Game Meat

Well, just when I thought the holidays were over, the “kids” from California arrived bearing gifts.

Gifts, I’ve noticed, run in categories. The most obvious (a.k.a. most desired), a gift certificate to Starbucks for an undisclosed amount. The most practical, “I’ll pay for half of the laptop; you pay for the other half” or as someone suggested to me, “I really do need a big girl’s purse.” And finally, the most exotic, especially when presented by vegetarians: game meat.

The recipient, fortunately, loved his gift of venison sausage, snake fillet, boar chop, and ostrich steak, but this M. was the one who had to unpack and store these items in the freezer when they arrived, still not frozen (despite the packaging) and still humming with some sort of life…force. Even though my ancestors did not partake of the Mediterranean Diet in the Old Country, I, for one, would never have made it to New Jersey if I had had to depend on wild meat. (I like to think the wild salmon got me here.)

Nevertheless, the proud recipient of the most exotic holiday gift eagerly awaits a dry, cold day when he can grill in his packed-snow backyard with his scarf and gloves on.

That’s one dinner party I won’t regret missing.
M.

Manhattan Green

Manhattan Green

Walking through the Yorkville section of NYC with friends yesterday, I came across two unexpected sights:

One was a stately clapboard townhouse wedged between two large brownstones, situated on a typical city street filled with dry cleaners, doggie boutiques, and nail salons. The townhouse, a throwback to what old New York, or Yorkville, must have looked like in the late 18th century, clearly could not house a 9 x 12 carpet in its midst. This slender beauty—at least from outside appearances—was meticulously kept. A wrought iron fenced front garden led invitingly into a basement apartment below. The front door of the townhouse, though, contained no wreath or remnant of holiday cheer. It didn’t need to; modest charm sufficed.

The second sight, catty-corner to the clapboard townhouse, revealed a discarded Christmas tree with multiple strands of twinkle lights intact. After obligatory remarks about the wealthy and dispensable cash, I made a few furtively unsuccessful attempts to snatch the lights to use on next year’s tree, but only now do I pause to think about the degradability of these wires and lights, and the fact that someone (a city worker) will have to stop and painstakingly untangle and disengage the strands before the tree succumbs to mulch for the City’s gardens and children’s parks.

Whoever discarded the tree, lights intact, may have had a good reason. Who knows? Nevertheless, the hastiness reminds me of how quickly we move to end the awaited holidays, to signal a new beginning, clear out the cupboards, so to speak, and maybe end the waste. I want to believe that “end the waste” will be my motto for ‘08.

M.

House Specials

Man's continuing quest for specialness...an e-mail from M.:

Well they did it. I arrived at Starbucks at 7:30 am and the Ham and Brie was sitting in the cold food section (for the first time in many weeks). The Barista had already put one aside for me. I pointed out that the sandwich needed to be heated so I asked if I could purchase it and bring it back at noon for a shot of heat. She suggested that I prepay and pick it up later. She proceeded to write my name on a slip of paper that she attached to the container.
I'll be back at lunchtime to enjoy my sandwich.

And back he came to enjoy a well-earned and well-prepared lunch. It pays to be in touch with one's needs, don't you think?

M.

The Starbucks Diet

Recently, my husband discovered that he had a congenital heart defect--major artery had to be rerouted and so on. Operation, a success, but weight needed to decrease in a hurry. And so, the Starbucks Diet was created by the second of the wise Ms.

The principles are rather simple: portion control, pleasant atmosphere (from his favorite spot in Plymouth Meeting, Pa., to the joint near the Museum of Natural History on Columbus Avenue in Manhattan), fat free alternatives (if one should choose), and accessibility to a barista's ear for criticism. M's an astute sandwich critic.

Panic set in about a month ago when rumor had it that Starbucks was merely experimenting w/ its sandwiches. Just as M thought the Ham and Brie was about to vanish forever, he penned a plead to corporate headquarters:

I have managed to lose ten pounds by eating your sandwiches. I hope to lose an additional ten. I accomplished this by eating your "ham and brie" sandwich for lunch and sometimes for dinner too. I was informed that your sandwich is being discontinued. This presents a problem for me. I recently had a double bypass performed and have been relying on this sandwich to get me through the day. Please reinstate this sandwich ASAP. Thank you.


Well, not so much a coupon from corporate headquarters, but staff in Pa. and NYC have been rooting for M and the ham and brie is soon to return, at least near the City of Brotherly Love. Well, we all know the saying about men and the way to their hearts.... Are you listening Starbucks?

M.

Next: Responses to M's letter from his acquaintances and family members or why is this guy so obsessed w/ food and a "chain" environment.

Website: http://www.starbucks.com/customer/contact/asp