It took me almost thirty years to connect with avocados but now that I have it’s hard to remember life without them. When I was growing up, my mother would cut one in half, remove the pit, and then drizzle olive oil and red wine vinegar over them, add salt and pepper, and eat them just like that. I am game to try them in just about any way now, but I usually have them just like Ma did.
Here’s a quick rundown of avocados from Saveur.
[Photo Credit: Travelling Yogi]
“Not mother?”
It’s a line that’s become part of the regular banter between my brother, sister and me. Amazing how quoting movies can influence your life, huh?
At his silliest, like in this sequence from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Steve Martin is a family favorite:
Sweeney Murti says it’s not time to press the panic button:
But feel free to hit that button if you think CC Sabathia won’t win again the rest of the year. Hit the button if you think Mark Teixeira will hit .209 for the season. Hit the button if you think Mariano Rivera is done. Hit the button if you think Derek Jeter is done. Hit the button if you think Toronto, Boston, Detroit, and Oakland (the only other non first-place teams currently over .500) will all be better than the Yankees over the next 118 games.
I’m not ignoring everything that’s gone on the last few weeks. I just know there were many panic-button moments last year for this team as well, but the talent was there to right the ship. The Yankees could lose at least 50 more games the rest of the way and still make the playoffs. Let’s not call 911 after every single one.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is one of those runaway best-sellers you see everywhere–on the street, in the subway, in airports. It was the first of three books–the third, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, has just been released here in the States–by Stieg Larsson, a Swedish left-winged journalist-turned-novelist. The Millennium Triology have been an international sensation but the story behind the books may be equally as compelling. Larsson died before the books were published and his long-time companion has been in a painful fight against Larsson’s father and younger brother.
Eva Gabrielsson, Larsson’s partner, has been portrayed sympathetically in all the accounts I’ve read of the story; she doesn’t come across as the villain in Charles McGrath’s fine–and fair–piece in yesterday’s Magazine, but Larson’s father and brother are not demonized either:
The Larssons do not strike me as greedy people. They drive small, inexpensive cars and live in modest apartments, and if they wanted to change their lifestyle they would probably have to do it somewhere other than Umea, where conspicuous consumption is frowned upon. I got the impression, in fact, that Stieg’s estate was a burden, a weighty responsibility they weren’t prepared for, perhaps didn’t feel quite up to and are still trying to figure out. Joakim gave me a long explanation, which I couldn’t quite follow, of why the Swedish tax laws make it hard to give money away, and yet slowly they have begun to do so, recently donating five million kronor, or $660,000, to Expo, the magazine Stieg co-founded.
…But ultimately the dispute is really about Stieg Larsson himself, an exceptional young man, idealistic and artistic, who in classic fashion left the boondocks and made something of himself in the wider world. Who was he, really — a Norrlander or a Stockholmer? And who gets to claim him now? The emotional stakes on both sides are huge. No matter how close he was or wasn’t to his family, he was clearly a central figure to them — someone to be admired and cherished — as he was to Gabrielsson. The tragedy is that they can’t figure out a way to share him.
[Photo Credit: Lars Tunbjork for The New York Times]
Meanwhile, at the food court…
Is a Shake Shack worth waiting on line for forty minutes?
You tell me.
Mike Pelfry pitched better than Phil Hughes and the Mets got key outs when they needed them most. The Yanks staged rallies in the seventh, eighth and ninth innings but they couldn’t get over the hump as the Mets survived for a 5-3 win. Yanks first three batters went hitless and the Mets fans will rule the roost on the 7 train back into Manhattan. Most frustrating, for sure.
Nuts.
Yanks, Mets Game Two.
Internet connection is a beaut, once again.
I took a mess o flix before and I’ll post ’em late tonight.
Meanwhile, Let’s Go Yan-Kees!
Here’s some flicks from around the park last night.
Couple of Gents watching the game from the Caesars Club at Citi Field.
“It’s so cozy and comfy in here it’s easy to forget there’s a Stadium outside,” one said to the other.
Meanwhile, Sam Borden has the latest on Javy Vazquez over at Lo-Hud…
I took the 7 train out to the ball game after work today, a hot Friday in May. Walked through Grand Central, moving through the space where people were coming at me from all angles in that way that always reminds me of human Asteroids. Let a packed 7 go by and skipped the local for an Express that beat the local by plenty.
