Not Exactly Snug…

As part of our post-pandemic efforts to renew acquaintance with the world beyond our apartments, a friend and I went to Staten Island’s Snug Harbor. First came the ride on the iconic ferry where bouillon is not served and no one announces “all ashore that’s going ashore”; instead there were several unintelligible messages on the PA system.

Snug Harbor was founded through the will of Robert Richard Randall, heir to a shipping fortune, who died in 1801. Randall’s will called for building and operating a “haven for aged, decrepit, and worn-out sailors.” Over the next century, Sailors’ Snug Harbor expanded from its original three buildings to 50 structures and 900 residents from every corner of the world.

Maybe we picked an off day but our take on SH was of many imposing buildings, some in Greek revival style with massive columns; numerous  small, somewhat ramshackle cottages; huge outdoor spaces and almost no visitors. We started off at the Noble Maritime Collection, one of the few open buildings, which contains a huge number of shipping-related items: paintings, ship models, examples of scrimshaw and sailor’s knots and an exhibit devoted to the still-functioning Robbins Reef Lighthouse and

Kate Walker at work

doughty Kate Walker, (1848-1931) who manned the light and is credited with saving the lives of over fifty sailors. The Noble is, um, helmed by a sweet man who seemed thrilled to see us—my hunch is he doesn’t get many visitors.

Then onto The New York Chinese Scholar’s Garden, fabricated in Suzhou, China with eight pavilions, a

Inner pond, Chinese Scholar’s Garden

bamboo forest path, waterfalls and a variety of scholar’s rocks including a 15-foot formation that towers over the central courtyard. I paid $4.00 for admission here, well worth it, and had the whole place almost to myself.

The rest of the eighty-four acre park with its many botanical gardens, landmarked buildings, sustainable farm, several museums, music hall, chapel and so much more, appeared deserted. We saw a notice for an arts festival in later June so maybe that will entice hordes to visit.  Apparently the area is also used for weddings although I’m glad neither of my daughters wanted to be married there because the whole place badly needs work and has a sad, disused feel.

Two fun factoids:

  1. Herman Melville’s younger brother, Thomas, was Governor of Snug Harbor from 1867 to 1884; the author reportedly visited often.
  2. A hard fought court battle is in the works that seems to be relocating Snug Harbor to Sealevel, South Carolina. There’s a fuss over breaking Randall’s original will and a long story including details of a thirty-year court battle taken as high as the Supreme Court. The long, complicated story is spelled out here:

And to eat:  Ship’s Biscuit, that mainstay of sailors of yore, is tasteless and an invitation to break a tooth or two. It can walk the plank. Instead, here’s Port and Starboard Orzo Salad (so-called because it has red and green ingredients like boat running lights. And, it can be made ahead and taken with you onto the boat or porch, table, backyard etc.)

Port & Starboard Salad—from Marine Max

2 ½ cups orzo, cooked al dente

2 green peppers, deseeded and sliced

1 red onion cut into small dice

8 cherry tomatoes, halved

2 tbsp basil, chopped (this implies fresh is at hand. Fine to cheat with dried)

1tbsp olive oil

2 oz feta or goat cheese, crumbled

A healthy grind of black pepper


Heat oven to 425 degrees. Place onion and peppers in a roasting pan and drizzle with half the oil. Roast for 15 minutes, turn the vegetables, add the tomatoes, and roast for 15 minutes more. Remove, and let cool. Toss vegetables and cooked orzo together with the remaining olive oil, feta and chopped basil. Refrigerate. Bring to room temperature before serving.

To drink? Anything from cold beer to white wine to soft drinks. No timbers will be shivered regardless of what you drink although it’s helpful if the skipper remains uninebriated and can steer.  Heave ho!

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Morphed Apples and Dead Trees

Both installations are outdoors; when I went neither was particularly crowded. Currently I’m walking outside maskless which is wonderful. Let’s hope conditions continue to improve because, as I’m sure you agree, it’s been a long, tough hall.

Apple Heads, a project by artist Joanne Howard, in Carl Schurz Park on the Upper East Side will be around till November. (Hopefully Halloween apple bobbers won’t be tempted by them.) Howard carved forty-five real apples into human(ish) faces and let them dry so they shriveled. Then they were cast in bronze and attached to fence posts.

apples on Park fenceposts

The artist says the works are “guardians of nature.” I went with a friend and, since there’s no signage the apples aren’t immediately obvious–—as women, we asked. The day we visited the Park was gorgeous with masses of blooms including spectacular iris.


