Lucindas is Back

Say what you will about downtown Jersey City, but you can't deny it's vibrant mobile food scene, nor the rabid fans of those establishments. Take Lucindas Burritos, a yellow truck stationed on Hudson Street at Exchange Place. Once conceived as a small business Master's Thesis, the original owner Joanna has since sold the business to a young couple so she can focus on the pleasures of motherhood. Lucindas has been out of commission for the better part of the year so it was with great joy I spotted the truck back in my 'hood. Natasha and Chris, pictured above carry on Lucinda's menu with a few touches of their own. My chorizo, egg and blackbean breakfast burrito not only is drizzled with crema and hot sauce, but also pico de gallo and a spritz of lime. Mmmmmm, lime. Also new to the menu are seafood and vegetarian empanadas. Check Lucindas out some time.

Boasting an equally fanatic following is John's Soup Kitchen on the corner of Montgomery & Hudson. Distinctive not for a moniker truck but for the gigantor line queued up for soup or rice dishes. BTW, many of whom are of East Asian descent. Jersey City is after all the operations base for many of New York's large companies - Barclays (formerly Lehman Brothers), AIG (formerly AIG...) The soups are a hot commodity, you must try the white chicken chili which is really a Middle Eastern stew of chicken thighs, white beans, onions and chilies with spices redolent of the East - cumin, coriander.

And although I've just swooned over the chicken chili, the Chicken over Rice is John's signature dish. Let me tell you it's far more than just chicken over rice. It's chicken marinated thighs (I just LOVE thighs instead of white meat. As any Indian will tell you, white meat ain't got no flavor, it's the dark meat baby, the dark!), grilled so the exterior is crusty while the insides are still moist, chopped with a sharp-edged spatula and server over basmati rice. Oh, and there's a salad of iceberg lettuce and grape tomatoes. Drizzled over the whole shebang is a raita-like, tzaziki-ish white sauce of probably yogurt, herbs and salt.

Finally there's Nick and Peri's, a Greek diner on wheels. While their sandwiches are fine - gyros, chicken kebabs, hamburgers and the like mostly consumed by construction workers - their call to fame has got to be the sausage, egg and cheese on a roll. Hands down the best breakfast sandwich in all of New Jersey. Why? because Nick grills the bread with the cheese under the broiler, giving a melty, saucy, cheesy topping to the hearty but simple sandwich. Go ahead and prove me wrong.

Next time you're in Jersey City give these hard-working small businesses a try.

Weekend in New England - Ok ok, just Maryland

I love hearing my New England friends talking about their weekends. Went to the fish market. Bought half a dozen lobsters. Picked some corn. Made sangria from Reisling and peaches. Went to the beach but it was too cold. Drove back early Sunday to avoid traffic.

Compared to my hectic weekends at home.

Saturday: Drive down in 5 hours of stop and go traffic. Late lunch with Mom and Dad. Mom makes not one but two Pillaus. Her world famous vegetable Pillau chock full of turnips, peas, beans, califlower & meat Pillau with curried chunks of lamb. I'm hungry enough to eat 2 platefuls, but eat three. I've observed one of those unfathomable occurances when it comes to eating. Sometimes you can barely put away half a 12 oz steak. Other times you can devour an entire plate of pasta bolognese. What's up with that? I think it's because we are conditioned to eat plentiful based on our culinary roots. Take for example Indian food. An Indian girl who picks at her large Cobb salad could easily take down a plate of heaping coconut rice, topped with a chicken curry, egg and potato curry, maybe a lamb curry, dahl and yogurt salad. Not just once but twice! It's the same conditioning that allows an Italian to devour an entire plate of pasta and sauce. Or the Polsky to gorge on a dozen pirogy with kielbasa and sour cream. It's the culinary hood you feel most comfortable with that you can ingest stupid quantities.

Take dog for a walk in the park while Mom sits on the swing. while driving back the radio blares SHE SHAKIN THAT THANG LIKE. Mom wants to know. "What is that thing and why is she shaking it?" Take a nap. Hit the stores for presents for my neice. Head back home to entertain friends visiting from out of town. Watch an Indian movie. Watch more of the movie. Keep watching the movie. Go to sleep.

