Just a couple of chicks clucking in the henhouse, me and A. on the Upper West Side, a Bronx-Brooklyn compromise, hot coffee and eggs, A. had the porridge. What do you think the porridge is like? she asked. Like oatmeal I said. The disdain! But our waiter said it was one of my favorites (likely story) so that’s what A. ordered, supplemented with the rice pudding parfait and a large hot chocolate. Go big or go home.
January 28, 2012
Frittata with salad and bread
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January 15, 2012
Blissed out, my body is just blissed out, a top-notch twenty hours that included a run on a Red Hook pier and ended with me telling my acupuncturist Thank you for making my life better. When K. texted to alert me to the delay (family trait) I tucked into some scraps around the house, divine.
November 5, 2011
You know what would make this taste better? asked D. as we dug into our vegan corn chowder. Cream.
October 8, 2011
Okay fine yeah okay. I’m sick. There, I admitted it, fed it soup like they do in the movies, under a blanket, Panamanian Day parade drums and horns through the windows, missing the most glorious day of the fall, whatever, what can you do.
August 26, 2011
Bread, sausage, and tomato
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It may be days until we can go outside again, storms are storming, took my lunch to a trail and ate following the blue blazes through the Staten Island greenbelt, I’ll want a memory I can lean into when it’s all rain, all rain.
May 7, 2011
Bread, cheese, grapes, and an apple
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How many Saturdays did E. and I have just this lunch, strolling home down Eastern Parkway, still my parkway after all these years, sometimes she’d come loose with the repetition, Will I ever stop walking down this damn parkway?
February 19, 2011
Bread, cheese, and apples
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By the time I got home with half a loaf of bread from the farmer’s market, through the frozen gardens and past the hubcap on Carroll and Washington, over the shuttle train tracks, into and out of the grocery store, I was frozen solid and hungry, piled slices of things on a plate and ate in front of my program.
July 15, 2010
Chicken, pasta, salad, bread, and a brownie
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I was lucky in the things that matter. L. and A. to my left and right. Butter. A brain that can process most things in a way that amuses me. The food? Not so lucky. L. had pointed out the gelatinous pile in the corner of the pasta steam tray back in the buffet line, and that was pretty much true of all the food on my plate.
December 25, 2009
Turkey, mashed potatoes, squash, green beans, bread, parsnips and carrots, and wine
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Tree, lights, carols in the background, L., C., A., B., and a heavily pregnant L., dish after dish lined up in the kitchen, my plate was filled first, polished off fast. We all wore the paper crowns from our crackers, took turns telling the dreadful jokes that came with them, translating from the British along the way. (Petrol means gas.) couldn’t have been warmer.
