Monday, September 13, 2010
It wasn’t Roe v. Wade, but a satisfactory result was achieved last night in Webber v. Stewart, an action in Small Claims Court of the City of New York. When driving across Manhattan Island on a weekday afternoon in March, America’s Favorite Epidemiologist was run into by a taxicab. Only the rear panel of her car was damaged; the adverse vehicle was moving at a slow speed. However, as Cher can attest, bodywork is costly.
The only wrinkle in this case was the denial by the owner of the taxicab that the accident ever occurred. He claimed that he was the only one who ever drove the taxicab and he did not drive it into my beloved’s Lexus. Actually, the light of my life agreed with that contention to a point. He, a short, dark-skinned man of West Indian origin, was not the medium-height, light-brown skinned, South Asian man wearing a turban driving the taxicab that hit her.
The case was conferenced by a court attorney (yes, the sort of thing I did on a regular basis for seven years) who urged the defendant and his attorney to settle, because of the quality and quantity of information that my one and only presented. For your information, New York City’s licensed taxicabs are tracked by a GPS system connected to the meter, so that start and stop time and start and end point of each trip are recorded. Reports are easily gotten through a simple letter to the Taxi & Limousine Commission. The report showed that taxicab 2W29 was in the vicinity of the accident at the time of the accident, one brick in the wall of evidence. The report lacked sound effects, however, so there was no actual evidence of the crash.
Victory, the acceptance of a reasonable payment in settlement, was celebrated at the Excellent Dumpling House, 111 Lafayette Street, a long-time favorite (see February 17, 2010). We enjoyed cold sesame noodles ($4.95) and a scallion pancake ($2.90) and were amused by the sight of three kitchen workers eating their dinner at the next table using plastic forks.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Lunch Box Buffet, 15 Division Street, offers about 50 dishes, many recognizable as animal or vegetable or fish, arrayed cafeteria-style. $4.50 buys you a choice of any 4 or maybe 5, with or maybe without soup, and white rice for sure. My confusion was based on my inexpert Mandarin. If you take the food out, it costs one dollar less. The food was good enough, especially the piece of southern (China) fried chicken. As homage to the good efforts of the kitchen workers at the Excellent Dumpling House, I ate my lunch with a plastic fork.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I want wild at Fried Dumpling, Mosco Street, occupying one of the four stools while eating 5 dumplings ($1) and 4 buns ($1); the Diet Coke cost $1.25. The only apparent difference between the dumplings and the buns is their shape. Dumplings are near-crescent shaped like an empanada, crimped along the curved outer edge. Dumplings are round, gathered at the top. All were pan fried and worth every yuan.
Allow me to make two additional excursions this week, not into restaurants, but into ideas.
My favorite jurist, Judge Judy, often says, “Do you get where I’m going?,” usually to litigants who clearly don’t. I have greater confidence in you, the jury, as I recount the following:
One week ago Saturday, whether as an extension of the worship services for the Jewish New Year, or mere happenstance, I went shopping in Zabar’s. Standing in the check-out line, the woman immediately in front asked me, as she was paying for her purchases, “Where is the nearest liquor store?” I started to reel off the liquor stores that I knew nearby, Beacon on Broadway at 74th, Nancy’s on Columbus near 75th, but she wanted something closer because she was headed for 79th and Columbus and did not want to go out of her way.
With that I realized that placing me at Zabar’s on Broadway and 80th Street took me, in New York terms, far from my home court. Of course, I knew the Barnes & Noble on Broadway and 82nd, the movie theater cluster on Broadway at 84th, the Filene’s Basement at 79th and Broadway, but once north of Fairway on Broadway between 74th and 75th, my granular familiarity with the sidewalks of New York quickly disappeared.
Of course, this is all about Park Place, a street that runs three blocks east-west from Broadway (at City Hall Park) to Greenwich Street. Particularly, a site on the north side of Park Place that once housed Syms and then the Burlington Coat Factory. It has been apparently empty, at least the street-level retail space that I’ve passed on lunch-time walks, for many years. This is the contemplated location of what has been labeled the Ground Zero Mosque.
It’s a very effective debating technique to capture the vocabulary when framing your argument. Few people, I imagine, even many Muslims, feel comfortable hearing about the Ground Zero Mosque. Accordingly, I have to apply some native New York wisdom to the nomenclature here. The site is about two blocks from the closest edge of Ground Zero, the recognized name for the general area of destruction, and about four blocks from the nearest wall of either of the Twin Towers. As illustrated by my Zabar’s tale above, a couple of blocks in Manhattan can transport you to a different world. Another perspective can be gained from looking at the subway map, another way that New York City is defined. To reach Ground Zero proper, you take the E (World Trade Center) or R (Cortlandt Street) train or the 4/5 to Fulton Street (other platforms in the Fulton Street/Broadway-Nassau complex involve a longer walk). Eventually the 1 train (Cortlandt Street) will be closest when the underground transit hub is complete. That’s how a real New Yorker would navigate the trip. To reach the prospective mosque site, on the other hand, you take the 2 or 3 to Park Place. It’s not far, but it’s not the New York way to go.
So, do you get where I’m going? Ultimately, geography has nothing to do with the mosque controversy. Good people, such as Abe Foxman, a national treasure, and others, such as Newt Gingrich and Rudy Giuliani, who share the distinction of three wives each (although no two alike), have expressed their opposition to the mosque. However, for many of the opponents of the project, anywhere is too close, too abrasive, too provocative. For them, Mars is too close, because it’s not about the building, it’s about its occupants.
In an ecumenical mood, I turn to Woody Allen. As he ages, Woody Allen looks more and more like my late father, which increases my anger at him for idiotic remarks in an interview with the New York Times on Wednesday, September 15, 2010. The interview by Dave Itzkoff was about Allen’s new movie, dealing with a fortune teller and invariably raising issues of faith.
Itzkoff began the interview by asking Allen if it was appropriate to wish him a Happy Jewish New Year. The reply was, "No, no, no. That's for your people." Your people, YOUR PEOPLE! I'm a Hottentot, I'm an Eskimo, I'm a Cajun, I'm a Maori. What's with this Jew business? Where do you come off throwing me in with "your people"? What ever gave you that idea?
I guess the film maker forgot one of his greatest scenes, when Grammy Hall looks down the dinner table and sees a bearded, black-clad Hasidic Jew in place of Alvy Singer, Annie Hall's New York Jewish boyfriend. Grammy Hall recognized Woody Allen; Jews recognize Woody Allen; Gentiles recognize Woody Allen; Jihadis recognize Woody Allen; Nazis recognize Woody Allen. Poor Woody. He seems to be the only person who doesn't recognize himself.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Credo
The new Jewish year began this week. Traditionally, these adjacent days are a time of introspection. In that spirit, I offer my Credo.
