Enid's Brunch:Catfish

Catfish & grits & drunken beans/rice. 

Wonderful & took half home!!

Fish Tacos at Lodge and City Reliquary

I read about a storytelling event at City Reliquary.

I read about it at 5, the event was at 7.

I bought a ticket at 6:30 ($5), and looked at the collection of Statues of Liberties. They didn't have mine.

And I walked around the block. Knitting Factory on Metropolitan.

And Lodge on Grand.  Facing the sunset.

I ordered the Delta Blue. Blueberry infused vodka and lemonade.  It tasted like being 8 yrs old.

I love Sarah Vowell, mostly by way of This American Life. But now, whenever I think of Sondheim's Assasins or any other dead president lost to history, I'll think of her.  The entire book is like hearing the voice of a snarky 8 yr old giving you running commentary in your 3rd grade history class. While drinking an alcoholic beverage right on a street in Brooklyn before attending an event inside a storefront that contains souveneir crap from NYC.

I think this is the original wedding cake belonging to Miss Havisham's (Aka Eliza Jumel, of the mansion on 163rd)

Fish tacos came and went. Amazing. Mango and cilantro and onion salsa, why is this so hard to recreate in the suburbs of Boston?

The space for the event.

Best jokes:

Discovering a math teacher eating 2 hits dogs at the same time.

Pranking people on 3 way calls by making them think they called each other (must try this!!)

Note guy with dog, above.

And awesomely decorated bathroom, below.

Esme Brunch

"They're going to Swaziland,"

"What's Swaziland?"

"A country in Africa,"

"I know that. Why are they going?"

"They've been to Africa before, although this seems so random,"

Chopped Salmon Patty Benedict 

And Pimm's

And $4 bottomless coffee.

"If you like Pina Coladas"

"I miss the rains down in Africa"

Anella, Avocado Toast Heaven

"Wanna check out the garden?" a guy with a beard and spiked hair held a menu up in the air and smiled.  He looked like a friend of mine I hadn't seen (or kissed) in a while, so I followed him.

It is easily 90 degrees on a Sunday morning, and I'm at Green & Franklin. Inside Anella's.  Brooklyn Label has reinvented itself as a funky French place, but I just had a Pate Slider (!!!) there for Happy Hour a few nights ago.  Naked Dog has decided not to do lunch or brunch for August.  I keep checking on the restaurant across the street which seems cute but never seems to be open (at least not when I want to eat).

I like the breeze from the river, but after a few blocks, the sun is mean.

All I want is Air Conditioning.

Greenpoint Reformed Church (Milton & Manhattan) has Black Lives Matter, a rainbow flag, a bouncy house and a Tiny Library. They also had a service at 11, which is always followed by some event. Since I didn't feel like pushing the kids out of the bouncy way, I wandered off for caffeine, alcohol and eggs.  It's a five block meander and I'm ready to sit at the 6 top in the front window.

But I walk through the darkness, feeling the fans and I see the bright yellow corrugated steel wall. I'm reading Bright Shiny Morning by James Frey (I know, A million Little Frey Lies, etc) It's a book about LA, and this "garden" could be a place in West Hollywood.  I'm undecided about his first book and will go through my life not reading it, but I like the idea of hanging out inside this current book.  I like these people and I like to imagine that Venice Beach is just beyond the wall.

Abba sings to take a chance on them.  And a few minutes later, there is a very soulful rendition of some pop hit, much better than the familiar version. Don't walk on by, just let me grieve.

There are 2 girls under a table umbrella, one with an artificial eyelash line. The church readings ended the long & dreary book of Job today.  (I don't blame the pastors for ducking out on this one) Job named his new daughters, Dove, Cinnamon and Eyeshadow.  Is he on fleek or what?

There is a couple next to me, living together, probably together, discussing something. I catch that something was said casually and that this conversation is spent exploring the boundaries of where offense might have been taken. 1 sentence and 10 minutes of graceful and sensitive backpedaling.  My kinda people.

2 tiny sparrows steal a romantic moment at a nearby table; one sitting on a raw sugar bowl and feeding crystals to the other. The other flaps his/her wings for more. Mating or baby bird behavior, I'm not sure. And what happens to tiny birds on a sugar high? Its slightly gross, but hey, pizza rat wasn't this sweet. And we all gotta eat.

