Thanksgiving is, without a doubt, my favorite holiday. It's all about food, family, and friends - no religious part to it at all.
Like a lot of things here in the States, there's an emphasis on quantity during Thanksgiving. Bigger is better. TV shows leading up to the holiday talk about how to make the perfect Thanksgiving 'feast', and advertisers inundate consumers with images of massive turkeys packed with stuffing on a table with mounds of potatoes, sweet potatoes, greens, and of course, several types of dessert pies.
All of this supports the stereotype that America is a country filled with obese people who don't care so much about the quality of food as long as there is lots of it. I mean, if turkey tastes good, then a lot of turkey should taste better. In fact, if you like turkey, but you also like chicken, and even duck, then why not combine all three? It all ends up in the same place, right?
When I arrived in NYC a little over a year-and-a-half ago, I wrote this entry about the lack of 'real' grocery stores in the area. I'm still not happy with the local Gristedes, and although I have the potential of running into Abe Vigoda at my local Food Emporium, it too leaves a bit to be desired.
So when I feel up to it, I make my way down to the Whole Foods at Union Square. Sure, it's a subway ride, but I know I can find pretty much anything.
Last night I felt motivated to do some grocery shopping. Thanksgiving is this week, and I figured I would make a pecan pie for the dinner I'm going to, so I used it as an excuse to get some other things to make dinner at home this week. Turns out I wasn't alone. Whole Foods was completely packed, and I couldn't help think I was in the food version of IKEA as the traffic was essentially one way through the maze of organic food. I resisted the temptation to get all the little sale items (unlike when I go to IKEA - I mean, $2.99 for a SLOM jar with lid? Who can resist?), and stuck to the things on my list.
After negotiating the checkout lines (an interesting experience at Whole Foods, with color codes and numbers for people to pay attention to, there's always someone who messes up), I made it home with my bounty, alive and well and looking forward to my next trip to the grocery store.
I moved to Philadelphia in the summer of 1994. I had taken my first job as a lab tech at the University of Illinois at Chicago the previous September, and when the head of the lab asked me to move with them to UPenn I was both nervous and excited. The plan was for me and a senior postdoc to move a few months ahead of the rest of the lab to set up and get things ready for everyone else. Outside of the one work colleague, I wouldn't know anyone in the entire state of Pennsylvania until the rest of the lab arrived.
I visited Philadelphia a month or two before the move with my parents, and found an apartment through the UPenn housing office. 4410 Pine St. looked good on a map; it was walking distance from the lab, just outside of the area that a lot of the undergraduates lived in. I lived on the second floor of a converted house, and although it was a bit 'lived in', it was the first apartment that was 100% mine - no roommates.
I spent the first couple of weeks sorting out the essentials - turning on the utilities, getting a phone, cable for the TV, etc. The house had a washer and dryer in the basement, which you had to go around to the back of the house to get to. It was disgusting, and I couldn't imagine how I could get my clothes clean in a basement so dirty, so after my first round of washing I decided it was time to find a laundromat. I found one a couple of blocks away, on Locust between 43rd and 44th, just opposite of a closed grocery store.
I used to go to the laundromat about once a week, normally on a Saturday or Sunday just before noon, when I could use 3 machines at the same time without getting in anyone's way. One of the first times I went I noticed a small deli a couple of doors up, Koch's deli, and decided to go in and grab a sandwich for lunch while I waited for my clothes to finish drying.
I walked in to find a deli counter and a line of people that double-backed on itself almost to the door. No tables or chairs, take-out only. Everyone seemed like a regular, chatting freely with each other and with the two guys who worked there. I read the menu written on the wall behind the counter. Everything looked really good, but by the time I realized that all of the hoagies were more than the $5 I had on me, I was in the middle of the line and was too embarrassed to squeeze my way out. In the end, I ordered a sandwich - turkey, I think. The guy behind the counter asked what I wanted on it. I paused, not knowing whether to ask if it would cost extra to have lettuce and tomato, which would have taken me over my $5. I told him I would have it plain, nothing on it. I remember his look, as if I was visiting from another planet, but he made the sandwich completely dry... nothing but bread and meat.
A couple of weeks later I went back to Koch's, and this time I was prepared. I ordered a honey turkey hoagie, no oil, no onion, with provolone cheese, and a cream soda. The two guys behind the counter introduced themselves: Lou and Bob Koch. Brothers. Lou worked at the front, and Bob towards the back. They remembered me from the first time (I suppose ordering a sandwich with nothing on it was something that stood out). I explained that I only had $5 at the time, and didn't know if it was enough money to have extras on my sandwich. I remember Lou telling me that I could have ordered whatever I wanted, and paid them back the next time I was in.