Sunday:

9:00 am and I am tilling the fields of my parents backyard. Loosening the soil for Mom's vegetable garden. I've inherited their love of soil and shrub, attested by the sheaf of mint I plucked from my garden so Mom would have fresh mint for her chutney. The parental garden consists of a 8 x 6 plot of land designated for veggies. Adjacent to a similar plot beneath a wooden trellis under which grows water gourd, bitter gourd, zucchinis, melons and squash. The zucchinis are in flower, which Mom drops into her okra and tomato curries. Very tasty she assures me. In the uncovered plot grows Methi, a pungent small leafed green - delicious stir fried with onions, mustard seeds and red chilies. Sugar snap peas, extraodinarily sweet but tough skinned flank one side while small shoots of gongera spring in neat if parched rows. While New York suffered through daily floods of Antideluvian proportions, Maryland barely got damp. Jalepenos, serranos, tomato plants rigged by individual fences for support and as a deterrant to the leaf-thieves. Mom suspects the wild kitty. Me thinks a bunny a better culprit. Duke doesn't care, lemme at him! is all he says.

It's almost noon and time for a late breakfast. Then I'm off to my neices birthday party. Then the long drive back home.

Somehow weekend's in Maryland just don't have that calm allure. But then, when has my family life ever been calm?

Sophia's First Birthday

Today is my magical neice's first birthday. Her wise mother has made a request to the God parents of her child. Every year we will write a letter to the baby. I will track those letters in this blog. So here is letter 1, The First Year.

June 30, 2009

My dear Sophia,

You don’t know this but you are celebrating your first birthday. Years from now you will look back and think Wow, all that happened when I wasn’t even cognizant. Which is why your beautiful and smart mother thought it would be wise to write a letter to you every birthday. So the three of us, your fairy God mothers – Aunty Polly, Aunty Patty & Aunty Rekha will write a letter every birthday.

I think it’s brilliant. You will see not only how our letters change as you grow from babyhood to teenager to adult. But also how we alter as we, alas, grow older.

There are a few things you should know from the beginning. First of all, you are a magical child. You were conceived, gestated and birthed by extraordinary means. Ask your mom what those words mean in case she hasn’t already had a talk about the birds and the bees.

Your Mom wanted to have a baby for a very long time. But the forces thought it wise to prevent that baby from arriving. You will learn more about the forces as you grow. You will hear about God, about angels, Goddesses in due time. Know they are with you always. If you require their assistance all you need do is ask. So your Mom couldn’t have the baby she wanted and this broke her heart for she is a loving, nurturing, mothering woman. Then one day when she least expected it she found out she was going to have a baby. She was shocked and delighted. This is another thing you will learn, you don’t always get what you want when you want. It’s the law of the universe. I have fought it most of my life as have your aunties. Safe to say the sooner you accept this law, the less time you will spend fighting it.

And then you were born.

You get your beauty from your Mom. You get your gray-green eyes from your Dad. But if I’m not mistaken, you get that irresistible allure, the thing that makes people stop and say Ye Gads, what a charming baby! from your female lineage. It is a powerful and beautiful and mystical and emotional ancestry that you are born into. I hope as you grow you will cherish and ruthless use it, for it is yours. As we are yours to guide, adore and spoil you.

So happy birthday Sophia. Know you are loved by so many people that if we could we would shield you from any pain. We would protect you from any harm on this earth, above or below it. But we will also try to leave you alone so you can taste the glories and miseries of this world. Welcome little one.

Aunty Rekha

The Comedians

Only the comedians could induce me to such depths of depravity. Only forces as omniscient and (seemingly) punitive as the Gods could drive me to drink unholy amounts of liquor and smoke myself into oblivion. And not my usual swanky beverages of choice - Anejo Tequila, multi distilled Vodka and unoaked Chardonnays. No no, the brink of madness the Comedians drove me to caused me to nonchalantly sample Vodkas named after Polish composers, branded by rap stars, distilled from wheat, rye, potato, grape and even hemp. Ok, I didn't taste the hemp vodka, but if anyone knows where I can find it please give me ring...

Who are these Comedians and why do they torment Rekha, you ask? Ah, fine question my friend. Caught in the midst of the chaos that is my life these days all I can say is in the spirit of hammering new nuances into my writer persona, I've been forced to endure despair, rejection, depression and that fine old friend - rage.

