The classic martini post that was just published isn’t showing the photos. Maybe the host site is wonky right now and it will correct itself. I apologize…
A classic martini…
A martini may be one of the most recognizable cocktails known worldwide and are an American cocktail. A martini is a drink that oozes class and glamour. A true Hollywood drink, we have James Bond and many other movies to thank for that.
I’ve known what a martini is since I am 7 or 8 years old. My father taught me how to make one when I was around 10. My dad was a part-time bartender for a caterer and was a good teacher.
I began mixing up martinis for my parents at their request. I made a damn good martini, even at 12. I knew the difference between martinis and how my parents like theirs. I was already their maid, so why not their butler too? 😂
The history of the martini has a few different versions but all agree on the place of origin in Martinez, CA in the mid-1800s. The martini started as a gin-based drink with vermouth, bitters, and lemon. The vodka martini debuted in the 1950s when vodka became a popular spirit.
In 1962 James Bond ordered his martini, “Shaken not stirred.” Most people know that line from the movie but aren’t exactly sure what it means beyond the obvious. More about that later.
Like everything else, martini purists will argue until the cows come home about what makes the best martini or how to make the best martini.
A martini starts with either gin or vodka. I happen to be a vodka martini girl. Next comes the dry vermouth, an aromatized fortified wine flavored with various botanicals and sometimes colored.
The amount of dry vermouth added to a martini classifies a martini as wet, dry, or extra dry. My parents liked extra-dry martinis.
The basic recipe for a classic martini starts with 3 ounces of gin or vodka. For a wet martini, 1 ounce of vermouth is added, 1/2 an ounce for a dry martini and barely wetting the ice or basically waving the bottle in the air above the glass for an extra dry one.
I used the barely wetting the ice method when I was mixing martinis for my folks. I like dry martinis myself but can drink all three, to be honest with you.
The next thing to mention is if a martini is served straight up or on the rocks. Straight up means no ice, while on the rocks means with ice. I like my martinis ice cold and straight-up, but sometimes I make one on the rocks. It all depends on what kind of mood I am in.
Now, back to whether a martini should be shaken or stirred. A martini made in a mixing glass with ice and shaken chills the drink to 5 degrees in 15 seconds. The drink is then strained into a chilled martini glass. That’s how I like mine.
Purists believe that shaking a martini is an act of blasphemy, bruising the gin or vodka. They think the drink should be made with ice in a mixing glass, stirred gently with a bar spoon, and then strained into a chilled glass. This method takes longer to chill the drink down to an acceptable temperature.
Shaken or stirred can also refer to how much or fast the ice waters down the drink. Some argue that a shaken martini may be slightly cloudy, whereas a stirred one is crystal clear. In my experience, when either is poured into a chilled glass the result is cloudy when it is first made anyway.
What else to add to a martini is another cause for discussion. Purists call for a lemon peel, while others like olives or cocktail onions. The olives can be large stuffed ones with feta or bleu cheese, garlic, or jalapeño peppers. The classic is three olives on a pick. That’s my favorite, but I like all of the others too.
Whenever I make or order a martini, I ask for a dirty vodka martini straight up with three olives. What’s a dirty martini? The “dirt” comes from adding a splash of olive brine. A double dirty martini has more olive brine added.
I explained a classic martini, but there are now literally hundreds of different kinds of martinis made by mixologists today.
Here’s the next question, what is the difference between a plain old bartender and a mixologist.
In cocktail culture, the term “mixologist” refers to someone who studies the history of mixed drinks, has a rich appreciation of the ingredients and techniques used, and regularly creates new and innovative mixed drinks.
A bartender is someone who makes standard drinks and house specialties. A bartender can work quickly and manage crowds of people, whereas a mixologist works methodically in a more intimate bar environment or craft cocktail lounge. Speakeasy bars with secret entrance ways have popped up worldwide for customers looking for a complete (and expensive) bar experience.
Different specialty martinis include bikini, chocolate, watermelon, blood orange, chocolate, lemon, raspberry, cucumber, mint…you get the idea. Bartenders make these specialty cocktails with standard flavored spirits such as different schnapps or flavored vodkas. Did you know there is whipped cream vodka? My neighbor bought it by mistake and gave it to me; it tastes like whipped cream.
Mixologists make these specialty drinks with infused vodkas and gins, sweet and savory simple syrups, and fresh herbs. Watching a mixologist prepare these drinks is a show in itself. All the care justifies the higher price, thought, and preparation each drink takes to make; mixologists are compared to chefs.
