Surviving Sandy

What do you do when you're stuck inside for 48 hours because of an approaching hurricane? Apparently, anything you want. Popcorn for lunch? Sure. Movies all day? Why not? Yesterday was such a calm, relaxing day that I barely noticed the rain and winds picking up. We were just chillin' at home with everyone safe inside which gave me great comfort. Maybe that's why all I wanted to do was eat all day.  Seriously, I had an insane amount of food just waiting to get cooked, so that I did.  We had french toast, eggs and bacon for breakfast followed by leftover brisket, potatoes, carrots and cauliflower gratin for lunch.  By dinner time I wasn't even sure I could eat again, but I managed to roast a pork tenderloin and some brussel sprouts.  Yes, this "perfect storm" was wreaking havoc in my stomach if not the neighborhood. Elisa was happy to have a full audience for her dancing shenanigans and Carolina bounded around the apartment like she owned the place. Pretty much business as usual, except it wasn't.  There were very high winds rattling the windows and shaking the walls, but I was determined to keep the drama inside down. I don't think Elisa is a worry wart, but I really didn't want to talk too much about the storm in front of her. All she knew was that school was closed and there was a lot of wind and rain coming.  Fortunately, the day passed peacefully and by 6 p.m. we visited our neighbors downstairs for an impromptu playdate just before dinner. The winds picked up after dark and by the time I put the girls down around 8:30 p.m., it was blowing pretty good out there. 

Somehow the sense that families all over the city were in the same boat was also comforting. We were all going through this "together" in a way, and I turned to Facebook for much of the day to get a sense of how things were progressing. It's an amazing benefit of social media that we can simultaneously experience something like a major storm and share our thoughts, find humor in the crazy circumstances, and sometimes rage against the injustices. I'll never forget the surreal image of Jane's Carousel on the Brooklyn waterfront completely surrounded by lapping water yet aglow in the stormy night.  Hearing that 1/3 of Manhattan had lost power, that houses in Breezy Point were on fire, and that places like NYU Hospital--where Elisa was born into the NICU--were evacuating in the middle of the storm brought home the immensity of this storm.  And it reminded me that we were very lucky to be sitting in a warm, well lit apartment 6 floors up on the high ground in Queens. It's definitely times like that when I realize home ownership is not always a better option, especially when you hear that most of Long Island and the outlying suburbs are facing days, if not weeks, without power. 

By 11:30 p.m.  Nacho and I went to bed with cautious optimism that the worst was over. And by early morning, I felt relief when I could barely hear the wind outside. Waking up today around 7:30 a.m., I was glad to see the rain lifting and the trees hardly moving. Lots of friends began posting pics of the fallen trees in Sunnyside Gardens which damaged several cars but thankfully no houses or people. Even amidst this destruction and the loss of some truly majestic trees, I feel so fortunate that most of the people and places I care about were okay. It could have been much, much worse. But for now, we wait for the city to dry out and start the trains again. Nacho almost got stuck waiting the storm out in Chicago, but he thankfully declined the trip and took the consequences of that. Seeing Laguardia underwater still, and knowing it will be a few more days before planes are landing here again, makes me realize we were very lucky to have him home with us this whole week. I don't know if Elisa will remember much about this storm, but I know it will be something I look back on in years to come with a strange sense of reprieve.  For our family, Sandy wasn't as bad as I feared, but for some in this city we call home, it was much worse.  How fickle fate can be.

Fall foliage drive

Another autumn, another drive through Connecticut. I may sound like a boring old lady, but this is one of the highlights of the fall for me.  Something about the stark contrast to the city makes all the colorful leaves and quiet trails so appealing.  Don't get me wrong, I love where we live.  But being able to throw the kids in the car and zoom out of the city and up into this lush foliage in a couple of hours makes me so happy.  Maybe it's returning to my midwestern roots, but I yearn for this kind of day all autumn long.  As a kid, playing out side in the neighborhood was routinely supplemented with long walks in the woods to cut firewood with my dad or playing at a friend's house that had a small creek in her backyard. There's something very calming about this kind of communing with nature even when you add kids into the mix. I think both Elisa and Carolina found the change of scenery exciting and after spending an hour and a half in the car, they were bursting to get out...

