10th Year College Reunion Weekend Begins With A Burrito

A subject of some debate in my own mind over the last couple of months has been whether I should brave my tenth year college reunion. At one point, I didn't want to go because I was so down in the dumps about my own lack of progress since the five year reunion, that I just didn't see the bright side of a weekend with a motley crew of folks I knew (or totally didn't) from ten years ago. Then I was optimistic about a job prospect and figured I'd be too busy settling into my new location and function that the reunion would be out of the cards. Eventually, through much cajoling and handholding by a select few, I got over myself and registered for the weekend while also reserving a dorm room on campus. Once that was done, it was just a matter of not freaking out. If an 'Irish Goodbye' is leaving the party without telling anyone, is deciding not to go at all an "Irish Hello'? Because I was definitely thinking about it.

I took Friday off from work so I could drive up on the earlier side and go to a few different spots off-campus before finally signing in and getting down to the reunion part of the whole shebang. This began with an almost immediate stop at the Burrito Stand, which was open despite the terribly rainy and not especially warm weather that plagued the entire two days of activities. I did not hesitate in my request for a burrito with guacamole because that is just how it is done. A delicious burrito, it was. I sat in my car as the rain blurred my window and didn't mind terribly when some of the juiciness of the tomatoes and guacamole and sour cream found its way to my pants. Such are the sacrifices one makes for an incredibly fresh and tasty burrito.

I then went to a few other spots, which included the sheep farm that I had worked at for almost two years after graduating from college, the low-to-the-ground ranch house where I lived my sophomore and junior years, and a few drives down random roads that allowed for country views and the spectacular reminder of the Catskills in the distance. While the weather was gloomy, I kept being struck by just how much this landcape and environment shaped me and how lucky I was to spend nearly six years in a place where every curve of the road provides a new and breathtaking vista.

I then went to campus and found myself doing a few things very akin to the activities of my college days. Mainly hiding in parking lots, looking at photographs in the photo building, worrying too much about who I might see and that kind of thing. But eventually I made it from the Campus Center to the dorm I'd be staying in with many other members of the Class of 2003 and it was fine. I ran into H. who was never a scary Bard person, whom I also enjoyed seeing from time to time back in my Chicago days. Basically he was a really great first person to see because he didn't scare me then, doesn't scare me now and also is just a really funny and friendly guy. I lucked out. There are so many other people I could have run into first where the lack of acquaintanceship or friendliness would lead to a very strange interaction that would probably leave both parties worrying frantically about what they signed up for...but this opening to the reunion gave me confidence and relieved me of some of my neuroses. I took more Instagram pictures of that early afternoon than real photographs and will probably get around to posting them in the next four months.

Burrito Taco Type Lunch and Dinner

I have no proof, but on a Saturday I went to Q Mart in Quakertown. I didn't take any photographs because it was kind of a weird, wondrous, depressing place and I didn't want to bring attention to myself (like anyone would really care) by taking photographs. Really, there's no reason to bring it up at all, as the only point I'm really trying to make is that on my way back I stopped at a little farm store and bought fresh eggs and some ground beef. Upon my return I cooked some of the beef with green olives and a little taco flavoring.
Then cooked black beans and rice, \chopped tomatoes, shredded cheese and sliced avocados and made myself a tasty lunch.

Burrito c/o Bubby's Burrito, Hospitality c/o L. and M.