So why in fucks name did I decide to write about martinis? Here is how my brain works…I watched season 4 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and she was drinking a straight-up martini with three olives. Yup, I had to have one. I’ve been on a martini kick these days ever since and wanted to write about them. That’s why. 😜
Cheers, my friends! Tomorrow is Monday…Let’s make it a good one!
Paybacks are a bitch…
It’s hard to believe it’s already a week since we were on the train heading into Penn Station. While we were gone, the orders started pouring in; all of our biggest accounts placed orders.
Large orders always happen when we take a couple of days off, just like they did when we were in Vegas in September. Three years ago, we tried to get away for a couple of days in Connecticut but came home after only one day to catch up. Just for the record, this is a great thing, just a bit overwhelming for me, and is kicking my ass.
It’s Thursday morning; I fed the dogs while Marty prepped out in the production kitchen. After today, we will have made more spätzle than we do in two weeks. Tomorrow, we still have another big production day to prepare for the farmer’s market.
My legs have been tired after walking for miles in NYC and then standing so much in the kitchen, but I was utterly exhausted after I got home last night from almost three hours of belly dance.
By the time I got groceries lugged into the house, put away, and made dinner, my legs felt like someone from the Sopranos had put cement boots on me.
After I ate, I dragged myself upstairs and got ready for bed. Usually, I have to unwind after a long day, but last night I couldn’t have been more unwound already. I needed to go to bed, period; I couldn’t get out of my own way fast enough.
The alarm woke me from a deep sleep early this morning; I had to set it; we had a long day ahead. Production was brutal for me. BRUTAL! I felt more exhausted this morning than I did at the Amtrak Station on Friday night, which didn’t seem possible.
Somehow, I worked my way through production and cleaned up; we finished in record time because we had to hit the road to make deliveries. These were deliveries that needed to be at restaurants in time for their dinner service.
It’s 1 pm. I am in the truck with Marty; we are making deliveries to The Cooper Grouse, the restaurant in the Taconic Hotel in Manchester, VT. Tonight the new chef, Chef Dusty, is launching his new menu, and we happen to be on the menu with pork chops. ☺️
It’s always wonderful to see when local restaurants use local products from local farmers and food artisans. We live in a place that screams, “Use local,” even though most restaurants find it easier to use products from Sysco, a colossal food service company.
We are also going to HN Williams in Dorset, Southside Steakhouse in Rutland, and The Mountain Top Resort in Chittenden, where our spätzle is a popular option on their wedding reception menu. Wedding season will begin right after mud season is over.
When we got to our last stop, The Mountain Top, we were starving. We decided to grab a late lunch there before coming home. We were the only people in the bar dining room and had a table with a fabulous view. I was tired; it was fantastic that the service was fast and the place was quiet.
It’s 5:30 pm, almost 12 hours from when I started my day. Finally, this is what I have been waiting for all-day…to put on my pajamas, make an ice-cold dirty vodka martini straight-up with 3 olives, and sit on the couch with my feet up. If I end up in bed by 8 pm, then good for me, tomorrow is another big production day.
Monte’s…
Last Friday, we walked around Greenwich Village looking for two gluten-free places that were on my list of places to check out.
When we got to the intersection of Bleeker Street and MacDougal, we both looked to the right and saw it! Monte’s!
Monte’s Trattoria is where Marty and I had our first date back in January of 1985. I remember the day like it was yesterday.
Marty picked me up in his little white Alfa Romero. We parked his car at Metropark Train Station and jumped on an NJ Transit train. We pulled into Penn Station and walked around midtown. Christmas decorations were still up and it was cold out.
We went to the Hard Rock Cafe for an early lunch. We were seated next to the band Wang Chung, which was pretty cool. We walked over to Rockefeller Center and while we were watching the ice skaters below he kissed me. It really was one of those magical moments that happen once in a lifetime.
We were both head over heels and knew that we were meant to be together. Can you fall in love that quickly?
I decided right then and there that I needed to be my authentic self with him; I was tired of trying to act a certain way so guys would like me. Our personalities and upbringings were completely opposite, so if this was going to work, I had to be me.
Before things got too far and I let myself get hurt, I told him, “Look, I drink, I smoke, and I curse, so if you don’t like it, that’s too fucking bad.” He immediately shot back, “What are you doing tomorrow night?” 😂
We made our way downtown to walk around the “Village.” We both loved the village, and both had our favorite spots. We stopped for drinks at a few different places and ended up at Monte’s. I wasn’t familiar with it, then he led me down the stairs to the restaurant.
