Never Be Embarrassed by Your Lunch

I’m baccckkk

Been nigh a year since I posted. And lately I’ve been bringing the most delicious sandwich, an edition of which I consumed today.

See, there’s this deli near my house, some people call it Sealand. I think it’s also known to some as Vegetableland (which rolls much less fluidly off the tongue). They have whole wheat rolls that are really good so on days that I exercise (two loops around Prospect Park this morning, thanks very much) I get myself a roll and make a sandwich. On today’s I smeared some very ripe avocado, a dash of salt, a few pieces of tallegio, and exactly four olive-oil-marinated sundried tomatoes. Wow.

I knew it wouldn’t be quite enough to eat, so I also hardboiled two eggs and ate those. And then meandered over to the Cafe Habana outpost and got some grilled corn with cheese and lime, like they do at those annoying Soho Mexican places where hipsters and well-dressed people hang out.

But now it’s coming up to 5 and I am hungry again. It is a never ending story.

I’ve missed you, old friend!

Monday: bought lunch (cactus burrito)

Tuesday: lunch meeting (salad and hummos)

Wednesday: brought a sandwich: avocado, thinly sliced sharp NY state cheddar, tomato. Can’t wait.

Et toi?

Stumbling Toward the Week’s Finish Line

Could it be that we’ve happened on some bizarre cosmic convergence? Could it be that we’re incapable of both bringing lunch on the same day? It seems that with the exception of the first day of this enterprise, we haven’t managed.

Truth is, fridge is a little bare. Both the wife and I have had a relatively busy week. For the most part, we’ve already assumed the habits of new parents, but perhaps sensing that the clock’s running out, we’ve been living it up more than usual. (For those who haven’t yet heard — and I’m sure our ever-expanding legion of readers is hungry to learn as much as they can about us — I’m to be a father in late June.)

Anyhow, Fridays are usually my cholent day. I may skip it, though. We’re invited over to some friends tonight — people you know, actually; you’ve even interviewed the man of the house for Nextbook — and I hear that there’s cholent on the menu. 

Yesterday, I had the soup and half-sandwich special at Mendy’s. Chicken soup and salami sandwich. I get kind of atavistic when I’m feeling under the weather. May just go for a repeat performance today.

Rain, Rain…Get Outta Here!

I had better come up with some ideas or else this is quickly becoming a record merely of what exactly went into my salad today. I was on the fence about making a salad today. I woke up at 5:45 for no discernable reason and decided to get up and going. I went to the gym. I read the paper (all the movies reviewed this week look terrible, and is it me or has Cameron Diaz finally made the final turn into a cabbage patch doll?), I went home and had breakfast and stood in the kitchen thinking:

Should I just buy lunch today? 

But then I thought:

I went out to dinner last night and that cost me some money (not a lot, but some), and in this age of soaring prices for everything, I should eat out not because of laziness, but because of social opportunity. (Am I making a final turn to Machiavelli? Or just utilitarianism?)

Plus, I have food in the fridge, I ought to eat it. And so, Gabinka, and so, dear reader (of which, I hear, there are now two) I washed out my tupperware, and sliced up a cucumber, and grated some gruyere (I really love that cheese), and added some lettuce and voila: today’s salad.

In addition, some almonds and a yogurt as snack.

Now git to work! 

The Name of the Game Is Shame

My curiosity piqued, I just looked into the etymological origins of the “Dutch treat.” One of the explanations proffered — at least on Wikipedia — is that during the period of the Anglo-Dutch wars, “Dutch,” for the English, became a sort of garden variety pejorative, as in “Dutch courage” and “Dutch wife.” (Don’t ask me what those are supposed to mean.)

I engage in this bit of throat clearing in part to mask my shame. Lunchless today, I’m afraid. You see, I had a cold coming on yesterday. To “treat” it, I somehow thought that a juice cure was in order. Normally, I think this would be a sound course of action. In this case, however, the juice was mixed with significant quantities of vodka. So now I’m nursing both a cold and a hangover — not exactly the best conditions for springing from bed and fixing some lunch. 

From where I sit, 2.5 miles seems positively heroic. 

