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Armed with a filled-in absentee ballot I went to vote at the Robert F. Wagner Middle School on East 75th Street. Me and lots of other people. I arrived at 10:15 when the double lines stretched around the block as other voters kept coming. At first the weather was misty; then it turned to sprinkles and at about 11:45 became real rain, time to launch the umbrella.
The culinary highlight of the day happened at roughly 11:15 when several young women appeared with pizza boxes, offering slices to everyone on line. “Pizza at the Polls,” said my server, cheerily. I took a slice (pepperoni) and was glad I did; as the woman in front of me said, “this is perfect; carbs and fat, just what we need to keep going.” The woman with the box told me that the effort was funded by “a woman who saw it on Instagram and replicated it. “
Finally, three and a half hours later, I was inside the school to vote. Again, the workers were magnificent. We were handed hand wipes and directed to a waiting spot distanced from others. Two minutes later I reached the computer station where my name was recorded and I signed with a stylus that I was told to keep as a push would turn it into a pen for marking my ballot. Ballot in hand I moved to the area to fill it in and then to the scanning area. This whole operation took under seven minutes until I was out the door with my I Voted!
Every poll watcher, line organizer and other personnel encountered was helpful and knew exactly what to do, something of an election first.
Bravo, poll workers, pizza deliverers and funder and cheers to all of us who stood in line quietly until we reached our destination. It was a proud—if damp—experience and entirely worth the effort.
I hope you don’t expect a pizza recipe. In the past when I had the Vermont house and outdoor grill I made pizza using dough bought from the supermarket, but for now that’s over. We’re mid-pandemic and no one is cooking for anyone unless it’s yourself or your family. If you have a yen for pizza select the pizza place of your choice that serves your personal fave: Margarita, thin crust, Sicilian, gluten-free, white, or something else. Order a personal slice or whole pie for the family and eat it on the spot or take it home. To drink? Water from your water bottle. If you have yet to vote, do so.
In this weird season of blur, I’ve been lucky enough to travel a few times. I visited family in Hopkinton, MA, going by train to Providence, RI where I sampled a hot dog at Haven Brothers, a long-lived local institution.
During the weekend we walked a section of the Charles Rail Trail, a long, flat expanse with memorial benches every so often, the whole flooded with masked walkers and dogs.
At one point we went into a store selling mostly dog treats with a few intended for us four-legged types. The trail is interesting with historical markers so you know when you’re walking through Mudville, immortalized in Casey at the Bat. The poem was written in 1888 by Ernest Thayer and first published in The San Francisco Examiner. This link takes you to the poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45398/casey-at-the-bat
The following weekend I visited friends at their house in NW CT. One night we went to a concert called Wanda Loves William, featuring singer Wanda Houseton with the HBH Band, the event organized on behalf of Shakespeare in the Litchfield Hills. The four-piece band was fabulous as was Wanda who is full of sexy innuendo and personality. After an overcast day the weather turned beautiful and sunny as we sat in our carefully defined pods where we were allowed to remove our masks. In the beautiful evening, Wanda sang (among other standards) Oh What a Beautiful Morning to an enthusiastic audience. Check out Wanda and the band and, should you wish, buy a CD. http://www.wandaworld.biz/whb.html
Both weekends were a treat as I was around friends and family for chatting, meals and simple hanging out, casual pleasures I used to take for granted.
This recipe is baseball-oriented—sort of. I’ve never eaten a hot dog gussied up with additional meat sauce but then again I’ve never done a lot of things that this pandemic season has inspired.
Sauce for Coney Island Hot Dogs
1 pound lean ground beef
1 cup beef stock
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon celery salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon pepper
Prepare grill for medium-high heat. In a Dutch oven (or other heavy pot), cook beef 8-10 minutes or until no longer pink, breaking into crumbles. Stir in remaining ingredients; bring to a boil. Move pot to indirect heat. Cook, uncovered, 20-25 minutes or until thickened, stirring occasionally.
Make the hot dogs any way you like, insert into buns and top with this sauce. Yes, a lot of lily-gilding but so what? In a real ball park you could drink beer but in this season of Zoom and home schooling, something a lot stronger might be indicated. You can still sing Take Me Out to the Ballgame.
Over the weekend a friend and I went to the new Monumental Women sculpture in Central Park. The women shown are 19th century women’s rights activists, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony (both New Yorkers) and Sojourner Truth, born into slavery in Ulster County, New York in 1797 although she lived in and around NYC.
