I was going to say I've had a lack of recent food adventures because I was thinking of the gross cheese sandwich with that Italian mushroom pesto and a small handful of my roommate's five-cheez Italiano blend dairy product (sorry, Aaron, it wasn't much), but then I also remembered the fabulously heartwarming return-to-NYC fried-chicken feast that Tamara prepared to mark my return from exile in the sun country.
Tag: stacks
You can’t take it with you
By contrast with DiFara's, a much more sociable meal occurred last week--and by "sociable," I mean there was lots of booze involved. Peter and I finally went to Spice Market.
The Roommate speaks
My roommate does exist as more than a comedic foil. He also has a name: Aaron. And he’s more on the ball than I realized. Or he has more downtime at work. He spoke up for himself in the comments section of the “Condimental” post from last month, as he was a key player in that savvy analysis of fridge-lurking jams and jellies. I didn’t want it to get lost in all the scrolling back:
Well, it’s official: Peter is not the only human being to have read the entire list with, er, relish. [Har. Whatta card.]
Some thoughts:
(1) The Marks & Spencer crap can go. We’ll call it part of my moving on process.
(2) What’s the deal with the sun-dried tomatoes? Do I just keep buying more and more of the little buggers?
(3) I take issue with your criticism of Herloch’s Dipping Mustard. First, I have used it. Pretty tasty if you ask me. Of course, it’s now older than the hills — it can go.
(4) Your comment “Obviously my roommate’s” with regards to the Smucker’s sundae syrup could be misinterpreted. For the record, the only reason I got fat free syrup is because it was the only kind Key Food had. I used it to make that horrendous chocolate cake the first time you-know-who came to town. Need I say more? Chuck-o-rama!
(5) Bakewell rhubarb and ginger jam! I’ve been looking for that sucker… Can we keep it, please, please, can we keep it?
(Apparently he had a few more bullet points, but the comments section has a 1,000-word limit.)
His remarks reveal an interesting trend I hadn’t noticed: many of the condiments in our fridge can be dated according to who his girlfriend was at the time. The oldest known example is from the era of P., and didn’t make it into the inventory because it’s moldering on top of the fridge: a mostly eaten jar of homemade olives from P.’s dad, the little wizened black things bobbing around in a tea-colored murk. The British stuff–Marks & Sparks sauces, clotted cream–is all from the era of S., who hails from Sheffield via London. Maybe I should re-sort the condiment list according to this labeling system? Hello, Excel…
Also, I don’t think Aaron is aware of the suggestion made by an earlier reader, Megan, to just invest in mini-fridges to hold the overflow. (Her comments are mis-linked to the post after “Condimental.”) This is a dangerous concept, but I can see it working: one fridge for the Era of P., one fridge for the next few short-lived girlfriends, one fridge for Era of S… Plus, if we stack them all up, they’ll hide the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in the dining room.
My condiment collection can’t be organized that way, because I have dated about zero people in the time I’ve been in this apartment, and I never bother buying anything special to impress people when I’m cooking (hmm–a connection between those two things?). Maybe I can file according to trips I’ve taken? According to Queens neighborhood in which purchased?
Off to scour Freecycle for mini-fridges.
Dolly’s Hot Ketchup and other forgotten details
Last night just before I got into bed, I glanced at my little collection of notebooks stacked on the radiator and noticed my journal from my Lebanon/Syria trip from...geez, 1999?
Behind the scenes at Tavern on the Green
Peter just sent me this fantastic photo essay on eGullet that shows proof of why I was right to mock that guy for wanting to eat Tavern on the Green.