Sense of direction

Monday, January 22, 2018

I never suspected that my brother was the archetypical New Jersey resident, although he has lived there almost 50 years.  According to census data, she is "a 39 year-old woman of Italian descent.  She lives in Middlesex County, makes about $38,000 a year and has at least some college experience.  She is married, lives in a home worth around $328,000 and has a commute of about 31.8 minutes."  
http://www.nj.com/data/2018/01/who_is_the_typical_nj_resident_data_tells_us_and_h.html

Well, Middlesex County is exactly right, leaving a few data points for my brother to work on.
. . .

Sfilatino Italian Gourmet, 342 West 57th Street, is so small that I missed it the first time I walked down the street.  It has 5 two tops crammed in the space not taken by the counter and prep area.  Sfilatino is the Italian version of a baguette, and sandwiches are the focus of the menu.  Almost 30 versions are listed, with an option to create your own.  Prices range from $6.95 for the interesting combination of brie, pear, walnuts and honey to $13.95 for roasted prime rib, olive oil, sea salt and black pepper.  The sandwiches are all named for Italian locales, such as Trento, Genova and Salerno, and most hover around $9.95.  

I ordered a meat ball parmigiana, a daily special called Roma ($10.50).  It was good, but what made it special was the ability to hold it while eating, contrary to the architecture of most meat ball heroes.  Two things made this possible.  First, the sfilatino, although very fresh, was grilled, giving the sandwich a sturdiness, resisting the weight of the ingredients and the pressure of my hot little hand.  Second, the tomato sauce was applied sparingly.  You tasted it, but it didn't drip down to your elbow. 

The joint is open for breakfast and only charges $2.95 for a double espresso and $3.45 for a large cappuccino.  With my sandwich, I stuck to the traditional Diet Coke.
. . .

Today's New York Times has a possibly interesting article about the energy requirements for bit coins or bit coining or bit coinage.  https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/21/technology/bitcoin-mining-energy-consumption.html

I tried to read the article carefully and yet I have no idea what the hell they were talking about.  While I was awestruck that "the computer power needed to create each digital token consumes at least as much electricity as the average American household burns through in two years," I cannot explain this using the English language, Xs and Os, or 0s and 1s.  Whose idea was this, anyway?

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

As a byproduct of last week's physical examination, I went for a hearing test this morning.  The results were quite satisfactory; I have only lost some ability to hear the higher ranges of sound, typical for an older person.  That means I am ignoring you although I heard you clearly.

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

In this very complex world, we often search for some simplicity, even for a limited time or space.  Life unadorned, unrigged, direct.  That's why the news from Saudi Arabia is particularly distressing.  The annual month-long King Abdulaziz Camel Festival involves up to 30,000 camels and now has been tainted by scandal.    

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jan/24/saudi-camel-beauty-contest-judges-get--hump-botox-cheats?CMP=share_btn_link

We are all too accustomed to humans primped and pumped in order to distinguish themselves, but can't we spare our camels from cosmetic, pharmaceutical and surgical enhancements?

Thursday, January 25, 2018

For 23 years until I ascended to Palazzo di Gotthelf, I lived in the Turtle Bay neighborhood, just down the block from the United Nations.  In spite of trying to pursue an active social life, I often had to dine alone.  One of my favored destinations was Mee Noodle Shop & Grill at the corner of Second Avenue and East 49th Street for Chinatown quality Chinese food.  Once I moved to the Upper West Side, I found it easier to get to Chinatown than get across town.  

In the years that followed, Mee moved up the block to 930 Second Avenue and opened another site at 795 Ninth Avenue, but I never returned to the original or relocated Second Avenue location until today, when I traveled from my cardiologist on First Avenue to my barber on Third Avenue.    

The new site is only one storefront wide, it is at least twice as large as the former, because of extended depth.  It was almost empty when I entered before noon, but soon filled with people escaping their cubicles for the 30 $8.50 lunch specials, including choice of soup or egg roll, and choice of rice.  I had an excellent hot and sour soup and very good shrimps with lobster sauce, 5 plump ones, and egg fried rice.  Having fasted before the morning's medical tests, I was very hungry and ordered cold noodles with sesame sauce ($6.25) in addition.  Mee served a very large portion, but something about the quality of the noodles, not the sauce, disappointed me.  I am sure, however, that the large menu would provide many satisfying alternatives as it did in the past, but I probably will continue to head south rather than east for my Chinese food.

