Blue Berry Hill
Hello World,
Well, as far as I know, no one ever said, "Beware the Ides of August," and I'm not going to be the one to start, but there's no denying that we're already at the half-way point of the month, which is a sobering thought at best. They tell me that this time of year, the constellation of Sirius, or dog star, rises in conjunction with the sun, which inspired the ancients to refer to this period as "the dog days." Nowadays, we think of the dog days more for their oppressive heat and wilting humidity, and don't wonder that the rates of crimes and suicides go off the charts in August. Around here, that hasn't been the case, as the first two weeks of the month have seen some wildly unpredictable weather, much of it rainy and downright cool, which is as unseasonable for this area as it is unexpected. I can't say what might be in the days ahead, but for the dogs here right now, I can tell you that they're wearing sweaters and rain boots.
Speaking of clothes, earlier in the week I was stopped at a traffic light, and couldn't help but notice the young lady who was walking across the intersection in front of me. She was wearing a wildly flowered blouse along with a different but also brightly flowered skirt, and I watched her cross in front of me, trying to figure out if it might have been some sort of coordinated set, because otherwise, I couldn't imagine anyone pairing that top with that skirt, and then going out in public. While I was studying her outfit, she moved out of the shade and into the sun, and suddenly I noticed that everyone in the intersection would be able to see right through her skirt, as I could, without even trying, which I certainly wasn't. Mind you, I don't see well at all, and if even I could tell what color her underwear was, you can understand what I mean about this skirt. Of course, we've all heard of fair-weather friends, but this would be my idea of a foul-weather skirt, because you wouldn't dare take it out in the sunlight.
In other local news, and this of a more welcome variety, the encouraging trend in lower gas prices noted previously has continued apace, and we're seeing regular gas selling for under $4/gal at numerous stations in the area, for the first time in a long while. Now it must be said, whoever thought that we'd get to the point of rejoicing at gas that's still over $3/gal, but after a few weeks at over $4/gal, you'd be surprised at how a drop of fifty cents looks like a bargain. I remember when the price of gas first went over a dollar, and we used to long for the days when I first started driving and it was only 28c for a gallon, and if you drove out to the hinterlands, you could still get it for 25c instead. (And they pumped it for you!) Nowadays, people would give their eye teeth for a return to anything under $3, which if nothing else, is certainly a very telling indicator of just how far our expectations have lowered in comparison to how high the gas prices have risen.
Recently, I found myself having an unexpected craving for something I haven't had in years, probably since high school. I don't know what incited this sudden urge, but it just seemed that one day, it was all I could think about. I figured there was no point in going to the supermarket to look for it after all these years, because most likely, they wouldn't still make it anymore, or it would be so altered over time that it would be unrecognizable from the original. But I was going to the supermarket anyway, so I figured I might as well take a look as long as I was there. I don't mind saying, a lot has changed in the yogurt business over the years, one of which is the packaging, so you can't hardly identify what you're looking at, since the containers look identical with only the different flavors printed in teeny tiny type at the bottom. This is a far cry from the old wax carton days, when each container was a different color to match its fruit, which was a big help, and the flavor was also written in large letters besides. But after enough poking around, I found that Dannon did in fact still make lemon yogurt after all these years, which used to be a particular favorite of mine, so I snapped some up and hoped for the best. I said to Bill later that I was amazed that not only was it as good as I remembered it, which is remarkable in itself (especially since childhood treats like Twinkies and Devil Dogs have been "improved" to the point where there's no sense in having them at all) but because they changed it from Lemon to what they described as Lemon Chiffon, it was even better than the original, almost like a wonderfully smooth and creamy lemon pudding instead of yogurt. So that was a blast from the past that turned out to be a real treat, and not to mention, unexpected besides.
In other fruit news, I had picked up a box of Entenmann's Little Bites to bring on vacation, which are small packages of mini muffins for handy take-along snacking. I think they're pretty good for packaged muffins, especially their banana walnut, and the individual packs keep them soft and moist. They didn't have any banana walnut when we were shopping for camping supplies (and I don't mind saying, another reason that I'm continually tempted to take my grocery business away from CVS altogether) so I got a different flavor instead. I couldn't help but notice on the front of the package, the following inscription in large letters of an attention-grabbing sort:
BLUEBERRY
MUFFINS
Made With Real Blueberries
Now, I realize that they put lemon fragrance in everything from deodorant to car wax, and you practically can't buy a cleaning product that isn't one kind of citrus scent or another. But I admit that it's beyond my comprehension how you could make something that could be called blueberry muffins, and NOT have real blueberries in it, so this seemed like a curious announcement on their part, as if it was a unique feature of their product. Unlike artificial sweeteners, I haven't heard that anyone has yet invented fake blueberries to take the place of the real thing, so I'm stumped at the idea of how Entenmann's thought it might be possible to substitute something else in the place of real blueberries, and still come up with blueberry muffins when they were finished. At least, they thought there was enough danger of this eventuality, that they printed the disclaimer on the front of the package, to reassure us wary consumers that they hadn't snuck those ersatz blueberries past us, at least not this time around.
