Posted at 09:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
I've never liked the idea of asking Google personal questions. By "personal questions," I don't mean questions about Google, I mean questions about me. Like "Why did my toenail fall off?" Sure, search terms are fine, but questions? As if Google were my doctor or therapist or wise grandmother? It always felt too weird. But recently I've been enlisting Google's sage advice more often, albeit not in full question form, and I'm finding that most of the answers are coming from Yahoo. Yahoo Answers, to be exact. Yahoo Answers is basically akin to standing on the street and asking random strangers to answer questions they may or may not know anything about. One person asks, and the whole world can respond. Here are some recent searches I've done that have turned up a range of Yahoo Answers:
gas burner left on all day? (call 911, open all the windows, don't touch any electronics, turn on fans to blow away "gas pockets")
grape skins indigestion? (allergic, you ate too many, call your doctor, too much fiber, mold, yeast, pesticides, anthrax...)
garlic sprouting can i use? (no, yes, bad for you, good for you, tastes bitter/nutty/mild/delicious/horrible)
Thus, out of democracy springs truth, or at least a few good guesses.
Posted at 09:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Okay, so I did the Tuesday Tramp. But the day after Azuri Cafe wowed me with its falafel, I found myself a few dozen blocks downtown, eating more delicious falafel. This was the day that New York became the happiest, friendliest city on earth, the day it was 65 degrees and sunny in February, the day I walked 100 blocks.
Yes, I walked from my little South Harlem apartment to Union Square via Central Park, 5th Avenue, and Broadway. Now that's a walkabout.
I didn't take many pictures because I was on a tight schedule, but I did spot this hawk in Central Park.
My initial destination was the Union Square Greenmarket, which was lovely to walk through, but what made the trip ultimately worth while was the falafel. Recently, Serious Eats did a Union Square falafel round-up, and they determined that Maoz reigns supreme. I was skeptical. How could a place with such a snazzy website serve quality falafel? And it's an international chain! From Europe, no less! Even the storefront was shiny and European-looking. Not that I'm judging or anything.
But you know what? This falafel was insanely good. I'm not the authenticity police when it comes to falafel (I'll leave that to the Dafna the Israeli and my Jordan correspondent, Leah), and it might have been the sun and the warmth and the happy people sitting around me on the steps of Union Square, but I was in falafel nirvana. Check it out:

Posted at 04:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
I just took a double dose of expired Nyquil, so we'll see how long I stay alive to write this. I sound like an 80-year-old man or Kathleen Turner. Not sexy.
Anyway, the week before last, I took a Tuesday Tramp down to Hell's Kitchen, which I've decided is a perfect Manhattan neighborhood for me: lots of good food and decidedly unhip. Also the setting of West Side Story!
I went to Azuri Cafe, which is a hole-in-the-wall falafel place on 51st and 10th. There are maybe four tables inside, and they're either up against the wall or up against the counter where everyone lines up to order, so it's tight quarters. On a weekday around lunchtime, I shared a table with some lunch-break business-suit types. There was a French dude, a hipster in flannel, and an annoying guy and girl talking about their annoying boyfriends/ex-boyfriends/psuedo-boyfriends. Is any of this important? No, I'm just setting the scene.
The man that owns Azuri is grumpy. In fact, he's been compared to the Soup Nazi, and that's why I have no pictures. But his falafel is delicious and costs $5.55, so I guess he's not too worried about business. Also, he seemed to like me a lot more after I cleaned my plate. I don't mess around when it comes to falafel.
Anyway, this baby came with a million toppings, which were actually more like fillings layered in the pita with the falafel and topped with baby pickles. I love baby pickles! And the pita was homemade and fresh, which I think makes all the difference. Is Azuri Cafe the best falafel in the city? I don't deal in such superlatives, but it was warm, gooey, and simply satsifying.
So then I walked down to Amy's Bread on 9th Ave between 46th and 47th. I've heard good things about their cupcakes, but I wasn't about to sample one without my trusty sidekick. So I went for a piece of monkey cake, which I hoped might be something similar to Monkey Bread.