Maya Lin, renowned  artist and  environmental activist,  founded a site called What Is Missing? an “online memorial to what we’ve lost to climate change.” This installation, Ghost Forest, in Madison Square Park on 23rd street, displays forty-nine  already-dead, white cedar trees from New Jersey’s Pine Barrens (Memories of The Sopranos anyone?)

Rising sea levels killed the trees which are ‘planted’ in man-made holes—some are forty feet tall. As they dry out the trees will change so I plan to go back and see the next development. Meanwhile, they are a striking contrast with the surrounding lush plants and spring greenery.

As part of the exhibition, (also open till November—come visit out–of-towners and help bring NYC back), there is an audio background called Soundscape featuring sounds from some of the native species of animals once common in Manhattan.  To hear it, go to Never knew that elks shriek. Maybe it’s a mating call?

Both these free, unusual installations are part of what makes this city wonderful. Yes, NYC isn’t as it was and may not ever return exactly but it’s on the way back and I’m happy to do what I can to support it.

In the spirit of inclusivity, this recipe more or less combines wood (OK, a stretch to smoked) and apples. Herewith:

Apple Chips

2 granny smith apples

3 tbsp apple cider vinegar

1 tsp smoked paprika (smoked=wood, sort of)

1/4 tsp black pepper

1/4 tsp sea salt


Preheat oven to 225 and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a small bowl, combine apple cider vinegar, smoked paprika, salt and pepper in a small bowl.

Using a mandolin or sharp knife cut apples into thin slices—try for consistent thickness and as thin as possible.

Lightly brush both sides of each apple slice with the smoked paprika mixture and place on baking sheets.

Bake for 1 1/2 hours (until slices start to crisp up). Flip over and bake for an additional 40-45 minutes. It will be tempting to keep baking longer because the chips will still feel a little soft while hot, but the chips crisp up once out of the oven for a bit.

Let chips cool for a few minutes before eating.

NB: If you are using a knife and end up with thicker apple slices bake for an extra 10-15 minutes.

Low-calorie, kid-friendly, tasty—what’s not to like? You could always drink apple juice or—gasp—hard cider. And cheer for vaccines and NYC!



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Oysters Out in Oyster Bay Do It…

Teddy Roosevelt

Driven by an intense desire to be anywhere other than Manhattan, a friend and I took the train (known by locals as the Toonerville Trolley) to Oyster Bay, LI. Once there we made our way to the Planting Fields, an early 20th century estate where Coe Hall, a 65- room Tudor Revival mansion, is the crown jewel. The 409 acre grounds include greenhouses, formal gardens, paths and hiking trails and were originally landscaped by the Olmstead Brothers, sons of Frederick Law Olmstead of Central Park fame. Today the whole shebang is a State Park.

The main greenhouse, known as Hibiscus House with not a hibiscus in sight, was open and filled with ‘exotic’ plants, most of which I couldn’t identify although the oranges and lemons were pretty obvious. Apparently William and Mai Coe, who built the house, were somewhat obsessed with plants and trees and had the money to indulge their passion.


We had a pretty awful lunch outdoors at the Magnolia Café (limited menu, one person to take orders) although I suspect the food scene is better later in the summer. In the same building are lots of great old photographs including one of the elegant wedding of Natalie, daughter of William and Mai, when she married an Italian count.

After inspecting more trails and falling in love with the weeping cherry trees, we

walked back to town, a little over a mile and a half.

In town I checked out the Bahr Gallery featuring wonderful vintage 1960s posters  If you find yourself in this ‘hood I’d venture two miles further on to Sagamore Hill, home of Teddy Roosevelt which I visited years ago.  (Sagamore is the Algonquin word for chieftain and Teddy was nothing if not a big chief. Tusks and stuffed heads abound.) If going to Sagamore Hill, get your hands on a car.

Trophy Room at Sagamore Hill


I toyed with a bear recipe in honor of Teddy but how many butchers feature that? Instead and to banish all thoughts of the café, how about oyster stew? This recipe can be made with oysters in a jar (hold the pearl) or canned although freshly shucked bivalves will be better.

Oyster Stew a la Sagamore Hill

5 Tbsp unsalted butter

1 pint oysters with their liquor, jarred or freshly shucked, about 2 dozen

1/4 cup flour

2 celery stalks, minced

1 medium onion, minced

1 3/4 cup milk

1/4 cup cream (or use milk only)

Splash of Tabasco or other hot sauce


Freshly ground black pepper

1/2 cup parsley, minced

Rinse oysters under cold water then strain and reserve the oyster juice. Put oysters n a bowl.

