Tired

Too tired to write b/c must rise ultra-early to complete article deadline, then go get Figgy and L. from camp with Moey--their 13 days are up at 11 A.M.! And the drive each way is about 2.5 hours.

Can't help but be worried about Dad, who looked quite frail and weak today. God rest ye merry gentleman, let nothing you dismay.

Have great foodie story for tomorrow's post.

Good night. :)

The Chocolate Odyssey Continues

Beautiful, bar none.

Today I went to H.'s and my physician, Dr. B., whose office happens to be on East 85th Street, near Madison Avenue. [Read: Coach store right on corner.] I like to walk all the way there from the Port Authority--it takes almost an hour--but we had a meeting with our contractor at the house this morning, so I had to take a cab most of the way. However, did walk back. And oh, what a rich walk it was, as always.

Uptown Girl
Here's the prime real estate. Across from Coach is Dean & DeLuca. Can easily spend an hour there, just studying the products, the names, the places they're made [dairy products from upstate, a sack of frozen biscuits from the South]. I pick them up, feel their heft, study their lofty price tags, put them back. Or occasionally buy them. After all, consumer reporting is my specialty. I love it.

Today, I drank in the beautiful view of carefully arranged sweets, as I've often done before. Rich, dense brownies; dainty, sugar-dusted cookies [$26 per pound]; homemade chocolate sandwich treats, a spin-off on the Oreo but better, of course. Two Red Hens red velvet cupcakes in their pleated skirts with swirly caps and Black Hound's signature Busy Bee Cake, with baby bees made from marzipan and almond petals. Ample S&S cheesecake wedges [they sure looked good] and MarieBelle toffee. Whimsical marshmallows, luxe Christopher Norman Chocolates, chocolate babka and roly-poly doughnuts with the filling [jelly or cream] oozing out.

But there, among the stash, something new to my very experienced chocolate lover's eye: Mast Brothers Chocolate, made in Brooklyn.

Wrapsody in Dark
What drew me in first was the way the 2.5-ounce artisanal bars are wrapped--like gifts in thoughtfully chosen paper. The Almonds & Sea Salt version was particularly alluring, in crisp white paper strewn with little red and navy anchors. Chips, I mean Ships Ahoy! The corners are perfectly folded, like a dream gift you might find in your Christmas stocking.


Surprise
The kind young man behind the counter happened to have cocoa-brown skin.

How's this brand? I asked, picking up a bar. Have you ever tried it?
No, I haven't. But we can open one so you can sample it.
Wow, thanks. Great. You have to try it, too!

I thought he'd break off a tiny, tiny piece for me--the size of the samples today at Vosges Haut Chocolat on Madison and Godiva at the AOL Time Warner Center [not so at La Maison du Chocolat; the man there offered me a full-size piece.] But bless his heart, the D&D fellow in white gave me a row of four little segments. I was sold.
It's dark, 70 percent cacao, wonderful and deep. I can't wait to go back. So what if I used up my cash and then was sweating to death on the long walk back to the Port, with no dough left for a bottle of water? That's how I live my food life, close to the edge. Plenty of ice water back at home.


Here's the link: www.mastbrotherschocolate.com. I'd love to write more about this, but have a busy lifeday and workday tomorrow, starting with leaving at 6:30 A.M. to tuck in a visit to Dad first. Sure hope my right front tire with slow leak does not go flat. 


Signing off more cultured for today's find!

Apricots!

Food or beauty?

I'm a cookbook lover, and own all the best cookbooks and food memoirs. One of Ruth Reichl's had a recipe for some pie, I think, that she made with fresh apricots, and, if memory serves, almond paste. Alas, most of my books are in storage, so....

Giada to the Rescue
But I do have a couple of of beautiful Giada's equally beautiful cookbooks here at the condo, so I looked at one recipe she had for Peaches Stuffed with Amaretti Cookies. I didn't have peaches, nor amaretti cookies, nor Amaretto, but I just used her technique for pitting and halving the fruit and baking it, skin side down, in the oven. I topped it with some little chunks of salted Breakstone's butter, the contents of three IHOP sugar packets [don't ask] and a drizzle of pure vanilla, then baked at 375 for maybe 30 minutes. So fragrant and juicy. Ate with a fat tablespoon or two of Ciao Bella Roasted Hazelnut Gelato [on sale, $2.50 per pint] in my favorite blue-and-white china bowl.
I feel so virtuous! I am generally not a fruit lover, unless you count Godiva dark-chocolate-dipped apricots, which are way overpriced per piece, anyway.

Apricots-and-Cream Skin
But back to when I bought the plump, ripe, soft, pretty apricots [$4.99 per pound, $4.44 for five generously sized ones].

I thought about their beauty as I chose them, selected one above another, and slipped them into the plastic bag. Wow, is that what they mean when they say 'She has peaches-and-cream skin'? I know these are apricots, but still...imagine if a girl had skin as soft, pure, natural and flawless as this? God's gift to a girl. I can just picture some young man laying claim to her, setting his sights on her. She would surely be a prize possession.

When I passed the Dove soap on an aisle end a minute later, was tempted to buy that too, so I could have beautiful, apricot skin.

And that's my stream-of-consciousness post for the day. Sweet night. I just know that when I wake up in the morning, my skin will look radiant.