You’ve heard it said that some people live to eat and others eat to live. The implication is that those who eat to live are more virtuous, less self-absorbed, more real. As someone who unashamedly lives to eat, I wish to restore some balance, except on the scales perhaps.
Those who eat to live are hurried, indiscriminate, even furtive in ingesting just barely enough nutrition to get them back to the grindstone. "I’m too busy living, so I don’t have time to eat," they seem to be proclaiming. But, I believe that their version of living is riddled with doubt and guilt. Did I eat too much? Did I take too much time to eat? Did anyone see me enjoying myself? Will someone take my shovel while I am off eating? Can I skip eating? What are those other people eating? None of these questions arise for me, except possibly the last, if I don’t recognize the concoction at a nearby table.
A plausible rationale for those who eat to live is that it allows them more time to do good for others, as they are released from the table quickly. I don’t accept that distinction. My abundant eating aids farmers all over the world, wholesale food merchants, the transportation industry, chefs, waiters, bus boys (bus persons? busters?), cashiers, restaurant owners and, of course, the tax collectors who occasionally get a piece of the action. I am a one-man bailout. Other than finding a cure for cancer, nothing I could do with my time helps more people on our home planet.
So, go ahead and ess, kinder. Enjoy pagato’, iskrem, baghbaghag, suet go and fagylalt. In case you don't immediately recognize these words, it's how you say "ice cream" in Greek, Norwegian, Armenian, Cantonese and Hungarian, which certainly should prove helpful.
You’ve heard it said that some people live to eat and others eat to live. The implication is that those who eat to live are more virtuous, less self-absorbed, more real. As someone who unashamedly lives to eat, I wish to restore some balance, except on the scales perhaps.
Those who eat to live are hurried, indiscriminate, even furtive in ingesting just barely enough nutrition to get them back to the grindstone. "I’m too busy living, so I don’t have time to eat," they seem to be proclaiming. But, I believe that their version of living is riddled with doubt and guilt. Did I eat too much? Did I take too much time to eat? Did anyone see me enjoying myself? Will someone take my shovel while I am off eating? Can I skip eating? What are those other people eating? None of these questions arise for me, except possibly the last, if I don’t recognize the concoction at a nearby table.
A plausible rationale for those who eat to live is that it allows them more time to do good for others, as they are released from the table quickly. I don’t accept that distinction. My abundant eating aids farmers all over the world, wholesale food merchants, the transportation industry, chefs, waiters, bus boys (bus persons? busters?), cashiers, restaurant owners and, of course, the tax collectors who occasionally get a piece of the action. I am a one-man bailout. Other than finding a cure for cancer, nothing I could do with my time helps more people on our home planet.
So, go ahead and ess, kinder. Enjoy pagato’, iskrem, baghbaghag, suet go and fagylalt. In case you don't immediately recognize these words, it's how you say "ice cream" in Greek, Norwegian, Armenian, Cantonese and Hungarian, which certainly should prove helpful.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Thirty-Fifth Week
Monday, August 30, 2010
When the 95 degree temperature prediction had not been realized when I went out to lunch, I was happy to stroll around Chinatown without much thought of eating. I finally walked into Nha Trang One Vietnamese Restaurant, 87 Baxter Street, one of the oldest Vietnamese restaurants in New York. Unfortunately, the ten ingredient fried rice ($6.25 including tax) I ordered felt old as well. Additionally, I could only count up to eight ingredients: chicken, shrimp, pork, egg, peas, carrots, cilantro (more as a garnish, but I’ll count it), and corn.
Columbus Park was busy on this gorgeous day. I decided to hover over a group playing cards, the same game being played at about 15 tables. I imagined that it would be indecipherable as is the chess/checkers game also widely played day-in-day-out in the park. I had noticed that the chess/checkers game was played by men only, while the card game (I haven’t gotten the name yet) was played by men and women, although usually one gender to a game. Once upon a time, I played cards frequently and I thought I might as well try and learn this game. The game turns out to be overly simple, a basic rummy. Far more interesting than the game was the fact that the cards were dealt counterclockwise, while the card games I know are dealt clockwise. Each of four players is dealt 13 cards, arranges them into sets (three Kings) or runs (4, 5, 6 and so on). Then, without betting on the outcome or discarding and drawing cards, the players lay down the cards and determine who has the best hand and pay the winner who has done nothing skillful to deserve the victory. At the very least, there should be a round of betting before the lay down as in a poker game. That would accommodate bluffs and raises and make for some excitement. On the other hand, there are 1.3 billion Chinese and maybe they shouldn’t get too excited.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Mark Dilman of Silicon Valley writes in regard to the Evil Eye:
As someone who had two Yiddish-speaking grandmothers: Frida and Khaya (version of Chaya), I grew up well protected from the Evil Eye. My parents [living in Tbilisi, Georgia] practically lost Yiddish, but inherited all the "kinahora" rules from their parents.
Early in my life I learned that it is impossible to challenge the wisdom acquired for 5700 years. I found it to be much simpler to invent rules that are supposed to counteract bad luck. For example, when my parents were telling me that I must not reenter our house if I had forgotten something, my reply was that someone’s grandma told me that it is OK to re-enter if you look at a mirror inside the house right after.
(It is clear why Mark is a scientist with a PhD.)
Alan Heim of Hollywood writes:
I thought you should know of the new, glatt kosher, taco truck prowling our Los Angeles streets. It joins the ever expanding ranks of Korean, burgers, normal tacos and a grilled cheese truck (done in a charming yellow), to name a bare few. I tried it today, outside the Trader Joe’s in an orthodox Jewish enclave near my home. The briskettaco was yummy but underspiced, no doubt a concession to the Jewish digestive tract. The latketaco, which will never pass my spell check no matter how many times I type it, was two nice potato balls served on a taco with an apple relish on top. Not greasy at all and thus a failure. The Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray was, as ever, flawless. $8.50 for the whole.
(Alan, another distinguished CCNY graduate, inadvertently touches upon one of life’s little tragedies. About 4 years ago, Dr. Brown stopped making diet Cel-Ray. Apparently, the good doctor now only produces diet versions of his cream and black cherry sodas. Full calorie versions of all three flavors are peddled, obviously in Los Angeles, as well as New York. This news about a kosher taco truck also reminded me that I saw Holy Cow Kosher Beef Jerky in Fairway recently. Now, that’s a solution without a problem.)
