachy. Yum!

Gotcha

Remember This?

Comfort foods are inexplicable. There's no accounting for why some people like butterscotch pudding on toast. Or why others couldn't even imagine eating gravy on French fries.

Or, say, why hot drinks just don't do it for me. Must be all those 'white milkshakes' my Dad used to whip up. This morning, I made one in a different color: bright green.

Green from spinach, plus an overripe banana, a forgotten clementine, some soy milk, a bit of OJ, and a few dashes of ground ginger. It probably wouldn't qualify as comfort food for most people, but it did the trick for me.

Oh Nine

Lucy's mum, the sweetest of pies, dropped off a plate of oliebollen for our party last night. I'd never had -- or heard of -- this traditional Dutch NYE treat, but they tasted familiar, since my mum used to fry bread dough into balls when we were growing up.

Elsie instructed us to heat the oliebollen in the oven and then sprinkle them with powdered sugar. My favorite were the ones shaped like little wheels with a bit of apple inside. The others -- studded with fat raisins -- were just as chewy and rich though.

I saved a couple extra out for Adam and I, and we ate them for breakfast. Here's to new foods and a new year.

Eggilla

Last week, Adam kicked off the beginning of his holidays with a few days of Mexican breakfasts. Here's a picture of black beans with slow-cooked chocolate mole, fresh cilantro, squeaky sunflower sprouts, all rolled up in a tortilla made from egg instead of corn. Es muy sabroso.

If you want to make your own eggilla, just mix up some eggs as if you were going to make scrambled eggs, but when you pour your eggs into the pan, don't touch them until the bottom is completely cooked. Then very carefully flip the entire eggilla over, and cook the other side until golden. It helps to have either a non-stick pan or use enough oil to be able to gently slide the eggilla out of the pan. Then, just add the fillings and roll it up!

Near Sighted

Stress Less

My 'strategies' for feeling well over the holidays have been: going to bed by midnight every night, never having more than one alcoholic drink a day, minimizing the amount of junk food I eat, trying not to overfill my plate, saying no to family activities when I need to be alone, reading, watching movies, delegating, lowering my expectations, having a good attitude, not trying to be perfect, wearing my favorite boots (shown) as often as possible, and adding 'Drink Water' to every 'To Do' list I make. Oh, and trying to take my vitamins, although I've been forgetting some days. Also, I picked out two cool outfits and wore them each twice in a row -- to different events with different people -- instead of trying to reinvent myself every day.

Ha. So, nobody will know if they got Original Riva or Riva 2.0.

See Ya Later

Bite Hard is on hiatus until later this month.

I'm working! Yeah, I do that sometimes.

Dangling a Carrot

A message from my Pappie!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

to all you city dwellers:

i know a pot full of carrots don't sound like much, but considering i just came from my garden/greenhouse and harvested a bunch of fresh, right-out-of-the-ground, delicious, juicy carrots that polly and i will have for supper...eat your heart out while we're eating our carrots.

... and i still have one more harvest to go.

with a layer of straw i could probably extend the time for a few more weeks in the ground, depending how cold it gets.

- jakc of the universe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Book Warm

I glean book titles the way other people collect actual books. Instead of buying books, I keep a running list of titles I want to read and then request them from the public library. I love the ritual of walking to the Rosemount library, picking up my order, browsing through the DVDs and the fiction and the cookbooks.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is a fat, old paperback that the library keeps in multiple copies. And now that I'm reading it every night in the bath, I can hardly remember life without Francie, the story's main character, who loves her father more than anything in the world, reads like the Dickens, and seems to think about eating quite a lot.

Francie's family is poorer than dirt, but still, the book manages descriptions of gorgeous meals of thickly sliced 'tongue,' sweet rye bread, and hot, strong coffee. Francie herself spends every Saturday afternoon reading on the fire-escape, drinking iced water (when there is ice in the ice box) and eating a bowlful of pink and white peppermint wafers, which she purchases with the money she earns from selling found junk. To me, the foods Francie subsists on sound fairly stunning, and yeah, it's easy to romanticise from my position, but, at the same time, food can be a refuge when you feel like you've got nothing else.

That said...it's dinner time!

Booty

Nobody reads me like my dad. Check out the contents of the care package he sent me to help relieve the heebie jeebies. Of course, the resident security guards had to perform their inspection before I was allowed to open it up.

Logy

Juice Monkeys

Suni's Junior

Guess who?

Suni's fatter, badder, bolder doppelganger, Kamika.