kayt’s jetsam

view to the east beyond potted apple trees

Two of my local heroes, Michele and Charles Scicolone, invited me to dinner at their 2nd Ave. apartment tonight.  Michele writes cookbooks and Charles is a wine consultant, a gastronomic dream-team.  Michele supplemented the seasonal meal with terrace-grown herbs and tomatoes.  It was the first home-cooked meal I haven’t made myself in a long time.  The dream-team doesn’t eat home much as they are frequently invited out by restaurants for review; all the more kind of them to let me share a rare home-cooked meal.  Nothing beats the cleansing feeling of being able to trace and trust the food you eat.

i've only been as high as the 52nd floor.

Terraces have a loving quality: dwellers love the city they live in and therefore want to look at it.  But terraces are few and far between.  If buildings had more of these spaces it would 1) be more entertaining to spy on people sunbathing 2) be more green because people like to have plants.  My latest idea to save American cities is for everyone to have a greenhouse for a year-long supply of greenery and a lovely place to have breakfast.

view of downtown

jane jacobs, the darling author of urban planners, argued that it takes a neighborhood to raise a child.  she felt comfortable with her children running around her neighborhood because people knew they were her children.  she understood that if her children were misbehaving, any adult would have the right, nay, the responsibility, to scold them.  ultimately it’s a matter of protection.  you scold a child before they do something stupid.

last week i was leaning on the new bike racks (yes!) outside the laundromat gabbing with my dearest mum.  i heard something fall next to me and saw that a small boy had thrown a dirty lollipop up in the air only to watch it fall down again.  as if he hadn’t proven gravity yet, he picked up the lollipop again and launched it up in the air again.  this time it broke when it hit the pavement and he sat on a step.

but this pestilent child discovered pebbles on the sidewalk and began throwing them at the bmw parked behind me.  between his throws his mother came out and sat next to him.  he picked up another (bigger) pebble and his volley made a small dent in the car. some screaming ensued. he waited for her to turn away and threw a pebble at a moving car. more screaming.  she got up to check on their laundry and told him to sit there.

so guess what he did. he got up as soon as she had gone in, and he made sure she had.  as a mischievous smile spread across his little fat face, he made a run for it.  that’s when i decided help raise this child.

“sit down! sit down! your mother told you to sit down! sit down now!”

a stranger in sunglasses yelling in spanish was the last thing he expected; off went the smile, back down on the step he sat.  that same disappointed, sad look he had when he looked at me as i resumed my conversation with my mum was still there when i left the laundromat.  his mother was sitting with him again, explaining to another neighbor how misbehaved her son is, and how helpless she is.  she just needs a little more help from jane jacobs believers.

this sunday i went to long island with some people from the international wine center (the school where i got my advanced certificate in wine and spirits). i’m usually more fascinated by concrete structures than by plants. but a grape vine is another story. we stared and poked at the vine buds, foresaw the emerging leaf structure and discussed its life cycle. we saw the vineyards the way they look most of the year: after pruning. in the summer the vine shoots will triple or quadruple in size and the current flower buds will turn into plump berries. the wine-grower will have to cut back the mesh of greenery to allow more sunlight and air to reach the grape bunches that would normally not stand a chance against the clever sun-snatching leaves. in august the nets have to be draped over the rows to discourage birds and deer. laborers will pass through the rows to thin out the grape bunches so the vine will have to send all its energy into a select bunches. the rotten grapes will be then be picked out and the nets removed right before the harvest, when the machine-harvester will pass over each vine, shaking them of their ripe fruit. i was exhausted just thinking about how much work the harvest would be, even with a machine-harvester. paying $30 for a bottle of wine never seemed more justified.

i imagined the landscape would offer more strip malls and gaudy gated communities but was pleasantly surprised. long island is a rather successful agricultural region. farms generate enough business from a carbon footprint-conscientious population, and there are zoning laws to keep farmers in business. wine tourism is booming. there are 46 vineyards on the north fork, up from 3 in the 80s. their main season is in the fall, right after the crush and when the pumpkins are ripe. the produce this time of the year was decent with lots of rhubarb, asparagus, radishes and young lettuce. my favorite part of the trip was our stop at a roadside pie place that had gigantic tasty pies for $15. ah the country!

i thought that after 4 months of silence i would accumulate enough comments to make me feel wanted: it worked! i’m back, this time i promise. honest.