Friday, January 26, 2018

From The Growth Delusion by David Pilling:

"Only in economics is endless expansion seen as a virtue.  In biology it is called cancer.”

No Momos

Monday, January 15, 2018

Kim Kardashian allegedly has 106 million Instagram followers.  I confess that I am not an Instagram user for at least 106 million reasons.

. . .

It took 38 minutes to inform Hawaiians that ballistic missiles were not headed their way.  Even with the troubles that we are having with New York City subways, they usually arrive in less than 38 minutes.
. . .

The real estate section this weekend had an interesting column on the availability of homes throughout the US.  There was an evident trend, a substantial decrease in the number of homes available in many parts of the country. 

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/11/realestate/finding-a-home-became-harder-in-2017.html?_r=0

The article offered no theory for this and even my occasionally hallucinatory imagination comes up dry.  Too expensive to move?  Satisfaction with present accommodations?  Fear of change?  Are you staying put, and why?
. . .

We were shopping downtown and found a special place to have lunch, Egg Shop NYC, 151 Elizabeth Street.  Indeed, almost every dish on the menu has one or more eggs as a component in relatively familiar, but tasty arrangements.  I had an egg sandwich on a buttermilk biscuit with maple pork sausage and Vermont white cheddar cheese, accompanied by a little dish of Harissa, a very hot chili pepper paste, which I sampled in minute amounts ($12.50).  I also ordered a side of fried chicken, two smallish boneless pieces, very crispy, nearly greaseless, with a drizzle of maple syrup ($7).  It made for an excellent lunch.

Egg Shop is very small, 10 two tops and another 8 stools at two counters.  On Sunday, the wait for a seat was 30 minutes or longer.  Fortunately, the store that we were headed for was around the corner, so we we were able to use the interval productively.  Otherwise, with no room indoors, people are directed to a coffee house next door and are summoned when a space becomes available.  Until the weather warms up, you might try for the Egg Shop on a weekday.  You don't work, do you?
. . .

Last week's memories of a tongue sandwich in the food halls at Harrod's, the London landmark, brought responses from Lord Kennington over there and Edith Greenberg over here.  Lord K confirmed the current absence of a deli counter at Harrod's by visiting in person.  He did suggest that what I ate back then was ox tongue, not beef tongue, and that may well have been.  He and Edith both recommended that I try Selfridges, another London department store, a little further down the scale than Harrod's.  Indeed, the Brass Rail at Selfridges flagship location, 400 Oxford Street, serves hand-carved salt beef (corned beef), pastrami and beef tongue sandwiches (£8.95 regular and £12.25 large).  Founded by an American Gentile 110 years ago, it nevertheless offers a bowl of matzoh ball at £6.50.

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Even though it was snowing this morning, Tom Terrific's e-mail message came as a ray of sunshine.  Since I had left the house early (too early to read the newspaper) to get my car serviced in Queens, a distance of 4.5 miles that took 65 minutes to traverse, Tom's citation of Amdo Kitchen, a food truck parked in Jackson Heights, commended by the New York Times this morning, was news to me.  It was good news, however, momos, beef dumplings, served hot from the steamer by a former Tibetan monk.  Better news was the short distance between the car dealer and the food truck, not likely to have more than ordinary traffic at midday.  

It was quick and easy to get to Amdo on 37th Avenue, just off 75th Street, in the heart of a dense South Asian shopping district, rife with sari shops, mobile telephone vendors, all-you-can-eat lunch buffets and jewelry stores with vividly bright golden items filling their windows.  Unlike all of these other enterprises, Amdo was shut tight, even though it was just a couple of minutes before noon.  No motors were running, no sounds or smells came from the truck's interior.  Were they out to lunch, or merely off reading their favorable review from the New York Times over and over?  

I slouched off to Prince Kabab Chinese Restaurant, 37-54 74th Street, for some tasty tandoori chicken cooked earlier this century.

Thursday, January 18, 2018

I went for my annual physical examination today at the more than capable hands of Dr. Michael P.  I liked the part where he kept repeating my age, as if it didn't correspond to the results before him.  We got off to a great start when his medical assistant told me that the examining table that I was seated upon had a built-in electronic scale, saving space in the office.  Wow, 230 lbs.  That's so exciting it had to be wrong. 

