Monday, February 22, 2021
I wrote this letter to the New York Times yesterday.
Metropolitan Diary is a weekend treat for so many of us, but it also seems to be routed down memory lane. Today, February 21, 2021 for example, you publish tales occurring in 1985, "back when cell phones were a luxury," in "my first year in college," and in February 1963.
Hasn't anything interesting happened lately?
. . .
This is not important, but irksome nevertheless. In an article about the forthcoming general election in Israel, a mini-series with a still undetermined number of episodes, the New York Times wrote, "Palestinian citizens of Israel form more than a fifth of the Israeli population."
When I was a wee tot, I heard that the place where Jews lived in sunshine before Miami Beach was called Palestine. The Balfour Declaration of 1917, British policy for their newly-acquired mandate, stated: "His Majesty's Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people."
In 1948, David Ben Gurion chose Israel as the name for the new state, occupying only a part of Palestine. Until that time, the area's population consisted of Palestinian Jews, Palestinian Arabs (Muslim, Christian of many flavors, Druze) and European expatriates. Arguably, Palestinian citizens of Israel today may be Jews or Arabs from families that have been in place 72 years or more.
Hello, New York Times, I think that you were trying to identify Arab citizens of Israel.
. . .
The global pandemic has brought chaos to the travel and hospitality industries, where Airbnb has played an increasing role. Accordingly, it has faced substantial financial pressure as cancellations mount and refunds are expected. Once, individual property owners set refund terms, but, in response to the pandemic, Airbnb established an "extenuating circumstances policy," giving full refunds to customers with some compensation to owners. https://nyti.ms/3pHygjq
Many owners are displeased; some have sued, others moved to alternate rental platforms. While it's near impossible to warm up to a company with a market capitalization of over $118 billion, I am not drawn either to people "owning and managing 10 properties," "who managed 50 properties," "who operates 70 Airbnb listings." They themselves are business operators, who have chosen to navigate the peaks and valleys of our economic system, not simply kindly grannies crocheting doilies for the breakfast table when not making your bed.
If you suspect that I have cherry-picked examples to make my point, "a software provider for short-term rental operators [reported that] just 37 percent of Airbnb’s listings were managed by people with one property as of September [2020]. Roughly half of the listings were managed by hosts with two to 20 properties, and 14 percent by hosts with 21 or more."
Wednesday, February 24, 2021
Not quite the Shot Heard Around the World, but getting my second dose of the Moderna vaccine was sufficiently exciting for me. I will soon be approachable, nearly to the degree that I ever was.
. . .
In lieu of the missing crayon in the box or the elevator stopping short of the top floor, consider this appraisal by a waitress: "The first time I met him, I just thought his cornbread wasn’t really done in the middle."
Thursday, February 25, 2021
In brief, a Black Smith College undergraduate was found eating in a normally closed off area. When approached by a campus security officer and a janitor, she claimed racial profiling, expressing fear that the campus cop could have been carrying a "lethal weapon."
The upshot of the incident was a proliferation of apologies, widespread sensitivity training, the creation of separate but equal housing for students of color and scorn for the two employees. While the student came from very modest circumstances, it's reasonable to place her on the high side of the class divide. I think that even Isabel Wilkerson might today place a student at an elite institution in a caste above blue collar workers on the premises.
So, I hate this story and almost everybody in it.
. . .
There are far more difficult stations in life than being a bleeding-heart, Jewish liberal on Manhattan's Upper West Side. But, there are still challenges, as conveyed by the stupid stories above and below.
"Should Straight Actors Play Gay Roles? A Star TV Writer Says No" https://nyti.ms/3kleedy Well, I, a star TV watcher, say Yes, as quickly as I would have gay actors play straight roles. . . .
Tonight begins Purim, another celebration of a narrow Jewish escape from annihilation. Rather than solemnity, Jewish services for Purim are raucous, fueled by noise and alcohol. Of course, food plays a key role and therein lies the story for today, which ties into the hypersensitivity demonstrated by the Smith student and the TV writer mentioned above. After all, you don't have to be Woody Allen to have your ears perk up when someone says "Orange Juice" a little too emphatically.
While Haman, counsel to the Persian king, was trying to have all the Jews in the kingdom destroyed, the signature treat at Purim, celebrating his failure, is inexplicably named for him, Hamantaschen, Haman's pocket. Not only are you expected to consume them, but you are encouraged to bake or buy them for friends and relatives. In fact, we received two packages today.
But, nothing is simple.
It seems that 5 years ago, Bon Appétit ran an article "5 Steps to Really Good Hamantaschen," which went unnoticed until just the other day, when a Jewish woman took belated umbrage at its Gentile authorship and suggestion of inadequate Hamantaschenhood.
"Traditional foods do not automatically need to be updated, especially by someone who does not come from that tradition," she fulminated. Don't you dare mess with our Hamantaschen, unless you stood on the bimah on your 13th birthday and read Torah. Like the bakers in Tel Aviv who offer fillings of sour apple, dates with sweet red wine and cinnamon, halvah, and chocolate chip cream. https://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/16/dining/16purim.html
Can you imagine this lady rampaging through your kitchen, validating the ethnic integrity of your menu? Is there an opening for a housemother at Smith?
Friday, February 26, 2021
The bright skies and 45° temperature lured me out of the house at lunchtime and, newly vaccinated, I wanted to begin to return to my normal life. Therefore, I went to Vanessa's Dumpling House, 452 Amsterdam Avenue, the new branch of an established downtown joint. It's clean and bright, narrow and deep. One wall is whitewashed brick, the other mostly mirror. Where there is paint, it is bright orange. There are 7 two-tops indoors, but no outside seating, although the several adjacent places have sheds in place.
Service was very slow, possibly because everything was being cooked to order. The menu centers on dumplings plus noodles and soups. I had a Peking duck sesame pancake sandwich ($7.88), a delicious concoction -- a wedge of scallion pancake, dusted with sesame seeds, filled with Peking duck fixings.
By contrast, the cold noodles with sesame peanut sauce ($6.88) were very disappointing. The sauce coating the lukewarm noodles did not taste of sesame or peanut. Two forkfuls were enough to dissatisfy me. When I hit the street with the large remaining portion of noodles, I looked for the inevitable homeless person asking for a handout. Well, maybe the word was out, because the first two guys refused the noodles. Or maybe they were gluten-free.
. . .
The last word on food and dining comes from Syria's beloved President Bashar al-Assad, agonizing over the severe economic conditions plaguing his county. As a remedy, he has recommended that television channels should cancel cooking shows so as not to taunt Syrians with images of unattainable food. https://www.syriahr.com/en/206419/