#116 – Welcome to NJ (II)

The first to greet you upon your arrival to NJ

Upon landing, each of us has to face reality. K is going to talk to the TSA guys, hunting down her laptop, while I, knowing my luggage is not waiting for me, have to file a missing luggage report.

No luggage, no laptop in NJ. Luggage is in Denver, Laptop held by TSA in San Jose. Now all we have to do is pick up the rental car and hit the road.

Key in switch and off we go. Looking for shortcuts, I let Telenav guide us. Big mistake. Why on earth would a “smart” navigation program (read: Telenav) tell us to get off the highway, make a U-turn, and get back on?! Bits me… The U-turn did not turn out all that well, and the thump I’ve heard left me with some concerns.

Surely, when I let the stirring wheel loose, it was pulling the car to the right. Inspecting the car from the outside showed a flat front right tire.

Great.

On an Island between two streets

I pulled over to an “island” between two streets, and we started calling; Budget on one mobile, AAA on the other. Both companies are SLOOOOOOOOOW to respond. First w ned to agree on our current location. Once we do, both companies inform us that we are in a “bad area”. True, we can’t see any “Ashkenazim”, but who cares. 20 minutes of negotiations later, we are embarrassed when the Budget rep asks “did you call AAA for help too?” Apparently, both Budget and AAA use the same towing company, of which their dispatch caught on to us. “90 minutes maximum wait” we are told.

The island we are parked @ is the parking lot of the BBQ

Chicken Queen. Having airport/airplane food for 11 hours, we are ready for some serious junk food. Observing the busy movement to the joint the whole time we were negotiating was good enough reason to check it out. Now it’s our turn. Fat time. Forget the yogurt and veggies I ate on the flight. This is high cholesterol, high fat and heart-attack generating food. K. and I walk in looking out [of place]. I envy all the guys who walk in knowing exactly what they want, without a glimpse @ the menu posted about the counter. We, to the contrary, have lots of questions. We end up ordering fried chicken, fries and coleslaw. And in case that wasn’t enough, K. adds a sugar-trap pie to our lunch. “Drinks?” asks the guy behind the counter. “Water” is my answer. K however, is asking “do you have anything diet?” Confusion is written all over the guy’s face. “You know, with less sugar, or with sugar substitute; a diet drink.”

“No, we don’t have any” is the amused answer. I can’t help laughing. “It’s not for diet” K is saying defensively, “I like the taste”. Shortly thereafter we added biscuits to the calories list. Fresh from the oven, melting in the mouth, materializing on the waist.

To cut a long lunch short, by the time we food is gone, and fingers are licked, tire is replaced. K even negotiated, with no extra charge, a replacement car to be delivered to the hotel in the following morning. Good!

@ The hotel, sans luggage (mine), sans laptop (K’s), drinks seem in place. First, we vent, bitch and complain, than we drink. TK, who’d taken a direct flight, got to the hotel hustle-free and well-rested, is treating us. I fight with the airline to deliver my luggage before bedtime; K had given up on getting her computer in Jersey, and DG, who finally joined us, packed 2 laptops, a whole set of cables, but no change of cloth… Did I hear anyone saying geek?

Dinner was good- Thank you T. We feel ready for tomorrow’s work challenges, and as I drift to sleep, sans toothbrush/paste, I say a little pray for my luggage to arrive before I leave.

Lights out.

 

 

Photos credits:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bc/Flat_tire.jpg

http://www.eatfoo.com/files/images/20060703_-_fried_chicken/IMG_6221.jpg

http://www.kfc.com/menu/images/sides_biscuits.jpg

http://edibletulip.typepad.com/edible_tulip/images/spicy_coleslaw.jpg

http://www.travelwithachallenge.com/Images/Travel_Article_Library/Lost_Luggage/Winged_Suitcase.gif

 