Melt butter in a pot over medium heat. Add flour and stir to make a roux. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook the mixture for a few minutes, stirring often.

When the roux turns the color of coffee-with-cream, stir in the celery and onions.  Increase the heat to medium and cook for 2-3 minutes, stirring frequently.

Add the oyster juice and any juices the oysters in the bowl have released. The flour in the roux will absorb the liquid and turn into a paste. Slowly add the milk and cream, stirring to incorporate while pouring. Add a healthy splash or two of hot sauce, to taste.

Heat the soup to steamy, but below a simmer, over low heat, cook for 15 minutes. Do NOT let it boil. Add oysters (if enormous cut into pieces) and cook for another 2 minutes, or until the edges just begin to curl.

Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Garnish with fresh chopped parsley and serve it forth.

Teddy drank enormous amounts of coffee but that’s too plebeian for the ultra-elegant Coes.  I would serve oyster stew with crusty bread and good white wine or perhaps Prosecco.



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The Breuer/Whitney/MetBreuer/Frick Madison

Since it opened in 1963 I have disliked the building I still refer to as the Whitney Museum but is more correctly known as the Breuer after architect Marcel Breuer who designed it. Large, overbearing, and apparently a huge drain on the already-precarious Metropolitan Museum of Art resources, (the Met was the tenant between the Whitney and today), the Brutalist building has an almost “I dare you to enter quality.” (It did have a lovely if tremendously overpriced restaurant downstairs but that’s another story.)

Now The Frick has moved its collection to the Breuer while the Frick itself, originally home of robber baron Henry Clay Frick, undergoes a multi-year renovation.

Henry Clay Frick

The collection appears entirely fresh with paintings, sculpture, carpets, porcelain and furniture set off by plain gray-blue walls so the art looks very different from when items were grouped together. In the ‘old’ Frick both groupings and architecture often fought with the works producing an odd tension. At the Frick Madison, as is it being called, (but we New Yorkers won’t do that just as we don’t call it the Avenue of the Americas preferring old-style Sixth Avenue), there is nothing to distract the eye.  It doesn’t hurt that entrance is by timed ticket only so, although the space is far from empty, there aren’t overwhelming crowds. There is phone-linked ‘commentary’ courtesy of Bloomberg which is not a cinch to use but once worked out with the help of a guard has interesting narrations by Xavier F. Salomon, Deputy Director, and Curator, Aimee Ng. (Minor aside: if you never watched Salomon and Ng on the Frick YouTube series, Cocktails with a Curator, head right over there:

What’s on view is a “gathering of highlights from the Frick’s permanent collection outside the domestic setting of the Gilded Age mansion,” with works organized chronologically and by region. Now a member, I plan to return often.

I considered a recipe for Oh Henry bars or one from Frick’s Meats, in business since 1896, but opted instead for drinks from Salomon’s presentation of The Polish Rider, a painting by Rembrandt on view. The complementary cocktail is the Szarlotka made with Żubrówka (vodka infused with bison grass). Here’s the recipe:

Rembrandt’s The Polish Rider



1/3 iced Żubrówka Bison Grass Vodka (if you settled for other vodka I doubt if either Rembrandt or Salomon would come after you)
2/3 chilled freshly pressed apple juice/cider
pinch of ground cinnamon

And here’s the mocktail presented for the under 21 set:

Apple juice

No measurements provided but a little cinnamon goes a long way.  The Polish version of cheers! Is Na Zdrowie! (Nah zdrov-e-yay).  Na Zdrowie to the Frick Madison!

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The Perfect Arancini

Just published in Italy Time: (sorry, have to click link to read it.)

NO recipe because I’m not big on frying and that’s how to make this. How about leaving it at a nice glass of a good Italian wine? If/when we return to restaurant dining perhaps you can find a good Italian restaurant that serves arancini. Trust me, they’re delicious!


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May the Road Rise Up to Meet You…

Daniel Patrick Moynihan

In a fit of ‘here’s to 2021’ partly inspired by The New York Times, during the seemingly endless New Year’s weekend, a friend and I went to the brand-new Moynihan Train Hall. Governor Cuomo called the building “deeply hopeful” and I concur. It is airy and full of light in large part due to the 92-foot high glass ceiling. Right now even the floor is sparkling clean.

92 feet–an acre of glass

The station is named after New York Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan, originally from Tulsa, OK., who had a long, illustrious career you can check out here: and elsewhere. Public intellectual, sought-after speaker and much more, the Farley P.O., (where during The Depression Moynihan shined shoes as a boy), was renamed after him, a fitting tribute as he championed the renovation project.