The next morning I gathered all my stuff together - I have a tendency to just scatter my belongings all over the place if I'm going to be in the same place for more than 48 hours (it's a bit of a problem) - I hit the road. Getting out of the Adirondacks takes some time, as it's all two lane roads. I had to get to my next destination at a certain time, and had factored in an hour's leeway but that wasn't enough when I got stuck behind two trucks. Every time I had an opportunity to pass the leading truck would suddenly put its brakes on, which made me very nervous. The last thing I wanted was to pass truck 2 going 65 miles per hour just to find that the spot I planned on jumping into had suddenly gotten smaller. So for about two hours I was stuck behind two trucks that didn't go fast enough. In my humble opinion.
But eventually I got to the mid-Hudson Valley Region and made my semi-annual pilgrimage to Bubby's burrito stand. I bought three, all with guac. I meant to take another photgraph of my burrito after I added some spicy sauce to its insides ... but I was hungry and did no such thing. You might be wondering why I bought three burritos. Well, because I was going to enjoy my burrito with my former college professor and M. the baker (anonymity for small business owners is a crapshoot). When I last saw L. she was just thinking about buying a ramshackle house and putting in the hard work necessary to turn it into something special. Six years later she's done a lot!
She's done a lot, and yet I took not a single photograph of her house. Photo fail. Just believe me when I tell you that if you're like me, you went into that house and wanted to live there. She doesn't have a lot of land, but on every side of her there are protected acres of farm and orchard. Seriously. You want to be her. I want to be her. We all want to be her. No big deal. In addition to soooooo much renovation on the house, they also rehabbed the house's old chicken coop and turned it into a guest house. A magic lovely guest house. While my initial plan was just to stop by for a meal and chat for a while, when L. offered to let me stay in the chicken coop for the night ... well, I didn't fight that offer very much at all. L. recently got a puppy for M. Where is it?
Right here!
A cute, enthusiastic puppy is what this little gal is.
Though she's not entirely into jumping on ottomans on anyone's command quite yet.
Though a little cajoling might do it.
Cute, cute puppy.
The view of the mountains at around sunset. Jealous? Yeah, me too.
The coop from the outside.

The coop from the inside. That bed was so ridiculously comfortable. It was hard to leave, knowing that Philadelphia lacked in all ways the charm of Red Hook, New York and L.'s hospitality and style.
A big thanks to L. and M. for their company and hospitality!

Margarita, Tortilla Soup and Burrito c/o Fiesta Grill

On Saturday K. left early in the morning. I then went through boxes for a portion of the day before my father and I sat down and watched three or four episodes of the new season of Treme, which has a better pacing than last season I think ... though the musical interludes got tiresome. For dinner we went to Fiesta Grill in Cowan. I ordered a margarita on the rocks with salt. It was a little heavy on the sour mix, but still ok by me.
We both had the tortilla soup, which I liked and that Dad had never tried before and ended up liking as well.
I had their grilled chicken burrito with spicy sauce on top. It didn't blow me away, but the taste of the chicken was above average, which is what I had remembered liking when we went there last summer with Mom and H. and C. Dad ordered the Baja burrito mainly because I said I had liked it the last time, and a tamale on the side. He wasn't as fond of the liquidy cheese on top as I had been.
Pico de gallo is officially one of my favorite things. I want to get some ripe as ripe can be, beautiful red tomatoes and some of them I just want to eat alone, with maybe a little salt or mozzarella....and the rest I want to turn into a delicious pico de gallo, which I will just eat all the time. It'll be great. Foolproof plan really.
We took one of Cowan's secondary streets for a minute.

Best of 2010, Meal Edition

This year hasn't been particularly kind to me in many respects. The loss of my mother remains a reality I must adjust to and I continue to be stymied by the rules of romance, but in spite of the terrific loss of this year and my own ineptitude, I managed to still have quite a good year when it came to good food and company. And that is not something to under appreciate. As always, I could have gone crazy and listed a lot more meals and experiences I valued over the last year, but I tried to narrow my favorites down a little. My final count is 11. And without further adieu, here they are, in rough chronological order.

My second visit to Modo Mio with L. was even better than the first in terms of food, service and company, and these scallops were particularly pleasing.
L.'s spring visit to Philly was a delight in and of itself, but our meal at Tinto and the wondrous properties of their chicken skewers definitely made a lasting impression.
There were many contenders for good times and great food from my many visits to J. and J.'s house over the year, but he-J.'s seafood paella and the spirits we were all in on that night made it to the list...though the gnocchi and sauce almost took over.
My spring visit to Seattle to see M. and A. and C. and T. was chock full of great times and delectable food, but the evening featuring fancy champagne, truffle cheese and coq au vin was one of my absolute favorites.
Most years dim sum gets a general nod in my round up, but this year it was the specific dim sum experience I had with T. and C. to which it is worth raising a ceramic cup of jasmine tea. The dumplings were larger, fresher and just altogether fantastic (I really only have three adjectives that I can use).
While my extended stay in Nashville in the spring wasn't under the best of circumstances, to say I didn't have any good meals during that time wouldn't be true. For example, eating rotisserie chicken from Calypso Cafe by the parthenon makes the cut. That chicken was delicious.
The soup and osso bucco I enjoyed at Miel with my father was another positive eating experience that took place in Nashville.
The surprising complementary properties of pairing strawberries with radishes became my go-to treat in the early days of summer.
Driving out of my way and searching for Bubby's Burrito's new location was absolutely worth the delay and effort. Bubby's burrito, I heart you.
While Supper didn't live up to my or Mr. Ass's expectations, the charcuterie plate at James easily exceeded my already rather high bar of what a charcuterie plate should be. Their selection of pickled veggies was a great touch.
My impromptu meet up with L. after a hair cut led to my introduction to a whole new level of burger , and a drink that I could happily sip upon for hours. Thank you Village Whiskey, for giving me the best burger of my life.
And that's a wrap. It has been eventful, this year of food. I can't wait to see what 2011 will bring! Feel free to look back at past years' 'best of' experiences: 2009, 2008.

