in line at Sahadi's
Now why would a guy who’s so notoriously averse to waiting in line that, even when he has the money to pay for them, he eschews and pooh-poohs Brooklyn’s It restaurants in favor or places where he can get seated quickly? For one thing, because the line moves quickly, past signs reading “No Smile, No Service,” and, “Of course, I’m in shape. Round is a shape.” For another, because this swift queue belongs to Brooklyn’s own Sahadi’s.
Jul 2
I’ll admit it. I have a big crush on New Seasons. That’s where we do all of our non-farmer’s market shopping. They’ve got absolutely gorgeous, mostly organic produce. The shelf tags are color-coded so you can tell what’s local at a glance, and the local options are many. It’s not at all hard to shop entirely local there. And they do stuff like this. And the staff, well, Portlanders, let’s just admit it. The percentage of beautiful people staffing the New Seasons locations? Pretty damn high. (If I get brave enough, I’ll get a photo of my Produce crush one of these days to show you. He’s something. All the produce employees wear fishing-style knives in sheaths on their belts for opening boxes, and for slicing into apples to give you a taste of the goods, etc. Most of them wear their knives on their hips. My guy wears his at the small of his back. The appeal of this is inexplicable, but undeniable. You have to see it for yourself… Swoon…)
Street Meat image by Daniel Krieger (dot com) via Midtown Lunch (dot com)
At this point, I think we can all agree that eating well on 50 bucks a week really isn’t that hard. Sure, there are challenges and we sometimes cheat, but if we are careful at the grocery store or farmers’ market and cook all of our meals at home, Adam, Cari and I have proved that one can stay fairly well fed while spending damn close to 50 dollars a week. They key to this success, of course, is the cooking-all-of-our-meals-at-home part.
So, what is one to do when traveling? Well, readers, I’m about to find out. Read the rest of this entry »
what the dog and I eat
Contrary to some speculation in the Twitterverse that I would have to forsake Fairway in favor of “a weekly pilgrimage to Trader Joe’s,” the big grocery store at the end of Van Brunt St. did all right by me this week. Now, I’m not a huge fan of TJ’s. I’ve seen their cheery stores in other cities, and liked them well enough, but, in my opinion, to do what that tweet suggested would put the grim back in pilgrimage. Consider the choices: there’s the Queens store, with dour-eyed office drones pawing over slabs of frozen fish, blinded by regulation from the saving grace of Three Buck Chuck (or even the Four- or Five-buck versions of the same), or the 14th St. store in Manhattan, where the rush-hour checkout line begins the moment you walk into the store. Relay grocery shopping, anyone? Pass the frozen custard baton.
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