Too Much Information

In a fit of insomnia, I was reading over my blog posts. I have a tendency to over-explain. Comes from teaching for many years. I would prefer to be alluring rather than expository. Is that possible in a blog?

More from Destination: Bakery

Near the destination bakery. Recognize the street, here with summer leaves?
Photo by F.S. Sanford

I learned something interesting today: some of the people in line at Levain stand at the top of the stairs and look in but don't enter. Perhaps they just want to smell the chocolate chip cookies. Perhaps they are searching for a missing baker who landed in a vat of dough. Or perhaps they are checking to see if a friend still works there, or whether there might be a job opening.

Allan and Cody, the wonder dog, used to hang out on the bench in front of the destination bakery. They've moved over to their own door stoop, but I think the bench would be more comfortable. On the other hand, maybe Cody prefers his short guy's view of the shoes lined up in front of the bakery.

The bakery is still crowded tonight, on the first night of Passover, but the wet streets are hushed, getting empty. Will something remarkable happen tonight?

Destination Bakery

When I started this blog over a year ago, I was sure it would make me want to sit down and write every day. (I wasn't sure everyone would want to read my stuff, but that's another story.) As it turns out, I began posting with enthusiasm and then fell off: typical of my experience with diets, Yoga classes, studying a new language, and turning off the TV at a reasonable hour after watching far too many reality shows.

So here I am, thinking that if I'm going to spend hours watching Lawrence of Arabia for however many hours I can keep my eyes open, I'd better get back to blogging. Not that one is a reward for the other, but the TV is so close to the computer and it is time to get going again. There is so much going on in my tiny universe.

Who knew bread could be a destination? Levain Bakery, with its excellent bread and killer cookies, has become a hang-out for the chic set. Today, the little shop had customers lined up the steps and outside. At first, I thought something was wrong -- most of the time, people in my neighborhood congregate around car crashes and fire engines. But this was surely a peaceful (and delicious) sign of spring.

The fruit man is back now that the weather is nice. Sometimes fruit girl runs the stand; it's very popular with the pre-school set and their nannies. The trucks pull up early to stock everything that kids like: plums, strawberries, bananas. For the adults: avocados, asparagus, beans, squash. It always reminds me how economical fruits and vegetables are -- I barely eke out 2 servings a day. All the colors are arranged in neat rows, plastic bags stacked at the edge of the cart, an umbrella ready for sun or rain.

Just think: I could get a roll at Levain, a banana and an apple at the fruit man, grab a cup of hot coffee, and have a great breakfast. I could eat outdoors if I could get a seat in front of the destination bakery. I could watch the world go by!

So why am I still inside?

What about that Curling?

I like to watch the winter Olympics. All that snow, ice, cold weather -- love it! But what about curling? I learned today that it is a deep and abiding passion of Canadians who live on the prairies. Sounded good -- I'm from the prairies of Illinois. I guess it doesn't translate; I can't quite figure out the lure of the sport. You send a rock down the lane and sweep the ice in front of it to get it to go to the desired spot. Sort of like croquet on ice? billiards? baci-ball?

Once I met members of a Scottish curling team when they were visiting New York. They were sprightly gentlemen who cared a lot about their team ties and jackets. And beer. And they told some wonderful jokes that I cannot remember. Must have been the beer.

Maybe I'll get curling one of these days.

The Last Candy Store

I grew up on the southwest side of Chicago -- near 60th Street and Western Avenue. About five blocks away was an old candy store with a long glass case near the front window -- one of those old, plate glass windows that never stayed clean. When I was a kid, we used to walk to the candy store and pick out the sweetest, hardest, chewiest candies, all for a nickel or a dime each. "In my day," my dad said, "it really was a penny. And you could get it fresh, all for a penny."

That's inflation for you. My favorites were the little wax bottles filled with purple, red, yellow, or green liquid. It was sweet water or something like it -- really disgusting and good for the neighborhood dentists. (I must have had a cavity in every molar.) You bit off the top (looked like a Coke cap) and squirted the liquid down your throat. You could chug it or enjoy it drop by drop. Then you'd finish off the treat with something called a snowball -- a powder blue candy with a malted-milk center, covered with sugary, white coconut sprinkles. Those were so beautiful -- as dreamy as the wax bottles were south side.

The candy shop also sold multicolored sugar buttons on long strips of paper (5 cents a tear), whips (red and black Twizzlers), packaged sweets like Junior Mints, Milk Duds, Charleston Chews, and individual candies. Besides the Coke bottles, there were fireballs, chocolate drops, lemon drops covered with powdered sugar, twists of powdered stuff wrapped in white paper that tasted like Sweet-Tarts but different. That long glass case was full of every treat imaginable.

The rest of the store was so empty. The old owner put our purchases into white bags and rang up the sale on an old black cash register, where the numbers popped up on little tags in the window. He sold newspapers, magazines, coffee, sandwiches. I think he lived in the back, behind a thin, flowered curtain. He sold cigarettes to the retirees and I remember that they used to sit around and read the paper and smoke all afternoon.

Did the shop have a name? Don't know. It was just the candy store on 55th. Don't know how long it lasted -- certainly, it must have closed up long before I moved to New York. I'd love to find out what happened to it and what is there now.

The Halloween Pumpkin After-Party

Here are a few candlelit memories of Halloween 2009. It was a wonderful holiday ...

screamingly spooky ...

a hearty party ...

and a happy time for all, big and small!

Thanks to Floyd Smith Sanford, III, for these illuminating photos. And a huge shout-out to the brilliant artist who carved all of these fabulous faces. Next year, take a stroll down West 74th Street between Columbus and Central Park West after dark. You might just stumble onto another party!

Ghost Stories on the Radio - Updated 10/31

I told ghost stories on WFUV-FM radio (90.7FM) this Saturday morning, Oct. 31, at 7:30 a.m. WFUV-FM is the station of Fordham University. If you missed the show, (it WAS a bit early), you can hear it on the podcast. Click on: http://www.npr.org/rss/podcast.php?id=510086 and then click on Halloween Show.... You can can also find the show at http://www.wfuv.org/audio/archive/index.html after Nov. 9, 2009.

Had a great, final ghost tour of the season today in Central Park. I'm always happy to see familiar faces and meet new people from all over the country. Hope to see you soon!