Monte’s is a small Italian restaurant that opened in 1918. It was and still is the real fucking deal. We sat at a table for two. There was a man sitting directly behind me, alone at a two-top as well. I looked at him before I sat down. He looked businesslike and scholarly.
He was dressed well, although I couldn’t imagine why he was sitting with a winter trench coat on since it was hot in the restaurant. He wore glasses and seemed well-groomed.
As we were sipping our drinks and enjoying each course coming out of the kitchen the man was having a conversation. A loud and angry conversation at times. The Maître d’ went over several times pleading, “Senor, please, quiet down and stop cursing there are people right behind you.”
The man obviously didn’t give a shit who was around him; he had an argument to win. He must be a big-time lawyer or an NYU professor, I thought. While we were having our desserts the man got up and left. The maître d’ apologized again for the man’s rudeness.
I said to Marty, “That man must be rich to spend that much money on so many cell phone minutes.” I thought he had to be loaded to afford a cellphone back in 1985; they had only been on the market for two years.
Marty started cracking up and could barely breathe, let alone tell me what was so funny. “He wasn’t on the phone; he was talking to himself.” I was shocked, “You mean he was fucking nuts?” Marty replied, “Yes.” Sad, but very funny at the same time.
Dinner at Monte’s was one of the best dinners and nights of my life. I remember the food and desserts were excellent. Everything was made in-house; it was old-world cooking on an upscale level.
That was the last time we were in Monte’s until Friday. We were both so excited when we saw it. Marty grabbed my hand and he led me down the stairs to the restaurant.
We walked in, and the place looked just as it had 37 years ago. It wasn’t dated after all that time; it was simple elegance. The bathroom had been recently renovated, probably during the pandemic shut down.
As I recall, Monte’s bathroom could have used a renovation. It is a one-person restroom that is now gorgeous with shiny white subway tiles, a new sink, toilet, lighting, and a huge mirror. I have a thing about checking out bathrooms in places I am in; I have done it since I was a little girl. I would report back at the table what the bathroom was like. LOL!
A few diners were having a late lunch. Two guys were sitting at the corner of the small bar, and a bartender was dressed like high-end, old-school bartenders do.
We sat at the bar and told the bartender that this was where we had our first date in ’85. He asked why we waited so long to come back. Lol! The two guys at the bar laughed at that one as well. We knew we were going to like this guy.
We ordered a couple of cocktails and sat talking to everyone at the bar. We are bar people and always feel more comfortable sitting at a bar instead of a table. We have met many interesting people at bars over the years.
We felt welcomed and at home there; that’s the vibe the place gave us back then and now. We didn’t eat because it was midday since we were still stuffed from the curry wurst and fries.
The chef, Chef Mosconi, came out of the kitchen to say hello. He spoke in English but spoke Italian back and forth to a patron leaving and the guys at the bar. When he heard we were from Vermont, he told us his wife went to college at St. Joseph’s in Rutland, VT. She was a teacher. Marty told him he had worked in Rutland for years.
We also found out he was the chef when we were last there. He started “in the business” in ’83. He was very friendly and looked like what you would imagine an Italian chef to look like. His parents ran the restaurant beforehand; a black and white photo of them standing behind the bar is hanging up.
Chef Mosconi cooks food true to his Italian roots with love; he is passionate about making different kinds of stuffed pasta.
The walls in Monte’s are full of celebrities that have dined at Monte’s over the years. There are photos of currently famous people and all the biggies like Sinatra who frequented the place.
Monte’s is a neighborhood institution. It is on a food and history walking tour of Greenwich village. A tour group came into the restaurant while we were there. Ironically, I am going on a similar walking tour with my sister Jennifer in a couple of weeks. This had been planned long before Marty and I even knew would be in the city for Hamilton. I spoke with the tour guide, who may be my tour guide.
We finished our drinks and paid the tab. We thanked everyone and said our goodbyes. The bartender told us not to wait so long to come back. We all laughed.
I told him the one thing I learned during the pandemic is you don’t get time back and don’t know how long you have. You have to do things and live life. You can’t keep on waiting as we did. I snapped a few photos and whispered to the restaurant, “We will be back soon.”
Besides Hamilton, this was the highlight of the trip for me. I still felt like a young girl with this funny and handsome guy. I never imagined that night we would be back 37 years later. That’s Amore! 😍
What a trip!
