For some reason I’m a big sucker for pictures of coffee. Though tea pictures will suffice.
Starting to really enjoy my new iPhone + 8mm app. This is the entrance to Prospect Park. On Sundays food trucks park there and its a smorgasbord of delectables.
I think I’ve found the end of the internet. We’ve thought of everything. www.peopletalkingonbananas.com
Here’s an idea. Brand tap water in order to compete with the market-saturated and unnecessarily wasteful brand waters. All for a good cause as well. we want tap
Was browsing through my archives since the website update and ended up on a random tumblr. Something about seeing a picture of a picnic in Delores Park (San Francisco) at the bottom of a tumblog really just smacks of home to me.
Coffee is a singular experience in New York. Though I have yet to experience the perfect cup of Joe here at the very least it is plentiful and there is a fair amount of independent shops — far fewer per-capita than should be but fair none-the-less. There is, however, a unique ritual to the purchase of coffee at the numerous corner stores (Bodegas in Brooklyn, Delis to Manhattanites). I donât pretend to be an expert on East Coast culture (candle pin bowling? wtf?) so perhaps the experience is wider spread but to a transplant from the west coast it seems a New York enough thing.
First off when ordering coffee you wont find a little side counter with choices of sugar and creaming agents. Maybe its just a space issue but Iâve found even in coffee shops where space is less premium than at my bodega they insist on filling your coffee for you. This is sort of like traveling to Oregon for the first time and realizing you are not allowed to fill your own gas tank. What results is sometimes a light brew far too milky for my tastes but an experience which makes you feel like you are getting white-glove service. The delivery of sugar being in increments of 1, 2, or 3 is far more reserved and I find a much better fit as I tend to over-sugar my brew.
If the full-service coffee event is easy to adjust to the coffee doggie bag is simply odd to the out of towner. Being from an environmentally-minded town in California Iâm probably more sensitive than most to the wastefulness of bags given out almost everywhere. No, thank you, I donât need a bag for this water bottle that Iâm about to open and enjoy instantly, Ms. Duane Reade. But if you visit a corner store in New York with any amount of regularity (usually meaning twice in a week) you may find the same being asked about your to-go coffee. A bag? For coffee?
What a delightfully wasteful practice! How so very much New York. Having moved here two years ago I am happy to have missed the plethora of styrofoam I would have inevitably been exposed to and forced to dispose of on a daily basis. Coffee to-go still comes in a paper cup with a sealed plastic lid like the rest of America. So whatâs with the bag offer? Perhaps its an offering to the walking and public transit riding New Yorker who, unlike the rest of the U.S. may suffer convenience for lack of cup-holder in their Urban Assault Vehicle.
Despite the wastefulness, the New York style coffee doggie bag does present a nice little pleasantry Iâve not found elsewhere in the U.S. Often folded closed with care and packed up nicely-fit the bag is often full service with napkins neatly pressed up against the coffee so as to let the cup stand straight upwards and avoid spillage. Not only do the bag and napkin arrangement prevent wet clothing on the run to the subway they also provide a gratifying unwrapping experience. Its like your parting gift at a birthday that you canât wait to unwrap and when open is overwhelmingly adequate and expectant as well as lacking the splendor of a personal gift. Itâs one of the few occurrences in New York Iâve found that celebrates the mundane and whose procedure lends a bit of ritual to everyday life — even if most of the time when asked if I would like a bag I just respond with âNo thanks.â?
Shouts & Murmurs: Fourteen Passive-Aggressive Appetizers: Humor: The New Yorker [link]
3. Steal Cherylâs famous potato-salad recipe. When Cheryl asks, âWhy did you steal my recipe?,â? say, âI donât know, Cheryl, why did you break my heart?â? Then laugh so she knows youâre just kidding.
A Woman conducts her own experiment with Aspertame I feel better already about avoiding this poison!
Koolaid Pickles… Blech : P