I insisted that we find a trustworthy mechanical scale, you know the kind with the sliding weights, and another examining room provided me with a Pyrrhic victory.  250 lbs.  That proves that I can hold my weight steady on my diet of Chinese food, ice cream and chocolate chip cookies.

Long Live the Queen

Monday, January 8, 2018
"White voters abandoned the Democratic Party [after 1964].  In 1968, Humphrey got thirty-eight per cent of the white vote.  In 1972, George McGovern got thirty-two per cent. In 1980, Jimmy Carter, a white Southerner, got thirty-six per cent.  In 2016, Hillary Clinton, running against the toxic nitwit who is now the face of our politics, received thirty-seven per cent."  This quote and other interesting information comes from a very insightful article on our politics, triggered by Lawrence O'Donnell's new book on the 1968 presidential election.
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/01/08/lessons-from-the-election-of-1968
. . .

My fascination with charts and stats is well served by an examination of the national composition of major professional sports, here and abroad, found in this weekend's sports section. 

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/12/29/upshot/internationalization-of-pro-sports-leagues-premier-league.html?_r=0

While the origin of players in Germany's Bundesliga may hold little interest for you, looking at the nationality of our supposed hometown heroes provides some rich sociological fodder.  For instance, Canada's share of National Hockey League players is now slightly less than half, while the US contributes one quarter.  The National Football League, by contrast, remains singularly American, with only trace amounts of foreign players, unchanged for more than 55 years. 

Tuesday, January 9, 2018 

A subcommittee of the Boyz Club had lunch today at Yaso Tangbao, Shanghai Street Foods, 220 East 42nd Street, the first Manhattan site of a small chain.  We enjoyed a visit to the original at 148 Lawrence Street in downtown Brooklyn on March 30, 2016.  The new location is at the base of what was the New York Daily News building.  You'll find an enormous world globe slowly rotating one door over.  

Yaso Tangbao has a large, street-level space where you order and pick up your food; a half dozen large tables with stools are upstairs in a mezzanine.  Everything is casual.

The menu has about 30 dishes, including dumplings, noodles in and out of soup, and rice dishes.  Prices are reasonable considering the heavily-trafficked midtown location.  We ordered spicy pork soup dumplings ($3.95 for four pieces), chicken soup dumplings ($3.95 for four pieces), blue crab soup dumplings ($4.95 for four pieces), pan fried curried chicken dumplings ($6.25 for four pieces), "Sweet & Spicy Dumplings ($6.50 for four pieces, contents unspecified), sweet & sour pork ribs ($6.95) and Shanghai cold noodles ($7.45).  Everything was very good except the noodles, dressed with a very bland sauce.  The spicy dishes were friendly, not aggressively spicy.  Note, Genial Jerry works directly across the street, so give him a call if you aim for Yaso Tangbao.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018 

While I would like to say that my interest in Kosher delicatessens is as thoroughgoing as my interest in Chinese restaurants, but that is not the case.  Actual Kosher delicatessens today rival white Bengal tigers as an endangered species.  First, some definitions -- a real delicatessen is a place that serves sandwiches of corned beef, pastrami and salami sliced to order; it may serve other items as well, such as chicken soup, hot dogs and knishes.  It does not have a salad bar and is not a place that serves coffee to go in cardboard cups and sandwiches wrapped in plastic, prepared long ago and far away.  A simple empirical sign of a faux delicatessen is the presence of Boar's Head meats.

Kosher certification is almost an absolute requirement, even in the face of "Jewish-style" joints.  This is not merely an ethnocentric bias, Kosher meats, ideally cooked on the premises, are usually superior.  I will note maybe three, but only three, exceptions.  Katz's Delicatessen, 205 East Houston Street, originated in 1888 around the corner.  It is not Kosher, and may never have been.  It's a shame because it did not build its reputation on cheeseburgers.  I especially like their hot dogs that sit on a grill for an entire baseball season before being offered to the public, and their fat French fries. 

Langer's Delicatessen-Restaurant, 704 South Alvarado Street, Los Angeles (opposite the tuneful MacArthur Park), emerged 59 years after Katz's and similarly never got too Jewish.  Its sandwiches, though as I recall, match anyone's.  Pastrami is hand sliced and the rye bread is the best that I have ever tasted.  In true Angeleno fashion, an order to go phoned or faxed in will be delivered to your car when you pull up at the curb.  