I’ve been figuring out the best way to tackle our two-day trip to NYC. We packed in so much in under 48 hours it wasn’t funny. Getting back to the city was well overdue; now that we went, we will be going back again soon.
Rather than write about our trip chronologically, I will write about subjects. This will keep me from flitting from one thing to another, making the piece hard to understand.
Travel & accommodations
We started the night before our trip by going to our favorite Chinese place, Ala Shanghai, and spent the night in Albany since we had an early train to catch. Again, the weather forecast was not a pretty one with ice and mixed precipitation.
Our whole Amtrak experience was an excellent one! The ride was pleasant, comfortable, and quick. The trip into the city is less than 2 1/2 hours and went very fast. The train was sold out, picking up passengers along the way.
We stayed at the OYO Hotel, 800 ft from Times Square and a 5-minute walk to the Richard Rodgers Theater. It was a great location!
It was a small boutique hotel with only nine floors. The building was old but updated. Our room was on the 6th floor, small but modern, clean, and comfortable. It was perfect. The mattress was incredibly comfortable, and the two pillows seemed customized for me.
The only drawback was that the elevator was extremely slow, so we walked down the stairs to save time. We walked down, not up, since our legs and feet were so tired from all our walking.
Like the rest of the city, the hotel is under construction, which you did not see. It seemed like most of the city’s buildings had scaffolding around them, but this is good when it is raining like it was our first day. Scaffolding = staying dry.
We bought a Metrocard and took the subway everywhere for the rest of the trip. We were a little rusty at first, but we both got back into our NY groove and found the system as second nature as it had been years ago. The subway is the best way to get around the city quickly and affordably.
Ghost town
To say we were shocked and dumbfounded is an understatement. Times Square was empty. There were virtually no people. There is no traffic like it used to have since it is a pedestrian zone, but the were no people!
The usual touristy places like where the late show is filmed and NBS Studios were empty. I took photos to show just how quiet the streets were. It was a little creepy and scary; I can’t imagine how it was a year ago.
Many people are working from home so that accounts for some of the lack of people along with March not being a touristy time of the year.
The streets filled up more in the evening with theatergoers and other visitors, which was good to see. New York is struggling for its economy to come back; it felt good to support it.
Hamilton
We’ve been listening to the soundtrack to Hamilton for years. I’ve heard it hundreds of times and know most of the words to the songs. We lost track of how many times we watched the show on Disney + with the original cast.
Just seeing the Richard Rodgers Theater was exciting! We almost bought tickets right before the pandemic, but they were too expensive for us at the time. This was a major regret of mine during the shutdown of our country. It was sad that the lights went out on Broadway for over a year for the first time.
Sam chose good seats for us in the orchestra section, on the end, in case I need to “go potty.” 😂 Our seats were good; we could even see the expressions on the actor’s faces and close enough to hear their shoes squeak when they did turns.
I may be the only person to notice spin squeaks, but I did because the same thing happens when we do spins in belly dance when the floor is tacky from humidity. It was raining out, so maybe this was the case at the show.
When we got to our seats, I can’t describe how exciting it was to see the stage and be “in the room where it happened.” From our seats, I could see where the actors waited in the stage’s wings to come out and what props they had for the next scene.
I realize most people wouldn’t think to watch the wings of the stage, but I knew the show so well it was cool to watch what was about to unfold in person.
I was concerned I would be disappointed seeing the show live since the original cast is no longer in the show. I was wrong. The actors that night played their roles amazingly close to the original cast with the same passion, emotions, and expertise. Their voices sounded so similar, and their mannerisms on point.
The only character I was disappointed in was Angelica. The actress is excellent, I’ve seen her in other shows, but she seemed to be on stage just performing, not in character. The original Angelica played by Renee Elise Goldsberry made me cry every time she sang “Satisfied” and started the song “It’s quiet uptown.”
When Renee Elise Goldsberry played Angelica, she was Angelica. She was filled with emotion, and you could feel how heartbroken she was. When she was interviewed after Hamilton aired on Disney +, it was the first time any of the original cast saw the show for themselves; she said watching the show, she was a puddle of tears and felt the heartache all over again. She exhibited anguish and sorrow at every performance. The actress we saw had no emotion even though she had a lovely voice.
After the opening number, Alexander Hamilton, while the cast stood at the edge of the stage singing, I was so overwhelmed that I cried. Nothing can ever replace live theater and experience it.