As an idea the work gets a 10+; as a work of art, a far lower number as it’s blocky, awkward and not emotionally engaging. An interview (on Zoom, where else?) with the sculptor, Meredith Bergmann, gave me the impression that she had been curtailed in various ways by the MW committee, not a surprise as almost anything developed by committee gets tweaked. Perhaps when the sculpture becomes patinated it will be more pleasing; for now it’s not particularly beautiful although a work showing women made by a woman in the Park is great and long overdue.
Later the same day there was a postcard writing group that gathered in Riverside Park to which I toted my lightweight folding chair, cards, stamps, water, etc. My cards will be mailed tomorrow to voters of color in Texas. All I can do is pray they have the desired effect; meanwhile, I go on writing cards and phone banking. Four more years of the horror currently in effect is beyond me.
On the plus side, I’m visiting family over Labor Day weekend taking a train to Providence as that’s closer to their home in western MA than Boston. They—my younger stepson and his family– will be the first glimpse of family I have had since the pandemic began. All the Zoom and FaceTime in the world doesn’t come close to being with actual people. Also this week, when the stitches from my Mohs nose surgery and plastic repair come out I’ll have another cause for celebration.
When it comes to monumental women, Eleanor Roosevelt is right up there. By all accounts she served ghastly food even at the White House where she offered dinners like deviled eggs with tomato sauce, mashed potatoes, wheat bread and coffee, one of her “seven and a half cent” menus. Other non-winners were sweetbreads, gelatin salads, spaghetti with boiled carrots and the so-called “Cheapest Soup” made of flour, lard, a bunch each of spinach, mustard greens, green cabbage, beet tops, watercress, radishes, chopped onion, parsley, thyme, bay leaf, green onion top, salt, pepper, red pepper pod or drop of Tabasco with a “bacon strip” or non-meaty hambone to lend the illusion of actual food. Yuck.
One of the few dishes Mrs. Roosevelt is said to have cooked decently was scrambled eggs. The secrets of success (which she probably ignored) are having the pan hot but not too hot and adding a splash of cool water to ‘loosen them up.’ Other sources recommend adding one or two tablespoons of sour cream or crème fraiche.
Personally, I’d prefer FDR’s martini: two parts gin, one part vermouth, 1 teaspoon olive brine, a lemon twist and an olive, the whole shaken (OK James Bond!) with ice, strained and served straight up. Perhaps it blunted the taste of Mrs. R’s terrible soup. Cheers!
In this, the grimmest summer I can recall, a kind friend invited me to visit her at the beach. Her particular Hamp is relatively close so we whizzed out in her little red car. It had been so long since I’d been in a car it felt like Cinderella’s coach.
Out there masks were in evidence but not when seated at a restaurant or otherwise outdoors. We made several beach visits including one the morning Isaias was approaching when we sat until the winds got so strong we decieded to decamp. That night although we had a restaurant reservation we were out of luck as there was no power, closing all eateries (and lots else) down. Omelets a la home to the rescue!
The next day the waves were enormous so there was no beach swimming but great beach walking. Next to a natural jetty of rocks submerged at high tide were masses of bubbles or seafom, dissolved salts, proteins, fats, dead algae, detergents and bits of organic and artificial matter. The National Ocean Service says these bubbles are not harmful and can signal a productive ocean ecosystem. Hmm. Not sure whom or what to believe anymore.
I’m a sucker for rose hips, not for tea, jelly or any medicinal uses, too woo-woo for me, but because I love the color and brightness. Apparently they come in a dark shade but my preference is the vivid orange. If I can get out of a spell of corona inertia I might try painting them in watercolor.
Once back home feeding myself I made this shrimp recipe which is far easier than it appears.
Summer Shrimp Scampi with Tomatoes and Corn- New York Times
(Serves two generously, maybe even three depending on how big your shrimp are)
1 pound large shrimp, peeled and deveined
Kosher salt and black pepper
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes
2 cups fresh or frozen corn kernels (from 4 ears)
5 garlic cloves, minced (I omitted)
½ teaspoon red-pepper flakes
¼ cup dry white wine
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (from 1 lemon), plus wedges for serving (optional)
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 5 pieces
3 tablespoons chopped parsley or chives, or torn basil leaves (or not if you don’t have on hand)
Drink a nicely chilled white wine. I’m looking for a new house white so suggestions are welcome. No need to rim your glass with sand.