#111 – One evening in Manhattan

Even the most hectic business trip has its after hours hours. And my last trip to NJ was no different. No one can judge me if after 4 brain-draining hours I wanted some off-time. And I always can trust Howie and David, my dear friends to deliver, sitting in traffic excluded. I got in early, and had time for a coffee. Walking around 42^nd street, 8^th-9^th avenues, I had no place on mind, until my eyes zoomed on one. The most unpretentious sign in the block, emphasizing the internet access more than the coffee. My coffee sense insisted this must be my destination, and so I walked in. And then I knew it; these guys know coffee. Air-condition less than I’d love it to be, but the selection of coffee beans more than compensates for it. Two guys and a girl, maybe the owners, maybe not, but they know coffee. Got a perfectly made latte, with appreciative looks when I declined the sugar. I take my coffee straight! J And with half a pound to share the joy with Pat. Tasting it the following morning, I loved the acidity and aroma. Sitting down to kill some time until Howie gets off work, I observed the store’s traffic. Liked the mix; more specifically, the bias towards those who either knew what they want or asked the right questions.“Researching” for this piece, I found out that not only Empire Coffee U& Tea serves great coffee, they also have long history. The store I’ve been sitting in has been in business since 1908. that’s a long roasting time. Now they have a 2^nd store in Hoboken, and, as I put it to test, ship anywhere in this country. So…

Name: Empire Coffee & Tea

Address: 568 Ninth Avenue NYC

URL: http://empirecoffeetea.com/start.htm

Drink and be happy.

The evening however, was not about coffee. Around 6:20 came the phone call. “Go 4 blocks North, turn right, walk on the North side of the street…” I accepted the mission. The new Paramount hotel on 235 W 46^th street is a celebration of design and creativity. Philippe Starck’s creativity, none less. According to the New York Times called it A Hotel Where Magic and Humor Reside. As I walked in, a photographer was taking pictures of girls with very long legs that carried extremely thin bodies. I mean really long legs, and in case that wasn’t enough, most had 4-8 inches heels providing extra height. It would take an NBA player to kiss any of them. I mean at least any part of their face. Given the hotel stylish persona, we couldn’t decide if they were there for a applying for a job @ the hotel or trying for a modeling job. Yes, it’s that kind of hotel.

After one drink @ the bar [Cool design, slow service] we walked to XXX (Howie/David – Help pls) for the sushi I was craving throughout the cleansing. I don’t remember much of the sushi; I know it was good and complemented the hilarious evening we were having. Knowing the men type Howie and David like, I was the one that was interrogated about what men type I liked. My relationships with Craig [‘s list] provided more than enough substance, and if that wasn’t enough, Mr. Fettuccine completed the dissection part of the evening. Now we were ready for deserts.

Junior’s have been providing sinful cheesecakes (and free cholesterol) to New Yorkers since 1950. Restaurant founder Harry Rosen and Master Baker Eigel Peterson, created and produced what is still marketed as the “World’s Most Fabulous Cheesecake”. The recipe has been part of the Rosen family for three generations. Even today, only one master baker, or better- the CEO [Cheese Executive Officer] oversees the entire process. I went for the carrot-cheesecake; a monstrous piece which only half of it I could consume. We also had the original @ our table. We were, so I’m told, @ Junior’s newest location, @ Times Square (W 45^th street, between Broadway and 8th Ave). Walk back, wait for the attendant to get the car in a humid NY night, last kisses and… can you blame me if the drive back seemed almost tolerable. Worthwhile for sure.

Photos Credits:

http://www.nybits.com/images/photo/times_square_evening.jpg

http://empirecoffeetea.com/aboutF.htm

http://i.travelpn.com.edgesuite.net/tvly/photos/hotel/026798E.jpg

http://www.trailfinders.com/tailormadehotels.nsf/D4354963355416AC802571000034CECC/$FILE/w400_470A-1.jpg

http://www.juniorscheesecake.com/

#104 Java 1, 2, 3 – My JavaOne, May 2007

Why would I choose to share my room with a woman? Hard to imagine. Years ago, I came up with the rule that the only good reason to share a bedroom with anyone is the intent to share the bed as well.There were exceptions to the rule, very few and far apart; always with mitigating reasons, good, strong ones.

Never, I thought, I’d be doing it for work.

Budget, laziness, time-effectiveness, all are good reasons, and if I sound apologetic, it is because I am. Dan R. teased me about how only his Chinese colleagues would share rooms, and Tali told me that I work for a stingy company. I am on the defense here. However, in its own unique way, it was a learning experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

On a Sunday afternoon I (over)-packed my car with cloth and stuff I was less than likely to need in a 5-day stay in San Francisco for the duration of JavaFX One. Too much stuff, too many good intentions, like going to the gym… sneakers- never used.

A detour to pick-up my roommate – how nice I am and here we go.

Check-in, unload, unpack, and work. Before I got my cappuccino I was helping with signs, moving around furniture… went to check on my booth, and was proud to see that the committed engineers already left, after setting up and all.

