Fresh From The Bronx!

...At least that is what the sign said in front of J and G, the Italian deli and market I walked into last week. A statement like that can conjure up a multitude of images. Most New Yorkers know that it's code for crunchy Italian breads, pastries and meats.

Truth be told, I had my doubts about whether this specialty shop could deliver on its promise. One great fear of moving out of the City to just outside of the City was losing easy access to ethnic food. So far, I have been pleasantly surprised.

J and G is in the Chester Heights area of Eastchester/Bronxville. They have got a good guido vibe going on in there. One wall is essentially a tribute to Italian bread. You then wander through a series of tables displaying pyramids made of boxes and bags of semolina pasta of every shape and size. There are many anti pasta items, cheeses and a deli counter that appears to have a heavy cult following.

But what you MUST buy is not in hidden in the pyramids, glass cases or even between two pieces of bread.

There is a small worn out handwritten sign, no bigger than a large index card with "Homemade Sauce $5.99 qt." scribbled across it.

And that my friends, is the reason you go back again and again.

Growing up with an Italian mother and grandmother, tomato sauce is about as personal as breast milk. This is the first time I've ever tasted a sauce that came so incredibly close to hitting the same emotional buttons as the sauce I grew up with.

So I bought six quarts and stuck'em in my freezer. A comforting reserve for those days when I just cannot cope with the thought of making dinner for my family after a grueling day at work.

Nothing like opening a container of instant Italian grandma to sooth a tired soul.

Climbing Mt. Ikea

I am forty-seven years old. It has taken my entire adulthood to prepare for yesterday morning when I took a deep breath and walked into IKEA.

When you live in a small apartment in NYC, IKEA is commonly used as a sedative to be utilized at various turning points in life. Most common among them are:

1. You've decided to stop sleeping on the floor.

2. You've decided to stop sitting on the floor.

3. You realize that having a table to eat on is a good thing.

4. Jesus Christ, you're pregnant.

5. You live in 450 square feet with a husband, your baby and your dog...you need a miracle or you will shoot yourself.

IKEA has done more to extend the leases of thousands, if not millions, of New Yorkers living in untenable space situations than any act of public policy. So needless to say, I walked into IKEA with a bit of baggage....which is why I went to the IKEA in New Haven, CT.

It would have been far too mind tripping for me to go to Brooklyn. I would see too many versions of my past self, wandering through the aisles anxiously trying to find that miracle piece of furniture that would make it all work out. My space. My marriage. My mommyhood. My career. My dreams. All stuffed into 450 square feet.

IKEA would have driven that girl to tears.

I was on a different mission now. I needed a table. A huge table for the dining space in my little house in the woods. Would it shock you to learn that the dining room table I bought is as long as my bedroom in the East Village and just as cheap? There is enough surface area to reenact the Last Supper if necessary. We even bought chairs that were so light and inexpensive that I am wondering if they can endure the weight of an average human being....well, average American human being (add 20 pounds to the early calculation).

Will report back.

Poor People Migrating to Suburbs

So I have been reading more and more about how all the white people with money are taking over all of the cities and that everyone is being pushed out into the suburbs.

This news gives me great hope. That means that the counter culture and emerging art communities will continue to do the same.

Is it possible to think that I will one day be surrounded by my beloved East Village hodge podge again? Why not? Hell, it's a free country.

I wish the entire NYC gay community would take over Westchester County...or at least Tarrytown.

Spring Cleaning

Last night I went for a short walk. It was dark and I took a stroll down roads that wrapped around the perimeter of the village center I now live in. It's a switch to feel perfectly safe walking in darkness. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet fragrant smell of springtime.

Smelling springtime at night is heavenly. There are no flowers or sunshine to compete with. The cars and sounds of day have subsided. All that's left is darkness and fragrance with an occasional rustling of the leaves on the trees. I crossed paths with three bunny rabbits on this walk. They must all get together at night and do gymnastics on front lawns.