Little did I think there would be a connection between Gender in Modern Jewish History, via Zoom (what else?), at Hunter College, and a whirling butterfly cat toy.
Gender is the course I’m currently taking, following two others since the world stopped; however, it’s the least enthralling. The professor is very young and hasn’t quite found his stride. So far—three classes in—he has mostly lectured, throwing names and dates at us while referencing maps from other eras with place names in ancient languages. Nice guy but needs a little seasoning.
In March, Narrative Medicine connected films and written work with aspects of the healing sciences drawing on WIT, the play in which the protagonist is a John Donne scholar; Oliver Sacks, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the film Contagion, (all too apt today,) and more in an honors class in which most of the students were planning to be doctors, nurses or researchers. In between I took Introduction to Literary Studies, a “buffet” of genres ranging from Freud’s On Dreams through Alice in Wonderland to
the Surrealists with a brief stop-off for Nietzsche, whom I found hard going. Besides the exposure to fascinating works, many of which I’d never read, both those courses were taught by delightful, gregarious professors who had a knack for eliciting responses from their students. Flatteringly, they encouraged my participation.
I’m slogging through Gender because there’s always something to learn, for instance the story of Gracia Mendes Nasi, a 16th c. Portuguese woman who inherited her husband’s pepper trading business and ended up one of the wealthiest Jewish women of the Renaissance. Gracia also helped conversos (Jews who practiced their religion in secret) and was an early philanthropist– sort of a Henry Streeter of yesteryear.
And the butterfly? Because we’ve spent so much time together during lockdown and phased reopening, my cat looks to me for entertainment. The battery-operated butterfly that moves in a circle encouraged by a paw is one item I bring into my office before class along with my laptop, notebook and water. For some of the three-and one-half hours of class the toy occupies the cat.
This truly is a long, hot summer. The courses are helpful both because there is some human connection even in Pixilated squares and because, eager-to-please student that I am, I do my best to keep up with the often dense reading. Too bad I can’t teach the cat to read aloud.
Early on I went through a manic cooking phase producing (mostly) vegetarian meals for myself and a downstairs neighbor, since decamped to her beach house. One triumph was this riff on sesame noodles with peanut butter from her collection as I don’t trust myself to keep it in the house. Making this is not difficult and the result is delicious.
Peanut Sesame Noodles
(The recipe says serves 4-6; I’d say perfect for 4 or 5)
8 ounces Chinese egg noodles (or any thin noodle that’s handy)
2 large carrots, grated or diced (haul out a food processor if you have one)
1 cucumber, grated or diced (ditto)
Half a small red cabbage, finely chopped (ditto)
1/2 cup thinly-sliced green onions (I used less)
Toppings: chopped peanuts, lime wedges (or cilantro if you like it. I don’t.)
Sesame Peanut Sauce:
1/4 cup peanut butter
1/4 cup lime juice
2–3 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup (optional)
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil (any sesame oil is fine)
1/2 teaspoon each: garlic powder, ground ginger, black pepper, crushed red pepper flakes.
Whisk all ingredients together in a bowl until combined. Taste and add extra soy sauce, if needed. If sauce seems too thick (it should be thin enough to drizzle), whisk in a tablespoon or two of water.
Cook the noodles al dente according to package instructions. Drain, then rinse with cold water in a colander until noodles are chilled.
Add noodles, carrots, cucumber, cabbage, green onions and sesame peanut sauce to a large mixing bowl. Toss until evenly combined.
Serve at room temperature (or cold) topped with your desired garnishes.
Store leftovers in fridge—it keeps well for several days.
I’d like to say keep calm and this will end but there’s no assurance it will. Instead, I send sincere wishes for sanity to you saving a few for myself. Drink whatever you like with Chinese food—beer, white wine, club soda… and wish Dr. Fauci Godspeed.
Recently published in GoNomad:
For those unable to access the original, this is the Washington Post article that inspired me. In fact, as I read it for the umpteenth time it still had me howling. ((No need to read the entire thing to get the idea.) Thanks WaPo and all the contributors on this rather, um, unique Memorial Day.
Not as it seems
Kerry Parrish, Garner, N.C.