I get a Peach Bellini in a breast-shaped champagne glass.  And a coffee in a giant cup.  My kinda people.

The girl of the couple turns to me and asks about the book, just as I get my food.  I'm not terribly hungry (and not paying attention). I get into a whole discussion with them about the thin line between him and truth and Mike Daisey on This American Life and how Christine Amanpor says she "doesn't strive to be neutral, she strives for the truth" (It takes me a minute to realize where I know that name from.  She a famous journalist--by way of Gilmor Girls)  And how nothng in the world is objective truth.  And how it is great to find books on stoops and pass them along to other people.

We exchange emails and I agree to meet her (and I suspect I will) to hand off the book, in exchange for her handing me something that she's read. (I'm a sucker for ANY new books).

They leave and I turn to my AMAZING plate of Avocado Toast.  This plate is at LEAST 75% covered in avocado (mixed with garlic and lime and onions in exactly the right proportions).  It looks like 10 died for me to be this kind of blissful (okay, at least 3).  Also 2 eggs and toast underneath somewhere.

I put down my interesting book.  There is a sex scene between 2 people that everyone has been rooting for, and the author interrupts it in a stereotypical and mean way.  He is not better than avocados.

On my way home, I wander into the Second Hand Store that keeps dusty books along its shelves. I find 9 AMAZING books I have always wanted my entire life.  I pay $50 for 9 of them.

I put aside the stoop book and start spending some time inside another book, the author of which claims to take me Walking With Greta Garbo.

I prefer to be alone.  With my avocados.

Duck Confit Benedict: Brooklyn Label

Even on a rainy Sunday morning, Brooklyn Label is open at 9am.  (One of the few in the neighborhood)

I saw a Pork Confit.  And other omelettes, but DUCK always catches my attention.

Although I was happy to be eating and reading and taking notes in my favorite setting, all at the same time.  And plenty of coffee.

And I was so distracted by my current thoughts, about how I cannot bear to TALK in the morning.  Especially not to my Mom, who is so eager to talk to someone kind.  She agreed to be married to my father, and he died.  And I am left to take his place.  And for that very reason, I cannot bear to be civil, to be in a relationship that I find to be a compromise.  Not until I've had my coffee and eggs, anyways.

Also, that Greenpoint has tangible delicious ideas everywhere.  The books bloom like flowers (except on these rainy days, when they hibernate at other homes, and where maybe they get read today).  Books lay about everywhere, brilliant people, too clever for their own good.  Clever and beautiful book covers.  More beautiful for the serendipity.

Yesterday, between the bagel place and the Korean grocery, I found the history of Western Music, a (waterlogged from the bath )Jhumpa Lahiri on the doorway of that ever evolving storefront. And a book that was heartily recommended to me by my former boss.  The last time I had seen this book (Hooked), I was still interested in letting my boss impress me.

Today, to my delight, I would discover a Tiny Library in the spot in the yard of the Reformed Church, where we used to serve coffee. Laurel and Hardy and Possessed, with Roz Chast cartoons reflecting people who loved Russian literature.  (Which maybe will impress my current coworker?)

I was so distracted by these thoughts, and by the idea that the Bookstore is perfectly located for a visit. (Harry potter and the Evil Child-I thought that title was a joke).  There was a line and I didn't buy the beautiful version of Hamilton for $45.

The pork was more delicate than I had ever remembered, delicious.  And then I remembered that I had ordered the Duck.  And as for Duck, it was delicious.

Ye Olde Cottage Restaurante, Weston

This place has the BEST fries.

And the burgers are incredible as well.

I had to ask for pickles, but they were brought promptly.

I have to admit, this is my favorite place, genuine and NOT a chain or fancy pants place. Nothing arrogant, just a lovely family run diner.

I love going there just because it seems like a nice escape from the other lunch choices in the neighborhood.

Suburban Food in MA

For work lunch everyday, I pretty much have salads.

I've been trying not to eat the food of my childhood.  But I get a craving for a diet coke every now & then. And sometimes the triggers cannot be avoided.