So I walked back along Riverside Park, which is one of my favorite places to walk. Every time I'm there I end up taking dozens of pictures of the same things. Trees. Water. Sun.
Posted at 12:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Mark Bittman tells me it's okay to eat real food for breakfast, but I'm happy with my oatmeal and granola, thanks.
David Brooks dreams of Denver and Seattle and San Diego, and apparently so do most Americans. We want newer, roomier cities with access to beaches and mountains. We want garages "filled with skis, kayaks, soccer equipment, hiking boots and boating equipment." I'm sorry, but that sounds like the suburbs to me. People in cities shouldn't have garages because people in cities shouldn't have cars. What happened to the return of urban density? Can we really have the machine in the garden?
Louis Menand reduces Postmodernism to two warring theories, "Postmodernism means that Modernism has won and we're all Modernists" versus "Postmodernism means that Modernism is so totally over," and then he talks about why Donald Barthelme seems to subscribe to the latter but really subscribes to the former. I don't even like Barthelme that much, but I was pretty interested in this diagnosis of a common misconception about Postmodernism, basically that it makes low culture into high art:
Well said, Louis. I also like this idea of co-opting the techniques of visual artists who are doing things with found material (like the soup cans) and using them in literature:
"The visual artist can deal with almost every kind of material, even sound, but the writer deals with only one kind of material: sentences. The solution, therefore, was to treat sentences as though they were found objects."
Considering writers like Barthelme (and Borges, perhaps) in this way, I have a greater appreciation for their styles. Not that I'm jumping on the Barthelme/Borges bandwagon. Although it is a very hip bandwagon to be on these days.
Coming up, as promised, this week's Tuesday Tramp.
Posted at 11:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)




Posted at 11:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Maybe I told you about the delicious maple syrup smell that wafts through my windows every now and then. Well, it's not coming from my landlords' kitchen like I thought. Other people have smelled it, too! Since 2005! Of course, New Yorkers first assume they're being poisoned, so Bloomberg put the Office of Emergency Management on high alert. After months of CSI-style investigations and triangulations and covert operations, the case was cracked: Blame New Jersey. Of course.
Personally, I'm not going to complain about waking up to the smell of sweet maple-y goodness. I hope they get to work on a warm chocolate chip cookie one soon. Or bacon. Mmm.
Posted at 10:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
My good friend Leah is on an "extended vacation" in Jordan, and she recently sent me an email about my blog. After tearing me a new one for writing about delicious food that she cannot eat, she offered this great tip:
Thanks, Leah! You're officially hired on to head Zin For Breakfast's Jordan Division. For your next assignment, please review that sweet tea they make you drink by the kiloliter every day.
Posted at 12:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)



Posted at 11:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Sabich is big on the streets of Tel Aviv, apparently, but it's less common in the U.S. Basically, you've got your pita--at Taim, you can chose from whole wheat or white, both freshly baked--some fried eggplant, some tahini, some hummus, some salady stuff (carrots, beets?), and slices of hard boiled egg. The whole thing is topped with a pickled white sauce called amba.
So, was it good?
If you know me, you know that I like foods that can be thrown together and eaten out of one bowl. Oatmeal with lots of toppings, for example. Brown rice topped with black beans topped with guacamole and salsa. Salads, especially at the millions of design-your-own salad bars that populate this city. There's nothing I hate more than fussy salads. Give me the blue cheese with the cucumbers and the cranberries and the walnuts and throw in some pesto chicken while you're at it. So I loved this sabich because it took some of my favorite things (hummus, veggies, eggplant, eggs) and smooshed them together in a gooey mess. And the amba on top was divine. It wasn't too thick, but it was nicely tangy with just a hint of sweet.
Taim is the Hebrew word for delicious, Dafna confirmed. She also confirmed the deliciousness of our sabich. Thanks for the help, Daf.

Posted at 09:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)