With the temperature at 94 degrees, I abandoned the discipline I usually show at lunch time. First, I bought 4 large, beautiful white peaches ($2.50) which will certainly ripen by Thanksgiving. Then, I stopped in the Mulberry Meat Market. Inc., 89 Mulberry Street, for some precooked takeout, Singapore Mei Fun and sesame chicken ($3.25), and hurried back to eat it in my airconditioned office. It was a gesture more than a meal.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
With the temperature again at 93 degrees, cold sesame noodles was the natural choice for lunch. Joe’s Ginger Restaurant, 25 Pell Street, served a solid B plate of cold sesame noodles ($4.65), nowhere near their scallion pancakes, however. Most noticeable about the dish was the no-frills presentation. No toasted sesame seeds, slivers of cucumber or slices of green onion were anywhere to be seen.
Seen in abundance in the window and on the shelves of Kam Man, 200 Canal Street, my favorite grocery store south of 74th Street, were mooncakes, described by Wikipedia as having a "thick filling usually made from lotus seed paste . . . surrounded by a relatively thin crust and may contain yolks from salted duck eggs." Wikipedia helpfully notes that mooncakes are not to be confused with moonpies. The reason that mooncakes, often packaged in attractive tins or boxes, are so prominently displayed is the upcoming holiday, of course. Do I mean to imply that the Chinese are one or all of the lost tribes of Israel? After all, isn’t food central to Jewish practice? Should a pre or post Rosh haShana meal include mooncakes? Actually, September 22, 2010, the 15th day of the eighth lunar month, is the Mid-Autumn or Zhongqiu Festival celebrating lunar worship, and, also the first night of Succoth for the non-Chinese among you. Is this a coincidence?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
I could not see through the front window of Hua Du Seafood Restaurant, 31 Division Street, because big red papers signs covered the part that wasn’t frosted. When I walked in to the empty restaurant the two Chinese waitresses seemed surprised to see me. I said, "If you’re cooking, I’m eating" and was shown to a table. I ordered chicken with garlic sauce ($4.50), one of those dishes that are different in every venue. This version, notable for a spicy sauce with flecks of hot pepper, contained, in addition to thin slices of chicken, red peppers, green peppers, green onions, mushrooms, bamboo shoots and dark threads of something which none of the staff were able to identify in English, my favorite language. The portion was modest, but reasonable for the price.
Something was in the back of my mind from the moment I entered Hua Du though. A quick search of my previous contributions to human knowledge turned up the information that Gao Xin Seafood Restaurant at 31 Division Street was closed by the Board of Health about two weeks ago. I obviously arrived today just after the ink dried on the new menus and business cards. It reminded me of garment firms on Seventh Avenue that would shut their doors and turn their backs on their creditors after a bad season, yet reemerge at the start of a new season under a slight variant of their prior name – JorAl Frocks to AlJor Fashions to AJ Dresses to JA Styles. Just remember -- Cut velvet!
When the 95 degree temperature prediction had not been realized when I went out to lunch, I was happy to stroll around Chinatown without much thought of eating. I finally walked into Nha Trang One Vietnamese Restaurant, 87 Baxter Street, one of the oldest Vietnamese restaurants in New York. Unfortunately, the ten ingredient fried rice ($6.25 including tax) I ordered felt old as well. Additionally, I could only count up to eight ingredients: chicken, shrimp, pork, egg, peas, carrots, cilantro (more as a garnish, but I’ll count it), and corn.
Columbus Park was busy on this gorgeous day. I decided to hover over a group playing cards, the same game being played at about 15 tables. I imagined that it would be indecipherable as is the chess/checkers game also widely played day-in-day-out in the park. I had noticed that the chess/checkers game was played by men only, while the card game (I haven’t gotten the name yet) was played by men and women, although usually one gender to a game. Once upon a time, I played cards frequently and I thought I might as well try and learn this game. The game turns out to be overly simple, a basic rummy. Far more interesting than the game was the fact that the cards were dealt counterclockwise, while the card games I know are dealt clockwise. Each of four players is dealt 13 cards, arranges them into sets (three Kings) or runs (4, 5, 6 and so on). Then, without betting on the outcome or discarding and drawing cards, the players lay down the cards and determine who has the best hand and pay the winner who has done nothing skillful to deserve the victory. At the very least, there should be a round of betting before the lay down as in a poker game. That would accommodate bluffs and raises and make for some excitement. On the other hand, there are 1.3 billion Chinese and maybe they shouldn’t get too excited.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Mark Dilman of Silicon Valley writes in regard to the Evil Eye:
As someone who had two Yiddish-speaking grandmothers: Frida and Khaya (version of Chaya), I grew up well protected from the Evil Eye. My parents [living in Tbilisi, Georgia] practically lost Yiddish, but inherited all the "kinahora" rules from their parents.
Early in my life I learned that it is impossible to challenge the wisdom acquired for 5700 years. I found it to be much simpler to invent rules that are supposed to counteract bad luck. For example, when my parents were telling me that I must not reenter our house if I had forgotten something, my reply was that someone’s grandma told me that it is OK to re-enter if you look at a mirror inside the house right after.
(It is clear why Mark is a scientist with a PhD.)
Alan Heim of Hollywood writes:
I thought you should know of the new, glatt kosher, taco truck prowling our Los Angeles streets. It joins the ever expanding ranks of Korean, burgers, normal tacos and a grilled cheese truck (done in a charming yellow), to name a bare few. I tried it today, outside the Trader Joe’s in an orthodox Jewish enclave near my home. The briskettaco was yummy but underspiced, no doubt a concession to the Jewish digestive tract. The latketaco, which will never pass my spell check no matter how many times I type it, was two nice potato balls served on a taco with an apple relish on top. Not greasy at all and thus a failure. The Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray was, as ever, flawless. $8.50 for the whole.
(Alan, another distinguished CCNY graduate, inadvertently touches upon one of life’s little tragedies. About 4 years ago, Dr. Brown stopped making diet Cel-Ray. Apparently, the good doctor now only produces diet versions of his cream and black cherry sodas. Full calorie versions of all three flavors are peddled, obviously in Los Angeles, as well as New York. This news about a kosher taco truck also reminded me that I saw Holy Cow Kosher Beef Jerky in Fairway recently. Now, that’s a solution without a problem.)
