Yesterday's post ended in the afternoon, IIRC. We had supper at home--cold cuts and some kapusta
from a Polish market. Margaret doesn't eat the kraut. Too bad; it was pretty good. The smoked
kielbasa was very good and we finished it for lunch today. When I asked for a small piece of
krakowska at the market I had no idea there was already a good supply of meatstuffs back home here.
Margaret hacked up a small french bread and we enjoyed very thinly sliced smoked tongue (you could
see that certain tongue-y look about it) and some fancy schmancy paper thin-sliced ham. Very good.
She tried to make me eat one of the rolls that Mary Lyden at 2nd Ave Deli sent home with us and I
stood my ground and refused. I had it at breakfast. Margaret was rather stunned that I don't eat
jam. I've been telling people that for years. I don't know why they would not believe me.
Margaret opened the box that the woman at the bakery sent her home with -- a dish of their chocolate
mousse, some cookies drenched with chocolate, a raspberry hazelnut [censored] (Margaret bought that one
for me) and a chocolate covered banana (gack) for herself. The cookies appear to be almost a
macaroony thing -- clearly based heavily on egg whites. There's some chocolate stuff atop, then it
was covered with melted chocolate. Pretty good. The mousse is wonderful and I put it away after
about 4 bites. Too rich for my blood. I think I am perhaps not the chocolate freak some might think.
Because I napped late yesterday afternoon, I was awake until 1:00 a.m. Up at 8:00 this morning and
after previously mentioned roll with coffe and juice and mango, we headed to Zabar's by bus. There
were mild flurries in the air. No big deal.
I spoke with my high school friend Mimi and we will meet on Sunday to do something. She lives at the
other end of the city, best I can tell. It will be fun. She's probably the most cynical person I
know; she's a costume designer for theater shows. With a Poli Sci degree from Michigan.
We got to Zabar's and she grabbed number for the fish department, the deli counter, and
something else, just in case she needed it, I guess. I picked up some sun-dried tomatoes for a
reasonable price, some almond toffee (it's nearly gone), and a 6-pack of Dr. Brown Cel-Ray stuff
for Steve Dropkin.
I left Ms. Suran at the meat counter scolding a man about just how much ham she had ordered and I
moved to the fish counter with the number she'd given me (Number 42). When they came to 42, I waved
and was told I had the wrong color number, that fish was a white number. <sigh>. The correct number
was 32, but Margaret worked her imitable charm (her imitation of helplessness) and I was served to
get our 1-1/2 pounds of Nova Scotia lox. Man, is that stuff good. I didn't mention that the first
thing we ran into coming in the door was the olive bar. Two pints of fancy schmancy olives -- I
chose because she doesn't eat them.
Well, I went upstairs to Toyland -- the kitchen department. Hoo-o-o Dawgie! It was better than last
year. Looking for a butter bell I happened on something else that I won't mention because both my
daughter and husband are receiving copies of this and I don't want them to know what I bought for
myself. (*^;^*). Clearly it is something of which I have not enough at home. :-) I also bought a
gift for Rob.
When I came back downstairs I looked for Margaret. Jeez, there were only a thousand people in the
place, half of them leaving their carts in the middle of the aisles. A nice man paged Margaret for
me and I soon heard her calling my name. She sounds kind of like Ahnold. :-) She was quite laden
with her shopping bag on wheels, had two other bags in her hands and I had my two bags. I asked if
we were going to take the bus and she looked at me like I may be from Pluto. OK, I guess we're not
bussin home. She said we would look for a cab and it would be impossible to get one. Now, lissen up,
B&G, because this is valuable information: I am the luckiest person you know when it comes to
parking spots and taxis. Stand close to me, as Rob says he does in such situations. We stepped
outside the door at Zabar's and a taxi pulled up and a woman disembarked. As she did, I asked her to
tell the driver we would like the cab, please. She got out, we got in, and life got better. Margaret
is still in a daze and I just figure it was business as usual. Oh, did I mention that the snow has
changed from slight flurries to big ol' fluffy flakes? It's pretty nice. Very pretty. Not often that
I see piles of garbage bags and empty boxes covered with lovely white snow.
When we got home, she commenced to slicing bagels for her neighbor's freezer for tomorrow. She
bought 4 dozen bagels and was a little annoyed with me when I asked her why in hell she needs so
many when she's certain no one will show up tomorrow. Once she started slicing, she remembered that
normally she would have gotten mini-bagels and these suckers are full size and, yes, perhaps 48 is a
rather lahge number.
Because she has a one butt kitchen I fulfilled my obligation as taster -- An onion bagel with a
schmear of cream cheese and some lox. Vewwy, vewwy nice. Some olives -- OMG!! There's one kind in
there that absolutely rock! The guests may not see them and I'll have to lie about which ones they
ARE on the plate. Some cream herring. Oink, oink. Or maybe splish splash. Another bagel (poppyseed)
and the rest of the Polish sausage from last night. Still haven't whacked the krakowska. I passed on
dessert (my toffee is beside me here) because there's still have a day left.
I'm sitting in her apartment on the 20th floor watching the snowflakes drift down. They're big ones
and now the ground and rooftops are white. Pretty nice. It's nap time.
-Barb, posting from Margaret's lame computer in Manhattan