Alert readers may recall my note of March 7, about how we tried out a new Italian restaurant for our 25th anniversary, and found it less than ideal in many ways. The Journal News recently sent their food critic there, and in their REVIEW: SPADARO IN NEW ROCHELLE by Liz Johnson of July 23, it begins with this opening salvo -- "Here's the thing about Spadaro: There is no menu." Heck, where were you 4 months ago, when we needed to know this before we blundered into the place? In fact, the headline of "Hits, Misses Mark Spadaro Visit" probably would have been enough to warn us away from the place altogether. She goes on to say that the antipasti had tasty prosciutto and cheese, but described the asparagus as slimy and the mussels and clams as "off." She also said the pasta was good, but the sauce was overcooked, while the grilled shrimp tasted of bleach, and the lamb was disappointingly average, especially for $35. She didn't sidestep or downplay the most unavoidable aspect of the place, stating quite plainly: "There are just 36 seats at Spadaro. Be prepared to meet new friends, forged by proximity, which is either good or bad, depending on your mood and their manners." (Without specifically mentioning the tiny tables, she notes that after the appetizers were served, " ... we had to consolidate and stack to make room for wine.") After posting the review on the newspaper's web site, readers wrote in with their own comments, including this one that sounds like I wrote it, but didn't: "I thought you were very charitable when describing the close seating at Spadaro. You are literally on top of the other diners. Readers should also be prepared for the service issues, long waits regardless of reservations." Another chimed in, "Glad you finally made it to Spadaro. As I had mentioned, it has its pluses and minuses. Hopefully they will be able to work out the kinks. They need more help. It is a more pleasant dining experience early in the week and early in the evening." Frankly, I find that last comment rather discouraging, since Bill and I were there on a Monday at 5:45, and found it unbearable, so if it gets worse than that later, well, I shudder to think. All in all, I can't think that the Spadaro family would have been all that delighted with this review, which would probably serve to keep more people away than encourage them to give it a try, and would have been better off not getting themselves in the newspaper in the first place. On the other hand, for fans of slimy asparagus or bleached shrimp, and for all I know, their name might be legion, please feel free to hurry on over and squeeze right on in there. Maybe try some of their fake blueberries while you're at it.
Well, as far as I know, no one ever said, "Beware the Ides of August," and I'm not going to be the one to start, but there's no denying that we're already at the half-way point of the month, which is a sobering thought at best. They tell me that this time of year, the constellation of Sirius, or dog star, rises in conjunction with the sun, which inspired the ancients to refer to this period as "the dog days." Nowadays, we think of the dog days more for their oppressive heat and wilting humidity, and don't wonder that the rates of crimes and suicides go off the charts in August. Around here, that hasn't been the case, as the first two weeks of the month have seen some wildly unpredictable weather, much of it rainy and downright cool, which is as unseasonable for this area as it is unexpected. I can't say what might be in the days ahead, but for the dogs here right now, I can tell you that they're wearing sweaters and rain boots.
Speaking of clothes, earlier in the week I was stopped at a traffic light, and couldn't help but notice the young lady who was walking across the intersection in front of me. She was wearing a wildly flowered blouse along with a different but also brightly flowered skirt, and I watched her cross in front of me, trying to figure out if it might have been some sort of coordinated set, because otherwise, I couldn't imagine anyone pairing that top with that skirt, and then going out in public. While I was studying her outfit, she moved out of the shade and into the sun, and suddenly I noticed that everyone in the intersection would be able to see right through her skirt, as I could, without even trying, which I certainly wasn't. Mind you, I don't see well at all, and if even I could tell what color her underwear was, you can understand what I mean about this skirt. Of course, we've all heard of fair-weather friends, but this would be my idea of a foul-weather skirt, because you wouldn't dare take it out in the sunlight.
In other local news, and this of a more welcome variety, the encouraging trend in lower gas prices noted previously has continued apace, and we're seeing regular gas selling for under $4/gal at numerous stations in the area, for the first time in a long while. Now it must be said, whoever thought that we'd get to the point of rejoicing at gas that's still over $3/gal, but after a few weeks at over $4/gal, you'd be surprised at how a drop of fifty cents looks like a bargain. I remember when the price of gas first went over a dollar, and we used to long for the days when I first started driving and it was only 28c for a gallon, and if you drove out to the hinterlands, you could still get it for 25c instead. (And they pumped it for you!) Nowadays, people would give their eye teeth for a return to anything under $3, which if nothing else, is certainly a very telling indicator of just how far our expectations have lowered in comparison to how high the gas prices have risen.