Which brings me to the subject of needing a housekeeper. I have never had one in my entire life. I grew up with lots of siblings and extended family in the City. All of us jammed into a small apartment building. No one was ever brought in to clean anything. It's weird to think of a stranger in my house doing the things that I feel that my husband, my son and I responsible for.

I discovered that I am the only woman in my entire department that does not have someone come in to clean on a routine basis. They are shocked that me...their boss...is foreign to this world. And yet. I cannot keep up with my household. It's usually in a shambles unless we have company coming over. It's a bad example to Ben.

My search for a maid begins.

Exhibit A

If you examine this photo closely, you will see a few of the Easter specials available at the gourmet market near my mom in law's home in North Carolina.

We have before us the Holy Trinity of Meringue Pies, Pecan Pies and Chocolate Fudge Pies.

It is my firm belief that if someone had placed a slice of each pie outside the grave of Jesus, we'd be celebrating Easter on Saturday rather than Sunday. Especially if you threw in a nice hot cup of coffee.

Speaking of God...let's encourage that Higher Power to bring our troops home. They could all use a cup of coffee and a slice of pie.

Peace to all -

Country Roads

Last week we went to visit Brian's mom. She lives in North Carolina. I think North Carolina is beautiful and this trip confirmed once again that there is nothing like the South in the springtime. The air is heavy with the fragrance of blossoming flowers and trees. The weather is warm but not too warm yet. And the days pass in a much slower pace from the madness of NY.

If Southern cuisine was a person it would be a very beautiful drag queen. I loved spending part of each day of my visit strolling the aisles of Fresh Market. It was Easter week and there were towers of cinnamon pecan rolls. Cinnamon pecan rolls are absolute proof of God.

Southerners have no guilt or denial about their relationship with sugar. It's passionate love and you see it everywhere....like coca cola cake.

We once again went to the Pick N' Pig in Carthage, North Carolina. Loved it like we knew we would, then turned around and went back two days later. When people in NC make pork bbq they cook it up, remove all fat and serve it with sauce on the side...as a relative through marriage nicely phrased it "I know that you northerners like to put bbq sauce on meat while it's cooking and we just don't do that here..." I'm with them!

Lots of grits, lots of biscuits, lots of yummy. We drove home avoiding 95North and drove through the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia. If you are looking for heaven, that's where you can find it.

I"ll jump..I swear!

So I'm walking down 9th street a few weekends ago and I lifted my head to take in the warm sunshine that was gracing NYC that day. Suddenly, the sun is blocked by a row of SUV's perched on a roof ready to commit suicide.

Please - we take it back - hybrids have not signed your death certificate. Now please step away from the ledge!!!

Dazed and Confused

I have a confession to make. I have no friggin idea what the hell my gmail password is. Every time I log in, I swear that I take a stab at one of three passwords...and they are different every time. And they all work.

Is that allowed? Or am I just hallucinating? At first it really bothered me. Now I just offer it up to the gods and say "whatever" as I am once again logged in.

I got a swedish massage the other day at the Open Center in NYC. It was okay but not great. I missed my Spanish deep tissue massage guy. He borders on making the session an S & M ritual ...his motto being "sometimes a little pain in the right place can be a very good thing."

There's truth in those words.

Brian and Company

Granted, this photo is a few weeks old. What I would summarize as a snow hurricane swept through New York and left a TON of fluffy snow on Strawberry Fields. We live next to a park in the village center, so Brian, Ben and I marched into the snow and began our snow sculpting. It was still snowing and no one else was out yet except a few people en route to the post office.

My snow person was a bit more like a snow bear....a mutant snow bear. Ben choose to put his skills to military use and build a snow fort. I'd say Brian got it just about perfect with the fellow next to him. Well done!

Snow Alert

How can Virginia stand another snow storm? Thought I heard the news say that some parts of that state should expect one to two feet.

Insane.

