Food Fancy? Fancy Food!

Heading to the culinary mecca of NYC this weekend for the Fancy Food Show with some friends. We plan to eat our way around the Javits Center and possibly find some new sources for creative products for the café but as any trip I take to the Big Apple, it’s just a weekend of tasting, eating, and absorbing in a place that has almost everything to offer. I love going into the dark commercial kitchen stores with wares piled high and dust all over the shelves at the back. I love going into the Japanese knife store and looking at all of them and having no idea what they’re used for. I love going into the boring office building and getting off the elevator at J.B. Prince and spending an hour looking at $300 French dessert books.

I also love sitting on the subway that smells vaguely of urine and watching the people get on and off. Whole lives lived on the train right in front of you. Our metro isn’t like that, we’re so proper and prim. The first time I went to New York was when I was in 4th grade and we went in to see Annie. We ate at the Magic Pan…crepes…and then walked through Times Square on our way to the theater. I saw my first opera in New York…Lucia de Lammermor. My father hit a Secret Service car in New York. I cried when the World Trade Centers fell down and I cry every time I visit that hole in the middle of Manhattan. It’s some of the best therapy and it’s also the best asylum to walk away from. I would live there in an instant and I would probably love and hate every minute of it simultaneously.

So, wish us luck in our pursuit of new yummies for the café, hope that our cabs have seatbelts, and we’ll see you when we’re back.

I'm going to rant now...

Please, please, please…if you’re going to “make a difference” to make yourself feel better, just stop. This isn’t your therapy, this isn’t your angst, these aren’t your bad decisions to facilitate. If you are going to step up then step up all the way, not half-assed. If you’re going to parent, then parent and do it consistently. Because when you don’t, I get to pick up the pieces and you go on your merry little way.

These kids aren’t toys, they aren’t entertainment, and they’re not your salvation. Sorry to rant but I’m watching someone who claims to care allow a minor a safe place to make bad decisions and the crap just gets everywhere. We’re the adults and yes, we’re allowed to make our own bad decisions but we’re not allowed to sit by and let someone (a kid...a minor...a chronological adult) who doesn’t know any better make the same ones and not say something. If they’re under your roof it isn’t a freaking popularity contest, it’s a responsibility. So, grow up…stop being afraid and be the village.