30 Hours in Albany
About half of my worldly possessions are in a storage locker just outside of Albany. The other half is with me in Princeton. That said, I have a few items of note that are spread out a bit further afield. For example, Albany Jane has my KitchenAid stand mixer, and LilithNY has my ice cream maker.
Up until last week, the family china that I’ve inherited has been in a Providence, Rhode Island storage locker. But in December, my stepfather informed me that it would have to be removed by the end of January.
Fortunately, he was willing to drive it up to my storage locker. The only catch is that I would have to drive up from New Jersey to meet him there. But as long as I was making the drive, I figured, why not make the most of it.
An Old Fashioned Compromise
Let it not be said that I am completely inflexible.
True story. Last week when I was meeting with the personal trainer, I asked her to show me some more exercises I could do to strengthen my core. It was great. I learned how to do the side plank and bicycle crunches. There was some third exercise that involved laying on my back and putting my legs straight up in the air. We never got through that last one, because after noticing my limited range of motion, she declared, “Your flexibility is atrocious.”
Perhaps the inflexibility of my opinions has taken a physical toll on my body. Maybe you remember my stance on the Old Fashioned cocktail? I sided with Rachel Maddow on this one. It’s really supposed to be sweetened and seasoned whiskey on ice. That’s it. Bitters. Sugar. Booze. Ice cube.
But still, the demand for muddled cherries and orange in this drink is deafening. So after a little bit of experimentation, I’m willing to meet halfway.
Desire of a Carnivore, Soul of a Vegan
I’ve never really written about Z.
Really, the beginning of my culinary journey was at the end of high school. Raf and a few of his friends would hold these roving feasts. Usually when someone’s parents were out of town, the gang would descend upon a kitchen a cook up a storm. I’ve written about these feasts in the past. Maybe you remember, it’s how I first started cooking and why my entry point was desserts.
All of the guys involved with this group were obsessives. Z even had this routine for cleaning his ears with Q-tips before listening to metal in order to appreciate the music better. And as opinionated as everyone else was, Z always seemed to be more.
Given the group, that was quite the accomplishment.
Anyhow, at the end of high school, I was coming into my own self. My hair was growing longer and there was some concern that I might be turning into a hippie. Not because I was smoking pot, I wasn’t. But because I started getting interested in environmental causes.
One night Z made a proclamation. Really, it was more of a wager. He was absolutely convinced that I would come back from college a vegetarian. For the rabid carnivores around the feast, the notion of turning away from meat was almost unthinkable.
He lost the bet, but I think he probably saw the seeds of my current predicament.
Snow Day
Princeton is great for lots of things. Dealing with snow isn’t one of them.
I don’t know why their plows move so slowly, and why they aren’t rigged with salt dispensers on the rear. I don’t know why it took four plows in a line to clear one side of a two-lane road. But at least that last part may explain why so many roads are left unplowed. Who would have thought that I’d be longing for the snow tires that I left in my Upstate New York storage locker?
There’s no way today would be a snow day in Albany. The snow stopped falling last night. Road crews would be clearing things up, and the buses would have solid ground to take the rugrats to school come daybreak.
Honestly, I don’t want to drive in the slop that’s out there. So I too will be hunkering down at the homestead. Luckily, I have all the food supplies I need for an amazing day. And if you guessed milk and bread, you’re wrong.
Fries at the Disco – Nominations
Pardon me for a moment while I take a walk down memory lane. Years ago, as a bunch of us were finishing up the Tour de Egg and Cheese Sandwich at Famous Lunch in Troy, I walked around and asked the sated participants an important question.
“What other tours would you like to see in the future?”
We’ve done many of them. There’s been a micro-tour of Troy’s best Buffalo-style wings. We had the Tour de Mozzarella and Raspberry. And there has been a bevy of ice cream and apple cider donut excursions. The request for a Tour de Disco Fries however, has remained unanswered for far too long.
Espresso Jocks
There are two serious places for espresso in Princeton and a third one is opening up soon. Some people wonder if there is room in the marketplace for another competitor. However, I say that if this small town can support three four-season ice cream parlors, it can certainly sustain a third independent coffee place.
Although most people in Princeton are only aware of Small World Coffee. It’s been around the longer and pushes an impressive volume every day. Fewer residents know about Rojo’s Roastery just around the corner.