Brian drove down to Annapolis this afternoon. He needs to be there when the movers arrive tomorrow morning. They'll be picking up a small collection of furniture we are taking from his dad's old house. This is Brian's last trip down there. The last trip for any of us. The house is sold and his dad's wife is moving back to St. Louis.

Brian doesn't notice that on these last trips down there, he always packs the shirt he wore the day his dad passed away. He was with him.

I watched as he packed it again today. The mind is a curious thing.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the snow doesn't hit Maryland until he is well on the road to NYC.

And so we begin....

I should be asleep. My holiday ended twenty six minutes ago.

The day after Christmas, we packed up and trucked up to Litchfield County, CT. Good friends of ours have a country house there that we stay at while they are away for the holiday. It is nestled in a beautiful wooded area next to a big stream and a huge hill.

On New Year's Eve, we joined a bunch of friends from the City who also stay up there for a big dinner party. It amazes me how my beautiful friend V can feed 15 people a glorious sit down dinner without breaking into a sweat. I would like to join the ranks of this rarefied group.

On New Years Day, I went for a walk down the snowy country road by the house. The stream follows the road -- and it was just the two of us. Going out for a winter walk is so invigorating. You can't help but feel hopeful about the new year ahead.

In my next post, I will discuss my latest obsession with slow cookers...and why I must have one.

Dear 2009,

How can I say this politely? Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out!

2010? You're looking great with or without my reading glasses on.

Looking forward to a New Year filled with good health for all, laughter in unlimited supply, time with friends, more cooking, more writing, more love....

and much more PEACE.

Cheers to all my blog friends!

love, EVI

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night...

I hope that everyone reading this post has enjoyed a peaceful and relaxing holiday. It's taken me 47 years to figure out how to do it but we've arrived.

We began Christmas Eve at the Christmas pageant at St. Luke's Church - Ben's old school chapel and my church. Was it only four years ago that Ben was one of the "we-three-kings"? It was a crisp night. The streets were wet with the fading signs of snow and drizzle that made the lights of the City glisten even more.

New York is good at making its way through the winter. And fabulous at Christmas.

We then ventured onward from the West Village to Chelsea to the home of my dear friends L and C. Each Christmas Eve, they throw a wonderful gathering for their neighborhood friends that includes the best Tex-Mex food I've ever had. It is so great to be at a party with people of all ages and walks of life. It felt like the City at its best.

After we said our goodbyes, I stepped outside and looked up to see the nearby Empire State Building in all its Christmas glory looking down on me. It felt like the embrace of an old friend. My first Christmas gift -- and it was a beauty.

We got home at midnight and fell fast asleep...even Santa couldn't wake us up.

Christmas in the City

I've been running in and out of the City for the last few days. It is such a comfort to pass through Grand Central Terminal. You can't help but linger at one of the Christmas Fair stalls, small stores or stop by one of the eateries on the bottom floor.

I feel so at home at Grand Central. As a landmark, it holds a special place in the heart of the City. There is so much to explore, so many beautiful details in its design. Everything is bathed in a golden light that can feel quite soothing as your hectic day begins or ends.

During the holidays, music plays across the grand hall of the terminal with a colorful laser show projected across the ceiling. It's corny and festive at the same time.

It's a special place. I love it.

Arlington

My father-in-law died on September 14th but his funeral and reception were held yesterday at Arlington Cemetery.

Between the elderly World War II vets and active military dying in Iraq and Afghanistan, there are about 30 funerals a day there. After you fill out the paper work they let you know the earliest date available for the service.

It was a beautiful event. My husband and son made eloquent remarks at the service although Ben began choking on his tears half way through. I was very proud of my husband Brian. He spoke with grace and thoughtfulness.

Afterward six gray horses ridden by soldiers pulled the caisson that carried the single coffin to the burial site. Military officers involved in the ceremony march behind with family members following.