With the temperature at 94 degrees, I abandoned the discipline I usually show at lunch time. First, I bought 4 large, beautiful white peaches ($2.50) which will certainly ripen by Thanksgiving. Then, I stopped in the Mulberry Meat Market. Inc., 89 Mulberry Street, for some precooked takeout, Singapore Mei Fun and sesame chicken ($3.25), and hurried back to eat it in my airconditioned office. It was a gesture more than a meal.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
With the temperature again at 93 degrees, cold sesame noodles was the natural choice for lunch. Joe’s Ginger Restaurant, 25 Pell Street, served a solid B plate of cold sesame noodles ($4.65), nowhere near their scallion pancakes, however. Most noticeable about the dish was the no-frills presentation. No toasted sesame seeds, slivers of cucumber or slices of green onion were anywhere to be seen.
Seen in abundance in the window and on the shelves of Kam Man, 200 Canal Street, my favorite grocery store south of 74th Street, were mooncakes, described by Wikipedia as having a "thick filling usually made from lotus seed paste . . . surrounded by a relatively thin crust and may contain yolks from salted duck eggs." Wikipedia helpfully notes that mooncakes are not to be confused with moonpies. The reason that mooncakes, often packaged in attractive tins or boxes, are so prominently displayed is the upcoming holiday, of course. Do I mean to imply that the Chinese are one or all of the lost tribes of Israel? After all, isn’t food central to Jewish practice? Should a pre or post Rosh haShana meal include mooncakes? Actually, September 22, 2010, the 15th day of the eighth lunar month, is the Mid-Autumn or Zhongqiu Festival celebrating lunar worship, and, also the first night of Succoth for the non-Chinese among you. Is this a coincidence?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
I could not see through the front window of Hua Du Seafood Restaurant, 31 Division Street, because big red papers signs covered the part that wasn’t frosted. When I walked in to the empty restaurant the two Chinese waitresses seemed surprised to see me. I said, "If you’re cooking, I’m eating" and was shown to a table. I ordered chicken with garlic sauce ($4.50), one of those dishes that are different in every venue. This version, notable for a spicy sauce with flecks of hot pepper, contained, in addition to thin slices of chicken, red peppers, green peppers, green onions, mushrooms, bamboo shoots and dark threads of something which none of the staff were able to identify in English, my favorite language. The portion was modest, but reasonable for the price.
Something was in the back of my mind from the moment I entered Hua Du though. A quick search of my previous contributions to human knowledge turned up the information that Gao Xin Seafood Restaurant at 31 Division Street was closed by the Board of Health about two weeks ago. I obviously arrived today just after the ink dried on the new menus and business cards. It reminded me of garment firms on Seventh Avenue that would shut their doors and turn their backs on their creditors after a bad season, yet reemerge at the start of a new season under a slight variant of their prior name – JorAl Frocks to AlJor Fashions to AJ Dresses to JA Styles. Just remember -- Cut velvet!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thirty-Fourth Week
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
I returned to work today after more than a week of intense grandparenting and am happy to be back at my desk merely trying to please 50 judges of the New York State Supreme Court instead of trying to gain and maintain the attention and cooperation of one 2 ½ year old child. I remained upbeat in spite of the gloomy, damp, gray, gusty weather and the news that the New York City Department of Health has closed New Bo Ky Restaurant, 80 Bayard Street, visited on April 16, 2010, Sweet Spring Restaurant, 25A Catherine Street, visited on May 17, 2010, Chang Wang, 38A Allen Street, Gao Xin Seafood Restaurant, 31 Division Street and Golden House Chinese Restaurant, in Long Island City. The latter three I have not visited and may now never have the opportunity.
The weather dictated a bowl of soup and I chose to go back to Big Wong, 67 Mott Street, a favorite of many, but which impressed me more with value than flavor on March 17, 2010. I ordered soup with dumplings ($4.75) and got a medium-sized bowl of soup with 8 or so tasty dumplings. When I left Big Wong, I decided to add a second course to lunch by buying fruit from one of the vendors on the sidewalk around Canal and Mulberry Streets. The white peaches looked spectacular, ranging from 4 for $2.50 to 4 for $5 based on size. However, in complete contradiction to Starbuck’s, the smallest were large. Unfortunately, none of the white peaches of any size at any of three stands I approached were ready to eat. In fact, they were ready to drive nails. Instead, I bought pluots at 6 for $2, nice and juicy, ready to eat. Pluots, pronounced plew otz, are a cross between a plum and an apricot, tasting and looking more like a plum. There is also, but not in Chinatown at present, plucots, another cross between plums and apricots, favoring the apricot. I don’t recall ever having had a plucot actually.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Bonnie Glotzer tells how to avoid the Evil Eye when faced with the necessity of moving from a higher floor to a lower in the same building, a very risky maneuver. Leave your old apartment carrying a chair and take it down to the street. Sit on the chair on the sidewalk for a reasonable (lawyers say practicable) period of time. Then, enter your new apartment by ascending from the street rather than descending from above.
With former President Jimmy Carter (see note) in North Korea, it was no surprise that Thai Son Vietnamese Restaurant, 89 Baxter Street, was jammed at lunchtime with as many non-Asians as Asians. The Asians may have been Chinese or Vietnamese, but I’m not able to distinguish them. People were always waiting to be seated, although not for very long. The medium-sized, pleasantly-decorated restaurant handled diners quickly without rushing them. In fact, I had to go to the cashier to get my check after finishing my Cha Gio (spring rolls, 4 for $3.95) and Tai (beef soup with rice noodles and thinly-sliced eye of round, $5.50). Both were very good, the Tai leaning towards excellent. A dish with bean sprouts, lime wedges and mint leaves accompanied the soup, which was already aromatic with the scent of cilantro. I threw some of the stuff in the soup, but did not use any of the four sauces, soy, sweet, hot and hotter, on the table.
Note – Harry Truman used to insist that he was a former President while Herbert Hoover was an ex-President, during the Eisenhower years when both were still alive. The difference, according to Truman, was that Hoover had been defeated for re-election. By Truman's standard, Carter is an ex-president. What about a former wife and an ex-wife, then. Any comments?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
New Wong Rest. Inc., 103 East Broadway, is so new that the take-out menus by the cash register still read 103 E.B. Rest. Inc., which was okay because they seemed otherwise identical to the menus stacked on the tables. All the dozen or so tables were occupied, but usually by only one or two people. Pink predominated on most surfaces including the walls and the table tops. I was the only non-Chinese customer, but my English was clearly understood and service was prompt and polite. I had Singapore Chow Mei Fun ($6.25), a big portion of fine rice noodles, hot off the wok, cooked with shrimp, pork, egg, celery, green pepper, red pepper, green onion, and onion, with a mild curry flavor. Good job, New Wong.
