be'wiched

Midtown Mahattan is a culinary black hole at lunch time -- it has some of the most over priced and boring lunch food around. Everyday it's the same thing -- Cosi, Pret a Manger, Hale and Hearty Soup, Europa Café, the occasional street vendor, and when I'm feeling like mixing it up (like today), I head to 'wichcraft in Bryant Park. Because it was so sunny and warm out today, I decided to walk the 3 blocks from my office to Bryant Park where the 'wichcraft kiosks are located. Tom Colicchio (the main judge in what BF and I think will be the soon to be cancelled Top Chef on Bravo and owner of Craft and Craftbar) has 4 food kiosks there. One sells only coffee and pastry, another sells sandwiches, another ice cream and desserts, and the one that is furthest away from me and that I have never tried because I am too lazy to walk the extra 15 steps to get there, serves soups and salads.

I've had a few of the sandwiches at 'wichcraft and they are all really good, not what you would call cheap ($9.50 for an upscale Reuben), but much better than what you find at Cosi. Today, I finally ordered one of their salads. For only $8 (less than a dollar more than the Cosi classic salad), I had an endive and frisee salad with poached pear, gorgonzola (real gorgonzola, not bad blue cheese), candied walnuts (not too sweet, and oh so good), with a smoked bacon vinaigrette that was made with really good olive oil and truly "smoky" tasting bacon. I can't believe I never tried this salad before. Damn. It was really good. I think I will go back tomorrow -- the beet salad looked really good too.

What is good manners?

In modern urban society, good manners and friendliness has been overtaken by the individuals need for private space. With the invention of the "Walkman" and the subsequent derivations of it, this space between people has become one more of lack of acknowledgement rather than just elbow room. This attitude is both generational and cultural. It is ever apparent in the Northeast, especially in cities like, New York, Boston, and Washington. And I fear it is spreading.

On Saturday, J and I went running together. J is from Minnesota. So like all good Midwestern boys, he is admittedly overly friendly at times. (That is of course unless you meet him in under compromising circumstances like Evil Twin #2 did.) Part of running etiquette is to acknowledge other runners. I normally opt for the smile and the head nod. However, J goes for the full on wave. The only people who waved back were both elderly gentlemen. From the yuppies pushing a running stroller, we got a nasty glare and a move to the other side of the path. Of course, it is possible that they were just racist. While snubs to J's waving hand are little more apparent, I realized that as the weather is getting nicer and more people are out, there are less people smiling and nodding back at me. J thought it was weird because back in Minnesota, he says hi to anyone on he sees on the sidewalk. But then again Minnesota is still stuck in a time warp. It kind of like that South Park episode where the Stan and Kyle find a man who had been frozen for three years. The man is so disoriented in this new time they sent him to Iowa, where they were three years behind the rest of the world.

The next day on the train, I was sitting down spacing out as usual. When we got to the Kenmore stop, I saw a middle aged lady get on board. She had dyed short red hair, gold glasses, and an oversized shirt maroon shirt with gold weaving. Since she was holding the pole next to my seat, I asked if she would like to sit. She looked at me in disgust and said "I'm fine." She moved to the back of the car. My manners had insulted her vanity. As I looked around the train, I realized lots of old people were standing. Teenagers listening with white earbuds, were slouched on chairs moving their heads in circles. I wondered if it was a chicken and egg thing. Were the kids rude first and convinced the adults that they only got up for old people or was it the adults wanting to feel young making sure the young people sat?

All of it kind of makes me want to move to Minneapolis except I heard the take out sucks.

Erin go bragh

Evil O'Twin #1 checking in this frigid first day of spring.

While most of my Irish brethren celebrate every year, I have noticed that the past few years I have taken St. Patrick's day for granted. Evil O'Twin #2 at least got to see a parade even though it was under less than ideal circumstances.

Last Friday, I woke up to a lovely sunny morning and donned on a kelly green t-shirt and a pair of jeans. (Of course, I also wore an undershirt, a wool sweater and a pair of thermal underwear as it was technically still winter then.) I whistled "Danny Boy" on my commute to school. For lunch, I passed on the cafeteria's rendition of corned beef and cabbage, opting for the Agean Mediterranean sandwich at Finagle a'Bagel. What was a good Irish catholic girl to do? Choose traditional boiled meats, or follow the "no meat on Friday" rule? I figured the consequences of not following church doctrine would be a little more dire than missing out on this once a year treat. (But since I am neither a Celt, nor ever been baptized it might be a moot point.)