The third exception to the you-have-to-be-Kosher rule is/was Harrod's, 87-135 Brompton Rd, Knightsbridge, London, the world famous department store.  Several years ago, I had a fat, hot beef tongue sandwich carved in front of me.  It must have cost at least $30 back then, but it was delicious.  Looking at Harrod's web site now, I can't find a trace of that sandwich or anything similar in the food halls.  You can find a Champagne bar, a caviar bar, a Pan-Asian counter, an ice cream parlour, fish and chips and more, but no salt beef a/k/a corned beef, pastrami or tongue.  Is this an ethnic slight?

Once upon a time, the late Carnegie Deli would certainly qualify as an excellent non-Kosher delicatessen.  Their meats were superb, their sandwiches piled sky high and their prices higher.

All of this is background to my lunch today at Pastrami Queen, 1125 Lexington Avenue (just above East 78th Street).  It is really small, 8 two-tops placed among 4 and 5 foot stacks of soda cans.  In the past, I found it too crowded to enter.  Its reputation, however, is quite outsize.  Zagat's speaks of its "outstanding pastrami" which New York magazine describes as "juicy, crumbly, and fiendishly good, with a satisfying balance of smoke and spice."  True.

I had an appointment with my eye doctor at 1 PM, situated two blocks away, so I got across town early in case I had to wait for a seat at Pastrami Queen.  That wasn't necessary; I was able to sit right down at the one empty table.  I ordered a pastrami/corned beef combo for $23; one meat would have been $18.  This is expensive, often the case with Kosher food.  It was delicious Kosher food, however, and the sandwich was very large.  Additionally, the complimentary cole slaw and pickles were top quality.  Go with someone nice, share, maybe also split an order of French fries or a potato knish, and you have a viable economic solution. 

Take it for what it's worth -- no atmosphere, no room, great food.

Friday, January 12, 2018

Agujero de mierda, Scheiß Loch, 狗屎洞 or more likely дерьмовое отверстие.

Priced Out Of Pizza

Monday, January 1, 2018

Even after these many years, I love listening to Edith Piaf singing Non, je ne regrette rien.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3Kvu6Kgp88

However, I am not quite so steadfast in dealing with my mistakes.  But there is one mistake in my reporting, although recurring, that I might deny responsibility for.  Just last week, for instance, I reproduced a chart on income inequality that appeared as empty space for many of you.  Was I careless yet again?  At other times, I seemed to have presented black holes rather than the pungent drawing, picture, or clipping that I was enthusing over. 

There is a simple answer, however.  It's your fault, not mine.  Viewing this opus on many smartyphones or tablets, although undoubtedly convenient, denies you the full experience -- the accurate reproduction of the referenced material.  So, go home, change into something comfortable and power up a real computer to get the full picture, literally and figuratively.   

. . . 

For decades now, I have been starting many sentences with "I remember when . . ."  The real estate section this weekend had a phrase in a sub-headline that I think might even evoke the same comment from someone half my age: "a buyer priced out of Williamsburg."

Williamsburg is a Brooklyn neighborhood beginning at the East River and situated opposite Manhattan's Lower East Side.  The Williamsburg Bridge opened in December 1903, connecting the two neighborhoods just as Jewish migration from Eastern Europe was swelling.  For many Jews, moving to Williamsburg was a small step from the enormously overcrowded tenements of the Lower East Side where they first settled.  In 1910, the Lower East Side had a population density of 375,000 per square mile, 3 to 4 times that of any other part of Manhattan.  

http://www.demographia.com/db-nyc-sector1800.htm

While Williamsburg offered some relief from the Lower East Side, it was at best a temporary haven for most Jews, who moved further east into Brooklyn, Queens and Long Island or north into the Bronx and (hoo hah) Westchester as soon as they could afford it.  By the 1950s, when I took the Jamaica or Canarsie lines (now known as the J train and the L train) through Williamsburg almost daily into Manhattan, it had become a Spanish neighborhood, as newer immigrants first succeeded the Jews on the Lower East Side and then sought relief across the East River.  ("Hispanic" did not enter into the vocabulary of non-Hispanics until later.)  

Where the tracks were elevated, I saw some pretty miserable housing stock punctuated with burnt out stores, ignored by public and private authorities.  Williamsburg competed with the adjacent neighborhood of Bushwick and the South Bronx as probably the worst residential areas of New York City.  But, that was then.  Now, people are being "priced out of Williamsburg."  Go figure.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018
I am pleased when I can offer some guidance on places to eat, usually positive since I take my own pleasure seriously and try to make judicious choices.  Today, however, I raise a red flag even in the absence of personal experience. 