Which isn't to say it was all peaceful all the time. Carolina had a few dicey moments when she wouldn't give in to sleep. She fought so hard against that first nap that by the time it did happen as we walked along the trail at Lovers Leap, we knew it wouldn't be a long one. About 15 minutes worth of shuteye was all she got before we loaded back into the car and headed for lunch. Of course she didn't stay asleep when we took her out of the Ergo.  Why is it my kids can't stay asleep when transferred to a moving vehicle?  Carolina seems to be even worse about this than Elisa was which means napping on the go is not our strong suit.  But luckily, she woke up fairly happy and seemed fine throughout lunch.  Our favorite spot Cookhouse in New Milford was as tasty as ever and we enjoyed a nice barbecue sampler before hitting Route 7 again. Elisa ate well and pointed out the exact booth where we'd eaten last year with Nacho's family.  She even told me how she'd taken pictures of them down there and I think I remember her playing with her camera that day.  Little things like this remind me that she is a real little person with her own memories and that trips like this do matter. It's part of our family history together and I really love that about traveling together. I hope this trip continues to be a tradition as the years tick by. It's definitely one I could do again and again.

After lunch, Elisa promptly fell asleep in the back seat, and I had high hopes that Carolina might conk out too so we kept driving up past Kent Falls, our next stop, for a bit. The road was windy and perfect for a nice leisurely drive.  Living in the city, I so rarely get to drive so it was with some pleasure that I steered us up the road for a bit enjoying each and every turn in that beautiful countryside.  We drove about another half hour and stopped to get gas before turning around.  Even though Carolina wouldn't give in to the nap, she managed to be sedate for our little hike up the falls.  And Elisa woke up with renewed vigor and happily climbed the steps all the way to the top. We snapped a few pics and hiked a little more only to see Carolina's eyes finally shut. Nacho lugged her around on his back all the way up and back down while Elisa and I goofed off on the wide expanse of lawn, rolling in the grass and taking turns hopping over each other. It was a playful, fun end to the day and Elisa couldn't have been in a better mood. In fact, the whole day with her was really enjoyable and I told her so. I hope this is a small sign of our future with her because on days like that, I realize how far we've come. She was happy and pliable and kept the mood in the car fun with her letters game.  Even after stopping in Kent, CT for a coffee and some cider and chocolates, we managed to hit the road home by about 5:30 p.m. which I was really hoping gave us some advantage. But after just an hour and a half in the car, we hit the traffic outside New York City and the next hour was a crawl.  Finally, around 8 p.m. Carolina couldn't take anymore and gave up her faint crying for slumber. I was pleased, but only because I could see the toll bridge by that point and knew the end was in sight.  Like they always do, our road trip ended on a tired, low note of just wanting to get home and stretch our legs. And finally, we were there and the girls went right to bed.  It was the kind of easy bedtime that I wasn't fully expecting. But when we didn't wake til 7:20 a.m. the next morning, I thought wow, we're kind of maturing as a family.  And I keep trying to picture how next year's trip will go. I think maybe there will be less carrying and crying and more walking together.  I hope.    

Eating a legend

I've never written a review on Yelp before, and I doubt I ever will. I probably should, since I often read them and base my decisions about where to eat on them. But I guess I figure everyone has a right to their own experience and I don't need to color it for them. Kind of like parenthood, right? I mean once I figured out that no one really wanted to hear all about the pitfalls of having a colicky child, I eased up a bit. I couldn't give anyone any real shortcuts on how to be a better mother. It's something you have to find out for yourself.  Oh parenthood? It's great. [Said with a knowing smile].  So that's how I kind of feel about today's little adventure to Di Fara Pizzeria in Midwood, Brooklyn.  Over the years we've lived here, I've seen it's name pop up again and again in various lists of NYC's best pizza.  It's charm lies in the fact that one man, Domenico DeMarco, has been making all the pies there for over four decades. I love a good Sicilian slice, but for $5 a pop, it better be phenomenal, right?  Well, today my curiosity finally caught up with my desire for a great saucy bite so off we drove south along the BQE until we found our little piece of pie heaven...