Friday was also the last day in our lab for J. J has been a student and a postdoc in our lab. Since we spend approximately 2/5 ths of our lives in lab, members of the lab become more like family than coworkers. We gossip, bicker, laugh, and help each other get through the day. J was our slightly perverted cousin. He always reminded us that the motivation of all men is sex. You could always ask him personal questions like "why do men pee in the shower?" and he would always give an honest answer. And if someone was a mean to you, he would beat the living crap out of that person. It was time for him to actually make some money and put his scientific skills to use. Before that could happen, we would try to kill every brain cell he had with alcohol.

The pub across the street from school, is the Squealing Pig. It is the local watering hole for doctors, students, staffers, and professors in the Longwood Medical Area. The bartenders know your name, and after 8pm, the place is dead. (Evil O'Twin #2 has been there twice and can attest to its late night quietness.) However, on St. Patty's day there was a line outside the door. V and I looked at each other in shock as it the first time EVER, in 5 years of loyal patronage, we had seen the bar at capacity.

Inside the ordinary crowd of scrawny men with glasses, and women with high waisted jeans and ponytails was replaced with young people wearing a variety of Guiness flashing shamrocks. Struggling our way to the bar, we found J ensconced on a stool with his brother and sister-in-law. They started celebrating not to long before us. Having not eaten dinner yet, V and I decided Guinness was the most nutritious of the beers and therefore would make a fantastic appetizer. It was fun, although highly disorienting to be in such a familiar place under such unfamiliar circumstances. V and I had two followers for the night. Who would of thought that you could get hit on at the Pig? After chasing a shot of Jameson's with a lime, J informed me that he would have slept with the guy that had a tattoo if he was a chick, but then again he was kind of slutty. It was fun to see him cut loose and to see so many people from the school to come out to say good luck.

So that was my first Boston St. Patty's day in an Irish pub. Two pints of Guinness, a shot of Jameson's (sans lime), a rowdy overly friendly crowd, good friends, and green clothing made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

V and I topped off the night with a traditional dinner of enchiladas at Boca Grande.

crappy st. patty's day

My office building is on Sixth Avenue, between W45th and W46th Streets. My office faces W46th Street, but is near the intersection with Sixth Avenue. The St. Patrick's Day Parade winds its way north, up Fifth Avenue and ends who knows where. All I know is that it starts around W45th Street. How do I know? Because W45th and W46th Streets are being used as staging areas for the people that march in the parade. There are about 5 thousand high school bands that march in the parade and I can hear every one of them. It is driving me insane. On top of that, during lunch, I had to fight my way through crowds of drunken men, hordes of teenagers with painted faces and shamrock paraphenalia (as an aside, when did the St. Patrick's Day Parade turn into a pseudo-Mardi Gras? There were men handing out green beads, but it was insuated that the beads weren't free...), extremely irritating tourists dressed in green, and a disproportionately high number of green SUVs, minivans, and sedans from out of state (do all Irish people drive green cars?) just so I could get to McDonald's and buy my Filet o' Fish sandwich. This almost makes me wish that my office was in Times Square.

On the Town

My middle brother ("Middlebro") and his girlfriend ("GF") came to NYC this weekend. Middlebro is 23 and GF is 21. While it was fun hanging with them, and I loved playing tour guide, and I liked being able to treat them to dinner and drinks, I felt. . . old. For God's sakes, she's a JUNIOR in college. They were here for part of her spring break! I miss spring break. It seems like only yesterday that I was in London for my junior year (actually, just my second semester b/c I couldn't get my act together and apply to a year long program in time) abroad, and I was backpacking through Europe. Was that really 9 years ago? Where the hell did the time go?

They drove in from Pittsburgh and wandered around Brooklyn on Friday -- PS1, Williamsburg, some vintage (i.e. used clothing) stores in Greenpoint -- before meeting up with me after work. Middlebro and his GF are vegetarians so I took them to a vegetarian restaurant on the Lower East Side -- note to self, never order a cocktail that contains anything organic, otherwise your drink will taste mildly of cardboard. I think the restaurant used to be a wine bar that Isa had taken me to back in the day, yet another reason to feel old. Dinner was surprisingly good and filling despite the absence of meat. It worked out well for me since it is Lent and, as a good Catholic, I only eat veggies on Fridays. After dinner we went to a bar on Rivington and met up with a law school friend ("LSF"). We had a few rounds, and then Middlebro and GF were off to the Sullivan Room b/c a DJ that they like was spinning. I don't even remember the last time I went to a club. LSF and I walked over to Angel Share which was nice, quiet, and does not allow standing or shouting and has great drinks, one drink later and we headed home. One 20 minute cabride up to el barrio and I was in bed by 2:30 am; Middlebro and GF got to my apartment at 4:30 am after an hour long ride on the A train -- one of the perks of being older is being able to afford the $28 cab ride all the way uptown.