It was 1994. I was 22 years old. I didn't have any friends in Philadelphia. And with one conversation Lou Koch made me feel like I had been living in the neighborhood my whole life.
Koch's became part of my weekly laundry routine. They opened around lunchtime, so if my timing was right, I could get my sandwich while my clothes were in the washer, and eat it while they were in the dryer. I rarely strayed from my honey turkey hoagie (no oil, no onion, with provolone) and cream soda, but would often add a potato knish to the order. Bob and Lou called me 'Chicago' most of the time, and always made me feel like they had been looking forward to seeing me all week.
Lou passed away in 1995. Koch's was closed for a little while, and when it reopened Bob moved to the front. I learned that Lou had died of a heart attack, and that he had been found in a grocery store parking lot, slumped over behind the wheel of his car. I also learned that although Bob was the guy in the back of the deli, he was the one who remembered everyone's name. When someone would come in, Lou would pretend he needed something from Bob's side of the deli counter, Bob would whisper the persons name ('Aron'), and Lou would come back to his side with a joke ('Hey Aron, did I ever tell you the one about the priest and the rabbi?').
I continued my laundry ritual over the next couple of years until I moved across the river and into center city in 1997. In that time I introduced anyone who visited me to Koch's deli. My parents visited, and while we waited for our sandwiches we found out that Dad and Bob both drove a Mitsubishi 3000GT. Bob gave Grandpa a little (OK, big) taste of chopped liver while Nana waited for us at their hotel because she wasn't feeling well ('Don't tell Nana!').
Once I moved to center city I went to Koch's less frequently, but no matter how long it had been since my last visit, Bob never forgot my order.
I don't know why I thought about Koch's today, but as I had a little walk down memory lane I found out that Bob Koch passed away in August, 2005.
KOCH ROBERT E., Aug. 8, 2005, husband of Patricia (nee Wiley), brother of Dr. Barry Koch (Abby) and the late Louis Koch, stepfather of Charles Haub (Missi), David Haub (Shirley) and Michael Haub (Kristen), grandfather of Christina, Sophia, Matthew and Michael. Relatives and friends are invited to Graveside Services Wed. 12 noon precisely Har Jehuda Cem. (Section 10 commandments). Family will return to his late residence. Contributions in his memory may be made to Make A Wish Foundation, Five Valley Square, 512 Township Line Road, Suite 103, Blue Bell, PA 19422.
GOLDSTEINS' ROSENBERG'S RAPHAEL SACKS Published in the Philadelphia Inquirer & Philadelphia Daily News on 8/9/2005.
I miss Lou and Bob. I never had a chance to thank them, but I'll never forget the way they helped a scared kid settle into a new city, one honey turkey hogie at a time.
Le Pain Quotidien - one year and half a world away...
A year after Serena and I took my parents to Le Pain Quotidien on the Upper East Side of New York (almost to the day), I found myself in another Le Pain Quotidien - this time in London. Sunday brunch with Julie, Ludo, Giovanna, Giulia, and Giovanni was exactly what Serena and I needed (that, and one of those little mixed berry tarts and a Belgian waffle).
New York's Village Halloween Parade is an institution here in the city. People start talking about it weeks before it happens. This year I decided to go see what the hype was all about. I was told that you get the best view of the parade if you actually march in it (which apparently anyone can do if you show up in a costume at the starting point), but thought I would have my first parade experience as a spectator.
I headed down with a couple of people from the lab around 7pm. After making our way past the corner of 14th St. and 6th Ave. (not an easy task with the crowd that turned up), we settled on a spot just north of 14th St., with a somewhat obstructed view of the people marching. In addition to the fairly standard Snow White, Little Bo Peep, and men dressed as women costumes, there was some real creativity on display.
Here are some clips to give you an idea of the atmosphere. My personal favorite is the last one of the group dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller. It definitely reminded me of these guys, minus the orange suits.
Didn't get many pictures of people in costume, but got one of Superdog - he was pretty hard to miss.
I had my doubts that this product even existed, even after Rany's friend told me that she worked on it (marketing, I think). But there it was, right next to the Pine Sol in the CVS on 2nd between my place and the gym.
When I woke up this morning and looked out my window I thought the end of the world was here. I couldn't see the sky, there was no light coming into my apartment, no sounds of birds chirping, kids playing, people talking...
Then I realized it's not the end of the world - I live on the Upper East Side, where people substitute dogs for children, there are no birds, and the high rise building next door is almost finished, completely blocking any hope of sunlight entering my apartment.