Lunch c/o La Paz

When we went to Samurai for dinner, I noted the Mexican place across the street...well, one of the Mexican places across the street. Later on I took a look at its menu online and determined that I was interested in its fare and mentioned this to my father. So, for lunch one day, we went to La Paz. They started us with salsa and chips.
I ordered a burrito that I can't find on their menu. It had chicken and spinach and other stuff inside of it. It was above average but not as good as a similarly styled dish I had in Cowan on my last Tennessee visit, though it looked better.

Dad ordered a tamale and chille relleno. He was a bit disappointed that his tamale didn't have meat inside it and had a lively conversation with the manager all about it. This guy understood the concept of customer service, which is funny because my father really wasn't complaining/had no reason to complain. Or, that's how I see it. Expectations that a manager should address include the food being served at the right temperature and all, but if a place makes a dish a little differently than you're used to, that's not as much of an actionable crime in my book. Point being is that the guy offered to take the tamale off of our bill and promised that if my father told him the next time he was going to come in, the guy would be sure that a few meat-stuffed tamales would be there waiting for him.

Margaritas and Baja Burrito c/o Fiesta Grill

For dinner on another night, my parents, my cousin, his wife and I went to Fiesta Grill. Fiesta Grill is a relatively new Mexican restaurant in Cowan. As far as I can tell, they have no website. If they had one, I'd link to it. The margaritas were good.
I ordered the Baja burrito, which, according to my faulty memory, consisted of grilled chicken, lettuce, tomato, rice and cheese with a white queso on top.
My mother ordered a chile relleno and said it was one of the best she has had. She really liked the tomato element of the sauce. I just like looking at all that cheese.
The inside of my burrito. I was really surprised with the quality of the chicken in this here dish. Most chicken that I have eaten at Mexican restaurants has been a rather weak affair, either shredded beyond recognition and slathered in some sauce or another, or dried out chunks without a lot of flavor. This chicken was well grilled, succulent and bursting with tastiness. I was really surprised.
Good work Fiesta Grill. I would definitely return to you and eat more of your food!

Serious Pretty and Bubby's Burrito c/o Red Hook

While it made no logistical sense, I knew there was no way I could travel on 87 without crossing the Hudson and visiting my old stomping grounds, especially on such a wickedly lovely afternoon. This is the view of the Kingston Bridge, heading east. Heaven awaits.
My primary reason for making the trek was the fact that K. had confirmed my suspicion that Bubby's Burritos were open for the season. I had a moment of shock, terror and sadness when I didn't see their stand in the same place as I expected...but after a little frantic texting and an unnecessary drive to Tivoli, I finally figured out the stand's new location and got there in time to fully enjoy a burrito. Just as good as it ever was...with slightly nicer scenery.
I want to live here in the summer time and just eat burritos and strawberries and radishes all the time. And heirloom tomatoes!
So worth it.

Bean Burrito c/o Mugshots

Another busy day lunch was had c/o Mugshots. I thought I'd try something new, so I ordered the burrito, adding bacon because, you know, bacon makes everything better...except in this case, when bacon actually doesn't work at all.
I guess I had imagined a slightly less liquidy bean element that would not compromise the crispiness of the bacon. But the fact is that this burrito did not meet my expectations, and the bacon was kind of soggy.
The dragon was unfazed by this minor set back and, while I turned my head for a second, quickly latched on to a piece of tortilla. It was quite difficult to separate it from the foodstuffs, perhaps it has a thing for guacamole?