Friday, August 27, 2010
A lead local news story today concerns James D. Gibbons, who abruptly resigned as a judge of the Criminal Court of New York City. While his affair with a Legal Aid attorney resulting in the recent birth of their son was well known, other factors apparently led to him leaving the bench. According to the New York Daily News and the New York Post, Judge Gibbons had pornography stored on his work computer, “lots of crotch and cleavage shots” said an unnamed investigator from the Manhattan DA’s office.
Why do I bring this up? Judge Gibbons’ work computer is the same as my work computer; we are part of the same enterprise, the same system, the same telecommunications network. I just found him on our internal electronic address book. Our office e-mail addresses both end in @courts.state.ny.us. His telephone extension is 4677 and mine is 4685. But, you know what’s different? I can’t get pornography on my work computer, or at least not until now.
The court system has a firewall that excludes lots of stuff. For instance, access to Facebook, Jdate and other social networking sites is barred. That’s fine with me, especially considering my state of wedded bliss. Some rules, however, need a drop of nuance. America’s Favorite Epidemiologist has published many scholarly articles in her distinguished career. For a time, she focused on perinatal transmission of HIV and the efforts to curb the infection of newborns. When I tried to view an article she co-wrote on this subject, the court system’s firewall rejected the request because of the content – HIV, AIDS, sex, drugs, naughty, naughty, naughty. From now on, inspired by Judge Gibbons, I’ll be aiming for crotch and cleavage.
Lunch was at Lok Sing Seafood Restaurant, 290 Grand Street, with a shiny new exterior, but looking half-finished inside. Much more notable than the food was the location, Grand Street at the corner of Eldridge Street. Once upon a time, this location was closer to Kiev than Kunming, teeming with Eastern European Jews. Now, it’s simply a northeastern section of Chinatown.
A bit hungry after the modest portion of beef with orange flavor and the long walk, I bought one Dragon Fruit for $2.25, at $2.99 per pound. Dragon Fruits, I looked it up, are properly called pitaya, a fruit of the cactus family. They are covered by beautiful purplish red leaves with green tips. They are about the size and shape of a medium-sized cooking onion. You eat them by cutting off one end and peeling the skin back to reveal soft white flesh studded with black specks, poppy seeds if this were a bagel. There is no pit, so you can bite into it or scoop out the fruit. The texture and black seeds evoke comparison to kiwi. Mine was mildly sweet and I can say I finished it.
I returned to work today after more than a week of intense grandparenting and am happy to be back at my desk merely trying to please 50 judges of the New York State Supreme Court instead of trying to gain and maintain the attention and cooperation of one 2 ½ year old child. I remained upbeat in spite of the gloomy, damp, gray, gusty weather and the news that the New York City Department of Health has closed New Bo Ky Restaurant, 80 Bayard Street, visited on April 16, 2010, Sweet Spring Restaurant, 25A Catherine Street, visited on May 17, 2010, Chang Wang, 38A Allen Street, Gao Xin Seafood Restaurant, 31 Division Street and Golden House Chinese Restaurant, in Long Island City. The latter three I have not visited and may now never have the opportunity.
The weather dictated a bowl of soup and I chose to go back to Big Wong, 67 Mott Street, a favorite of many, but which impressed me more with value than flavor on March 17, 2010. I ordered soup with dumplings ($4.75) and got a medium-sized bowl of soup with 8 or so tasty dumplings. When I left Big Wong, I decided to add a second course to lunch by buying fruit from one of the vendors on the sidewalk around Canal and Mulberry Streets. The white peaches looked spectacular, ranging from 4 for $2.50 to 4 for $5 based on size. However, in complete contradiction to Starbuck’s, the smallest were large. Unfortunately, none of the white peaches of any size at any of three stands I approached were ready to eat. In fact, they were ready to drive nails. Instead, I bought pluots at 6 for $2, nice and juicy, ready to eat. Pluots, pronounced plew otz, are a cross between a plum and an apricot, tasting and looking more like a plum. There is also, but not in Chinatown at present, plucots, another cross between plums and apricots, favoring the apricot. I don’t recall ever having had a plucot actually.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Bonnie Glotzer tells how to avoid the Evil Eye when faced with the necessity of moving from a higher floor to a lower in the same building, a very risky maneuver. Leave your old apartment carrying a chair and take it down to the street. Sit on the chair on the sidewalk for a reasonable (lawyers say practicable) period of time. Then, enter your new apartment by ascending from the street rather than descending from above.
With former President Jimmy Carter (see note) in North Korea, it was no surprise that Thai Son Vietnamese Restaurant, 89 Baxter Street, was jammed at lunchtime with as many non-Asians as Asians. The Asians may have been Chinese or Vietnamese, but I’m not able to distinguish them. People were always waiting to be seated, although not for very long. The medium-sized, pleasantly-decorated restaurant handled diners quickly without rushing them. In fact, I had to go to the cashier to get my check after finishing my Cha Gio (spring rolls, 4 for $3.95) and Tai (beef soup with rice noodles and thinly-sliced eye of round, $5.50). Both were very good, the Tai leaning towards excellent. A dish with bean sprouts, lime wedges and mint leaves accompanied the soup, which was already aromatic with the scent of cilantro. I threw some of the stuff in the soup, but did not use any of the four sauces, soy, sweet, hot and hotter, on the table.
Note – Harry Truman used to insist that he was a former President while Herbert Hoover was an ex-President, during the Eisenhower years when both were still alive. The difference, according to Truman, was that Hoover had been defeated for re-election. By Truman's standard, Carter is an ex-president. What about a former wife and an ex-wife, then. Any comments?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
New Wong Rest. Inc., 103 East Broadway, is so new that the take-out menus by the cash register still read 103 E.B. Rest. Inc., which was okay because they seemed otherwise identical to the menus stacked on the tables. All the dozen or so tables were occupied, but usually by only one or two people. Pink predominated on most surfaces including the walls and the table tops. I was the only non-Chinese customer, but my English was clearly understood and service was prompt and polite. I had Singapore Chow Mei Fun ($6.25), a big portion of fine rice noodles, hot off the wok, cooked with shrimp, pork, egg, celery, green pepper, red pepper, green onion, and onion, with a mild curry flavor. Good job, New Wong.