Hard Truths & Soft Landings

Hard Truths:

• You are a work in progress. And today, your very human self may or may not have eaten too many lightly salted nuts and dark M&Ms--even though inner voice [and imagined kind voices of boot camp leader, Patsy, and boot camp friends, Heidi and Nicky] told you to just leave them on the CVS shelves and walk away. At some level, you knew that crunching the sweet and salty morsels between teeth would feel good, empowering even, on a day with many weighty tasks and problems you wished could disappear. Can't fix the world but can shatter brittle, brightly colored M&M shells and knobby cashews with a fierce bite. [What do you think you are, a squirrel fattening up for the winter? Fortifying yourself against anxiety, sadness and pain?]
• Bad feelings haunt you for a while. Regrets don't fade fast. They're like ugly gray beasts that slink around following you, trying to ruin your day. And the thing is, you can't make them disappear. They are regretful precisely because they're in the past and you can't change them, only the way you look at them.
• The more negative you are, the more the beasts will trail you.
• Inevitably, others will disappoint you and you will disappoint others. Perhaps most painful of all, sometimes you will disappoint yourself. 

Soft Landings:

• A friend who listens is a graceful gift.
• So is forgiveness, and you really have to remember to give that gift to yourself, not just to others.
• Every single day, hour, minute and breath is a new chance to turn and face the sun.
• No one is perfect. 
• It will be all right.

Night Visitors

A lot of near [or total] misses today:

1. Really wanted to go back to St. Cassian in Montclair for noon Mass, but when I got there, the church was locked, sign on glass door said Sunday Masses in summer changed to 7:30, 9 and 11. There's an 8:15 every weekday morning, so planning to go tomorrow if can drag self out of bed. Need to quietly contemplate Dad, on polished pew with view of stained-glass windows, the better to stare into and think by.
2. Was determined to see Dad today b/c probably won't make it there tomorrow--busy day with long appt in NYC and articles to write, fact-finding to do for next assignments. Went to my favorite greenhouse/florist, Bartlett's in Clifton, and got this pretty set of three mason jars in a metal holder, and had them filled with black-eyed Susans. But little Punch came over to play today, and H. and I didn't drop her back home till about 8 P.M., so by the time we got to the hospital, it was close to 8:45 and poor Dad was sleeping. It felt kind of crazy going in to darken his door then, but we told him we love him and will visit again soon, and that we were leaving the flowers on his windowsill, where he could see them.  
3. It wasn't a total miss, b/c just seeing him is settling and reassuring. Also, got to check in with Diana, today's nurse, for update on situation--her shift was 3 to 11. It always feels better to have the staff see the family behind the person, to remind them that he is not an anonymous old man passing through, that he's more than notes and numbers on a chart--although of course they've also seen Sis, Don, Will, Figgy, Moey, Pepsi and Anne. I always let Dad know, too, that I'm going to check in at the nurses' station and see how he's been doing. I also like to tidy up his room and rolling tray a little. But. I think this week, I have to summon up my courage and talk to him about how much I love him and do not want him to die. As in ever--though I know that's impossible.
4. Almost did not get back in time for Mad Men at 10 P.M., but did. Best show ever.

Pretty little miss: Punch. It was so good to see her. I love giving her a bubble bath, and she loves taking one. We pretend I'm walking along the beach and come upon a little mermaid and am surprised and scared. I used to play the same game with Figgy. Punch told me her name is Ariel, her friend is Eric, they collect seaweed for dinner, and the mommy mermaid is right over there. She also told me about a mermaid named Figgy, who is her sister. 

As I stood by, adding bubbles, checking water temperature, reminding her not to drink the bathwater, I remembered a rhyme I made up for Figgy. It just came back to me. I elaborated on it, with a real pearl and hand gestures. The tiled bathroom floor was my stage. I can be shy about performing, but not when the captive audience is one imp who is small, naked, wet and completely enthralled.

I'm a girl

My name is Pearl [point to cultured pearl on my necklace]

I'm in the world

I have a curl [twist one of my fat curls]

I like to twirl [spin around once, holding hem of skirt]

My ice cream's swirled [use hand to demo soft, swirly custard coming out of machine into cone]

My flag's unfurled.

I taught Punch what unfurled means. She was so cute. She listened and watched every hand gesture closely--soap bar poised mid-air--just as Figgy always did, so she could take in the words and repeat them. I did it many times. I knew it was something she'd take home with her, along with the pink box of Barbie fruit snacks she chose with H. at Stop & Shop.

This wordplay is a gift from my Dad--he has always made up funny phrases and sayings and names, especially when we were kids. He closely observes life and distills things into a few clever words. So now his gift is shared again. And not watered down after all those years, but every bit as entertaining. 

Good night.

I Want to Be French

Random thought: I would love to be French. All navy-and-white-striped boatnecks, slim skirts, head scarves, fresh baguettes peeking out of my chic grocery bag. Chemises. Pretty little flat red shoes to help me zip around the city. Swim on the Riviera, sip coffee in Paris under the Eiffel Tower at night, be effortlessly lovely. Years ago, I read French Women Don't Get Fat and When French Women Cook, and liked them both very much. Have yet to try a recipe but still can. Can barely speak any French words--except Quiche Lorraine, apple pie à la mode, petit four and maybe a few others. Notice that all three of those involve pastry.
But Figgy is taking French! Maybe I can jet to Paris on her very chic coattails one day. Au revoir.


P.S. Youth definitely is wasted on the young. When I was about 23, my boss handed me an invitation to go to the French Embassy in NYC after work for the launch of Catherine Deneuve's fragrance, Deneuve. [That's the actress, pictured above.] I went, and there was the lady herself. I was so green and uninformed--and the internet didn't exist, so I couldn't just google the name before scooting over. I should have been in complete awe but instead was completely in the dark. Regretful now, especially in my wanting-to-be-French phase. I don't even remember what she was wearing!