Atmosphere is trendy and up to date, but the thermostat updates daily to 85 degrees as if no one is supposed to be here. A 3-foot squatter keeps eating all the complimentary continental breakfast before anyone else has a chance, and the coffee ran out two days into our stay. On a positive note, the very relaxed resort attire is appreciated, though as indicated by the squatter, I was unaware this was a clothing- optional resort upon check-in.
Stuck in a circus with a toddler ringmaster
Austin Graff, Washington, D.C.
It’s a circus and the doors lock from the outside. Once inside, you’re never leaving. You’re at the mercy of a toddler who’s barely out of diapers. Advertisements promising “fine dining” and “relaxing massages” are false replaced with half-eaten chicken nuggets and any stillness interrupted 1,134 times a day. Docking a star for false advertising. Wake-up call is at 5:30 a.m., and there’s no slow start to the day. The ringmaster whips you into shape from the moment you wake up, forcing you to enter a world of mind tricks. One minute you’re in a jungle hunting down “biting tigers.” The next you’re driving to Javier’s birthday party. Within minutes, you’re at the swimming pool learning how to swim. Forget stopping by the concierge’s desk. These games last the entire day, until the ringmaster kicks and screams into bed by evening. Only then does the house come with chilled wine, chocolate and all the Netflix you can numb your exhausted brain with. Sleep a few hours and you’re back at the circus. The ringmaster never rests. Adding a star since the ringmaster is cute.
Great place; terrible birds
Natalie Compton, Washington, D.C.
Super charming! Drawback: There’s a gang of birds that gathers for some sort of bird a cappella practice every morning around 5:30 a.m. No earplugs provided on the side table for guests. I’ve resorted to sleeping next to headphones so I can pop them in and blare music when the birds start screaming at dawn. Really have to crank up my volume because these birds are WAILING. 5 stars for the stay. You can’t blame the place for the birds shrieking through the neighborhood. If you stay here pack earplugs!
Called the health department
Tyson Anderson, Salt Lake City
The continental breakfast was ok. It was a little sparse on selection but they did have French toast. The problem with this place was that I noticed some of the guests at the breakfast bar were in their bath robes. HOW UNSANITARY. I reported this to the hotel manager but she didn’t seem too concerned. I’ll be submitting a report to the local health department.
Kat Brooks, Falls Church, Va.
Comfortable accommodations in a quiet neighborhood. Food is decent if you like home-cooked meals at odd hours. Housekeeping really needs to step up their game, though. The place is a mess. Staff seems distracted by their tiny manager. He’s cute, but he cries a lot and frequently falls asleep on the job. Gave an extra star for the dogs. Both are certified good boys.
Quiet, natural getaway
Leah Debber, Gorman, Calif.
Quaint little retreat set against the beautiful mountains of the Los Padres National Forest. Early spring is the best time to visit as everything is in bloom. Loads of wildlife to watch and if you have any questions, an on-site environmental scientist is there to answer them. Limited WiFi availability, but you get enough reception to survive. You will have to gather your own fresh water once a week though, which seems strange for a hotel. There’s also all-you-can-eat fried rice and a cat that you can walk on a leash. All in all, 4/5 stars, would recommend.
Shelter from the storm
Lisa Dorenfest, Mexico
Whether you are circumnavigating the globe or sheltering in placesailing vessel Amandla has it all. A fully equipped kitchen with two freezers and a fridge, propane stove, full stores, and watermaker allow the Italian chef/skipper to keep the one-person crew well-fed and hydrated. Eco-friendly, the vessel is powered by the wind and sun, allowing its two occupants to minimize their carbon footprint.
Amandla currently offers a 360-degree view of Marina Palmira, but will soon be surrounded by jaw-dropping vistas in the Sea of Cortez during the upcoming hurricane season. The electronic library is filled with books, magazines, movies and training courses to expand your mind. If you prefer board games, many are available, but you will have to let the skipper win occasionally to keep up morale. In port, build endurance by walking around the empty marina docks, cycling to grocery stores or dancing in place while singing out loud. On passage, the sea provides a natural gym: trimming sails and keeping balance while living at a 15-degree angle builds upper body strength and abdominals. And a meditative sense of calm can always be found at sea or at anchor.
This property is fully booked for the foreseeable future.
A unique experience
Julie Holzhauer, Naperville, Ill.