Gluten-free food tour
After being disappointed with the lack of gluten-free food in Vegas, I did my research. I read blogs and followed dedicated gluten-free bakeries and restaurants on social media. I watched YouTube videos of gluten-free restaurant reviews. NYC didn’t disappoint; according to Hamilton, it is the “greatest city in the world.”
We started at Friedman’s, a Jewish deli where the phrase “there’s no such thing as a free lunch” was coined. We asked our server about gluten-free choices; he told us everything on the menu was or could be gluten-free except for the matzo ball soup.
We were in a New York Jewish deli, so we ordered a pastrami sandwich with herb-tossed french fries. We also had an order of potato latkes; again, in a Jewish deli, you get the latkes.
The food was delicious! It felt good to feel normal and order whatever we wanted off the menu without worry. We shared our meals so we could save room for more items to try.
Later that day, we headed up to the upper east side and went to a dedicated gluten-free Parisian bakery called Noglu NY. They have two locations, one in Paris, the other in NY. If I can’t go to a bakery in Paris, I figured I had to go to this one.
The bakery was how I imagined it. The website is in French, so I was relieved the staff spoke English. We had the most sexy-ass quiche I had ever seen or tasted! The crust was brioche-like; the wilted spinach filling was as light and fluffy as a cloud.
Marty and I split the quiche and one of their pastries filled with a caramel-like cream, topped with thinly sliced almonds. Holy shit, you guys, it was just like being in Paris. I was so happy we went.
The next day, we headed back uptown and went to a dedicated gluten-free bakery called Modern Bread and Bagel. I’ve read on social media their bagels are authentic NY bagels, and you can’t tell the difference. Could this be true I wondered?
First of all, unless you have had the real deal, an authentic NY bagel, you haven’t had one. Modern Bread and Bagel’s bagels were exactly as explained. We couldn’t believe we were eating real NY bagels! I almost cried with joy; it was that good.
The staff were friendly and explained the various cream cheeses and other “schmears” to us and their pasties. It was hard to make a choice, but we will be going back there again for sure; it took some of the pressure off.
Marty had his favorite sesame bagel with veggie cream cheese. I had a plain bagel; I wanted to try a plain one to taste the bagel and not the toppings with olive cream cheese. There were whole kalamata olives in the cream cheese!
We also found an everything bagel with housemade lox, cream cheese, arugula, and tomato in our bag by mistake. They told us to keep it and enjoy it. It was my first time trying lox; the sandwich reminded me of a BLT. The lox tasted like the kosher answer to bacon.
Next, we headed downtown to Chelsea Market, which we had never been to before. It is a foodie’s dream place with various food vendors and artisan shops. We stopped at Berlin Currywurst. We had to see if their currywurst was as good as those in Berlin, and yes, it was. It tasted just like my food memory. Everything at Berlin Currywurst was gluten-free except for the buns.
We walked off the currywurst while heading to the Union Square Green Market. It is a farmers market that is open 5 or 6 days a week. We knew a few vendors there and said hello to them. After hearing about this market for so long, it was fantastic to see it.
We also went to Washington Square Park to rest our legs and watch some street performers. It was sunny and warm; the magnolias and daffodils were in full bloom. Spring had sprung in NYC, which felt great.
We kept walking and stopped to check out two more dedicated gluten-free places. Senza Gluten and Posh Pot Bakehouse. Senza was closed for dinner until 5 pm, but we got to go in and see it anyway.
Posh Pop Bakehouse is a sweets eater heaven with over-the-top cakes and other sweets. The whole place is very girlie and all pink, which I loved. The staff was so friendly and passionate about their bakery. They were happy and proud to have such a purpose in the gluten-free community. If you love sweets, you have to go there.
Our last gluten-free food stop was a Thai place called Kati Shop. It was like a Thai version of Chiptoles where you pick your rice, protein, sauce, and toppings. Everything in the shop was gluten-free and delicious. The owner was very friendly and gave us samples of all their curries and explained the dishes in detail. We got so much food for under $25 and walked out of there stuffed and tired.
During the trip we also had drinks and other gluten-free bites in bars so we could sit down and use their bathrooms. Bathrooms are hard to come by since they are for patrons only or in fancy hotels or department stores. Marty found the “best place to take a dump” at the Moxy Hotel. 😂
We packed in so much in two days! We were exhausted while waiting for our train in the comfortable Amtrak waiting area. The train ride home went quickly and was restful. The hour-long car ride also went simple, hitting no traffic.
Tomorrow, I will be writing about how Marty and I went back to a place in Greenwich Village where we had our first date back in 1985. This post is long enough, so I figured I would do it justice and write about it tomorrow, giving us all a break. Lol.