i now know where the expression “spring showers” comes from. like everything, it comes from new york. the showers come every 3 days or so and since new yorkers have a collective fear of melting, they bring out their huge umbrellas. don’t get me wrong, i like umbrellas. i think raincoats are generally ugly and the more people using personal umbrellas to match their outfits the better. note: personal umbrellas.

umbrellas are like cars: they create personal space for the user and promote a general apathy towards others. if you have a large umbrella, say one that could accommodate a family of 6, you might as well be driving an SUV. anyone who happens to be sharing the sidewalk with SUV-umbrella people has to move out of the way or face the possibility of being stabbed by one of the umbrella’s spokes. SUV-umbrella people are so petrified of acid rain that they cannot look up at oncoming traffic; more moving out of their way.

yesterday i saw several incidents that, if actual cars had been involved, would have wrought casualties. a woman running across park ave on a red light body slammed another jay-walker because she was trying to get a bus on the other side of the avenue. both parties’ umbrellas flew out onto the stream of honking taxis. an enormous man carrying a silver umbrella bumped the umbrellas of a stream of japanese tourists that had split up to avoid him. he was emailing on his blackberry, mind you. when i entered the subway, people climbing the stairs had already opened their umbrellas and made it impossible and dangerous to continue descending. my sudden stop probably caused pedestrian traffic jams two miles away.

as a mouse extermination website pointed out, “mice are only cute in cartoons.”  nick and i can vouch for this, although until recently i was all for a “humane” way of ridding our house from the family of louse.  now i support nick full-heartedly in his ruthless retaliation involving twenty mousetraps, blockading our doors (they can fit in a 1/4 inch of space) and coming home ready to slam a shoe down on anything that moves.  the shoe works given the appropriate scenario.  nick killed one with a shoe on christmas morning when i, laying in bed awake listening for santa, heard a mouse instead. we corralled it and after breaking its spine in a first shoe-thwapping fit, nick finished it off.

we foolishly felt victorious.   the next day was the first nick and i had spent alone with each other since the holiday season kicked in.  we went to lunch, to a museum, walked through central park, had coffee and looked at bloomingdale’s window displays.  it was a beautiful day, and it was meant to stay that way.  but when we got home and i went to the bathroom to pee, i heard nick yell “there’s another one!”  it came into the bathroom and into the linen closet.  nick got his shoe and began ripping apart the contents of the closet.  it finally ran out under the door and although i tried to “get it!” my eyes were closed and i was squealing so i only threw my slipper in its direction.  nick was so mad it got away that he accidentally broke the door of the linen closet.  i was so frazzled that when i started making dinner and chopping an onion, my mind drifted from the task and cut off a third of my fingernail and a small chunk of my finger.  when we found out we didn’t have any band aids, nick had to go out in the -now- pouring rain to buy some.  i sat in the kitchen, my finger in a wet paper-towel, staring at the deduced entry point for the mice and blaming them for everything.  we’ll get them yet.

our neighborhood tends to make a big deal out of holidays. i was impressed by the effort put into halloween, but nothing could prepare me this holiday.

the decorations started coming out before thanksgiving and as i cooked our thanksgiving meal, i watched in disbelief while our neighbors across the street mounted their blown-up chimney-penetrating and emerging santa. some households seem to have similar 2007-specific decorations while others have been using the same decor since the 50s.  some households are more resourceful than others: whoever thought of wrapping an air-conditioning unit to show off their christmas cheer AND help prevent cold drafts was a goddamn genius.

farmer’s markets are called greenmarkets here.  we go to our neighborhood greenmarket every week because 1. the produce is better than anywhere else 2. the produce is cheaper than anywhere else.  it’s true: organic produce in new york city can be cheap! head of lettuce: 1 dolla’.  apples and pears by the pound: 1 dolla’.  a cup of hot apple cider, my seasonal favorite: 1 dolla’.  small decorative squashes: 3 for a dolla’!

the greenmarket at union square happens four times a week year-round.  typically, i don’t like union square and its periphery of big box stores.  but on greenmarket days, union square feels healthy (photo above).  office workers on their lunch breaks poke and smell produce, mothers load the bottom compartments of their strollers with pumpkins and potatoes, forever-21 shoppers approach produce samples with distrust.