At first glance, Industry Kitchen, 70 South Street, seems to be an Italian restaurant with some contemporary touches, kale quinoa salad alongside lasagna "San Gennaro."  It's the pizza section of the menu where I took offense.  While your stomach might rebel against the Pop Candy Land pizza ($18), made up of "rainbow crust, cream cheese frosting, pop rocks, cotton candy," it's your soul that has to be wounded by the 24K, "Stilton, foie gras, platinum Ossetra caviar, truffle, 24K gold leaves" priced at $2,000.  You may upgrade to "Almas caviar" for an additional $700.  Either version requires 24 hour advance notice and a signed note from Steve Mnuchin.
http://industry-kitchen.com/2017/07/2000-dollar-industry-kitchen/

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

I was doubly fortunate to go to the Rangers game at Madison Square Garden with Good Gary, a neighbor, fellow congregant and devoted Rangers fan.  More than that, Good Gary is a season ticket holder, which granted us access to a private party before the game, amply stocked with free drinks and food, good food.  So, the companionship and the party amounted to a daily double.  However, we did not make it to a trifecta because the Rangers lost badly. 

Thursday, January 4, 2018

A little blizzard, so what.  We headed out after lunch to the movieplex at Broadway and West 68th Street, a couple of short blocks from Palazzo di Gotthelf, to see All the Money in the World, not only an interesting historical tale, but historic moviemaking in that the finished product was recut just before release to substitute Christopher Plummer for Kevin Spacey.  While some ventures have been scrapped in light of the predatory behavior of some participants, the Money people took a risk commercially and artistically.

The verdict: All the Money in the World is a very good movie, not excellent, but gripping.  Christopher Plummer occupies the role of J. Paul Getty seamlessly.  I don't know if digital tricks were used to insert him into certain scenes previously shot with Kevin Spacey, but there is no hint of trickery.  Kudos to the production team.

Money was the fourth movie that we have seen in six days, almost as many as we saw all year.  Why this sudden burst of cinephilia?  Did our Netflix subscription expire?  Did all the reading lamps at home go out at once?  The reason simply is "Movie Pass," available at moviepass.com, a $10 monthly subscription that allows you to see one movie a day at virtually every theater on Manhattan Island and 4,000 others throughout the United States, at no extra charge.  The only limitations are no 3-D, no IMAX, one admission per card holder, smartyphone required, purchase must be on day of showing, and transaction must be initiated within 100 yards of the theater.  Reserved seats, more and more common around here, require a visit to the human ticket seller, although the entire transaction is pretty simple.     

It's a great deal, but so far it's America First.  David, David, Katherine, Kathleen, Marianne and Robina, you'll just have to shell out those pounds and euros each time you want to catch a movie.  Maybe that's a small price to pay in exchange for a sane national leader, female at that.  

Friday, January 5, 2017

Happy Birthday, Tom Terrific.

. . .

I was worried this morning.  In addition to free food and drinks at the party before the hockey game on Wednesday, a couple of familiar former players circulated in the crowd.  As did others, I moved in to have my picture taken with them.  Even before the game started, I sent the photographs to a handful of people who could be expected to recognize at least one of us.  I soon got amused reactions.  However, I heard nothing from my brother, an avid Rangers fan.  Make that a very avid Rangers fan.

Given the nasty storm conditions, I thought to check in with him.  What really motivated me was his silence in the face of his younger brother posing with retired Rangers.  I'm not sure what analogues to offer to drive this point home.  Reducing income taxes for Republicans?  Inviting Harvey Weinstein to a sorority party?  Taking Chris Christie to a bakery?  Guaranteed to evoke a response.

Telephone calls to his home and mobile lines after 9 AM went unanswered, elevating my concern.  America's Favorite Epidemiologist then took charge, looked up the owner of my brother's apartment complex, called them, and asked for the name and telephone number of the on-site manager.  A few minutes later, the manager was knocking on my brother's door, awakening him from an evidently sound sleep, resulting from his inability to fall asleep until the middle of the night.  

 

He called us and explained that he was still searching for a bon mot in response to the photographs.  He stopped short of suggesting that the Rangers loss on Wednesday night kept him for getting a normal night's rest a day later.