Friday, August 27, 2010
A lead local news story today concerns James D. Gibbons, who abruptly resigned as a judge of the Criminal Court of New York City. While his affair with a Legal Aid attorney resulting in the recent birth of their son was well known, other factors apparently led to him leaving the bench. According to the New York Daily News and the New York Post, Judge Gibbons had pornography stored on his work computer, “lots of crotch and cleavage shots” said an unnamed investigator from the Manhattan DA’s office.
Why do I bring this up? Judge Gibbons’ work computer is the same as my work computer; we are part of the same enterprise, the same system, the same telecommunications network. I just found him on our internal electronic address book. Our office e-mail addresses both end in @courts.state.ny.us. His telephone extension is 4677 and mine is 4685. But, you know what’s different? I can’t get pornography on my work computer, or at least not until now.
The court system has a firewall that excludes lots of stuff. For instance, access to Facebook, Jdate and other social networking sites is barred. That’s fine with me, especially considering my state of wedded bliss. Some rules, however, need a drop of nuance. America’s Favorite Epidemiologist has published many scholarly articles in her distinguished career. For a time, she focused on perinatal transmission of HIV and the efforts to curb the infection of newborns. When I tried to view an article she co-wrote on this subject, the court system’s firewall rejected the request because of the content – HIV, AIDS, sex, drugs, naughty, naughty, naughty. From now on, inspired by Judge Gibbons, I’ll be aiming for crotch and cleavage.
Lunch was at Lok Sing Seafood Restaurant, 290 Grand Street, with a shiny new exterior, but looking half-finished inside. Much more notable than the food was the location, Grand Street at the corner of Eldridge Street. Once upon a time, this location was closer to Kiev than Kunming, teeming with Eastern European Jews. Now, it’s simply a northeastern section of Chinatown.
A bit hungry after the modest portion of beef with orange flavor and the long walk, I bought one Dragon Fruit for $2.25, at $2.99 per pound. Dragon Fruits, I looked it up, are properly called pitaya, a fruit of the cactus family. They are covered by beautiful purplish red leaves with green tips. They are about the size and shape of a medium-sized cooking onion. You eat them by cutting off one end and peeling the skin back to reveal soft white flesh studded with black specks, poppy seeds if this were a bagel. There is no pit, so you can bite into it or scoop out the fruit. The texture and black seeds evoke comparison to kiwi. Mine was mildly sweet and I can say I finished it.
Friday, August 20, 2010
The Book of the (20th) Century
What would be your choice for this distinction? "The Lord of the Rings" was voted to the top in a poll by a British bookstore chain. Americans over the age of 17 would probably prefer "The Great Gatsby." My cousin Allan might choose "The Fountainhead," while I lean towards "Goodbye Columbus." "Mein Kampf" has to be considered given the the cataclysm it foretold. Of course, there is Camus, Hemingway, Freud, among others who helped us look at the modern world.
The Book of the (20th) Century, however, and sadly unsung, is "How to Avoid the Evil Eye" by Brenda Z. Rosenbaum, published by St. Martin 's Press in 1985. It is apparently out of print, but that should not diminish the power of its ideas. It claims, in a self-deprecatory fashion, to be only a "collection of Jewish superstitions." But, can almost 5771 years of history be dismissed as the product of superstition?
Before I sample for you some of the wisdom of "How to Avoid the Evil Eye," allow me to locate the underlying concept as experienced by every Jewish child fortunate enough to grow up with at least one Yiddish-speaking grandparent. For illustrative purposes, I shall call our hearty, growing child Alan. From his earliest years of cognition, Alan heard adults, relatives and strangers alike, say "kinahora" when he was introduced into their presence. Kinahora, or some near-homophone, is a concatenation of the Yiddish phrase, "kein ayin hara" meaning no Evil Eye. The Evil Eye, as we all know, is the simultaneous sower and reaper of bad things, which must be avoided at all costs.
Children especially, given their limited physical and mental abilities, require protection from the Evil Eye and, thus, the frequent utterance of kinahora when dear, cute Alan appears. Sometimes, kinahora is spoken before anything else is said, because the mere sight of Alan causes a concerned adult to take prophylactic measures. More often, kinahora is spoken immediately after an adult utters a word or phrase of praise, admiration, or compliment, to immunize Alan from the danger that such positive attention places him in. The Evil Eye, after all, is drawn to people who are experiencing even a moment's good fortune and aims to lay them low. It doesn't take a winning lottery ticket to attract the Evil Eye, just Alan's Aunt Sophie saying, "He's so tall."
My dear friend Andy, of blessed memory, was a chubby child even before he was a chubby adult. He heard kinahora so often growing up that he was convinced it meant "What a fat kid."
Sometimes, it takes more than saying kinahora to ward off the Evil Eye. The Book of the (20th) Century teaches us:
Changing the name of a sick person diverts the Evil Eye. NB -- Mother Ruth Gotthelf bore the Jewish name Ruchel at birth, but, after a childhood illness, became Chaya Ruchel. Chaya is the female form of life; Chaim would be added for a male. See page 40.
Breaking dishes when an engagement is announced frightens off the Evil Eye that is attracted by a joyous event. P. 26.
To prevent a bad dream, put a prayer book under your pillow. P. 70.
To counteract the Evil Eye, put garlic in a child's ear. P. 19.
Fish arouse amorousness and should therefore be eaten on Friday night. P. 78.
News of serious illness is withheld for three days lest the Evil Eye cause the death of the invalid after overhearing talk of his weakened condition. P. 82.
In taking money out of a safe or purse, never remove all of it. Leave a coin or two for luck. P. 64.
To divert the glance of the Evil Eye, interesting objects may be hung between the eyes of the endangered person. P. 15.
Once a man sets out on a journey, he must not reenter his house if he has forgotten something. He should stand outside and ask to have it handed to him. Otherwise, the forces of the outside world might come into the house, and with them, bad luck. P. 76.
A person dies when he has used up the number of words allotted to him in his lifetime. P. 90.
It is bad luck to move to a lower floor in the same building. P. 55.
Birth can be eased by opening all chests, closets and doors in the house. P. 32.
Sneezing during prayer is a bad omen. P. 80.
If a child plays with his shadow, it will make him stupid. P. 50.
I gave Mother Ruth Gotthelf a copy of this book 25 years ago. She read it carefully, often saying, "That's right" at key passages. As you are no doubt aware, Mother Ruth Gotthelf is now 100 years old, kinahora!
Footnote to history: I was witness to a record-breaking performance on August 19, 2010 when Noam Webber, four days old, went out to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. This breaks the previous record, which I also witnessed, held by Nate Persily on July 10, 1970 at age seven days. Kinahora!
