Author Archives: emsilees09

Oct 20 2010
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La Splenda Vita

Chilly, And Not Quite Sure What The Universe Is Telling Me

Have you ever paused while crossing a street or running an errand to feel a strong sense of deja vu, where you can’t tell if you are in a similar situation as once before, or if perhaps, the moment reminds you of something you read in a book or watched on tv?

The mind works in mysterious ways. I find that ever since I moved to Hoboken and started working in NYC a few years ago, like a passing rain shower, much of the pop culture I was exposed to at a young age has a tendency to submerge me into a fit of deja vu when I least expect it.

I find it ironic that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve taken a greater liking to kiddie movies, since besides watching the Wizard of Oz and my share of Disney films, most films I grew up watching were written and directed by New Yorkers.  Since my mom grew up in NYC, and my dad also moved and lived there for a few years before my parents got married, perhaps as a way to cushion their fall into suburbia to raise my sister and I, my parents had a large collection of movies with a very NYC sense of humor. From a young age I was exposed to the ridiculousness of Mel Brooks and Woody Allen, even before I understood all the jokes. There were also the true family favorites, like the film version of Neil Simon’s Barefoot in the Park.

Barefoot in the Park stars Jane Fonda and Robert Redford as newlyweds, and it was released in 1967. It’s very New York, it’s very 1960’s, and overall, it’s just a sweet, camp, romantic movie. I still don’t think I understand how deeply this film is rooted in my subconscious. I always thought (and still do) that I would end up falling in love in New York, and make living in a tiny apartment on W. 4th Street glamorous in between Neil Simon-like witty banter and rapid fire come-backs.

Everyone once in a while, my little dream of living out this film does resonate in real life, though, not always in the way I expect.

One particular great line in the movie is when Corie (Jane Fonda) and Paul (Robert Redford) are arguing:

Corrie: Well you’re a funny kind of drunk, Paul. You just sat there watching your coat.

Paul: I was watching my coat because I saw someone else watching my coat!

I can’t tell you how fast this line propelled itself to the front of my memory this past Saturday night, when I was out a bar on the Lower East Side. After leaving my coat on a hook under the bar, someone else was really watching my coat at the bar, and then apparently, decided to wear it out.

Silly me–not listening to my Neil Simon instincts.

I’m not quite sure what the universe is telling me in these moments. Was watching NYC-centric movies as a kid my parent’s way of teaching me street smarts? Why did I hang up my coat considering I had the same thing happen to me in February, on the LES? Is the LES a coat-eating demon monster? Will I one day live on W. 4th St.? Tell me Magic 8 ball!!

Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Maybe the LES is a demon, maybe it’s not. But two things are for sure–I won’t be hanging my coat anywhere besides my arm, and Barefoot in the Park is still one of my favorite movies. Lessons learned.

Oct 14 2010
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Recipes/Cheap Grub

The Delicious Bewitching Season

I see the changing of seasons as a very fickle time. Like a werewolf during a full moon, I get a little peculiar right before the switch. I tend to wrestle with the clothes in my closet, only to have flung about three outfits on the floor each time Al Roker tells us what the weather is up to in my neck of the woods. Hot, then cool. Sandals, or boots. Transitioning isn’t easy.

But, more importantly, when fall finally decides to stop playing games and make a commitment, the air turns crisp and all I can think of is one thing: pumpkins.

So orange. So pudgy. And they’re just plain delicious.

I liken this to how Ralph in A Christmas Story describes his father’s love (passion) for turkey:

Now it is well known in the midwest that the Old Man is a turkey junky, a bonafide golly turkaconis freak.

I guess I’m what you would call a bonfide golly pumpakonis freak, or, as I discovered two years ago, I am a pepophile: a lover of all things pumpkin, although I use the word sparingly since the word may be misconstrued.

I’ve got pumpkin on the brain, and so for last night’s dinner, CP and I made pumpkin mac and cheese, thanks to the blog, Healthy Food For Living.

 

courtesy healthyfoodforliving.com

 

Although it turns out as more of a pumpkin cheese sauce, since it’s not baked, it was still oh so delicious, and the pumpkin added a little je ne sais quoi to the dish. We also added bacon because, what the hell, and we have an unnatural obsession with the cured meat. With some red wine, it is the perfect comfort food for the fall.

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Oct 11 2010
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My Life in Hoboken

Pocket Full Of Kryptonite

Sometimes…just every now and then…between my empty Metrocards and hair bands…I wish my pockets were full of very ripe tomatoes.

Red means STOP!

It’s not that I have some sort of odd fetish, or that I suffer from sudden urges to  devour tomatoes. This would be a method of self defense.

The thing about overly ripe, wrinkly tomatoes is that they are incredibly juicy, and have the ability to explode quite nicely on a windshield, or hood of a car, which, incidentally, would be my target.

You see, I recently had a little tete-a-tete with a car who did not stop at an intersection. Although the driver initially slowed a bit while I was in the crosswalk, he then did this move where he actually started to accelerate–and I was still playing the chicken crossing the road. Had it been a truly rolling stop, I may have been knocked down, along with my bag of groceries, which this driver knocked with the grill of his sedan.

Once, when I was nine years old, a cement truck ran a red light and t-boned our family Volvo station wagon. (RIP Snow White.) Since then, I’ve never been so close to being involved in another hit—on foot.

Hoboken has very congested little streets—but that’s no excuse. No matter who you are—driver or pedestrian, you have to look out for the other. Due to this one driver who almost hit me, I wince anytime a car is trying to turn when pedestrians have the right of way, and I never trust any stop sign. Should any car edge up a bit while stopped at a light, my heart beat quickens, and I have a minor panic attack.

Hence, my idea for the tomatoes. Luckily, this driver looked up when he heard me make a sound. But perhaps I would have made a bolder statement had I started to pelt his windshield with overly ripe tomatoes. Or anything in my pockets.

Also, I apparently need a louder scream. Frozen from fear, I thought I had made a noise like a scream, but it could have easily been a duck quack. We never know how we’ll react in a high-adrenaline moment. I made a noise to sound alert—but I’m not quite sure if this is what stopped the driver, or if it was the flailing of my left arm.

I hate to say that this was just one bad driver, and that I feel safe crossing most streets, but I truly don’t in Hoboken. So, if a tomato thrown at a car is the only red sign that will take some of these drivers to stop and take notice that the pedestrians do have the right of way, perhaps that will be my pocket of kryptonite.

 

 

 

 

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Sep 22 2010
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The Splenda Stealer Diet

For dessert we had banana bread, blondies and brownies. I exercised self control and only ate a blondie…and a brownie.

For this week’s installment of the “Splenda Stealer Diet,” (a few weeks late) we have my friend and roommate, Rachael, who documented her delectable munchies while on a beach getaway. In between nibbles of hummus, a bar appetizer called “jalapeno bottlecaps” and popcorn and brownies, she sunbathes and enjoys being a beach bum with her cousins before the very last of summer.

Let’s take a look at her week of eating.

 

Not being shy, here is Rach enjoying a frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity III.

 

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