Sweets on a rainy day

In just under one month, little one and I will be traveling with Big Daughter to Belgrade, Serbia to visit the Big N, Big Daughter's father, and his family. It's been 21 years since my last trip to Belgrade. Although I only stayed with the Big N and his family for six months- my life changed immeasurably. I was pondering these changes today, during a wet, rainy lunch-time walk back to my office on the South Side of Williamsburg. Given my fluctuating mood, I opted for two quick stop-offs at Cheeks Bakery and Roebling Tea Room. When negotiating particularly trying moments, a visit to Cheeks is immensely grounding. I'm usually soothed by one or two small treats. Today, I felt the need to arm myself with a myriad of selections - a slice of apple crumble, a lemon curd tart, one plain peanut butter cookie, another peanut butter cookie with raisins and dried cherries, a bag of homemade granola and a walnut scone with a slice of cheddar cheese and pear -all to bring home. There's nothing worse than waking up and finding nothing appealing in the kitchen. After a short chat with Melanie, the exquisitely-talented owner/chief baker at Cheeks, I scooted over to Roebling Tea Room and picked up a significantly peppery Yogi Chai latte. Sufficiently fortified with provisions, but unable to eat more than the slice of cheese and a taste of granola, I reflected on the person I was in 1987. The Big N had graduated Divinity School, and after 5 years in NYC, I was at loose ends. Little did I know how profound our trip would be. Big Daughter arrived just two years later. Although the Big N and I opted to divorce when she was quite young, we remained a family. As I prepare for this trip, I am surprised by the emerging mix of emotions. Carl is a bit mystified by the situation. He tends to take a logical approach to the matter and therefore wonders if Pandora's box should be re-opened. My excitement and anxiety about returning to a place where I was once uncertain and unmoored is tempered by the memories. Belgrade was an amazing place in 1987. For me, it was the twilight of the East and West and a place where I felt loved. Despite my personal angst, I was instantly at home with the friends and family of the Big N. Food was a huge part of the trip and I'm looking forward to becoming reacquainted with Burek (a flaky filo pastry filled with cheese or meat) and the wonderful open-air boats which double as restaurants serving fresh fish on the Dunav River in Belgrade. Tomatoes are a part of every meal, as is the ubiquitous Turkish coffee. I've already googled at least one tea room, and have been promised introductions to many more by a good friend of the Big N. In the meantime, as the trip draws closer, I am restless in NYC. Little one wasn't too thrilled on Saturday morning, when I opted for breakfast at 'Beca, a restaurant in the newish Duane Street Hotel, at the corner of Duane and Church. The dining room is a long, narrow space with bright sun exposure. Even with the blinds down, the effect was very South Beach and minimalist. Little one ordered three eggs sunny side up, with fingering potatoes flavored with rosemary, and two slices of turkey bacon. I ordered a pot of Darjeeling Freres Mariage tea, a side of seven grain toast and homemade jam,and another side of turkey bacon. Carl opted for homemade granola with blueberries and greek yogurt. Midway through breakfast, five men were seated at the table next to us. Snippets of conversation drifted over to us, centered around plans to buy a building in the Financial District. Throughout their conversation, one of them was frequently checking his Blackberry. As we were leaving, I offered to button little one's sweater and he looked up and smiled. The chef, Kristiaan Ueno, was just outside the kitchen and thanked us for visiting. He was thrilled to hear that Carl loved his granola and explained that it was homemade. We weren't surprised to hear that he places a premium on using fresh, locally grown or sourced ingredients at 'Beca. Later that afternoon, we drove little one to a birthday party at the Alley Pond Miniature Golf Course in College Point, Queens. I was mystified at how rapidly Carl rented a car. My requests are generally met with gentle diatribes on the finances of such things. On the drive there, Carl mentioned his childhood recollections of playing miniature golf at Alley Pond. He remembered his continual longing, throughout his childhood, to return for another round. In the spirit of equality, he extended the rental so we could get a snack afterwards off the beaten path -since we had the car. I suggested that we meet my friend Miss E., and her partner Miss A., at the Oak Cafe, 361 Graham, in Williamsburg. Occasionally, I read the restaurant reviews on www.freewilliamsburg.com and was entranced by the review of the Oak Cafe. I was specifically drawn to the description of their ricotta cheese. After consultation with Miss E., we decided to meet around 4 p.m. As I got out of the car on Metropolitan Avenue, I remembered living in the neighborhood as a single mother, when Big Daughter was two years old. Even with the influx of hipsters, I still felt the same ambiance of 1991; a sleepy, homey vibe. We walked through the empty front room into the backyard of the Oak Cafe. The outside deck had a scattering of customers and a late-afternoon summer ambiance, albeit with a slight chill in the air. The waitress gave us the brunch menu, but a few minutes later, she returned with the dinner menu. I ordered the cheese plate, which included the delectable Ricotta and some amazing house made preserves, a Manchego, Gorgonzola, Honey and lightly spiced almonds. I also selected the vegetable antipasto, which was comprised of lightly grilled mushrooms, strips of roasted peppers, marinated artichokes and small balls of mozzarella cheese. Little one was just dozing off in her car seat when we arrived at Oak Cafe. She was not happy to be moved and protested for a bit. After the spicy lentil soup arrived, she calmed down and happily dipped her bread into it. Miss E. and Miss A. were charmed by her as they drank tall glasses of tart lemonade. Carl was more than happy to offer them a ride into the city and my restlessness was momentarily quelled.