Yesterday and today, I am relaxing because we are back to work tomorrow with so many orders that came in during our time off, which we are thankful for.
What a great trip we had! ☺️
Check✔️
Hey guys! Just checking in; its been a busy week so far, the good news is besides a few deliveries to make, we are ready to go away!
Today, I am belly dancing with Kathleen from 3-4 then teaching from 5:45-7:15. I usually don’t leave until after 8, but tonight Marty is picking me up early.
I am happy we decided to spend the night in Albany, we have a winter weather advisory until tomorrow. I would be a hot mess worrying about traveling at 5 am in an ice storm.
That’s it from me, I’ll take lots of photos and report back. Enjoy the rest of your week! ❤️
Getting ready…
We are headed down to NYC first thing on Thursday morning. We haven’t been down to the city in 9 years. Sam gave us two tickets to the Broadway show Hamilton for our February birthdays. Plus two Amtrack round trip tickets from Albany to Penn Station. The kicker is he also booked us one night at the hotel, OYO in Times Square, which is located very close to the theatre.
This was a shock. The first thing I did was cry. Then I felt terrible he spent so much money on us. We always tell our boys not to spend money on us and use their money for themselves.
I wouldn’t see Sam for hours to thank or talk to him about his gift. When I did see him, he told me he planned on doing it for a while. He said that since he was working so many extra hours, he could afford it. I guess he could, but I still felt bad. No one ever gave me or us a gift like this before.
Marty and I never got to go away when our kids were small; neither of our families would babysit for us. Hell, they wouldn’t even babysit for one night. If my mother had to, I would “owe her big time.” Owing you to spend time with your grandchildren? Ok then. Too bad she felt that way. My mother-in-law flat out refused. Sadly, that was her loss too.
I have a million things going through my head before we go. We have a lot of spätzle to make. Wholesale orders to fill and deliver. Plan for what needs to be done when we get back. Answer calls and email and post on social media; we will not be at the farmers market on Saturday. Plus, anything else that comes up.
I always pack days ahead when we go away. When the kids were small, and we rented a shore house for a week, I packed for weeks, including bedding, towels, inside and outside toys, books, clothes for four people, and food. We didn’t eat out; I cooked or grilled whatever I could find from the butcher shop and produce markets on Long Beach Island.
Last night, I got out what I am taking to NYC. It was easy because everything is black and I have an entire wardrobe of it. The weather will be iffy with rain and temps around 55 degrees. I hope the coat I am taking will do the trick; however, the thing about NYC is that you can find absolutely anything at any time if you need something.
We leave Albany at 8:30 am and get into Penn Station before 11 am. We can’t check into the hotel until 3 pm, so we have to carry whatever we bring all day. We are taking backpacks and are packing very lightly. This stressed me out until I got what I wanted to take and found everything fit, and my pack wasn’t too heavy.
Today, we were in the production kitchen bright and early so we could each go separate ways to make deliveries. Marty headed to Saratoga, and I went to Rutland. I wanted to pick up some food for Sam while we were gone, so I stopped at Aldis. I like leaving him good food since he is as much a food person as I am.
When I got home from Rutland, I made Klausie boy his doggy meatballs that we sneak his allergy meds in every morning. He will run out of meatballs before we get back on Friday night. I also made a quick marinara sauce for a baked ziti for Sam as a quick reheat and-go meal.
Last night, in the middle of the night, when I couldn’t sleep, I did some research and found many dedicated gluten-free restaurants in the city. Other restaurants can virtually make anything on their menu gluten-free if you ask. I see a big pastrami sandwich at Friedman’s and a real NY bagel at Modern Bread and Bagel, which is gluten-free and gets rave reviews by actual New Yorkers.
Hamilton starts at 7 pm on Thursday night, we plan to go out afterward in search of cocktails and snacks. We have the whole day on Friday in the city since our train doesn’t leave until 9 pm. Sam planned it this way for us to enjoy as much of the city we wanted to. We get back into Albany around 11:30 pm.
We love lower or downtown Manhattan. Our old stomping grounds in Greenwich Village haven’t seen us in decades. We always love to walk through Little Italy and Chinatown as well.
I found several dedicated gluten-free restaurants downtown. One is called Senza Gluten NY, and I want to check out a dedicated GF bakery called Posh Pop. It’s very girlie with pink roses on the walls. I am a sucker for girlie things, believe it or not.