So Little Time…

Had all these Grand Plans to run a long while today and started out but my leg ached and ached. So I stopped running after a mere 2.5 miles and to punish myself I included no treats in today’s lunch.

That’s kind of how the food calculus sometimes works. Other people are still in food pre-calc or even elementary algebra.

So, I have a salad with avocado, cucumber (but of course!), very thin slices of aged gruyere, green lettuce, and grapes. plus a non-fat yogurt for a snack.

It behooves me to mention that the site where I work (Nextbook.org, can I get a what-what!) ran a podcast the other day about efforts to come up with new words in Hebrew. And one of the words discussed was ‘baby’ as in baby lettuce. Seems that efforts to find a Hebrew word for it are not working so good.

Also, food-wise, I was wondering, on account of a date I had the other night, why when you split a meal you “go Dutch.” Are the Dutch known for insisting that everyone pay their share? Do they tend not to treat?

So Many Questions.

Everybody Wins

S:

Ended up getting my lunch at a neighborhood place called Silo. It’s one of those midtown lunch emporiums (emporia?) that offer something for everyone. Despite — of maybe, because of — the dizzying number of choices, I always get the same thing: shrimp tempura udon — a soup with tofu, grated carrot and zucchini, green onion, a couple different seaweed varieties and udon noodles.

As for La Villa, I think we might both be right. It looks like there are branches in both Howard Beach and Marine Park. Couldn’t quite determine which came first.

In other news, I just popped my blister. Didn’t hurt at all, but it oozed yellow. Looks a lot better now.

Dreamin’ of Zaaaaa….

G.S: I think the original La Villa is actually in Marine Park. And I agree with you—their pizza is really good though my problem with the place is that I have often had to wait (often might be an overstatement given I’ve been there only about three times). I think they use a pastry brush to spread buttery goodness all over the crust.

That said, perhaps tomorrow we’ll both bring?

The oddest thing in my salad: when the dressing was added, the green pistachios turned red. And, as much as I like smoked fish, there might be such a thing as too much of it.

Vampires Beware

Wow. I’m jealous. I came empty handed today. Have we had a day yet when we both brought lunch?

I’m reminded of a little game we used to play in first grade, a game that in retrospect seems to have been little more than an exercise in conformism and groupthink. (Then again, at that age, what isn’t.) Someone would say: “Who’s buying lunch today?” Those who were buying (which I think meant that their parents had pre-paid according to a menu devised weeks in advance), would raise their hands. But then — and this was the tricky part — the asker would quickly say, “Not buying!” and those who were caught raising or lowering their hands in error could be subject to ridicule.

Anyhow, Senorita S, it looks like I’m buying today. I did almost bring something, but then thought better of it. Had dinner at La Villa at Garfield and 5th last night. Some turn their noses up at the place, thinking it too “outer boro.” (I think their original location was in Howard Beach.) But I love it. I think I love it precisely because of its suburban feel. Reminds me of my youth. Then again, as this post has already made clear, it doesn’t take much to lead me down that path. Came home with a couple slices of leftover pizza, but when I woke up this morning, I had a strong garlic taste in my mouth from the pizza I had consumed last night and figured I wasn’t quite ready to re-up my dose. 

The Future’s So Bright

This morning I rose early, see, to do what all before work. And what all included making my lunch because, Senor S, though I am not s’posed to be embarrassed by my lunch. I have been. The shame has come in drips, consistent, like a water torture. Your recent lunches have been so elegant, so worthy of a Tanglewood concert, that I am humbled into dust.

Today’s lunch is not so very haute, but it’s better than a taco from the joint around the corner:

Salad (a mixture of spinach and romaine lettuce) mixed with pieces of smoked blue fish (I confess, I did not smoke it myself), pistachio nuts, cucumber (have I ever told you that this one of my favorite foods?), green grapes.

Two string cheeses (not everything can be artisanal)

“Sliced” mango and the word is in quotations because I don’t really know how to cut up mango and so it looks a little sloppy but it’ll taste out of this world, sweet and juicy.

And while I’m at it, I just want to say that for breakfast I toasted a piece of whole grain bread, spread some very ripe avocado on it, added a slice of red tomato and a little salt. Delish.