Stained glass ceiling –but where?

However, I have a bit of an issue with The Times. The article, a two page spread with four-color pix, touted in glowing terms the backlit, stained glass ceiling which nods to the Sistine ceiling with a woman pointing her finger set among break-dancers wearing sneakers. I asked four (no kidding) uniformed guards at the station to direct me to this work. Despite going up, down and every other possible way I couldn’t find the artwork. If it is intended as a draw, perhaps it should be made a tad easier to locate?

Penn Station reminds me of my mother and father who took me to the train to go to summer camp in Maine. Back in the day that train left from the station’s Well, an area in the neither regions where it was particularly hot and dusty. Inevitably, Mom loudly announced that it was a “horrible place to be on the hottest day of the summer.” I would have given anything to become invisible.

Here, in honor of Moynihan’s Irishness, is a recipe for Irish Stew:

(Serves 4)  

1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour, divided

1-1/2 pounds lamb stew meat, cut into 1-inch cubes

3 tablespoons olive oil, divided

3 medium onions, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced (or not, I don’t)

4 cups beef broth

2 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed

4 medium carrots, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 cup frozen peas

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1/2 teaspoon pepper

1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

2 tablespoons water

Put 1/3 cup flour in a large resealable plastic bag. Add lamb, a few pieces at a time, and shake to coat. In a Dutch oven, brown lamb in batches in 2 tablespoons oil. Remove and set aside. In the same pan, saute onions in remaining oil until tender. Add garlic if using;  cook 1 minute longer.

Add broth, stirring to loosen browned bits from pan. Return lamb to the pan. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 1 hour or until meat is tender. Add potatoes and carrots; cover and cook for 20 minutes. Stir in peas; cook 5-10 minutes longer or until vegetables are tender.

Add seasonings and Worcestershire sauce. Combine remaining flour with water until smooth; stir into stew. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened.

The idea beverage would be Guinness. Hate beer and all things similar? Red wine. Or Coke if you must.

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What Decked Halls?

For the first time in my life I have no Christmas tree. The Victorian skaters that usually grace my dining room table are in the basement in a box. No Santa perched on a tiny sleigh piled with tiny packages, led by a reindeer, graces my mantelpiece with pinecones and small, glittery ornaments sprinkled into spruce boughs. Bah, humbug; this year because of Covid-19 family gatherings are verboten as are so many of our holiday (Hanukah, Christmas, other) traditions.


I will “celebrate” by working at the All Souls Soup Kitchen Christmas morning (it’s a regular Friday thing so it falls out on Christmas) and then Zoom with family and friends during the afternoon. Instead of lasagna on Christmas Eve (in keeping with my role as Italian grandmother) and a church service to sing carols, I’ll watch TMC. On Christmas Day I will open a bottle of Prosecco (some traditions are just impossible to let slide) but instead of gravlax, quiche, edamame, haricots vert, ham or filet or some other meatly protein, I plan to chow down on Chinese food (a Jewish tradition I’m embracing for the very first time.)

I wish everyone a safe and as happy as possible holiday season. Here’s to a better 2021 in every way.

And, because I’m not making gravlax this year, here’s the recipe with one for the sauce that’s so good it would be delicious on cardboard.


(Start this a week before you plan to serve it)

2 lbs salmon. Have fish store remove skin and cut through the slab of fish so it’s in two equal horizontal thicknesses.

1/4 c salt

2 Tbls. sugar

2 Tbls chopped dill plus 1 large bunch fresh dill

t Tbls. bottled green peppercorns plus 1 Tsp of peppercorn brine

1 Tbls. fresh tarragon (or dried, makes no difference)

1 Tbls. Thyme  (fresh would be great but I typically used dried)

1 Tbls fresh chervil    (usually omitted because I don’t have any)

2-3 Tbls capers and additional fresh dill for garnish.

Place salmon on piece of aluminum foil large enough to wrap it up in. Mix salt, sugar and chopped dill. Rub this all over both pieces of fish front and back. Arrange remaining dill on top of one piece; cover with the other and wrap in foil, crimping edges.

Put wrapped fish on plate in fridge. After one day turn over.

After two days remove and unwrap fish. Reserve dill sprigs. Make a puree of peppercorns and capers and mix with the chopped fresh herbs. Spread on fish and put the dill sprigs back. Add more fresh dill. Wrap again in the foil.

Put a cutting board or other flat surface on the fish and weights on top. (It needs to be quite heavy.)  Return to fridge for three days.

To serve, slice as thinly as possible at a diagonal. Arrange slices and garnish with fresh dill and capers. Serve with black bread and gravlax sauce.