After waking up to an anxiety attack at 4:30 am, I feel less stressed today than I have about our trip. Since we have an early morning train on Thursday morning, Marty is picking me up after bellydance Wednesday night and heading to Albany to spend the night. We have Hilton rewards points up the ass, so we may as well use them.
Now, I won’t have to worry about oversleeping or hitting traffic on the hour-plus ride. I know we would never oversleep, but my 2 am brain doesn’t know that.
Sam is happy to see me so excited; he told me he wanted us to have this trip and see Hamilton in person because he knew we would never do it ourselves. He’s 100% right! We wouldn’t do it in a million years. I am so looking forward to it I can hardly stand it! 🤗
A welcome change in plans…
Yesterday, when I woke up, I expected a rainy day in the 50s. After some coffee and yogurt, I got dressed and headed out to the production kitchen for our usual Friday production and deliveries.
As I walked outside, there were blue skies in the distance, and it was warm. It was so much better than the forecast Alexa just told me. Marty was almost giddy about the weather when I got inside the production kitchen.
We decided to power through production and make the most of the day outside. Yes, I had half a dozen things that needed to be done inside the house, but I thought the hell with it, this day is a gift, and I am not going to blow it.
Fridays are always “Broadway Tunes Friday” in the production kitchen. We put on Hamilton in preparation for seeing the show in NYC next week. We also know that whenever we listen to Hamilton, we work our asses off and get shit done quickly. We did in record time!
We’ve been squirreling away lumber, decking, and screws over the winter for a small deck we will be building for the pool we put up back in September. We tried using the ladder that came with the pool, but it wasn’t fun, safe, or enjoyable.
Marty put in footers for the deck in the fall, saving us from waiting for the ground to thaw in the springtime; plus, it saved time when it came to deck building.
We decided to start to build the frame and see how far we would get. We had to stop in the middle of working to both make deliveries in Bennington & Manchester. We each got home as fast as possible and got back to work.
We finished the frame and decided it was a good stopping place. I could have gone inside and gotten the stuff done I put aside, but instead, I suggested taking the dogs for a walk.
After we got back, again, I could have gone inside but made another suggestion of having our first Friday night happy hour on the front porch. Without hesitation, Marty said, “good idea.”
The front porch sectional cushions were still packed away in trunks stored in the barn. I didn’t want to waste the gorgeous weather and sunshine getting them out. Marty convinced me it would take ten minutes. He grabbed the cushions and staged them for me to carry to the porch. Within ten minutes, the cushions were in place, and I made us two of my favorite cocktails, rum & tonic with lemon.
Klaus and Otto were first so happy to go on a walk, but being back out on the front porch was heaven for them. The front porch is their favorite place to sit, lay down and play Stalker McGee.
I texted Martin if he was around to stop over for a quick pop. A few minutes later, he walked across the street, and we were toasting our first outdoor “Happy Friday” of the year. 🍹
An exception…
I am not a person who follows what others are doing. Back in high school, I wore designer jeans and had big hair like everyone else, but back then, I wanted to fit in at high school.
I don’t copy and paste things and repost them on my Facebook page. I don’t take quizzes or do Wordle. The one exception is following the crowd wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day. It’s a big deal to me. When I was a child I hated St. Patrick’s Day.
Growing up adopted, I didn’t know my nationalities, and it bothered me when other people were proudly Irish, Italian, German, etc. I never knew how to answer when someone asked me what I “was.” I was nothing.
I would stammer around my words, explaining that I was adopted and didn’t know. That’s when people would play the guessing game. “You look Italian, you have to be Italian.” Many people thought I looked Jewish or Mediterranean. All good guesses but no one ever said, Irish.
St. Patrick’s Day was my mother’s big holiday; she was Irish. My parents told me I was adopted when I was five years old. I remember I asked her if I was Irish too? She never answered me; instead, she would dress me up in green like a doll and send me to school telling me it was ok that I was wearing green; everyone was Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. It still makes me cringe how bad I felt and stupid wearing green.
I left the house in tears. I hated her for knowing she was Irish, and I didn’t know what I was. She hurt me year after year with that comment. Telling her how I felt wouldn’t have done any good, plus big consequences would have been. My father always told me to keep my mouth shut; everyone would be happy. Seriously?
That all changed in 2014 when I finally found my biological history, family, and DNA. I was indeed Irish; I am 72% Irish, about 6% Scottish, and a little Eastern European.
