June 06, 2010

From Brooklyn to Baltimore & Sunday Supper

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Merci.

De rein.

...

I hunched and squinted. I pressed play again and again. No matter how many times I looked over, looked over, looked over, it continued to vibrate and rattle. That damn painters tape worked three hours ago, why isn't it working now? Do re-in...de reeyen...duh ray on...ugh. I can't hear myself think.

Apple > sleep.

AC off.

...

Roberto made frittata. Zucchini and potato. Three eggs. It's more about the filling than the egg, frittata. Slid onto a plate. Covered with another plate.

I prepped salad. Oak leaf and other from the garden. Rinsed four times. Cucumber, tomato, carrot, red onion. Covered. Into the fridge.

Red sauce. Basil from the garden. On the stove.
...

From Brooklyn they brought bread, fresh from the bakery this morning. Two large loaves. $3 each. Unbelievable (don't get me started on Baltimore bread—sore subject). Roasted ceci and 90% dark  from the Chelsea Market. We've been away from New York City, Brooklyn, far too long. I wish we had gone this weekend, I had said again and again and again. I was a broken record before, during and after. I hope we go soon...but, I've already said that.

Just a three hour drive from Brooklyn. They made great time.

Roberto dropped the pasta at 15 minutes to 1:00.

By 1:00 there were four bowls filled with ziti and homemade sauce, a pile of spring onions, freshly grated cheese and two bottles of red open on the table.

By 1:08 we were clearing bowls, tossing salad, slicing frittata, reaching for bread, and jabbing olives with fork tines.

By 1:45 we were cracking open peanuts and spitting cherry pits onto our plates.

By 1:50 we were opening the bag of roasted ceci.

By 2:00 the dishwasher was loaded, the coffee was brewing, and Roberto's parents had made their way back across the street with a bag of cherries.

"They're already washed." I said.

...

Dark rain clouds overhead, but nothing substantial falling. Wind, birds, police helicopters, screaming kids, random firecrackers, a communion prosession down our street...a chaotic clusterfuck (pardon my French) of activity.

Sunday.

13 comments:

  1. merci pour ces posts aussi savoureux à lire qu'à regarder:)
    do you speak french?
    despite of the clouds, you had a lovely light for the photos and so much sun in your plates!

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  2. your post made me laugh, especially the "french" part of it....:)

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  3. Tracy, that sounds like the day I wish I would have had.

    Only 3 hours from B'more to Brooklyn? Really?

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  4. Such beautiful photos, as usual. The frittata looks wonderful. And about bread, having left NY two years ago, I can't tell you how much I miss the variety of Chelsea Market!

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  5. Are you a Brooklyn girl? Beautiful photo journey of a beautiful afternoon.

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  6. Loving that French word you sneaked in.

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  7. Those loaves, that frittata and those precious hours with you. That one of the table set for eating is perhaps my favourite but hell, they're all amazing photos.

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  8. Elisabelle - I am learning French for our trip to Quebec this summer. My tongue often gets twisted.

    M. - Ah, the frustrations of learning a new language.

    Wendi - The day and food materialized quite organically. Not much planning which is quite rare for us.

    Katie - I know that on our next visit we will most likely be leaving the market with far more than we can carry.

    Michele - Roberto's brother lives in Brooklyn. We visit when we can. I miss it every time we leave. There's just something about NY.

    Kath - :)

    Vanessa - Thanks, everything was so last minute yesterday. Just glad that my camera battery was charged and that the dark clouds saw fit to part for a little while.

    Amelia - Thank you. Can you tell that I wish I was Italian? :)

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  9. ceci!! That frittata looks amazing, so many colors.

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  10. We had frittata for supper, it wasn't as handsome as yours, I was in a bad mood when i made it which is never good. Talking of handsome that bread and those cherries - they are just apearing here too.

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  11. gorgeous frittata---so true, it's all about the filling, the egg just there as binder. keep up with the barrage of images, great writing, I got the whole clusterfuckin-Brooklyn picture.

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