Gravlax Sauce

4 Tbls Dijon mustard

1 tsp dry mustard

3 Tbls sugar

2 Tbls. white vinegar

1/3 c. light vegetable oil

1 small bunch dill, finely chopped.

Combine mustard, sugar and vinegar in bowl or food processor. Add oil drop by drop until mixture is thick. Stir in dill. Refrigerate until ready to use. It keeps several weeks.

Ho ho ho to all.  2021 on the horizon.




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I love Sake, the fifth cat in my life, but it’s a little like adoring a child in mid-meltdown. She has a tendency to nip when she wants attention and would like me to play with her 24/7. Last November Sake came from the ASPCA aged eleven months, spayed and chipped. She cats my footsteps and gets an A in litter pan tidiness but some memo didn’t reach her because she doesn’t purr but wags her tail when happy.


Cat one, Tinkerbelle, arrived when my younger daughter was almost two. Some months back we’d had to put down our very old dog and my then-husband confessed he was sick of dog walking. I’d never had, (this was before we acted like animals were children and owned, rather than adopted them), a cat before but fell into a woman with two kittens who was willing to part with one because we “lived on Park Avenue.” (Not exactly—we were the last building before the train went into the tunnel at 96th Street.). She arrived with a carrier; I reached in and one kitten attached itself to me.  After spending two days under a bed, Tinker, a handsome marmalade female, emerged to become a great family member. She was willing to be dressed in doll clothes  and wheeled in the toy stroller and had a habit of leaping up to turn on the light in the room outside the kitchen. During her last weeks my second husband cooked her chicken livers and gave her water from a wine glass in the kitchen sink so she wouldn’t have to lean down.

marmalade cat–not Tinker but close

A while after Tinker’s death we wanted a kitten for my younger daughter’s thirteenth birthday. It was a freezing cold February when there wasn’t a kitten to be had until my older daughter located one at a vet’s.  We took an astronomically expensive cab ride to view her finding but only after we said ‘yes’ did the vet announce we would need to leave her with him another four days, engendering another long, costly cab ride. Sushi was a lap sitter and the life of every party, accepting pats or being picked up by anyone. When she was nineteen we had to put her down  saddening me and devastating my husband.

It took him eleven months to come round to considering a new cat. On the way to the animal shelter in Vermont I casually said, “Maybe if we took two kittens you would feel less guilty.” Bingo. Within an hour we had told the shelter we didn’t work and would therefore be with our kittens all the time, (a boldfaced lie as we both had demanding, full-time jobs), and were given custody of Pogo, tiger with a ringed-tail that reminded me of Walt Kelly’s Pogo) and her littermate, Fuji, a gray and pinkish tortoiseshell. Other than fruit these girls ate absolutely everything (salad, pasta, vegetable soup) so it was hell to make yourself a sandwich and a no-no to leave any food unattended. I once entered the Vermont kitchen just in time to see Fuji raise the lid of the metal breadbox while Pogo deftly removed a package of pita. Pogo was incredibly smart and athletic, given to walking on the beam high above the dining table while guests looked up, (some horrified she would fall into their plate). Fuji loved tossing around a toy stuffed octopus while Pogo watched, the bubble over her head reading “how juvenile.”

Dorset dining room but reimagined by owners after us.

A year ago, missing animal companionship, I adopted Sake. She loves it when I get out my watercolors hoping to play with the gum eraser and tubes of paint. As I write, she is sitting in front of me hoping I’ll give in and fetch one of her toys. I’m not crazy but obviously I quality as a cat lady.

And now a recipe for –no, not cat food nor curried leopard—but:

Sloppy Joe’s (made with Catsup)

1½ lbs ground beef or turkey

¼ Tsp salt

¼ Tsp pepper

¾ – 1 cup catsup

2-3 Tbsp brown sugar

2 tsp mustard

6-8 hamburger buns

In a medium-sized frying pan, brown meat until completely cooked. Salt and pepper the meat while browning it.

Add ketchup, brown sugar and mustard. Mix thoroughly and continue cooking until heated through. Taste and add a little more catsup, if needed.

Serve on hamburger buns.

Your choice as to booze, beer, soft drink etc. Toast Biden and wish him well. Then meow.

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My Oregon Trail in the Time of Covid

Just published. Sorry about the ads inserted at site. To read click link:

Traveling the Oregon Trail in the Time of COVID



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VOTE 2020

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.

double lines around the block

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.


Fuel for the rest of the wait

Mid-morning pizza snack

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.

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