The next morning, I woke up at 10 am and went for a run -- when I got back, 30 minutes later, Middlebro and GF were up and eager to wander around NYC. We had lofty expectations of going to the Whitney Biennial, the Young Designer's Market in NoLIta, and the Bodies Exhibit down in South Street Seaport. Two out of three's not so bad. The weather was gorgeous so we decided to do some walking. We started in SoHo and walked east towards NoLIta, doing some shopping along the way and stopping at Cafe Habana for a late lunch; made it to the YDM and bought some stuff -- no apparel or shoes for me, though, and then took the train down to South Street Seaport to see some flayed and preserved human bodies.

The Bodies exhibit really creeped me out. I think I would have been ok if the bodies were behind glass or roped off, instead there was an occasional sign that said please do not touch. People don't always read signs. Even more disturbing was the fact that all of the bodies -- despite being stripped of their skin, fat and fascia -- had fake blue glass eyes and blonde eyebrows pasted onto their faces -- especially strange since all of the bodies were Chinese. Middlebro and GF both want to be doctors, so they really liked the exhibit, pointing out the various nerves, etc... I stopped listening and walked away. I didn't have much of an appetite after 2 hours of peering at body parts, so we walked around the LES and had some tea at Teany (Moby's tea shop) and met up with BF before heading to a vegetarian Thai place -- Pukk -- on 1st Ave between E 4th and E 5th Streets for dinner. I highly recommend it if you're in the East Village, even if you're not vegetarian, it's good cheap food in a stylish setting. A round of drinks at a bar and BF and I called it a night at 1:30 am. I gave Middlebro and GF some expired metrocards (I thought that one of the 5 metrocards that I found in my apartment while cleaning might have some money left on it, I was wrong) and a map of Manhattan for wandering around on their own. We were originally supposed to go to Crobar, but I was tired and supposedly, so were Middlebro and GF. They wanted to keep things low key since they had barely gotten 5.5 hours of sleep and we had spent the entire day walking all over the place. I guess when you're 21, keeping things low key means getting home at 6 am. . .

The next morning, we met up for brunch at Public, again in NoLIta. Great food, amazing space, but really bad attitude. I don't think I will be going there again. By the time we finished, it was 3:00 pm. Middlebro and GF wandered around the neighborhood a little more before driving back to the 'burgh. I hopped on the B train. . . and headed to the office. I guess that's what grown ups do.

Musicals (From high school to Broadway)

I have always had a fascination and love for the musical. When I was in the fourth grade, I played Robin in the "Runaway Snowman." Although technically it was the lead role, my singing part was reduced to one line in Kumiko's solo "Give a Little Love Each Day." My line came tragically warbly and off tune. That is what happens, when Mr. Welle, the music teacher, casts parts according to volume rather than talent. I'm grateful that the moment was captured on Beta.

As I grew up I realized I was blessed with many gifts, but music, dancing and acting were definitely not included in this package. So in high school as co-prefect of the AV squad, I watched from afar as I sound-mixed and lighted those more talented than I. And if I could not be a part of the show, at least watching one gave me a great amount of joy.

So it is no surprise that I have been addicted to the PBS series "Broadway: An American Musical." Elderly actors describe Time Square in the 50's. Shirley MacLaine tells a story how she got a part as an understudy and wowed Cole Porter. I'm sure it has been on for a while, but I only started watching it this week.

On Tuesday night, I saw the opening night of "Spamalot" at the Colonial Theater. It was okay, funny, crude like a Monty Python movie. But unlike many plays I go to, there was nothing to talk about afterwards. No "can you believe," or "I loved that part when." It was just entertaining for those 3 hours.

What had lasting entertainment was "High School Musical," Disney Channel original. You may have read about it in the New York Times last month, or not but ask your 10 year-old niece and I guarantee she knows what it is. On Friday, with a friend who prefers to remain anonymous, I watched it over a steamy styrofoam container of Thai delivery. Not only was it "High School Musical" but it was the "High School Musical Dance-along." Throughout the movie, the main actors gave step-by-step instruction to the final dance sequence so that the audience could dance along with the movie. (A total side note: Lucas Grabeel, the slightly effeminent foil, is a fantastic dancer, far superior to the leads, and I can't wait to see him on Broadway someday.) While the story was incredibly implausible, the acting over-the-top, and the title completely unimaginative, the movie was incredibly infectious and discussion worthy.

It is Monday, and I cannot stop singing "We are all in this together," the final number in the movie. I am even thinking of purchasing it on iTunes.

who knew?

I LOVE cheese, but I never know the best way to store it. This is from Real Simple. I thought I'd share:

Question: I like to buy a variety of cheese. I usually store them in ziploc bags. Is there a better or neater way to store cheese?