Which is why last night found me in the company of my lovely friend Mariana who never fails to bring insight in dark hours. Even better, who can throw back booze like no mans business and loves the puff of tobacco products. Who better to accompany me to a wine and cigar tasting? To Jamie's Restaurant in Lyndhurst we went. The cigarman - Tony Santana was nowhere to be found so we moisied to the tasting table. My buddy Ryan was pouring a provocatively named Shiraz by the moniker of Layer Cake Shiraz.

Now Ryan is one of the wine assistants at Shoppers Vineyard, my favorite local booze emporium. Favored by me for their off the beaten Napa path selection of wines and decently priced spirits. Even closer to my heart is the fact that this wine shop allows pets. I know it sounds bizarre but it works. When Duke was a wee puppy I would pop him into my canvas bag and carry him around everywhere. When hitting the wine shop I'd pop him into the shopping cart and wheel down the aisles in pursuit of the perfect libation to accompany my latest dining creation. Now the wine assistants at this store are a convivial bunch, not over-pressured from sale quotas or domineering overlord managers. Upon spotting the dog in the cart, they'd relieve me of my Dog Mom duties and play with the pup till I was done shopping.

So here it was, years later. The dog stretched out on the couch at home and me being poured a tasting of an Australian Shiraz by Ryan, one of the guys. Small world, even my Comedian oppressed brain could appreciate the moment. The wine was poured and tasted, found to be deliciously deep-berried without harsh spice. Best of all, it finished with a flicker of dark chocolate. Gimme a case of that, baby.

By this time the cigarman - Tony shows up. Tony and his promoter - Rob Menaker do an upscale combo of cigar + beverage tasting once a month. Tony knows his stuff, descending from a proud line of Cuban and Mexican cigar makers. He swung into his demo of handrolling a cigar. The purity of tobacco based on location or terroir, just as important with tobacco as it is with the grape. Then Tony really got rolling, or dipping to be precise. Apparently Latinos of European and American descent have honored the art of dipping cigars in brandy to sweeten and compliment the leafy bouquet. Tony shared his family secret which involves soaking branding in a snifter of honey, then dipping the cigar in the mixture. It sounds sexy & decadent and tastes even better. Even the menfolk present - a macho handful of Italian-something guys who looked like they enjoy a weekly puff at Uncle Primo's house - got a kick out of the honeyed cigars.

Rob the promoter sidles next to me and hands a freshly dipped cigar with a flourish. "My compliments darling," He says. "Just do me a favor, smoke it in front of me." Glad Rob, gladly. Which is why hours later Mariana and I have chuffed down the whole freaking cigar. One each. Accompanied of course by glasses of the excellent wine. I could feel the Comedian yoke levitating off my body for a few breaths. Either that or I was blacking out from the heavy smoke. My friend Mariana, having no such burden to bear was displaying her comely left foot to a few men, at their request. She is voluptuous, flirtatious. All woman. I am heartened by our time fraternizing with friendly albeit aggressive men. (Yo, if I wanted to fly to Las Vegas for dinner I would!) By the chocolate-tinged wine - what will I make to bring out that note?! By the astoundingly unctuous lamb ravioli tricked out with slivers of mint in a demi glace. Or perhaps I'm just tongue dead and suffocated by smoking an entire Robusto in one shot.

In any case, for a few hours I forget about the Comedians.

40 days and 40 nights

Seriously, it's been raining so long in the tri-state area it feels like Biblical times. The Dog and I are ready to slit our wrists but since it would be a crime to soil my Santoku with human blood I'm opting to drink and smoke myself into a stupor.

Despite the deluge the air remains muggy, encouraging me to think of the tropics and a lush, soft Tequila. My latest Anejo amour - Gran Centenario certainly fits the bill. However I'm loathe to chug that beauty as one of my dinner guests recently did. "Effing Chug that Anejo?" I ranted. "No way, back to Cuervo my friend."

Speaking of Anejo I hit my basement bar to compare my Gran Centenario against my old standby - Patron Gold. I've long been a fan of D'oro but was shocked when a mouth to mouth comparison revealed Patron to carry nuances of flint and SOAP! I shelved D'oro back in my basement bar and cradling my new amour in one hand, a Nat Sherman in another, watched the rain with the Dog.