Like two pro-travelers we knew the room needed some additions, some predictable, some not. Fruits, snacks, milk, and aromatherapy candles. Not an easy decision, these candles. Which one would work better, serenity, tranquility, harmony, escape? I ended up with “Relaxing Retreat” and “Serene Escape”, but no matches. And they didn’t deliver on their promise anyway.

While paying, the guy behind the counter asked me “where are you from?” Recognizing the facial features and the accent, I was happy to say “Israel”. “What are you doing here? Go home” was his most unexpected response. An Israeli-Arab sending me home is indeed an unexpected welcome, or should I say wellgo?

“Roomating” is not trivial. I don’t like it when my friend makes my bed while we are paying the hotel for that service. And I can’t help smiling (OK, laughing) when someone is over-ironing cloth. Steam showers have been working for my cloth for years. And she wouldn’t iron mine. (I didn’t ask)

Dinner time. Food and alcohol are the best glue used in JavaOne. 5 days – 5 restaurants. From Ponzu- an Asian Fusion[rate: 4/5] on Sunday night, through Millennium – an all vegan restaurant [4/5] (wish it was here, with my current vegan regime); a “never-eat-there-again” Chinese [-1/1] restaurant, Thai fusion Osha Thai [3.5/5, w/uncomfortable sitting - check website for view of the backrestless benches but fair prices], and on Thursday night, after another reception that is meant to bring people together, ended the week @ LuLu [3.5/5], that takes pride (and money) in its “seasonal Provencal menu served family style”. After 5 days of “bonding”, we are sort of a family… functioning or not.

The right thing to do it to say nothing about drinking. Maybe it’s San Francisco‘s dry air that makes everybody so thirsty. And the default drinks, 6:30 PM and forward, may resemble water only in their color, or physical form, but in nothing else.My education, as you may have noticed, falls short in more than one way. One issue is my lacking the need to change the chemical balance of my blood in order to have fun. Another one is having the expectation to actually have a conversation with the people I’m with, rather than enjoy shouting single-syllables over loud repetitive music. These two made me leave XYZ and walk alone to the hotel room, to concentrate on the zzzzz… XY can take care of themselves.

But not for long.

#92 Back from the Past (January 2006)

Food Politics

(Try: http://www.indyweek.com/durham/2003-05-21/eatbeat.html)

Food Politics – Interesting concept, isn’t it? One Marion Nestle, doctor from NYU, wrote a book titled exactly that, Food Politics. As I add soymilk to my morning coffee (ran out of cow milk with the previous cup), I can’t help wondering about what’s REALLY better, soymilk or the “made by a cow” one? No worry, this is not intended to be a nutrition session. I enjoy both. However, truth to be told, the coffee tastes better with cow’s product.

So, what is “food politics” and why should one care about it? Food companies, just like the cigarettes, pharmaceuticals, or any other commodity manufacturers, routinely place their need to make money over the considerations of public health, OUR HEALTH specifically.

The disconcerting thing is that much of what the food companies do in order to create a favorable sales environment for their (fat/cholesterol/sugar/food additives) products – lobbying, marketing, engaging the services of renowned nutrition experts – is conducted behind the scene, away from our hungry consuming eyes and bellies.

This goes to the extreme that the political system and the nutrition experts that some of us religiously follow, are harnessed to encourage us to eat more of THEIR “preferred friends’” products, whether or not healthy. The author, Marion Nestle (talking about promoting Food…) shares her experience chairing a USDA committee dealing with nutritious recommendations, in which on her first day on the job, was told by the big Kahuna that she can recommend anything, as long as her recommendations will say nothing about avoiding beef. The cow farmers have a very active bullish like lobby; one that believes that what is good for the National Cattlemen’ s association is moooooooch more important than our health. The cigarette companies lost the battle, the food guys however, are still feeding of our malnutrition.

And if you care for a big, cholesterol (& fat, & sugar) rich meal, here’s the place to go.

 

 

 

 

Out for Lunch

True, real people’s lunches cannot compete with the millennia long lunches of the staff of the Hitchhiker Guide to the Galaxy, but it doesn’t mean that real people cannot have experiences in their on little galaxy. The Deli lunch in New York is what made the 2nd Avenue Deli, Carnegie Deli, Katz’s Deli, Stage Deli and many other the landmarks what they are – must visit spots that make many diners, Jews and non-Jews alike, very cholesterol-happy.

On a recent Saturday, I was guided to another local “institution”, Harold’s NY Deli (http://www.haroldsnydeli.com)!

