The demise of the Slow Cooker and Other Stories

Little one spent the day with me at work yesterday. She was slightly under the weather, and I didn't want to call in sick. It's uncanny how she knows when I need to slow down. Big Daughter used to do that as well, when she was younger. They insist on spending a day, when time begins speeding by in a blur, and I'm also standing at the brink of getting sick. In the mid-afternoon, Carl met us at Podunk at East 5th Street, between Second and Bowery, to collect her, since I had private clients in the evening. As I ordered tea, Elspeth smiled when I chose Lapsong Souchong. She observed that Carl ordered it as well. I see this as a good sign, since he did throw out the Weil Spring Cooker - Yom Kippur and atonement notwithstanding. After Big Daughter brought a sweet little Toy Yorkie home, there was some commotion. Although Big Daughter had been talking about a dog, none of us knew it was imminent. It could have been worse; a baby, wild parties -the list is endless. We got off easy with a dog. Maybe Carl was afraid he would cook the dog in the slow cooker, so I shouldn't mourn. If the dog is staying, what's a slow cooker. My fantasies about preparing an array of soups and stews for fall, all without fuss, is the least of it. I was especially excited make an apple crumble in the slow cooker. Following its violent disposal - supposedly early one Saturday morning- my appetite disappeared. Since then, it's been all about snacks. On Columbus Day, Carl, little one and I grimly headed upstate for a day's drive. Despite feeling a deep sense of exhaustion, fall foliage appealed to me, and the change of pace was important. Prior to leaving the city, I suggested breakfast at Gottino, an organic enoteca/wine bar at 52 Greenwich Street, near Perry Street. My friend Lady E. and I had stopped in Sunday for a late afternoon snack and for the first time in days, I felt some peace. The bowls of walnuts on the bar were a nice touch, and the mid-summer weather created a particular ambiance. A few weeks prior, after a work meeting, I briefly hesitated outside Gottino, but continued walking. On Sunday, my internal GPS pointed us there. The counterman was a friendly young guy, with a lot of positive energy. He enthusiastically, and generously, helped me figure out the right drink for my rattled, post-mortem, slow cooker nerves. After offering me several tastes of his favorite wines, -one too dry, one too acidic-he finally suggested champagne and sour cherry juice. It was perfectly fizzy, and sweet, and a few sips did the trick. When Big Daughter was tiny, I would buy various fruit syrups at the East Village Ukrainian butchers and mix them with seltzer. Here again was that familiar taste, but with a slightly sedating effect. Lady E. and I shared a pumpkin ricotta omelet and chicken sausage with heirloom tomatoes. As we talked over the week's events, the animated sounds of conversation floated in from the small backyard. The counterman verified that Gottino gets "foolishly crowded" on weekday evenings. He handed me the breakfast menu, pointing out a few of his favorites. The next morning as we entered, I chastised Carl for bringing in his deli coffee, as we seated ourselves at the counter. Little one and I opted for the mint tea, which I had Sunday afternoon before leaving. It was wild, strong and sweet. I also ordered fresh-squeezed orange juice, which was served in a small glass flask, accompanied by a small glass of ice. It tasted like just-picked tangerines. For a minute, I imagined a little pensione on the Island of Capri. Little one asked for sunny side eggs, and I ordered several toasts -one with cinnamon and sugar, one roasted apples, one with ricotta and cherries. Carl ordered a grapefruit covered with blackberries, and other kinds of fruit. He couldn't get over the grapefruit, which seemed more like an orange. Little one asked the chef - I think it was Jody Williams herself - about a little green leaf, garnishing her eggs. Ms. Williams, she of gentle manner, and absolute delight in good food, explained it was sage. Little one was handed a piece of sage, and asked to inhale it's aromatic, and earthy aroma. As we were leaving, Ms. Williams remarked to little one that she was thinking about after-school snacks. When she mentioned Funnel cakes, I said adults might like them too, and she smiled. Afterwards we drove into Brooklyn to collect our Lady D., our friend, and occasional caregiver of little one. She lives near Prospect Park, and I was struck by its regal presence on surrounding neighborhoods. Lady D. also wanted to see fall foliage. En route, we stopped at the Alternative Baker in Rosendale. Despite a sign, that advised a closing time of noon, the proprietor was amenable to serving us. With a beret perched jauntily on his head, he seemed slightly out-of-place in quiet Rosendale. After reading several local news articles about the bakery, I learned that the proprietor had lived and worked in Paris, prior to opening the bakery. Lady D. opted for a Belgian Hot Chocolate. Somehow, the girls ended up drinking the hot chocolate, which was sublime. I was appreciative of the proprietor's refusal to prepare a half-order of the Hot Chocolate for little one. He agreed to heat some milk with the left over chocolate, which worked out fine. I ordered a tiny lemon tea cake, and mostly inhaled it. Lady D. and Carl shared a blueberry tea cake, and little one ordered a mini-pizza. Before leaving, Carl checked out the Rosendale Cafe. He explained that it was well-known for featuring musicians from the 1960s and 70s, who fell on difficult times. Afterwards, we drove over to High Falls to say hello to Sean at Blue Cashew, the kitchen/pharmacy we visited last week. Outside of the store, there were three bikers; one man, two women, and their perfectly-groomed Maltese dog, and their motorcycles, eating lunch in front of the Blue Cashew. They advised that the front entrance was closed, and I experienced a brief whiff of menace. We made our way to the side entrance, and said hello to Sean. He suggested that we take a hike around Lake Minnewaska, a large glacier lake about 45 minutes away. When we arrived, the parking lot was pretty crowded, and there were several families hiking an-hour long loop. The setting was beautiful. From many points, the splendor of the Catskills was in full view. As we walked, I still felt a sense of disquiet. Little one noted that it was a long hike. Back in the city, we took Lady D. to Saravannas, our favorite South Indian restaurant on 26th street and Lexington Avenue. Eating Dosas and South Indian sweets, I regained my sense of balance. I decided to take my chai tea to go, and reheat it in the morning.