Shot for shot, Rojo’s is superior, and I love that they offer single origin espresso. Last time I was in the shop, they had a choice of two. But it’s smaller. Each drink takes longer. And unlike Starbucks, they won’t give you exactly what you want (if what you want is ridiculous).
The craft of turning well roasted beans into an amazing shot of espresso is a daunting one, and it’s one for which I have tremendous respect. So even though I risk sounding like a shill for a few Capital Region organizations, I’m compelled to share the following news.
Rediscovering Wine
Five wine posts in a full year is disgraceful. That was my output in 2013. And to call it five would be generous, since really it was three stories. It’s just that two of those stories were told in two parts.
The sad truth is that I don’t drink wine as much as I did when I lived in California. Mostly it’s because I don’t buy wine as much in New York. Honestly, it’s just not as much fun shopping for wine in the Empire State.
I take a lot of joy in finding the greatest wine bangs for the buck. Oftentimes these are from lesser known regions or made from grapes that haven’t become a household name in the U.S. Sometimes they are even from producers who are folding up shop or importers who bit off more than they can chew. My favorite hunting grounds was a place called Grocery Outlet, but even being back to an area where Trader Joe’s has a wine section is reinvigorating. To the best of my knowledge, nothing like this exists in the Capital Region.
But recently, I reached out to a fellow blogger and offered some one-on-one Wine 101, and that was a ton of fun. In the spirit of having fun with wine, let’s play a little wine game.
Where the Buffalo Roam
Where does one draw the line that separates homage from heresy?
When thinking about regional foods, people widely associate New York with pizza. While I love a super thin, crisp-bottomed slice as much as the next guy, it’s not like New York invented pizza. And there is great pizza elsewhere. Find me a better white clam pizza than Pepe’s in New Haven. It can’t be done. Chicago’s deep dish is a thing of beauty, rarely seen outside of Illinois. Old Forge, PA puts its stake in the ground with a style all its own (although The Orchard Tavern in Albany makes a remarkably similar pizza). Trenton relies on a cracker thin crust and lets the New Jersey tomato become the star of its pies.
Plus, notable New York style pizza is really only found in New York City. And even there good examples have to be sought out. There’s more not-so-great pizza in the five boroughs than there are gotta-have-it slices.
I would argue that New York State’s greatest influence on American gastronomy has been the Buffalo chicken wing. But as the popularity of this Western New York innovation grew, people started to take liberties.
And now I’m starting to question my firm stance about what it means to be Buffalo.
Coffee Makers
There would be no FUSSYlittleBLOG without coffee. I imagine there would be a lot fewer things in general if much of humanity wasn’t powered by the essence of this amazing bean.
One remarkable thing about this past holiday season is that I got through it without buying myself a single new piece of coffee making equipment. Not out of a lack of desire. Oh, there are plenty of coffee tools that I covet. Really, I blame the sabbatical and our more limited cabinet space in the apartment. There just isn’t any room.
And that’s fine. This time with fewer brewing devices has given me the chance to work more closely with my stovetop Bialetti Moka Pot. Yes, they say it makes espresso, but I’ve been using it almost exclusively for Cuban coffee. Although with all my new Israeli friends who enjoy Turkish coffee, I’m kind of regretting leaving my ibrik in storage. That is another tool that I’ve yet to fully master.
My guess is that most people make coffee at home using some form of automatic drip machine. And I’m sure most people are perfectly happy with the results. A few of you probably swear by the French press, and will attest to its fuller body and deeper flavor.
But here’s a serious question: have you ever tried a variety of brewing methods to see how the same high quality beans would taste side by side?
Seasonal Cooking in the Dead of Winter
It doesn’t feel like winter. Maybe part of that is that I’m here in central New Jersey and I’m accustomed to the bleak and bitter cold of upstate New York. Maybe it’s because yesterday it got up to fifty degrees and I went outside without a jacket, hat or gloves. Or maybe it’s because I have yet to make my first pot of split pea soup.
They say it’s going to get colder. Mrs. Fussy says not to tempt fate, there are still many months of winter ahead. But I’m already starting to plan for spring, and I know I’m not alone.
Just last week I went to the Princeton farmers market. In winter the frequency of the event is reduced to once per month. It’s not easy to eat locally and seasonally in the northeast during the doldrums of winter. There are plenty of people who think it’s a fool’s errand when so much of the year our farmland produces nothing but mud and ice.
Luckily, there are also plenty of people who delight in the challenge, and I’m hoping they might inspire you.
FUSSYlittleBLOG 