Hot in the City
I just cooked a great meal. I know, most of you are thinking that I can’t cook, you’re thinking that I put vinegar in my brownies, that I hardly know how to make grilled cheese. Trust me, this was greatness. I concocted a cucumber salad and Mexican stuffed peppers. Delicious. And all for about… $10, with left overs for at least 2 more meals. In case you’re interested, I found the recipes off this nifty little blog:
And yet, all I can think about is the heat. Did you know that the milk is dated differently for New York City? I bought a half gallon of milk last week, and the expiration date read: “SELL BY AUG 10” And then right below that in smaller letters: “IN NYC BY AUG 4.”
I wondered if Hoboken was included in “NYC.” Technically I’m in Jersey, a fact I typically like to ignore since I can see Manhattan from my office window, but when it comes to milk, and the heat for that matter, I think I’ll own to it.
As I noted to my friend Blair just the other day, “I miss the Kentucky heat. The New York heat is similar — humid, blistering, consuming. But in Kentucky …it chooses where it goes and how it fills the vast air across the Bluegrass. In New York, the buildings trap the heat, which in desperation clings to people until they pour sweat, begging them to let it out. Heat in New York needs a psychologist.”
So what was I thinking when I decided to turn on the oven?