The rooms are spacious and seem, at first glance, to be clean enough. I don’t think they’d pass any kind of white glove test, though. The staff are horrendous. Three of them spend a good amount of time fighting with each other (loudly), one wants to sit on my lap all the time, and another just lays on the couch all day. The only functional staff member is only available from 5 to 10 p.m. I had to cook my own meals (though the refrigerator and pantry were stocked with fresh options), and often had to clean up not only my own dishes, but also those of several staff members. What keeps this from being lower than 3 stars, however, is the fact that the staff are all fairly forthcoming with both hugs and laughter.
Nirvana no more
Kathleen Lominack, Greenville, S.C.
Arriving at Chez Lominack in the late evening, I was less than thrilled to see that the highly touted cocktail hour had been wrecked by a band of angry Lilliputians, apparently belonging to the owners. Not only was the valet nowhere to be found, the owners seemed to have drunk all the cocktails themselves, leaving nothing for the guests. Can’t say that I blame them, though.
The Lilliputians seemed restless and on the verge of a revolt; definitely not the peaceful retreat we had envisioned. Nevertheless, we decided to stay the night since it was getting late. However, we were abruptly awakened at 5:47 a.m. with a finger to the eyeball asking US to fix breakfast for a few of the staff members! I couldn’t believe the nerve of these folks; self-absorbed and totally clueless that WE were the guests!! Additionally, the lobby was overrun with toys, including several pointy Legos, which happened to also be strategically placed on the floor as we were getting out of bed — ouch!! Chez Lominack leaves much to be desired in the way of rest and relaxation and makes one yearn for the comforts of the Four Seasons.
Great view. Lackluster amenities.
Brad Japhe, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii
When we checked into our Hawaiian bungalow at the beginning of March the staff couldn’t have been friendlier. The bed was made, the linens fresh, there was plenty of toilet paper. But by the 2nd or 3rd week of the stay we noticed something was off. Amenities became sparse (good luck finding paper towels around here); room service now consists primarily of ramen — although there oddly seems to be a newfound glut of freshly baked bread. The only daily turndown is on the television volume during Trump’s daily briefings. And the laundry service is nothing to brag about, either. Though this isn’t a tremendous drawback if you elect to wear the same pair of sweatpants for weeks on end — or, so I was told by another guest. Our private butler, Alexa, is always there whenever you call her. However, I find her disembodiment to be staggeringly inconvenient. Also, at times I get this creepy sense that she’s *always* listening to our conversations.
Now onto the bad parts. Waterside accommodations ought to be relaxing. Yet I find the incessant shore-pounding of the waves to be wholly redundant. It’s like, “Okay, we get it already! Splash, splash!” Even more disheartening: On our lanai, the ethereal hues of the setting sun — ranging from lavender and fuchsia to burnt amber and sometimes even Navajo sandstone — are partially obscured by these inconsiderate palm trees, swaying obliviously in the evening breeze. The whole scene feels like it’s just pressuring me to learn the ukulele.
Who could put a price on this experience?
Debbie Esposito, Harbor Springs, Mich.
Day 30 at this B&B: The food is good; SpaghettiOs are a specialty and guest favorite. The guests provide entertainment with bickering and fighting over TV shows. There is suspense: Who will have to go to the grocery store next and risk death? There are daily activities: cleaning, laundry and giving the cats their pills. You never know when you’ll lose a finger or get cat scratch fever; such adventure. One of the guests insists that we all do a tabata workout daily — really what could be more fun? But most importantly, every morning we get up to catch a glimpse of the sun — but it is just snow. It’s everywhere. It never ends. Every f***ing day.
Wildlife viewing, up close and personal
Sandra Russo, Gainesville, Fla.
I no longer have to go to Africa to observe wildlife sleeping. Do you have any idea how much your own dogs and cats sleep all day long and in what places and positions? Gone are the days of watching lions sleep in
Kruger, tracking lilac breasted rollers or searching for wild dog pups. Instead, I have my own pride (four cats), flock (three birds) and gang (three dogs) to watch. They make wonderful coworkers, although the level of fur and hair has risen dramatically since housekeeping has been suspended.
Dean Kaiser, Blacksburg, Va.
For years we have saved and paid for vacations that might be just a bit beyond our budget, where we could be certain that everyone else there was judging us. We have discovered that home was underrated. We do have a great view of the Blue Ridge, we got the old hot tub bubbling, we are decent cooks, and we can hike out our back yard. Most importantly, the dog is highly nonjudgmental. We try to ignore daily taunting from the cat. Dog, please bring us more wine. Good boy!