Answer: A resealable plastic bag will do the job, though it's not the ideal storage solution. The best way to wrap leftover cheese really depends on the particular type. Stash the cheese in the vegetable crisper of the refrigerator where the temperature is cold and stable. Use a fresh piece of plastic wrap or wax paper to rewrap it after each use. The length of time you can keep cheese also varies according to the variety; in general, the harder the cheese, the longer it will last.

Hard, aged cheeses (Parmigiano-Reggiano, aged Gouda): First, wrap in wax or parchment paper, then add a layer of plastic wrap.

Blue cheeses (Gorgonzola, Roquefort): Wrap in plastic wrap.

Semi-hard and hard cheeses (Cheddar, Swiss, Gruyere): Wrap in plastic wrap.

Soft, semi-soft, and stinky cheeses (Goat, Camembert, Brie, Limburger): Place in a resealable plastic container.

Fresh cheeses in water (Mozzarella or feta): Leave the cheese in the original packaging, changing the water every couple of days.

Lotto fever

Lyons, Ohio is a village located a few miles from the Michigan border and has a total population under 600 people. It, also, has the newly crowned Mega millionaire. While the person or persons who won the 276,000,000 dollar jackpot has decided to remain anonymous, I cannot help but dream what I would do with all that money. Would I be magnanimous and share it with all my causes, would I become part of the spending elite and buy myself a diamond encrusted toilet seat?

Evil Twin #2 started my Lotto fever. Two weeks ago, she visited Boston on the coldest weekend we've had this year. And as we shivered walking in Downtown crossing, we were distracted by the fold out sign outside a cigarette/convenient store. At that time the Mega Millions Jackpot was a mere 180,000,000 dollars, but it was enough to entice into the dark 8' by 8' store. We bought our lucky numbers and a few quick picks to spare.

Unfortunately, evil twins do not normally win these kind of things. Winners are from small towns like, Lyons. They go to church on Sundays and when they win they like to thank their Lord Saviour Almighty Jesus Christ. Sometimes they are on their last dollar, or like the recent Powerball winners, immigrants living out the American Dream. A lottery winner always makes a good human interest piece on the news.

So I came up with a plan. I needed a story. I attempted to thwart Lady Lotto Luck, by buying my ticket with pennies. Couldn't you see the headlines, "woman buys MegaMillions ticket with her last pennies?" I went to the slightly ghetto Stop and Shop in Mission Hill to buy my ticket (winning tickets are never sold in affluent areas. Even Senator Judd Gregg bought his winning Powerball ticket from a less than reputable convenient store.) I went in with a clear takeout soup container full of pennies. V agreed to enable my psychosis by helping count out stacks of 10 pennies. The lady at the customer service desk pointed out the Coinstar machine. I thanked her for her help, but told her I thought those machines were a waste of money because they take 8.9% as a handling fee. (The eighty year old woman who was returning her broccoli agreed.) After we stacked 300 pennies, I purchased my one number ticket and my two quickpicks.

I did not win. In all, it was a good experience. For five dollars total, I got to dream for a 2 weeks about all the things I could do with the money. A movie ticket which only provides, 3 hours of fun, costs a good eight dollars. And of course, no matter what the odds are, if you don't play you can never win.

Scavengers

My group has a meeting every Thursday morning. They lure us to this meeting by having a selection of assorted fruits, pastries, juice and coffee -- a pretty nice spread. There is always a lot of food left over so a coworker (CW) and I always bring the trays of food down to our floor and leave them in the pantry. My question -- Why is it that whenever there is any free food available the secretaries are always the first ones to snatch it up? It's like they have a sixth sense about these things. It's really quite amazing. CW jokes that she feels like Mother Theresa when we bring the food down -- within 5 minutes, the secretaries swoop down and take everything, even the garnish. This morning, there was some free breakfast, how did I know? Because I saw all the secretaries heading toward the pantry. But, this time, I beat them to it and grabbed a bagel and some fruit before it was all gone.

Lenten Resolutions

I never really make New Year's Resolutions, opting to wait until Ash Wednesday (the beginning of the Lenten Season) to come up with the list of things that I will refrain from doing. Nothing quite like Catholic guilt to make you want to better yourself (for 40 days, not the entire year). This year, I have vowed to do the following:

1. no chocolate (very hard for me since I am a chocoholic, but not so hard since I have given up chocolate during Lent for the past 15 years);

2. no deep fried foods (except for seafood on Fridays if there are no other non-meat options available);

3. no shopping for apparel or shoes for myself (I am free to buy gifts for other people);

4. no soda (not that big a deal any more, ever since I gave it up for Lent during college, I really only ever drink Coke with pizza);

5. I must go running at least twice a week (we'll see how long I can keep this one up); and

6. I must keep my apartment clean (Evil Twin #1 was very supportive of this resolution, BF was overjoyed).

So, that's the rundown. As of the second day of Lent, I have done all of these except #5, but I still have until next Wednesday to do that...