Recently, I found myself having an unexpected craving for something I haven't had in years, probably since high school. I don't know what incited this sudden urge, but it just seemed that one day, it was all I could think about. I figured there was no point in going to the supermarket to look for it after all these years, because most likely, they wouldn't still make it anymore, or it would be so altered over time that it would be unrecognizable from the original. But I was going to the supermarket anyway, so I figured I might as well take a look as long as I was there. I don't mind saying, a lot has changed in the yogurt business over the years, one of which is the packaging, so you can't hardly identify what you're looking at, since the containers look identical with only the different flavors printed in teeny tiny type at the bottom. This is a far cry from the old wax carton days, when each container was a different color to match its fruit, which was a big help, and the flavor was also written in large letters besides. But after enough poking around, I found that Dannon did in fact still make lemon yogurt after all these years, which used to be a particular favorite of mine, so I snapped some up and hoped for the best. I said to Bill later that I was amazed that not only was it as good as I remembered it, which is remarkable in itself (especially since childhood treats like Twinkies and Devil Dogs have been "improved" to the point where there's no sense in having them at all) but because they changed it from Lemon to what they described as Lemon Chiffon, it was even better than the original, almost like a wonderfully smooth and creamy lemon pudding instead of yogurt. So that was a blast from the past that turned out to be a real treat, and not to mention, unexpected besides.
In other fruit news, I had picked up a box of Entenmann's Little Bites to bring on vacation, which are small packages of mini muffins for handy take-along snacking. I think they're pretty good for packaged muffins, especially their banana walnut, and the individual packs keep them soft and moist. They didn't have any banana walnut when we were shopping for camping supplies (and I don't mind saying, another reason that I'm continually tempted to take my grocery business away from CVS altogether) so I got a different flavor instead. I couldn't help but notice on the front of the package, the following inscription in large letters of an attention-grabbing sort:
BLUEBERRY
MUFFINS
Made With Real Blueberries
Now, I realize that they put lemon fragrance in everything from deodorant to car wax, and you practically can't buy a cleaning product that isn't one kind of citrus scent or another. But I admit that it's beyond my comprehension how you could make something that could be called blueberry muffins, and NOT have real blueberries in it, so this seemed like a curious announcement on their part, as if it was a unique feature of their product. Unlike artificial sweeteners, I haven't heard that anyone has yet invented fake blueberries to take the place of the real thing, so I'm stumped at the idea of how Entenmann's thought it might be possible to substitute something else in the place of real blueberries, and still come up with blueberry muffins when they were finished. At least, they thought there was enough danger of this eventuality, that they printed the disclaimer on the front of the package, to reassure us wary consumers that they hadn't snuck those ersatz blueberries past us, at least not this time around.
Alert readers may recall my note of March 7, about how we tried out a new Italian restaurant for our 25th anniversary, and found it less than ideal in many ways. The Journal News recently sent their food critic there, and in their REVIEW: SPADARO IN NEW ROCHELLE by Liz Johnson of July 23, it begins with this opening salvo -- "Here's the thing about Spadaro: There is no menu." Heck, where were you 4 months ago, when we needed to know this before we blundered into the place? In fact, the headline of "Hits, Misses Mark Spadaro Visit" probably would have been enough to warn us away from the place altogether. She goes on to say that the antipasti had tasty prosciutto and cheese, but described the asparagus as slimy and the mussels and clams as "off." She also said the pasta was good, but the sauce was overcooked, while the grilled shrimp tasted of bleach, and the lamb was disappointingly average, especially for $35. She didn't sidestep or downplay the most unavoidable aspect of the place, stating quite plainly: "There are just 36 seats at Spadaro. Be prepared to meet new friends, forged by proximity, which is either good or bad, depending on your mood and their manners." (Without specifically mentioning the tiny tables, she notes that after the appetizers were served, " ... we had to consolidate and stack to make room for wine.") After posting the review on the newspaper's web site, readers wrote in with their own comments, including this one that sounds like I wrote it, but didn't: "I thought you were very charitable when describing the close seating at Spadaro. You are literally on top of the other diners. Readers should also be prepared for the service issues, long waits regardless of reservations." Another chimed in, "Glad you finally made it to Spadaro. As I had mentioned, it has its pluses and minuses. Hopefully they will be able to work out the kinks. They need more help. It is a more pleasant dining experience early in the week and early in the evening." Frankly, I find that last comment rather discouraging, since Bill and I were there on a Monday at 5:45, and found it unbearable, so if it gets worse than that later, well, I shudder to think. All in all, I can't think that the Spadaro family would have been all that delighted with this review, which would probably serve to keep more people away than encourage them to give it a try, and would have been better off not getting themselves in the newspaper in the first place. On the other hand, for fans of slimy asparagus or bleached shrimp, and for all I know, their name might be legion, please feel free to hurry on over and squeeze right on in there. Maybe try some of their fake blueberries while you're at it.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:23 PM
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