Homey vibe and home-cooked food
Stefanie Samara, Gainesville, Fla.
While boasting of amazing views of bird life, this home is unfortunately decorated in a style which can only be described as “hand-me-down,” with a Sears catalogue dining table from the 1940s and bookcases salvaged from a chain store’s closing sale in the 1980s. Despite the decorative flaws, the accommodations are homey and welcoming, with a lived-in vibe that helps you relax. While the other resident works from home, feel free to enjoy the super-fast WiFi, sunbathe naked in the backyard, or indulge in the hundreds of books and movies. The highlight of any visit to this location is the food — whether breakfast, lunch or dinner, you can be assured of the finest lacto-ovo-pesco-vegetarian cuisine available, sourced from local farmers and vendors through a strict no-contact protocol. Lovers of sci-fi fantasy and cheeses will revel in this home’s offerings. One quirk, which may be off-putting for some particular visitors, is the toilet paper with no center tube, which sits on the bathroom counter between uses. Serious bathroom aficionados may want to bring your own rolls.
Highly rated boutique hotel that doesn’t measure up
David Smutny, Arlington, Va.
Great first impressions, but ultimately disappointing. The hotel is small, boutiquey and charming, in that shabby-chic way that only terribly expensive hotels can pull off. I think we were the only guests! We’d heard Tom and Gisele might be coming but never saw them. The concierge, “Bella,” greeted us. She was short, gray and well-groomed. Her English was nonexistent, but we love trying foreign languages when we travel!
Unfortunately, the service deteriorated quickly. Our room has not been made up in days, despite hanging the little thingy on the doorknob without fail. The hotel’s highly rated restaurant is good, but they take the idea of “charming cooking classes” too far. Fun, yes, but every meal?!? I wanted to shout “That Michelin star won’t award itself!” We never saw the chef, despite repeatedly asking for him to stop by, and the concierge stared hard at us every meal. Thankfully, the hotel bar is open 24 hours!
Virtual magic no substitute for real magic
Elizabeth MacGregor, Vienna, Va.
I booked three nights at a Walt Disney World resort to take part in the Star Wars Rival Run Half Marathon this weekend. In the end, the experience did NOT live up to my expectations.
I was looking forward to staying at one of the newest and most luxurious Disney properties. You can imagine my disappointment when I discovered my lodgings would be nothing more than a suburban tract home. On the upside, it was quiet and parking was free, but on the downside, things were not as fresh or new as I had hoped. The theming was a little hard to discern; though I searched, I could not find any hidden Mickeys. The cast members were my own husband and son. The landscaping was not bad, but the property lacked swimming pools and spas.
On another note, the half marathon course left a lot to be desired. It repeated a loop — in my own neighborhood — over and over. There were no fireworks, no on-course entertainment, no character greetings, no finisher’s medal or swag — there wasn’t even a start or finish line!
In sum, the magic was severely lacking for this running “vacation.”
The next time you are forced to self-isolate, check out this little gem
Jeanne Costello, Laguna Woods, Calif.
After arriving about 30 days ago, we are still impressed with the cleanliness and overall hospitality of Casa Costello.
High Points: Happy Hour. Great selection of wines and other libations out on the patio starting promptly at 5:00 … unless it’s any day ending in “Y.” Then it’s 4 … or 3 …
Things to Work On: Housekeeping. Spotty — not really sure what the schedule is, as some days the bed is made and dishes are done promptly. Other days, not so much.
Food: Not the same since the chef from Sardi’s left
Noise Level: Generally quiet, with the exception of the long-earred neighbor with the tail who barges in every morning at 5:40 demanding to be fed. Apparently, he still has somewhere to go every day?
Overall: An inviting, relaxing and welcoming environment in which to spend days on end. Thank goodness, because I’ve lost count.
“Just like home” theme goes too far!
Julie Vick, Boulder, Colo.
The hotel lobby was overrun with children and was playing a constant loop of “Baby Shark.” When I politely inquired about a babysitter, the hotel staff member laughed in my face and then asked me to figure out how to fix the broken printer. When I fixed it and handed them the Pokémon math worksheets, they told me I’d need to cook my own dinner. I would have given this place 1 star if it weren’t for the charming hotel dog, but they’ve taken the “just like home” theme a little too far!
I was told there would be zombies
Jon Chase, Washington, D.C.
