It all started a few weeks ago during the Lost Series Finale: I was distracted and burned my forearm on a pot that was resting against a cast iron skillet. I was making tacos. Rushing. I didn’t realize the pot was so close to the skillet. The result was a seared forearm. It was pretty bad. People teared up when they looked at it. Tons of pain and suffering followed. I joke it still wasn’t as bad as the Lost finale, which left me wondering why I had invested 120 hours of my time in a television show. But I digress.
The burn was a major setback. I couldn’t type for a week. Therefore, I couldn’t blog. And I couldn’t cook, so when I went to Rochester to see Sean we ate out a lot. We had a really good dinner at Good Luck, a pretty tasty brunch at the French Quarter Cafe, and we visited Sticky Lips once again on Memorial Day (we wanted absolutely delicious BBQ). And of course we went to the farmer’s market.
It’s our ritual. Actually, it appears to be the ritual of most residents of Rochester. So we cooked our farmers’ market bounty when my arm was feeling better. We grilled water buffalo, which we were told to cook quickly, but it turns out, it should have been braised. (It was tough and very gamey). We prepared fava beans with proscuitto and some sort of pasta, in a cream sauce. We’d never cooked fava beans before, so we were surprised that we had to remove an inner pod. A lot of work for a little tasty yield. We also made strawberry shortcake, which prompted me to write up a quick recipe for it.
Once Memorial Day was over, I had to return to reality. I went home for a few days, went to my fifth year college reunion (Roar, Lions, Roar!), then ran off to DC for work. And this is where my story becomes interesting… someone stole my luggage.
A crime! My luggage was stolen off of the Chinatown bus. I placed my bag underneath the bus in NY, and when we arrived in DC, my bag was no where to be found. I wanted to save $50 on the train, and it ended up costing me a small fortune. And I learned a valuable lesson: it is sometimes better to pay for better service. Never again will I take the Eastern Travel bus. When I asked for assistance, they pointed to a handwritten sign, that stated they were not liable for any stolen or lost baggage left on the bus. Then I was told, “What do you expect? That’s why it’s so cheap.”
Which was sad because: a. I had no clothes, b. I had no makeup, c. I had no hair product. Within a day, without intervention, I was certain to look and smell vile. But I didn’t despair for long. Instead, I wished a pox on Eastern, I went forward and tried to replace as much as I could. And then I found salvation at Legals Seafood in Chinatown.
They fed me well:
And they fed me cheaply:
And they sympathized with my tale of woe. I can’t wait to go back.
I then set myself to the task at hand, work, which produced a working lunch with my father. I picked up our lunch at DC’s famous Sauca truck:
It was standing room only (15 minutes in line!). I had the Mumbai Chicken:
Which was large enough to feed me for two days. Quite a bargain at $7.50. Then I was back on the road. But this time, I learned my lesson and paid for Amtrak. No more bus for me!
And yet another strange thing happened when I returned: I kept having to have “do-over” meals because I seemed cursed with bad food. For instance, my friend Jinn and I went to the Triple Crown in Manhattan. I don’t know how they managed to make chicken fingers, French fries and onion rings inedible, but they did. (On a side note I find their website equal parts amusing and annoying.) We ended up ordering sushi from Komegashi when we returned to Jersey City. A vast improvement. But a do-over, nonetheless. And yesterday I woke up absolutely feverish over the idea of a sweet French toast breakfast. But I didn’t want to travel far, and so I decided to try Hamilton Inn‘s brunch.
Disclaimer: It’s a new restaurant. There are always growing pains with new restaurants. I admit to an initial prejudice over the name of the restaurant, since it isn’t actually an inn, but I tried to let it go. That said, I’ve eaten there twice now and I can’t imagine how it’s going to improve unless they fire their entire kitchen staff.
They served me burnt bacon. When I explained to the waiter that the bacon was burned he said, “Yeah, we prepare it crispy here.” ??? I wish I’d taken a photo of it. I was so confused. Certainly there must be a difference between burned and crispy. So I sent back. And then I tried to eat this:
A creme brulee French toast that managed to be both burnt and runny in the center. I attempted to eat around the burned areas, but there were so many. I think I ate it because I didn’t want to be that difficult customer that complains about everything. But it was disgusting, and absolutely the worst breakfast I had ever paid money for. A wasted $10. So I left, mid-bite, vexed, and still hungry. My do-over spot was Skinners because they’re reliably good. They served me a really tasty, traditional eggs Benedict:
I’d finally gotten my breakfast fix. Yet as i ate, I thought about the past few weeks. How it started with a burn and ended with a burn. The re-dos, the theft, having to purchase a new wardrobe. Wishing to take back the 120 hours I had invested in Lost, trying to replace bad food with good. I thought, somehow this is all connected. Like a rebirth, of some sort.
My new skin is growing back now, replacing the charred old skin. It’s still a little scary to look at, but it’s very smooth, and considering how bad the burn was, I think there will be minimal scarring. I’m pretty lucky, all things considered. And I’m learning, most things can be healed with a little do-over.
