The other half (or Boy/girl about town)

I've recently and persistently been telling my Kvetch Committee, "I want to be be a boy/girl about town." Well, some background is required for this.

First, I have a kvetch committee. Don't you? If you don't, you need to get one. After all, one must share one's petty complaints with someone on a regular basis. But any one person would be overwhelmed. Hence form a committee.

Second, yes, I really would be happy being either a boy or girl about town, as these are often different but can overlap. A boy about town is nicely dressed (either casual or preppy - I'm fine with either) and not doing much (strolling through the park, sitting sipping white wine or an espresso, walking along the street with a folded newspaper or some other not too bulky accessory).

A girl about town comes in many varieties: with child or without (and within with-child the two variants: one's own or someone else's); young or not so young (and note here, un/fortunately age is not a factor in making you a boy about town - young and old seem to do it in the same way; for women it does seem to affect what how they go about it -- but don't worry in my books young doesn't stop at any particular age -- it's more a mater of attitude).

So getting back to the girls about town. The ones with their own babies have that look of dressed-down luxury, and as the day proceeds tend to have more and more packages piled up on their strollers. The ones with other people's babies look a little bit busier (after all, they are working). The younger girls about town are usually doing something: window shopping, sitting and reading, chatting with a friend. And I must confess, I haven't yet figured out what older girls about town are up to.

And working back to my complaint. Now that it's spring, I've been whining that I want to be a boy/girl about town. But the only occasions I can find are to run errands around town. Don't get me wrong - so lovely to walk across the park on the way to some work, or bicycle along the river. But it's that I want to be one of those boys/girls about town (see above), not someone out running errands.

So I was out today to get my suitcase repaired for an upcoming trip (for an upcoming trip!) I had to cab it over there, but decided to walk back across the Upper East Side and through the park. And there they were, that not so rare species of boy/girl about town, sipping their coffees, looking leisurely and fabulous, tall and lean.

One day, I said to myself, I too will be a boy/girl about town. That day, I hope is this today. An update next time!

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Grilling

I don't know if this is only an American (/ Canadian) thing, but summertime and warm weather makes many people think of grilling. (By the way, it was 33 C in NYC yesterday.) In summer the traditional balance of kitchen power shifts from women to men: women hang up their oven mitts and aprons, and men take out their tongs and charcoal and head to the grill.

Growing up we were not a grilling family. In part this was the perception that grilling was really a non-vegetarian activity. This isn't entirely fair: grilled veggies (and for that matter fruit!) are great. But it is true, you don't see men buying multi-thousand dollar grills all for the sake of some nicely browned eggplants. It also has something to do with the fact that we're from India. Indian husbands don't typically cook (don't want to offend the Indian men out there, but you know that this is usually true). Lack of cooking skill does not however imply lack of cooking knowledge. Ask an Indian wife how to cook some fantastic dish you've just tried, and more often than not the husband will take over the reply and give you detailed instructions on how to make a dish he himself has never tried. (But in fairness to the Indian man, this kind of backseat cooking is a skill in its own right...)

In any case, I discovered not so long ago that my gas oven has a broiler underneath. I'm not sure if you've ever looked below your oven, but if you haven't do so know. A broiler in is basically an oven in reverse, placing your food centimetres from powerful gas jets. Your food is warmed, browned, and crisp in minutes.

Despite this felicitous discovery, my broiler was mainly used to finish omelets, until yesterday that is. For some reason I bought haloumi cheese, not entirely certain what I would do with it. Somehow it remind me of the "grill" and 40 minutes later I was marinading, skewering, and grilling away. (Haloumi, like paneer, is great for grilling.)

Of course, there is a reason why men grill outdoors in the summer. Indoors, in a small apartment it gets hot. But aside from this small detail, it was delicious: tasty and satisfying, while light enough to satisfy my stringent diet.

If you're not already perspiring by reading this, you can find the recipe here. Surprisingly my kebabs came out looking pretty much like this:

{from JamieOliver.com}

And now, you guessed it, I can't stop grilling. I'm still not sure whether or not to tell my parents what I'm up to.

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The flowers that bloom in the spring

It's springtime. The sun is shining. The flowers are blooming and singing their siren song to me, as I try to focus on the flugelbindery. It looks something like this.









Every day I tell myself the same thing: today I will be that person about town I always yearn to be. You know, the one sipping white wine with lunch a sidewalk café in SoHo. The one reading a book and sunning without a care in the world at 11 a.m. on a weekday. The one calmly doing groceries at 2 pm in the afternoon rather than doing the after-work frantic-pile-up-in-your-arms routine. The one discreetly sipping rosé wine from an opaque plastic cup and having an early dinner of roasted and marinated vegetables in the park.

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It felt good...

• Spring has finally arrived in New York. Everyone is smiling. It feels good.
• After the time change and in spring and summer, I have direct light streaming into my apartment at 8 am. But I'm an early riser so this is not a problem. In fact, it felt good.
  
• Last night sat on Boat Basin Cafe's terrace overlooking the river and having a (veggie) burger and beer. It felt good.
• Went to gelateria Grom and had their extra-dark chocolate ice cream. It's the closest ice cream has ever come to actually being chocolate. It felt good.
• Ran a few errands on my bicycle today. It was sunny and the breeze was cool. It felt good.
• Bought my first bottle of rosé wine for this season. It felt good.
  
• Will drink (part of) it tonight. It will feel good.

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