in my opinion, the greenmarket system in new york city has three main functions: 1. to bring healthy and affordable food to new yorkers, 2. to educate new yorkers on the variety of produce and the benefits of sustainable agriculture, and 3. to connect the food producing countrysides of new york and new jersey to a huge market of consumers.  i cannot help but make some comparisons to the city i just moved from: farmers’ markets in portland are not affordable and they tend to be very chichi.  i was amazed to see the number of produce tents decrease while the number of tents selling jams, salsas and prepared foods rise throughout a season.  farmer’s markets are better on the educational front, with their cooking demonstrations and brochures, and the musical performances are nice for the kids.  but i always found the market’s ambiance annoying: get myself my lettuce and it’s time to go home.  so i was pleased to find that like me, most new yorkers and their markets are utilitarian.  new yorkers of all socio-economic classes go to greenmarkets to load up on groceries, not to have an overpriced tamale or try a pomegranate-chile spread.

this photo was taken by my mum in soho the day after halloween.

my parents came to the east coast last week, entrusting my brother with the lives of their dogs, chickens and horses. so much walking on pavement wore them out a little but nick and i are satisfied at our having completed the proposed itinerary:

day 1: west village including bleeker and commerce streets, stop for argentinian pastries (see photo below), washington square and soho (photo above). lunch on broadway and zigzag north to union square for the whole foods checkout lines experience. take the L to bedford, walk through williamsburg to mccaren park. watch people. return to apartment in greenpoint and drink wine. order in (peruvian, no less) and drink some more.

day 2: financial district including ground zero. take express train north to grand central. gawk at the ceiling of grand central. walk north on madison ave., stop at the rockefeller center then head west to times square, but not all the way to times square because it is so godamn sickening. lunch with one of dad’s old colleagues. walk north to central park. in central park: sheep’s meadow, great lawn, reservoir and cleopatra’s needle. head east and walk on fifth ave until we catch a train south to madison square park. watch sunset paint the buildings orange and pink (photo below). go to wine tasting at vino then dinner at la pizza fresca. head back to fort greene in brooklyn and order a bottle of chateau-neuf du pape at the stonehome wine bar. sleep for 11 hours.

day 3: farmer’s market in greenpoint. lunch at home. walk to the east river state park for the sunset. girls go shop in williamsburg, boys go watch some silly football game at a bar. take out pizza for dinner.

day 4: meet for brunch in park slope. walk through east end on prospect park. play frizbee (picture below taken by my mum). walk through park slope. lunch on 5th ave. train to brooklyn heights. walk the architecturally stunning streets of b’klyn heights before walking over the brooklyn bridge as the sun sets.  coffee in soho.  train back to fort greene for a fantastic meal at the stonehome winebar.

***

when i talked to my mum the day my parents got back into portland, she said it was “strange” being back.  i’m guessing she means that everything is miniature in comparison.  it’s clean.  it’s not so noisy.  you don’t hear an accent (an accent to us west coasters, anyway), or people screaming at each other.  you can’t get delivery.

i go to a bustling laundromat on franklin ave., a block and a half from our apartment. it’s expensive but it’s close and i like the fiery ecuadorian woman who works there. “hello mami,” she greets me, “here you go mami,” when she exchanges my bills for coins.

this morning she was by herself and as i was loading our laundry into the triple-loader, i noticed she was calling to someone across the street, her head out the door. a homeless hispanic man, with a 40oz in a paper bag, came in and sat down at her request. “hello señora, i saw him with my own eyes and i told him!” he started, “are you sure it was him? with the yellow boots?” she asked. “i told him you saw him stealing your clothes, and that it wasn’t right,” he continued. “everyone knows me here, everyone; are you sure it was him?” “i told him, you know, don’t steel that señora’s clothes, she’s going to find you and put you in jail and you’ll pay the price, it’s not right for you to steal clothes,” he elaborated. she walked away from the conversation to give me change. i asked her what had happened. “i was ready to leave and someone stole my clothes from the window sill.” “was he hispanic?” i asked. “no, polish.”

why did i ask if he was hispanic? if the thief were hispanic, it would have been easier to track him down, talk to his family, scold him and then move on. in other words, communication would not be an issue. but with many poles in our neighborhood who don’t speak english, and the spanglish our dominican, puerto rican, ecuadorian and honduran neighbors speak, there might be a problem.

here’s something else: i love the way the ecuadorian woman asked this drunk homeless man (who didn’t smell fantastic) to come sit down and took what he said seriously (or pretended to maybe). it serves as another example of the tightness of the latino community here. the ecuadorian woman treats all her neighbors with respect, and knows most of the latinos who come in or walk by the laundromat by name. it goes without saying that she is equally respected by her neighbors. i hope she gets her clothes back.

too bad she doesn’t own the laundromat. that would be picture perfect. instead, it’s owned by some bitchy chinese woman.