As we passed the great graffiti monument I was listening to “Fool in the Rain” on my iPod, a song I had not heard in years. And it reminded me of so many high school parties and the kind of girls who loved that song caused it moved them so. And we rolled past the graffiti when the song came to the break and goes all Brazil-Bezerk. A nice moment.
I spotted an Asian kid from across the car wearing a navy blue DiMaggio t-shirt. He had sharp shoulders and was listening to his iPod. The car thinned-out as we got closer to Citifield and I approched the guy and asked him, “Why DiMaggio?” And he said DiMaggio was only rivaled by the Babe as the most famous of the old American ball players. His name is Toshi and he is a student from Toyko, here for a few months working on his English. He’s a TV director and hopes to move to New York.
We got off the train together and joined the cattle throng of jerseys, Mets and Yankees gear everywhere. I told Toshi about New York being the melting pot but that most of the fans here were from the suburbs. We said goodnight and I checked in at the press gate and then waited on line for an elevator to take me to the press box on the fifth floor. There is a bank of two elevators but only one was operating. I waited a turn for their be enough room to get on. When I did, we packed in and a bunch of people got off on the third floor. So many new people got on that the elevator operator asked for volunteers to step off and three people got out.
It isn’t exactly quiet in the press box but it is contained and professional. There are the sounds of joshing around, especially now before the game, but it is muted. I know Matt Cerrone has never watched or blogged a game from the press box nor would it ever appeal to him. He’s too much of a fan, he doesn’t want to repress his desire to root. There are tall windows insulating the press box which makes for a stuffy atmosphere. But then the windows are opened and the sounds of the park, the crowd, filter in. The grounds crew is watering the infield, the organist is playing “Come on Feel the Noise.”
It’s fun to be here as a blogger because I am not on assignment, working on a story or deadline. Instead, it’s a game-cast, Banter-style. The good folks at SNY have encouraged me to do my thing so that’s what I’m gunna do. I figure I’ll walk around the park a whole bunch, see what I see and then dip back and give an update. Y’all will be watching the game so I don’t really need to tell you what’s happening there. Instead, I’ll try to get some of the sights n zounds and get back at you.
As Kid Gleeman likes to say, Happy Baseball.
I couldn’t resist…
The good folks at SNY have been kind enough to hook the Banter up with press credentials for the Subway Serious this weekend. I’ll be there tonight and tomorrow and Cliff will be there on Sunday. We’ll be live-blogging all three games. Should be a B-A-Double L.
Y’all swing by now, ya hear?
Okay, so the next time you are in the area, do yourself a favor and hit Szechuan Gourmet, which is on 39th Street between 5th and 6th. I went last night with my friend Mark who has been several times for lunch. He told me it’s considered “the best Szechuan outside of Flushing.” All I know, is that it was wonderful, whether you are up for adventure (Duck Tongue w/Sich. Pepper Corn-Scallion Pesto, Fish Head w/Napa, Bamboo, Cellophane, Smoky Wok Tossed Frogs) or not.
We had a standard appetizer, Szechuan Pork Dumplings w/Roasted Chilli Soy, and they were far and away the most delicious dumplings I’ve ever had–delicate, flavorful with some kick. They were so good, we didn’t let the waiter remove the extra sauce when the dumplings were gone. They seemed to appreciate that, but I wasn’t kidding. I wasn’t giving up that goodness without a fight.
Most of the customers were Asian, large tables of nine, ten people. The wait staff alternated between being polite and dismissive but they were never rude. I love that unpretentious attitude (you can ignore me some cause I’m a gringo just don’t be a jerk about it). It got me to thinking how wonderful Chinese restaurants can be, what a staple they are of New York Life.
Say word.
[Photo Credit: Parla Food]
A New York City Classic:
The Yanks look to avoid a two-game series loss to the first-place Rays tonight. Here’s hoping Andy Pettitte has another good outing, nobody gets hoit, and the Yanks make like Benny Blanco from the Bronx and play like the World Champs they are, walking wounded and all.
Who is coming up? What’s the haps? As usual, the fellas over at Lo-Hud have it covered.