Should be a heart shape, not an apple, considering the fat, cholesterol and all…

Cheesecakes and chocolate cakes (one foot high and 40 pounds heavy), 19-ounce pastrami sandwiches, matzo balls (kneidalach) the size of oranges and two-pound super-size éclairs—food for giant appetites.

We shared a roast beef sandwich for lunch, and managed to consume only half of it, the other half provided great sandwiches for another two days. Two weeks later, having to share this amazing experience, I brought my parents in. The three of us shared one sandwich and one potato pancake (Latke) the size of a frying pan. One order, 3 diners, and we had a problem finishing our meal. Admitting to the enormous size of their dishes, one is encouraged to share, with no extra charge. The scary thing though, is how many diners don’t. America XXXXL.

#98 How do you say amba in English?

 

Amba: Spicy mango pickle sauce. Primary ingredients are pickled mango (maybe dried ground mango/amchur), fenugreek seed and salt; it’s overwhelmingly salty and strong. No English name though.
Origins, my search reveals, are arguable. Morocco, Yaman (yemen), Iraq and India all claim the fame.

So I started with annona, and was challenged by Nava with amba. Not my favorite food for sure. Too lemony. However, that’s not the point. So let’s get couple of things clear. I love food; I love it delicious, fresh, and authentic. Unfortunately for me, I also love a lot of it, whatever it is, as long as it meets the above criteria, and sometimes even if it doesn’t.

Some of you challenged my authenticity requirement and tried to find logical flaws in it. I am not giving up on this one. If one is having food, one should have the food in its best possible form, shape and taste. As close to its origins as possible. Of course, I allow for variety and creativity, but I don’t confuse one with the other. Fusion is not making an Asian dish taste like same old, same old. Fusion means that one is creative and knowledgeable enough to mix two cuisines or more, identify the synergy potential, and take advantage of it, creating something different than the originals, without apologizing.

Dry tomato or black bean hummus for example, represents no synergy in my book; it is the outcome of over-marketing and misunderstanding the nature, the spirit of hummus.

My fusion project of the day happened (Sunday) over my late breakfast. It included jalapeños cheese, soft flat bread (lavash, of Armenian origin), homemade garlic olive-oil, and Pico de Gallo sauce that I buy in CostCo. After wetting the lavash a little bit with drops of water, placing it in the toaster-oven and taking it out 2 minutes later I created a flat surface that is soft and warm enough to absorb whatever tastes it will encounter. Drops of very garlicky olive oil, tops with slices of cheese, covered with lots of Pico de Gallo after I got as much liquids out of it as I possibly could, and… back to the oven. 3-4 minutes later, I laid a large edible rectangular, with bubbling melted cheese and lots of taste and smell to go with on a plate. After slicing it to smaller squares, my fingers could do the rest.

Bon A’ petite

#97 How do you say annona in English?

 

In Vietnamese it’s called mango. No this is no mistake. True, it’s pronounced like magn-go, two long syllables.

But how do you say it in English?

When I asked the woman in the Vietnamese supermarket, she had no clue. So I asked Eran, who’s English never fails, didn’t know. And of course, I don’t even own a Hebrew-English dictionary. So, every week or so I go to the supermarket, buy 3-5 annona, and eat it in Hebrew.

The other day I landed in the doctor’s office. The nurse, after weighing me (a torture and an embarrassment these days more than ever before) was taking my blood pressure. While doing so, and doing so in close proximity, her name tag turned around. I got a glimpse at her name. Nguyen.

“You are Vietnamese, aren’t you?” asked the Sherlock Holmes in me. “yes, how did you know?” answered the surprised nurse. “Oh, I have a Vietnamese friend”, I said casually, and her last name is Nguyen too”.

From then on the conversation went very well. Apparently we frequent the same Vietnamese supermarket and the same take out place. I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity. “Do you know how you say in English this green fruit with bumps that look like zits… and black seeds, you know about this size…?”

“Soursop” was the answer. Soursop. Then we talked about how our mothers, having to budget, were allowing each child only half annona. Had to share. For the life of me, I don’t know how the soursop, made it to Israel. Popular in Tropical Asia and Latin America (guanabana; or guanaba in Spanish) not sure how it made its way to to little, remote Israel. However, I’m glad it did.

Now I can buy soursop.

Interestingly enough, the Hebrew name is the actual name of the genus Annona, family Annonaceae. What else? First known reference to annona is by Oviedo who described in 1526, the soursop as abundant in the West Indies and in northern South America.

There are about 60 different kinds of annona, and I’m ready to try them all. I mean soursop.