On a happier note I've discovered a wonderland of drinking pleasures via the Intoxicologist. Check it out and find a cocktail for your next soiree.

By the way, thanks to Priya for the soggy NYC skyline pix.

Frost Nixon Werewolf?

Really hating living in Seattle. No I haven't moved to the Pacific Northwest, just feels like it with the interminal rain, mist and humidity.

The Seattle on the Hudson weather has forced me and the dog indoors to engage in banal activities, like house cleaning and movie watching. Particularly amused by the diametrically opposing movies Frost Nixon vs. Rise of the Lycans. What's the unifying factor - the lead actor in both - Michael Sheen.

You might not remember him, since he's been a revered English stage actor. Not until the eeriely gory Vampire vs. Werewolf flick Underworld (the movie that single-handedly resusticated Kate Beckinsale's career from pretty English chick to ass-kicking leather bitch)debuted in 2003 did he get much attention on our side of the pond.

Can't help but appreciate the guys's cahonas for pulling off a tepidly polite David Frost. But I couldn't figure out why his face looked so familiar. Not till Lycans came around and I thought, holy crap! Why that's the same guy. Obviously a talented actor, and I certainly tip my hat to the guy for his range, which also includes Tony Blair in the Queen.

To sleep perchance to walk upright

Sometimes a good night's sleep is better than sex. Sometimes you crave sleep more than sex. Ever happened to you? It's been happening to me especially since I threw my back out. If you don't miss someone till they're gone, then I firmly believe you don't appreciate what you have till you can't use it anymore. Case in point the ability to walk upright. Never thought much of it since I mastered the ability to walk as a wee lass. Not until I compacted a few thoracic disks from lifting a heavy garage door. My back seizes up and I can't seem to walk upright. I try to stand tall but both back and hip seem locked in an abnormal position. And it isn't a pretty one.

Chiropractic helps, as does my stiff office chair. Sleep does not, which is odd since I look so foward to resting my aching back and stressed out legs. But sleep evades me like a boyfriend after boy's night out. I begin to realize I feel better OUT of bed than in it. Forsoothe! The luxurious sanctuary of my bedroom has begun to bring agitation rather than pleasure. I begin fantasizing about falling into a deep sleep, my back restoring itself after 8 hours of healing torpor.

Then I make a decision. I'm giving up my pillowtop Vera Wang Serta mattress for a firmer, more back friendly posturpedic. Yup, I've swapped comfort and indulgence for, well, a healthy back. To anyone I ever mocked for sleeping on a firm bed, I humbly rescind my words. A firm bed is the bomb! for my back, that is.

So now that my back is back, I'm back to thinking of better things, like sex...

The God Daughter

About a year ago I blogged on the magical conception and birthing of my neice - Sophia. Here she is a year later, green-gray eyes! hair now curly and 6 teeth and counting. Her mother strongly believes in bonding her to her fairy Godmothers so they both visited for a weekend. Here's a rundown of events.

Friday night: After 6 hours of driving in traffic the girls arrive at 11:00 pm. Duke slobbers over Sophia (or was it the other way around?) and after a few minutes of playtime she's ready for a nap.

Saturday: Sophia sleeps in till 7:30! We eat bagels and while I run errands Sophia takes a nice long nap. We take Duke and Sophia to the park and wear both of them out with an hour's walk. Sophia naps while Radha and I sip cocktails and have some adult time. All three of us girls dress for dinner and head over to La Cibeles. We are met by all the male waiters who are utterly charmed by Sophia. She spends a few quality minutes with each of them, blaring her green eyes to the helpless males. Our friend Barb & Lou join us for dinner and are convinced Sophia looks just like Halle Berry's daughter Nahla. After grawing on a few chicken fingers she falls promptly asleep until we get home.

At home I spread a deck of cards in front of her (the very same ones I read for her mother 2 years ago). She picks 6 cards so I spread the core of a Celtic Cross for her. Not surprisingly, she is one mighty woman, old souled and with a destiny as majestic as it is beautiful. Every woman should have a destiny as promising. And I must say, every woman does if she chooses.

