Eatin' Out - Simply Fondue

71-19 80th Street, Glendale NY

A new branch of this Texas-based chain fondue restaurant has opened in the Atlas Park Mall in Queens (80th/Metropolitan). It's fancy, in that shiny surface /tall black leather banquette / we-have-80-kinds-of-horrible-"martinis" way. I love fondue in all forms, so no complaints on my end. You are looking at $18 per person for your basic and decent swiss fondue served with bread, fruit and weird things like cocktail onions. We had a very nice young man providing extremely accommodating table service while whipping up our bowl o' cheese on site.

Gotta think it would be a good place to take your baby mama out for date night, but make a reservation if it's prime time. Our server said they served over 200 people in the place last Saturday night.

On the Street Where You Live

I was there tonight when a man named Dennis on a small, shiny red dirt bike was run down by a giant tanker on the corner of Franklin and Greenpoint around 8:30. I heard the collision -- and looked out the window of the Pencil Factory to see a bike crushed beneath the wheels. A huge 18-wheeler was turning right onto Greenpoint from Franklin, and Dennis was in the crosswalk. Who knows who had the light? Most likely they both did and the truck simply didn't see him from the cab high above the street. No matter -- it's wrong that it even happened how it did.

Dennis pulled himself on his stomach from beneath the tires and began tossing back and forth on his back in the crosswalk. I bolted to the bar to ask Charles at the PF to call 911, then ran outside to do....something. His jeans were torn in places they shouldn't have been. I crouched down to ask Dennis his name, tried to keep him still, and held his hand to assure him he would be okay as we waited the longest 4 or 5 minutes in the world for the ambulances to arrive. The driver stood nearby anguished, with his hands in the air repeating "I didn't see him, I didn't see him." A ubiquitous, drunk Greenpoint Avenue Polacki did his part to add to the confusion in the street, while people stood around gawking and not knowing what to do -- and how can you?? The world turns upside down during such instants. It's unexpected and all out of order in one second. There I am, finding again that I am much better with others' traumas than my own.

I saw the ring on his finger and asked who to call. He gave us his wife's Karen's number and I spoke with her for ten minutes on someone's borrowed phone as he was loaded onto a backboard and into the ambulance. While his child talked about his bedtime in the background, Karen tried to process what was going on. I told her that her husband seemed coherent with no obvious head or body injuries, although he was in a lot of pain as legs were probably broken, and that she should go to Bellevue. (Thankfully, they weren't taking him to Woodhull. Bellevue is the best trauma center in NYC, at least post-9/11. If you are at all coherent in an accident, tell the guys take you there). For their family -- for him -- in an instant -- everything changed. Man, I hope he's okay.

As a side note, Charles mentioned that this was the 5th time he has seen an accident similar to this right there on the corner. I wonder how many more it takes. When does the light on a major truck route need to become an arrow-only turn with a clear crosswalk?

So, ahem. As I was saying right before I left home, strangers can become part of your lives in NYC for the most poignant and intense ten minutes you can imagine. And there's no other way you can be sometimes. We all live half on the street; and there are crystallized instances where if we are at all human, we are flung deep into each other's lives.

Redux

When the thing happens again that you never imagined and you feel shattered into little pieces, you try to turn to others to reaffirm that you are still alive and whole and valid. Double whammy -- Your shit is inconvenient around the holidays and most other times; Or you are forcing someone else to confront their own personal, unrealized dreams; Or the hardest of all, you asked someone to step outside of their own tenuous world to hold onto your hand, just for a minute, so you won't drift too far away.

And that's when you are surprised to find that some of the greatest kindness comes from strangers. No one knows exactly what to say, and it's hard and awkward like life is sometimes. But they offer you an ear and comfort, because that's all it really takes.

Golden Rings

Yesterday, SL and I made a trip to a crowded Aqueduct for the annual running of the Cigar Mile. The last Grade 1 stakes race for NYRA's year, it was a chance to see a quality field run in our own backyard at the Big A. These were the "pretty good" horses who say, came in 12th and 15th in the Derby this year. There was great betting to be had, with 6 legitimate contenders in the 9 horse field going off at odds between 7-1 and 10-1. Neither of us hit the Cigar Mile, but an easily attainable exacta for someone playing Tale of Ekati over Harlem Rocker would have netted them $142.50. The race ended up ugly, unfortunately, with an 9 minute inquiry that knocked Harlem Rocker down to second, and the tough 7 yr old gelding, Wanderin' Boy, needing to be euthanized after breaking down at the top of the stretch.

