Ma Vie, Aujourd’hui!

New York, New York

November 15, 2008

Posted in: New York City

New York is slick, wet. Fumes rise from the sidewalk like the smoking shafts of sweat from a lathered animal. I hopped the subway yesterday. I’d forgotten how magical it can be, how magnificent it is to be crowded uncomfortably close to so many people, how spectacular the experience is if you relax in spite of the encroaching filth and take a look at the assemblage of humanity smushed up against you. That, my friends, is the most delicious sort of people watching. Not voyeuristic or illicit, just… respectfully opportunistic.

I got out at 72nd Street and Broadway, and walked the three blocks to Fairway. Fairway, for all you handy-tards out there, is a wonderful grocery store, and home of my heart. It’s where I used to flee my mother during those last two years in New York. I know, I know, I can’t even seek therapy like a normal person. I don’t mean that I’d cower by the artichokes in a clandestine attempt at escape. Rather, I’d browse the produce. I’d ogle and fondle, loose myself in the efforts of picking the right pear, with the stem end giving just so, but the body still strapping and firm. I’d let my mind wander, the only time I granted it that liberty. And it would. It would take flight; the screaming in my head would quite, and I would ponder the various properties of ingredients, contemplate combinations and enhancements, the dreaded fact of my insomnia forgotten for a moment. For just as long as I stayed within the safety of the store, within the realm of my verdant refuge, I could breathe.

I love Fairway at night, in the fall and winter, when it’s dark out. About 6-ish, when all the old people come, when the ancient New Yorkers come out to play and the aisles become a traffic jam of arthritic activity. This isn’t for everyone: The geriatric pace can’t be circumvented, so feisty speed devils, be warned. But for a shattered little orphan girl like me, it was heavenly. The warmth and bright lights envelop you, quite literally (I think there’s a vortex of air at the entrance), providing respite from the chilling night, and the smell of food and bustle of activity and presence of grandparents makes it familial and safe, sort of like a permanent Thanksgiving.

I’m not an orphan girl so much any more, more an estranged and emancipated woman in the nascent stages of adulthood, but I still love Fairway the same way, and Fairway still loves me. I don’t have to pick though mushrooms to maintain my sanity, but I still want to.

Last night, I made Raw Artichoke and Fennel Salad with Shaved Parmesan, and Black Cod with Lemon and olive oil. It sounds simple, but it’s without a doubt my most favoritest meal in the whole world. And that means a lot coming from me!

Stay tuned, dearies, for more recipes! I have sworn to document each meal I have here, whether it is my own creation or that of a restaurant.

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