Let me just start off with this: I try really hard to maintain a positive outlook in most situations, but this apocalypse sucks. Day 1 of lockdown, I was feeling great. I had all the necessities: non-perishables, alcohol and three Army standard-issue Bowie knives. I didn’t need to stock up on toilet paper because I took a note from our European cousins and invested in a bidet. But since then, it’s been one disappointment after another.
Forget everything you’ve ever been told about the end of the world, because so far it’s been downright miserable. There’s no zombies, no warrior tribes, no hunger games, just “90 Day Fiancé” marathons and $4 wine from Trader Joe’s. I bought these Bowie knives for nothing. In summary, this stay-at-home experience has not lived up to my expectations AT ALL. I would ask to speak to the manager, but I have a feeling that the people in charge have no idea what’s going on, and if they do they’re kind of just figuring this out the same way I am; one episode of “90 Day Fiancé” at a time.
Desperate in McLean
Rayne Guilford, McLean, Va.
So let’s just say — DIY is overrated. This place requires a LOT of you, ok? The cooking and meal prep — it’s on YOU! There are nice suburban views, and you can sit by the open windows and sniff the air like a dog, because you can’t leave much. You can look out and see the families scootering up the street, walking the pets, vectors all. The one thing they have at this place, and thank God, is a lot of alcohol, because let me tell you, you need it. You are REQUIRED to put on a brave face for the others, be kind, compassionate and even-tempered when it is actually killing you. So make the cocktails, break out the Scrabble and open a good book — maybe Sartre’s “No Exit.” Put on a good album, Eagles, maybe. “Hotel California.” And settle in for a long, long stay.
Frances Watthanaya, Phutthaisong, Thailand
Communal kitchen turned fish slaughterhouse. Shared bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. There’s a 10 p.m. curfew and free early morning wake up call from professional fighters.
Full disclosure: this originated as an article in the Washington Post which my older daughter sent me. This is my riff:
Sophisticated Urban Setting
I would expect a larger staff at this city apartment that boasts a uniformed doorman, garbage pickup at the back door and spacious surroundings. However, there is only one somewhat harried housekeeper and a cat that “helps” by frequently dumping the bathroom wastebasket on the floor. On the plus side, there is plenty of alcohol and an ice maker. Meals are good if a little erratic; dinner may pull out all the stops or consist only of popcorn—everything served informally to say the least.
Each morning a gym mat is laid out in the living room and two additional guests lead us—virtually– through a vigorous workout—never mind if it’s been a late night. It appears I have to put the mat away as otherwise it’s there all day. I am also expected to do my own laundry. Watching television either for the news or Netflix is a sometime thing as one of the sets often doesn’t function causing the concierge to yell a lot of four-letter words. The concierge/cook/housekeeper offered helpful information on local cultural events including several nearby museums but noted they were closed.
Other than that, this is a quiet, pleasant space although far from spotless. It’s helpful that they charge by the week as I have lost track of time and am not sure if my stay has been months or years.
I confess that I have read this at least three times, each time laughing uncontrollably behind my mask.
I can also say with no hint of exaggeration that I now have an intimate knowledge of every blade of grass in Central Park, since the only other places I can go are grocery or drug stores. Just heard Staples is open—as exciting as The Metropolitan Museum of Art, (well, not quite.) I also have a new, deep relationship with Judy Woodruff of PBS Newshour and Governor Cuomo.
The country is “opening up” but not for us here at the epicenter. No matter how many online courses or virtual museum tours there are one day blurs into the next with no real end in sight. Meanwhile, I’m thankful for the internet, my family and friends and pretty much anything that distracts me for an hour or a day.
This is a recent distraction:
Really Good Broccoli (Not an Oxymoron)
Heat oven to 400o
Cut off florets and slice into thin pieces. I use some stem pieces but that’s a personal pref.
In a bowl toss cut florets with olive oil, coarse salt, fresh pepper and—the magic ingredient—about 1 tablespoon of rice wine vinegar. The amount of these depends on the amount of broccoli—for a cup of veg use a few Tbls of oil and 1 tablespoon vinegar.)
Line a baking sheet with foil or parchment paper or not. (This makes cleanup faster but maybe you like washing up.)
Toss into oven for about 12 minutes—check. Ideally the edges are a little brown and crispy. If not, cook for a few minutes more.
And that’s it.
To drink…anyone for a Hemlock cocktail? It’s starting to sound like an interesting choice.