The man himself Dom DeMarco making each and every pie to order...very slowly.

Dom chopping the basil with scissors over each hot pie

Me giving the wait time (an hour and counting...) a big thumb's down

And that's where I wish the story ended...in pizza heaven.  Only after showing up and taking a good look around the place, I realized that the taste experience of their pizza must be partially based on equating grime with authenticity.  Seeing barely any line, we placed our order for three square slices (one olive, one pepperoni, one cheese) and one regular slice (sausage) and the wait began.  Now I might have been delusional, but I kind of thought we were in for a 20-30 minute wait.  Maybe 40.  I mean, given the stories of lines wrapped around the building, there was no one there.  We grabbed some drinks, found a great little table and the only high chair (can I just say I'm amazed there even was one) and proceeded to use up our goodie bag treats to keep the girls entertained.  By the time Elisa said she needed to use the bathroom, I was happy to stretch my legs and so we ducked through the counter and followed the pointing fingers back through the kitchen.  As we pulled the rickety old door back to reveal one of the smallest, darkest bathrooms I've seen in a restaurant, we were only inches away from a huge mound of resting dough. In all honesty, it was kind of cool for us to get a sneak peek at the inner workings of the kitchen, but it also reminded me of all the headlines of Di Fara's health code violations and shut downs (both in '07 & '11).  The old man definitely has a quirky little world unto himself with his hand shaved mozzarella and drizzled olive oil and cut basil.  He moves at such a snail's pace that I can't imagine he really loves the work anymore. It seemed like such a chore.  But who knows.  Maybe he really has nothing else to do.  I think I was more intrigued by his hunching figure slowly turning and stretching dough than I was by the pizzas appearing every half hour. I picked up my camera at one point and started clicking away wondering a bit if they worried I was documenting all the hazards for some kind of Kitchen Confidential blog. But no, this was just for me. 

Another 30-40 minutes passed and we tried to wait it out at the table. But eventually I took the girls outside for a bit to walk around since it didn't look like we were anywhere close to getting our slices. Four meager slices.  I think Nacho was getting more restless than Carolina, but at least he stayed seated. Elisa took turns dancing both outside the restaurant and inside close to the counter. I really couldn't blame her for wanting to do anything but sit some more, so I followed her around. We must be getting close, I thought. Luckily, the two guys seated right next to us were amusing with their conversation about all things New Yawk. One of them had been by Di Fara's three other times and never gotten in the door. He was determined to make it happen today and we kept track of the wait by marking how much time he had left in his meter.  Surely he wouldn't need more quarters...oh, but he did.  Yes, the wait was going on an hour and ten minutes before I dared to ask the counter help "so, how are we looking?"  An icy stare and "you're next" greeted my inquiry, and placated Elisa who demanded to know where her pizza was.  And then it was our turn.  I watched a news crew descend on the scene, shooting footage of Dom cutting basil on my pie.  Time for the best slice in the city...and I'd love to say it was.  After the steam stopped rising from the sauce, I attempted a bite.  It was good. The cheese was thick but perfectly oozing and chewy.  The small pepperoni disks pooled with oil and the basil infused everything with strong, vibrant note.  Elisa declared that she loved this "store" the best, and Carolina refused all crusts but took care of some pepperoni for me.  I think Nacho and I were too hungry and tired of dealing with restless children to savor every bite, but we managed to exchange glances of approval.  So my final verdict:  the pizza itself might not be worth the wait, but the experience is one you will never forget. And that is worth something in a world where food is often taken for granted and the people who make it overlooked. Dom DeMarco is a legend in this city, and to see him shuffling around in the same restaurant he's run since 1964 was an honor.  This was a kind of culinary theatre and everyone who enters must know it.  How else can you explain the crowds? Sure the quality might have slipped in the past few years.  If you want a good fast slice, just about any place can give you that. But Di Fara gives you a glimpse of something more. Imagine Willy Loman making your pie and you kind of tear up a little....yeah, that pretty much sums it up.