We did hit on a couple other races, with Steve nailing a $243 exacta on the 6th (the Demoiselle, won impressively in 9 1/4 lengths by the 2 yr old filly, Springside, who immediately was vanned off -- ugh), and I got the exactas on the 7th (The Remsen, won in 7 1/4 lengths by a 2 yr old colt trained by Larry Jones named Old Fashioned aka my first Derby pick of 2009,) and the 9th for a net total of $178. Since track money is found money to be spent immediately, we decided the best thing to do would be head straight over to Camille's and put a $300 deposit on the wedding rings she's making us.

Track winning for rings. You can't beat that. Even in a country song.

One Degree

Proving once again what a very small world we live in, I was in Chicago/Logan Square last weekend when Shellie and I randomly went into this food/wine store called Provenance, looking for some lunch. They didn't have anything like that, so we turned to walk out. The guy at the counter suddenly says "Hey, did you live in Cincinnati?" Yes, Shellie and I both did. He then asks me if my name is Susan, and turns out he's the owner of the place, Joe Patt, a name I have known of forever from the Ohio music world, but not that I remember meeting before. I was a bit stunned. He was extremely nice, and we chatted for a couple minutes, including me dropping my friend Pat Hennessy's name as some sort of Ohio Ambassador (always a good ploy with people from Cincinnati) before heading to grab a dog and cheese fries at the always delicious Hot Doug's down the way.

Lesson? Ohio is everywhere. You can never, ever escape.

A Classic

How do I love Russ and Daughters? Let me count the ways: horseradish cream cheese, raspberry rugelach, salmon roe, wasabi roe, whitefish salad, smoked trout, scottish smoked salmon...And the Super Heeb sandwich (bagel with whitefish salad, horseradish cream cheese and wasabi roe) is the absolute bomb.


Although I know that some of their products come from Acme Fish, right around the corner from my house on Gem Street (open 9-1 on Fridays only for retail sales, another great thing), almost nothing makes me happier than going to Houston Street to stand in line for a few minutes and soak up the atmosphere of Russ and Daughters.

And now they have launched a cleverly named blog, Lox Populi.

Russ and Daughters
179 East Houston Street
NYC, NY

Guernica: A Novel

I finished "Guernica: A Novel" by David Boling last night, in a mad 75 page dash to the finish complete at 3 in the morning (gotta love the hours of this freelancing thing!). This historical novel tells the story of three generations of a Basque family, in and around the city of Guernica. I knew nothing of the bombing of Guernica by German and Italian planes with the cooperation of Franco-run Spain in 1937 except for Picasso's mural of the same name, but this book gives a very real face to what the citizens of this city must have experienced at that time. Love, war, smugglers and resisting fascists in Spain: I'm down. I've got to get this part of the world on my next trip to Spain.

While some of the plot turns were predictable, and the characters archetypes you've seen before, the story was an enjoyable and interesting read. Recommended.

The Big Picture

Here's a fantastic news photo blog from The Boston Globe.

Some of the Breeder's Cup photos, and the ones of our president elect, are breathtaking.

Today in New York

I couldn't find a newspaper (except the Post) in any of 12, 13, 15 stores in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and people were smiling and chatty on the streets and subways. Almost unnerving. Welcome to the New America!

We Win

I'm hearing yelling on the streets, and fireworks explode on the river here in Brooklyn as the real John McCain finally makes a reappearance with his gracious concession speech, and Jesse Jackson stands alone with tears in his eyes (can't someone give a brother a hug?). I'm welling up, seeing and feeling something I never thought possible. Putting the race part aside for a moment, I can't believe that my country did the right thing, at long last by electing the right man; Americans took a risk on what might be, and acted on the belief that things can be better, rather than 'more of the same.'

I can't shake my head any more, easily dismissing our leaders as someone else's fault, as people I can't relate to, or as some out-of-touch old insiders put in power by someone else's vote. I've never actually liked any of our Presidents my entire life; or ever felt that the best minds of my generation were leading; or even believed that things could be any different.

This time, at least for tonight, I do. It's overwhelming. Indescribable. All I can think, is, please carry us all safely on our new path.

Dare I say it, and really mean it for the first time ever? God Bless America.