I feel like giving up booze is, somewhat shamefully, so much harder than I thought. Who knew that leaving work to go home and drink was something I looked forward to so much? If riding the New York Subway gives you time to do anything, it's think and read, hence why New York is filled with such well-read, insightful individuals. (In the last year alone I've devoured easily twenty books, including Walden by Thoreau and almost everything Tom Robbins has ever put to paper.) Since it's been cold and rainy for the last two days, I refrained from biking and have been really analyzing my relationship to booze during my commutes, in between periodically, and uncontrollably, falling asleep. I've realized that every evening on my way home I usually sit on the train debating exactly which bar I want to go to, comparing and contrasting the pros and cons of each happy hour or who is bar tending that day, OR trying to decide whether I'm in the mood to drink an entire bottle of wine or just a quarter of a bottle of tequila at home instead. If I'm biking home, it just means I am trying to figure out my route home based on what bars I want to stop at first.
This all must mean I either truly hate my job (which I don't think is true), can't figure out a way to deal with the things in life I cannot change, or have an alcohol abuse problem. I think it might be a little bit of all those depressing things. But really...aren't those the reasons we drink or do drugs or use non-substance based means for dealing with our out of control emotions? (Things like arson, road rage, auto-erotic asphyxiation, biting your fingernails, anorexia, over-eating or obsessively controlling our friends and families, to name a few, are all ways we deal when we can't. Spend some time really thinking about yourself and unless nothing ever gets to you I guarantee you can figure out what your own anxiety outlet is.)
This adventure is starting to remind me of the time I quit smoking cold-turkey, cutting down from a pack and a half a DAY (I kid you not) to nothing in one fell swoop. I threw out or gave away easily a few hundred dollars of cigarettes purchased in a pathetic moment of weakness until I finally was able to stop. The whole ordeal was exasperatingly difficult on many occasions, but I really got down to the nitty gritty reasons I was addicted to smoking and how much of a priority cigarettes were to me.
So anyway, things are gonna get interesting here, that's for sure. Spring is marking off her days of sobriety with "X"s on a calendar at work, and offered me space to do the same in a different color, so I'd have some sort of visible gauge of how far I'd come.
Enough emotional junk for now. This isn't fucking LiveJournal...it's a food blog. BRING ON THE FOOD!
Sunday was kind of a "oooh no carbs for me!" joke day. Well...wait. Ok, it wasn't a total joke. I had nothing but veggies and protein all day Sunday, and then, as mentioned, Mark and I hopped on the two-wheelers and rode over to Bensonhurst to see if L&B Spumoni Garden was really worth it's salt. Or maybe "sauce" would be more appropriate in this case. The Garden has been in the same spot since 1939 and has been featured several times on the Food Network...no surprise there. **NOTE: I refuse to put a link to the Food Network website because in this day and age, there is no reason they don't feature more vegetarian and vegan-centric cooking shows or specials. Screw you, fat, unhealthy lifestyle exacerbating, arrogant meat eaters, especially you, Bobby Flay. You must be really, really funny because your wife is sooo disproportionally hot. (ZING!)** ANYWAY, moving on...
Most people like to spend Sunday evening lazing about the house in PJs, watching movies or going out to eat at a nice restaurant with friends, maybe reading books, cooking a nice dinner or going to a museum. Mark and I, we like to ride 6 miles one way in the rain when it's 55 degrees to a place we've never been in the middle of Brooklyn where everyone is named Joe or Tony (no kidding, you should have heard them calling the tables, "JOE, party of two." "Joe C., party of two." "Tony A., party of three." "Tony R..."). Let's just say that when you read about mob hits in the newspapers these days, (albeit rarely) they all happen in Bensonhurst.
We rode alll the way from point A (our house) to point B (pizza).
Did I ever mention how much I love the rain?? *sarcasm* I think I was a cat in a former life.
We walked up to the place and immediately the first thing that tickled my nose was the pungent, sweaty, salty smell of real parmigiano-reggiano wafing from the open pizza parlor windows. I almost would have been content just to stand outside smelling the food, rather than eating it, considering I was blatantly ignoring the promise of carbo-abstinance I'd made to myself (and God) for the next three weeks. Of course, one of the most important parts of a relationship is learning how to compromise, so Mark got us a spot on the list for a table for two and we picked up a menu to amuse us for the next twenty minutes. (It was Sunday night at 7 o'clock, what do you expect?) Salivate while you wait.
The quintessential "Autographs of Famous People Who Love Our Food" wall, including most of the cast of the Sopranos, every Italian-American character actor ever...and Marie Osmond.
Just a small part of L&B's menu.
After scouring the menu for meatless options - of which there were surprisingly many that sounded delicious - and watching ten minutes of America's Funniest Videos, now shortened to AFV for today's Adderall generation, we were seated, and ordered two glasses of vino. Sorry, how could we go to a place like this and not have wine with our dinner? I'd be afraid John Gotti Jr. himself would burst through the swinging kitchen doors, guns blazing and mow us down in our utter disrespect. You know, were he not in jail.
Frosty glass goodness. L&B's...doin' it right.
We decided that the only way to really determine how deliciously prime the food was there would be to order pizza and pasta. And boy, did we carboload to the max.
Between the both of us, we ordered five slices of Sicilian pizza (the square stuff) and an plate of bow ties with Vodka sauce (which delightfully included onions, mushrooms and peas). I thought for sure there was no way we'd ever fit all that in our two stomachs, but lo and behold, all we took home with us was a little container of pasta.
Now, having never been to Sicily, I can't really say this is the best Sicilian pizza in the world, but as Mark put it, "I think I might just have to judge every future slice of pizza I eat against these...they are sooooo goood." And then he stuffed four slices down his pie-hole. (Heh...get it???? Pie hole???!? AHAHAHHA!! Yeah, oh- ...oh ok. Yeah, I figured you got that one. Sorry. I'll calm down.)
Now I will say this in all honesty, and with small fear of my life given that I posted that Google Map up there showing the whereabouts of our apartment: the pasta wasn't that great. Maybe I don't know much about traditional Vodka sauce, but the Vodka sauce I've had in the past had WAY less cream, way more tomato, and a heaping helpin' more flavor.
The ultra red color cast of the lighting in L&B's severely discolored my photos,
but even with color correction, it still comes out looking mega orange.
Granted, it's not like Vodka sauce is some old-world Italian heirloom recipe, but it should have tasted less like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, in my most humble opinion. The saddest part is that when Mark reheated the leftover portion the next day, the sauce separated into basically water, oil and something else of suspect nature and he found it generally unappetizing. Sorry, L&B...I'll have to try a different sauce with no cream next time, I think. (Can't go wrong with Broccoli Rabe, garlic, butter oil and fresh pasta, now can you?)
Other points of interest: the mirror-covered ceilings, which are both good for watching yourself do it and spying on what other people in the dining room are eating....
A super family-sized portion of pasta for five...and a portion of Mark's head.
"Eat up kid...you only live once!" *shakes cane*
All in all, the trip was a success. They have a huge amount of al fresco dining (aka outside) and all I can't wait to ride back over there after a day at the beach, all sunburned and salty, to sit outside with a couple beers (see...damn you fantasy, can't you be beer free?) and eat a whole pie of regular thin slices to see just how good those are...because I bet they are divine.
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1 comment:
Kate- great blog. I never have followed a blog till now. You've changed me.
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