Your Beauty Must Be Rubbing Off On Me

On Friday I drove up to Annandale-on-Hudson, New York for my, gasp, fifth year college reunion. It was about a 3 and 1/2 hour drive and once I got off of the Garden State Turnpike and onto the New York Thruway, well, I was overtaken with a landscape nostalgia so strong that--well it was just strong, I didn't crash my car over it or anything. Then when I got to the Kingston Bridge that spans across the Hudson River and is the last hurdle, in my mind's drive, before glory, well, I was overwhelmed with an immense feeling, in my heart and my brain, that I was coming home. I have a lot of posts to put up about my short time there but I also have a job all of a sudden, so forgive me for the not as steady stream of posts...and the backlog that will come of it. The first thing I did when I got across the bridge was take a back road to Bubby's burritos. Oh Bubby's! Their prices have been raised a little but it has been three years and all food prices have raised so I'm not complaining. For $6.50 you can still get a glorious, amazing, stupendous and awesome burrito (with guac of course) everything fresh to order.
I then went somewhere else quickly. But that's another post. I left my burrito in the car at the other place then took it with me to Blithewood Garden/Mansion/Crazy Beautiful land...a spot on Bard College campus that I spent a fair amount of time playing bocci ball, eating picnics, watching and snarking on the Bard Hippies playing in their awful drum circles, etc. Can you handle the pretty? I'm not sure you can. I'm not sure that any of the photographs I have taken of the landscape of the area will give you the full visceral feeling it is to be standing there, looking at it.
Oh burrito. You came and you brought me yourself on my vacation before I even started workey! Or should I say workito?
The problem with the Mid-Hudson Valley stays the same...that I can't imagine what kind of employment I could ever find up thataway. But boy howdy am I going to become a more frequent visitor. If this was a movie the area would be Renee Zellwegger and I'd be Tom Cruise and really early on I would tell the mountains, rivers, fields, woods and towns that they complete me and they would say that I had them at hello. (I really didn't like that movie but I think my substitutions really turn it around.)

Margaritas and Burritos in the Upper, Upper, Upper West Side

Later on I headed way away from my hosts' Brooklyn to northerly Harlem/Washington Heights for a party thrown by two lovely ladies (and one gentleman) also from my college years. It was a party complete (as is their way) with scrumptious, fresh and healthy food…and margaritas. Rice, beans, freshly chopped cilantro (I did that!), lettuce, tomatoes etc for a make-your-own-burrito-conga-line of epic proportions. I knew a total of three/four people there. The first three, obviously, were my hosts and then a guy from college who I hadn't had reason to remember since, well, I graduated from college lo these many five years ago.

Which brings me to an interesting thought. I've had a few phone conversations/in person conversations in the last few months in which I will mention some memory involving some person and my listener will go 'huh, I forgot that person existed'. And I rarely have that exact kind of reaction. If I ever knew someone existed I'll always know they existed. I won't necessarily remember every interaction I had with them, their face or where they sat in freshmen whatever 101 but if, for some reason, a person's name is brought up I automatically can go 'ah yes, somewhere in my brain I knew they existed'. Is that any different? Perhaps in the sentiment. That the people who declare they've forgotten a person entirely say it with a modicum of relief that they forgot or pride at recognizing the insignificance this newly brought up person on their lives. Or maybe it's without an edge: I forgot because it didn't factor into my memory's landscape. But a landscape is necessarily with it's own shadows and gullies. Every (relatively traditional…no Salvador Dali in this analogy) painting or photograph (or etching, lithograph and charcoal for that matter) has an earth from which all other things come. You see the grass on the hill, the trees in the forest but not necessarily the root work, or even just the dirt…just below the surface.

My point being is that just because you never think about the person doesn't mean you don't have a tiny file, a subfolder if you will, somewhere in your brain. Because if you forgot they existed, well, you wouldn't be able to remember then once they were brought up. Though, perhaps, there are people who have melted away forever from me…kids I knew for two weeks in summer camp for example. I can remember the names of, maybe, two girls in my cabin from one year of summer camp…but we were not a cabin of three but ten. But then I can remember girls from those years (about four of them) without their names. I'd like to call them all either Laura or Jenny. The story of the girl whose parents signed her up for the entire summer while they gallivanted around, not writing her letters or visiting…her father came once to visit and brought with him a tiny grain of rice floating inside a small glass tube, filled with water. On the grain was his daughter's name. I remember that gift not being enough for this girl. I'm sure there are people I've forgotten. To pretend otherwise is ridiculous. It is just that these names are never brought up because any link to them, a childhood friend, a parent of a fellow elementary school classmate, no longer exist to me.