7:30 am (Sunday)- Inexplicably I wake up, the taste of Barefoot white wine on my tongue. Had dinner Saturday night at Alli’s house, a panko zucchini/white bean/couscous and swiss chard affair, followed by chocolate cookies from a favorite Queens bakery. Dinner was healthy so we felt justified putting a hurt on the double-sized wine bottle, with whiskey for dessert.
8:00 am- Still in bed, I’m starving. The thought of cleaning and operating my french press seems a fate worse than waterboarding. I make a decision to go to Brooklyn Bagel (a chain), the lamest option, but really close to my house.
8:30 am- But wait! Frank’s Bakery has a sign advertising ham and cheese challah. I screech my brakes and head inside, where Frank’s boasts in six places that it was founded in 1976, the year before my birth. I switch up in the clutch and get spinach pie instead of challah. I also order a small coffee, then upgrade to a large after briefly considering my head.
9:00 am- I drink coffee and eat spinach pie in bed, watching the second half of a documentary on Iraqi resistance fighters. I use the paper bag as a plate (my version of Risky Business). The pie is only half heated and appears to have some uncooked dough, but I’m not beyond eating the whole thing. The coffee is Queens-issue pot-on-the-burner stuff, heavily milked and sugared.
10:30 am- I find a new recipe on the Web which will be good for using up excess chicken stock. This leads me to go out hunting for saffron, only to learn what every one else already seems to know: it’s rare and expensive. But unlike top-shelf items like avocados or lobster, no one seems particularly enamored with saffron, so it’s hard to find in stores. And when I do find a couple “threads” at Sai’s Organic market, it cost ten bucks! Pfft, I end up buying three small packets of dried saffron at the Mediterranean market, for $1.39 a pop.
I also get a fist-sized portion of fresh mozzarella from the deli.
To be cont.