They remove the flag and fold it in an elaborate ritual then presented it to my step mother in law. After the twenty one gun salute they play Taps. Some closing prayers were made and the ceremony came to an end.

It was a tough weekend. The house was officially sold two weeks ago and his widow will be moving back to Missouri in a few months to live near her two sons in St. Louis. Not having a place to go back to is hard for Brian and Ben. It feels like his father died and every sign of him was wiped away...at least it feels that way now.

Man in the Mirror

I just spent the day in the East Village. Man - what the hell has happened? It's like Chelsea with pull-ups on?!

New York ‘Loses Its Edge’

London Times columnist Stefanie Marsh suggested Manhattan has finally embraced middle American values this week, and concluded that ‘New York has lost its edge’.

The British culture critic suggested many of the city’s creative types have long opted for Berlin and London leaving bankers living in ‘shiny faceless luxury condos’ and buying US$700 Ramones T shirts from ‘super-high end boutiques’ built out of the detritus of CBGBs.

On a brighter note she noted that Manhattan’s financiers are nowadays regarded as ‘some of the most reviled people on earth’ with some clubs actively cancelling annual corporate memberships.

“We want to distance ourselves from bankers, even if they helped to set us up in the first place,” one (anonymous) club promoter told the Times, “They’re pariahs. Money is just not cool any more.”

The article appeared just as the New York Times revealed that thousands of the America’s artists have earned less in the last 12 months with almost one in five (18%) seeing their income drop by 50% between 2008 and 2009.

5,300 musicians, architects, writers and filmmakers responded to a survey commissioned by arts organization Leveraging Investments in Creativity, which also revealed that almost all artists (94%) earned less than US$80,000, despite many having college degrees.

“A lot of the artists who were reporting were telling us, ‘I live in a recession all the time, so this downturn has really not been so different for me,’ ” study chief Judilee Reed told the New York Times.

Brit in Amsterdam techno legend Dave Clarke flew into New York this week for the first time in a while and revealed he was disappointed with the City in a typical blunt Twitter post.

“In the words of Blake Baxter "New York . . .What Happened?",” Dave quizzed.

“Someone tell me where did the scene in NY go? Don't blame the Mayor please,” he added.

True Believer

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!!

After years of trial and error, I have learned that the way to navigate a happy Thanksgiving meal to focus on the food and the gratitude.

Try hard to leave the politics, the religion, the past and the future at the door. I reflected quite a bit on the all of the Americans who are far far from home and trying to stay alive in Iraq and Afghanistan.

These people need to come home to their families. Let's send out a collective peace vibe.

And now for my turkey manifesto....

There is no better way to prepare a turkey than to brine it. Seriously, folks - it is wonderful every time. I use the recipe you can find on the Yankee Magazine homepage. Check it out - you won't regret it!

Wishing the world peace and peace of mind as we enter into the holiday season.

Jive Turkey

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. I'm just not into it. Too much has gone on in the last few months. People passing away, moving, new school for Ben, Ben being sad. And yet, we are all in good health, we have good jobs and a nice home large enough to hold all of our books, artwork and instruments. As a mom, it's important for me to set a tone of holiday excitement.

I wish Snoopy was real.

East Village Revisited

I went in to get my hair cut at Swing yesterday (East 10th between 1st Avenue and Avenue A). Luis is great. He and his wife run the business and it is simple, eco-friendly and welcoming. It's nice to know that the hair color I get every other month won't be making my boobs fall off twenty years from now.

It was nice to see all the familiar merchants on my block. I miss them.

Mr. Met!

I would like to tell you that I lovingly made this Mr. Met head by hand but that would be a TOTAL LIE. My husband made it for Ben for Halloween with all the determination and care of Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel.

I must confess that I had very serious doubts that this project could be pulled off in seven days. Fortunately Brian has a good dose of midwest tenacity in his veins. Unlike me, a hard core New Yorker, who would have said "screw it" within the first 48 hours.