The Book of the (20th) Century, however, and sadly unsung, is "How to Avoid the Evil Eye" by Brenda Z. Rosenbaum, published by St. Martin 's Press in 1985. It is apparently out of print, but that should not diminish the power of its ideas. It claims, in a self-deprecatory fashion, to be only a "collection of Jewish superstitions." But, can almost 5771 years of history be dismissed as the product of superstition?
Before I sample for you some of the wisdom of "How to Avoid the Evil Eye," allow me to locate the underlying concept as experienced by every Jewish child fortunate enough to grow up with at least one Yiddish-speaking grandparent. For illustrative purposes, I shall call our hearty, growing child Alan. From his earliest years of cognition, Alan heard adults, relatives and strangers alike, say "kinahora" when he was introduced into their presence. Kinahora, or some near-homophone, is a concatenation of the Yiddish phrase, "kein ayin hara" meaning no Evil Eye. The Evil Eye, as we all know, is the simultaneous sower and reaper of bad things, which must be avoided at all costs.
Children especially, given their limited physical and mental abilities, require protection from the Evil Eye and, thus, the frequent utterance of kinahora when dear, cute Alan appears. Sometimes, kinahora is spoken before anything else is said, because the mere sight of Alan causes a concerned adult to take prophylactic measures. More often, kinahora is spoken immediately after an adult utters a word or phrase of praise, admiration, or compliment, to immunize Alan from the danger that such positive attention places him in. The Evil Eye, after all, is drawn to people who are experiencing even a moment's good fortune and aims to lay them low. It doesn't take a winning lottery ticket to attract the Evil Eye, just Alan's Aunt Sophie saying, "He's so tall."
My dear friend Andy, of blessed memory, was a chubby child even before he was a chubby adult. He heard kinahora so often growing up that he was convinced it meant "What a fat kid."
Sometimes, it takes more than saying kinahora to ward off the Evil Eye. The Book of the (20th) Century teaches us:
Changing the name of a sick person diverts the Evil Eye. NB -- Mother Ruth Gotthelf bore the Jewish name Ruchel at birth, but, after a childhood illness, became Chaya Ruchel. Chaya is the female form of life; Chaim would be added for a male. See page 40.
Breaking dishes when an engagement is announced frightens off the Evil Eye that is attracted by a joyous event. P. 26.
To prevent a bad dream, put a prayer book under your pillow. P. 70.
To counteract the Evil Eye, put garlic in a child's ear. P. 19.
Fish arouse amorousness and should therefore be eaten on Friday night. P. 78.
News of serious illness is withheld for three days lest the Evil Eye cause the death of the invalid after overhearing talk of his weakened condition. P. 82.
In taking money out of a safe or purse, never remove all of it. Leave a coin or two for luck. P. 64.
To divert the glance of the Evil Eye, interesting objects may be hung between the eyes of the endangered person. P. 15.
Once a man sets out on a journey, he must not reenter his house if he has forgotten something. He should stand outside and ask to have it handed to him. Otherwise, the forces of the outside world might come into the house, and with them, bad luck. P. 76.
A person dies when he has used up the number of words allotted to him in his lifetime. P. 90.
It is bad luck to move to a lower floor in the same building. P. 55.
Birth can be eased by opening all chests, closets and doors in the house. P. 32.
Sneezing during prayer is a bad omen. P. 80.
If a child plays with his shadow, it will make him stupid. P. 50.
I gave Mother Ruth Gotthelf a copy of this book 25 years ago. She read it carefully, often saying, "That's right" at key passages. As you are no doubt aware, Mother Ruth Gotthelf is now 100 years old, kinahora!
Footnote to history: I was witness to a record-breaking performance on August 19, 2010 when Noam Webber, four days old, went out to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. This breaks the previous record, which I also witnessed, held by Nate Persily on July 10, 1970 at age seven days. Kinahora!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Thirty-Second Week
Monday, August 9, 2010
Pho Cho Ben Thanh, 76 Mott Street, on an unplanned second visit when it was 92 degrees, was losing its battle to keep the restaurant cool, even though it deployed several air-conditioning units, portable and fixed, and a couple of floor fans. I decided to endure the warm environment rather than face the hot streets right then. I ordered Bo Xao Sate, it loses a lot without the accents, sauteed beef with "Sate" sauce ($8.75). Besides thin slices of beef, the dish contained pea pods, bean sprouts, bamboo shoots, straw mushrooms, celery, carrots, baby corn, green peppers and red peppers, all cooked in a peppery sauce. This dish further disproved the mtheory, proposed by David Goldfarb, among others, that all of Chinatown is serviced by one kitchen, although as a Vietnamese restaurant, it might be in a different niche. In any case, I have countered that there are many kitchens, but one menu printer. "Sate" here is meant to convey satay, a sauce/preparation that I have found and tried in several other joints, always with different results. Wet, dry, sweetish sauce, today peppery sauce, on a stick, without garnish, today with a vegetable garden included. At New Malaysia Restaurant, I was thrilled and delighted by what I was served as satay, while at Nyonya Malaysian Cuisine it was just okay. Listen guys, let’s turn to http://www.epicurious.com/tools/fooddictionary/strategy, or something similar to better identify our concoctions.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hong Kong Station, 45 Bayard Street (also at 45 Division Street) has a do-it-yourself angle. You place your order at a counter in the neat, boxy room by picking from a wide array of choices starting with one of 10 noodles or rice with every element priced separately. I picked Ho Fun, a flat rice noodle (same as Chow Fun, my favorite) ($2). I added curry fish balls ($1.45), mushrooms ($1.45), and two fried eggs, cooked to order ($1.45). They added broth and then a shot of garlic sauce and a spoonful of parsley and scallions. With a can of Diet Coke, it came to $7.85. It was very good, although I could not help splashing myself several times even using a soup ladle to eat with. Other ingredients included tofu, squid balls, beef pancreas, beef stomach, chicken wings, Spam and pork intestines.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Shanghai Asian Manor, 21 Mott Street, previously visited on April 26, 2010, was an all around winner this time. With the temperature at 90 degrees or so outside, the air conditioning inside was absolutely delicious. The scallion pancake was near-perfect ($2.25). It had been lightly deep-fried, but was almost grease-free. My only complaint was the too small serving of the something-like soy sauce served on the side. Cold sesame noodles were very good ($4), but not in the league with the scallion pancake. Service, unlike my previous visit, was first rate.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I had lunch with Howard, a senior colleague, who, in spite of working at the courthouse for 30 years or so, had a limited knowledge of Chinatown. We went to Dim Sum Go Go, 5 East Broadway, the premier dim sum joint for one or two people. The only problem we encountered resulted from our behavior in ordering extra dishes (no rolling carts) from different waiters as they scurried by. The result was some confusion and spring rolls showing up after we paid the check. A delight otherwise.