I found my biological Information after my mother had her stroke in 2013. She never wanted me to know my history and lied about her having my adoption information. She told me I would have to wait until she died. All the Information was in a large folder. Her “death” folder, she called it.
The night of her stroke, I had to find and open the death folder and pull out the power of attorney paperwork for the hospital naming me as such. When I went through the rest of the death folder, I realized there was no paperwork from my adoption or any information.
I had to clean out her apartment since she now lived in a care facility. When I realized there was no information, not even a clue, I was in a state of shock. I remember sitting on the empty apartment floor crying that I never found anything, and she lied to me.
Not only was I in shock but more so angry and sad. How dare she use my adoption information like a carrot being dangled in front of me my whole life. I had to wait, she always said. Even when I had severe health issues, she didn’t want me to know anything, even my medical history.
A couple of months after closing the apartment, I called Catholic Charities in Newark, NJ, for help. New Jersey’s Governor opened sealed adoption records on January 1, 2014. I gave a woman from Catholic Charities some information, not thinking she would find anything. Guess what? They found my biological mother in 3 weeks. I can’t describe to you how it felt when I finally got the Information I had been wanting and needing.
I never told my adopted mother I found my biological or DNA history. I didn’t tell her I had relationships with my birth family either. I didn’t want to hurt her even though I was still hurt and angry that she lied to me. On the other hand, I didn’t think she deserved to know. It was my Information, not hers.
Once I found out my history, it closed a nagging open circle I had for my whole life. I felt complete. This is not something I can describe, only adopted people would know how it felt. I also knew I was blessed to have a happy ending when I searched when many others weren’t that lucky. It was a risk I was willing to take, no matter what I would have found.
Now that my adopted mother is deceased, I realize after working on forgiveness and letting go of hurtful stuff why she acted the way she did. She used the Irish thing on me for years to make herself feel better. She had something I didn’t have and she rubbed it in. Did she do it on purpose? Was she that unhappy or jealous of a child?
As far as lying to me about my adoption information, I know she was afraid of someone taking me back, or her worst fear was what if I did find my biological mother and like her better. As a mother, I can see how she may have felt that way, but it still doesn’t excuse continuing the lie for 48 years.
Finding my biological mother would never have changed the fact that she was my mother who took care of me, raised me, and always would be my mother. I loved her, and that would never change.
Back to St. Patrick’s Day, I found out Irish people tell ten stories before getting to what they want to say. I thought it was just me; it drives Marty crazy.
Now, I jump on the bandwagon every St. Patrick’s Day and wear green as everyone else does. I wear green like a beacon of green, showing the world where I came from and could finally answer those who wanted to what I “was.”
I knew someday this story would come out, I didn’t expect it to on St. Patrick’s Day. I didn’t expect to write about my mother in this piece. Before I knew it, words were pouring out of me.
Writing about my relationship with my mother is painful but is helping me with forgiveness and letting go. I still have a long way to go; there is a lot of emotional hurt and abuse trapped inside of me. Every time I let a little piece go, I feel the healing effect.
I said from the start I wanted to be genuine and authentic on my blog. I wasn’t going to write about a bunch of fake bullshit; I would write about the journey I am on, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Yes, this was another difficult piece for me to write, but it needed to be told.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! 🍀
Spring cleaning begins…
I love to spring clean! Nothing beats getting rid of the winter dirt and dust; ok, maybe that’s pushing it a bit. You know what I mean.
I can’t tell you the last time I washed the windows in our house. We tackled many projects around the house during covid, but cleaning windows wasn’t one of them.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the new replacement windows we got for our mudroom. We are still waiting on the sixth one to arrive. It broke in transit. If Marty didn’t call to have it tracked, I am unsure if FedEx would have said anything.
The window company, American Craftsman, wasn’t aware of the broken window either and apologized. Even though it’s not their fault after the windows leave their plant, they apologized anyway and sent the new window out right away. I like this company in a world where it’s hard to get anyone to call you back, answer an email or give you a straight answer.
We keep noticing how sparkling clean the new windows are, making all the rest of the windows look terrible. I’ve cleaned the insides over the last three years, but not the outsides, and boy, do they need it.
After production and lunch, I decided to start with the dining room. I used a sponge with vinegar water to get the dirt off, then used Windex to clean and shine. They say never wash windows on a sunny day, well that wasn’t a problem today for sure.
I got the dining room and kitchen done in a short amount of time. What a difference! Holy shit! I should have done it a lot sooner. They aren’t hazy anymore and seem to be letting in more light.
Better late than never. Now I just have the rest of the house to do.