Sunday: Radha makes us Crab Cakes Benedict. Yuuuummmm! But Sophia, on the brink of welcoming new teeth has decided New Jersey is just not fun anymore. Radha packs them up and off they head back to Maryland. As I tidy the house I find one lone booty sock on guest bedroom floor. All the remains of my God Daughter's visit.

Don't Let Your Sun Go Down on Me.

Hugely amused these days by the Jimmy Dean breakfast commercials. Can't help but being tickled by the portrayal of galactic powerhouses played by intentionally weak and sissified humans.

The premise of each commercial is the Sun, channeled by an Opie-reminiscent actor, boosting his fellow planets and other atmospheric entities through their cycles via the fuel only a Jimmy Dean breakfast can provide. The Rainbow lacks color, the Moon is crescent when he should be full. Fog is surly and clouds up the kitchenette.

The most recent ad is clutch-your-stomach hilarious. Setting: gray carpeted office. The sun stands proudly amidst the galaxy. The planets totter & stumble through their eliptical cycle as if drunken or in a weakened stupor.

Mars, the warrior planet is played by balding man who lists his rotund crimson belly off it's epicenter. Now we know Mars is volatile and was prone to volcanic activity, however we're pretty sure it never tumbled off it's planetary axis. This Mars does and rolls onto his so-not-warrior ass.

Neptune, a kindly looking guy-next-door, resplendant in his light blue sphere streaked with ribbons of white, bumps into a table and skids to the floor. Accordingly to astrology Neptune represents spirituality, mysticism, and ideals. Neptune also covers the misfits of society. Ah, say no more.

Jupiter, second only to the Sun in galatic and astrological fire power, stands in the corner facing a wall.

Of the planets, only Earth and Venus are cast as women. Venus hugs a potted plant. Not quite what you would expect from the planet of Love and Beauty. While Earth looks confused and stalled in her rotation.

My favorite is the avuncular actor portraying Mercury. Barely 5 feet tall, the guy looks like an uncle I might meet at a Church meeting rather than the messenger of the Gods on feather light wings.

Of course it all turns out well. The sun feeds his cronies a breakfast sandwich and as quick as you can say Gravitational Pull the planets are right as rain.

I'm so glad the folks at Jimmy Dean are sticking to simple planetary events. Imagine their re-enactment of Black Hole Sun or Saturn Return?

View it.

Must See TV

Of late my mandatory TV viewing has been limited to Heroes, episodes of Spain On the Road Again and obligatory Simpsons/Family Guy syndications. Spain On the Road Again I find particularly enjoyable as I replay bits of my vacation to Spain through every episode. While Bittman can't help but be a nebbish, even in sexy Spain, Batali impresses with his lingual and culinary mastery as much as his voracity for delicious food.

In the past I would have counted Twin Peaks, X Files and X Men (the cartoon) as my faves. However those days are gone. But this Monday I enjoyed an unexpected treat via the vehicle known as Chuck, the NBC show enjoying the Monday night pairing with Heroes. While Chuck himself is a passably cute nerd as a member of the "Buy More" Nerd Herd (parodying Best Buy's Geek Squad) his costars steal the show. Apparently the success of 40 year-old virgin spawned public fascination with audio visual geeks once made fun of in high school and shunned for any activity non involving a slide projector or motherboard. The cast of Chuck gleefully portrays professional geek life, gunning for prize No. 1 Salesman positions and bootlegging videos willy nilly.

Monday's episode, Chuck vs. the Ring showcased a new talent in the Nerd Herd. Manipulated by an evil agent (Chevy Chase, who was believably creepy) to submit an intelligence weapon Chuck is forced to stall his sister's wedding. Chuck summons the support of his nerd buds to stave off the nuptials while he recruits assistance to defeat the nefarious forces. Support arrives in the form of Jeffster, a band comprised of Jeff Barnes and Lester Patell (dudes, two ls? check your Gujarati yo!) Armed with a arm held keyboard, ala the Morris Day band and all keyboardists in the 80s, Jeffster kicks off a rocking rendition of Mr. Roboto, by Styx. Yes it sounds cheesy as hell but let me tell you, these boys can rock! Check it out youself. (Thanks Sheila for the link.)

The song brings down the wedding and brought mist to my eyes with this parting shot from the father of the groom: Why did you let an Indian lesbian ruin our wedding?