Friday, August 13, 2010
I’m not superstitious, but I’m going to CitiField tonight to see the Mets play the Phillies. If there was ever an occasion to call upon the forces of mystery, this is it. I decided to prepare for the game with a special meal, so I went to Yong Gee, 104 Mott Street (previously visited on March 18, 2010) for Peking duck, which they serve by the half duck for $15.99. It was okay. The duck was not fat-free and the pancakes were not pancakes, but rather 4 inch spongy discs about ½ inch thick. The waiter made each of the six packages with sauce, cucumber and green onions and arranged the two legs on the remaining greens. I later gave the fortune cookie to my officemate Michael.
America’s Favorite Epidemiologist and I are going to Massachusetts this weekend to await the arrival of Boaz’s younger brother. This is a very happy time for all of us save some Chinatown restauranteurs who will need new revenue sources.
Pho Cho Ben Thanh, 76 Mott Street, on an unplanned second visit when it was 92 degrees, was losing its battle to keep the restaurant cool, even though it deployed several air-conditioning units, portable and fixed, and a couple of floor fans. I decided to endure the warm environment rather than face the hot streets right then. I ordered Bo Xao Sate, it loses a lot without the accents, sauteed beef with "Sate" sauce ($8.75). Besides thin slices of beef, the dish contained pea pods, bean sprouts, bamboo shoots, straw mushrooms, celery, carrots, baby corn, green peppers and red peppers, all cooked in a peppery sauce. This dish further disproved the mtheory, proposed by David Goldfarb, among others, that all of Chinatown is serviced by one kitchen, although as a Vietnamese restaurant, it might be in a different niche. In any case, I have countered that there are many kitchens, but one menu printer. "Sate" here is meant to convey satay, a sauce/preparation that I have found and tried in several other joints, always with different results. Wet, dry, sweetish sauce, today peppery sauce, on a stick, without garnish, today with a vegetable garden included. At New Malaysia Restaurant, I was thrilled and delighted by what I was served as satay, while at Nyonya Malaysian Cuisine it was just okay. Listen guys, let’s turn to http://www.epicurious.com/tools/fooddictionary/strategy, or something similar to better identify our concoctions.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hong Kong Station, 45 Bayard Street (also at 45 Division Street) has a do-it-yourself angle. You place your order at a counter in the neat, boxy room by picking from a wide array of choices starting with one of 10 noodles or rice with every element priced separately. I picked Ho Fun, a flat rice noodle (same as Chow Fun, my favorite) ($2). I added curry fish balls ($1.45), mushrooms ($1.45), and two fried eggs, cooked to order ($1.45). They added broth and then a shot of garlic sauce and a spoonful of parsley and scallions. With a can of Diet Coke, it came to $7.85. It was very good, although I could not help splashing myself several times even using a soup ladle to eat with. Other ingredients included tofu, squid balls, beef pancreas, beef stomach, chicken wings, Spam and pork intestines.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Shanghai Asian Manor, 21 Mott Street, previously visited on April 26, 2010, was an all around winner this time. With the temperature at 90 degrees or so outside, the air conditioning inside was absolutely delicious. The scallion pancake was near-perfect ($2.25). It had been lightly deep-fried, but was almost grease-free. My only complaint was the too small serving of the something-like soy sauce served on the side. Cold sesame noodles were very good ($4), but not in the league with the scallion pancake. Service, unlike my previous visit, was first rate.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I had lunch with Howard, a senior colleague, who, in spite of working at the courthouse for 30 years or so, had a limited knowledge of Chinatown. We went to Dim Sum Go Go, 5 East Broadway, the premier dim sum joint for one or two people. The only problem we encountered resulted from our behavior in ordering extra dishes (no rolling carts) from different waiters as they scurried by. The result was some confusion and spring rolls showing up after we paid the check. A delight otherwise.
Friday, August 13, 2010
I’m not superstitious, but I’m going to CitiField tonight to see the Mets play the Phillies. If there was ever an occasion to call upon the forces of mystery, this is it. I decided to prepare for the game with a special meal, so I went to Yong Gee, 104 Mott Street (previously visited on March 18, 2010) for Peking duck, which they serve by the half duck for $15.99. It was okay. The duck was not fat-free and the pancakes were not pancakes, but rather 4 inch spongy discs about ½ inch thick. The waiter made each of the six packages with sauce, cucumber and green onions and arranged the two legs on the remaining greens. I later gave the fortune cookie to my officemate Michael.
America’s Favorite Epidemiologist and I are going to Massachusetts this weekend to await the arrival of Boaz’s younger brother. This is a very happy time for all of us save some Chinatown restauranteurs who will need new revenue sources.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
I am deeply chagrined
I am deeply chagrined at the conduct of the New York Times. They failed to print the self-explanatory letter below, leaving uncorrected a significant error in the use of the mama loshen.
To the Editor:
Dominque Browning's review of The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman contains this serious misstatement about a character in the novel: "Rabbi Helfgott (whose name handily translates a 'With the Help of God')." Whether in Yiddish or German, Helfgott does not translate thus. In German, it appears to be the imperative "Help God," because helf is the root of the irregular verb helfen, to help. In Yiddish, the tenor and cadence of the voice, and the accompanying hand movements while speaking must be considered when offering a translation, but, even in simple black and white, Helfgott does not mean With the Help of God. One might say Gott zu helfn to convey that meaning.
Note that Cantor Yitzchok Meir Helfgot, who has appeared at Lincoln Center and other secular venues along with many orthodox synagogues around the world, considers his name "literally translated as someone who helps G-d."
Alan Gotthelf
To the Editor:
Dominque Browning's review of The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman contains this serious misstatement about a character in the novel: "Rabbi Helfgott (whose name handily translates a 'With the Help of God')." Whether in Yiddish or German, Helfgott does not translate thus. In German, it appears to be the imperative "Help God," because helf is the root of the irregular verb helfen, to help. In Yiddish, the tenor and cadence of the voice, and the accompanying hand movements while speaking must be considered when offering a translation, but, even in simple black and white, Helfgott does not mean With the Help of God. One might say Gott zu helfn to convey that meaning.
Note that Cantor Yitzchok Meir Helfgot, who has appeared at Lincoln Center and other secular venues along with many orthodox synagogues around the world, considers his name "literally translated as someone who helps G-d."
Alan Gotthelf
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