Wednesday, August 28, 2013


After half a century,
every face looks like one I've seen before:
this one like that sweet girl from grade school;
that one like this teacher from college;
another like that actress...or waitress...or both;
or like my childhood dentist,
or high school crush.
I catch myself about to speak,
and then remember
they, too, would be several decades older, by now.

And after a quarter century in New York,

Saturday, August 3, 2013

the hole story: waiting for cronut

So, cut to the chase. Would I stand for three hours in line for a cronut ever again? No. Was it an adventure? Yes. Did we have fun? Yes. Was it fun for all the reasons I expected. Not exactly.

At about 6:30 this morning, Bob and I both woke up and couldn't fall back to sleep. We've been talking about queuing up for cronuts for a while. For the uninitiated, a cronut is a cross between a croissant and a donut, introduced back in May of this year by Pastry Chef Dominique Ansel at his SoHo bakery. Since the first deep-fried buzz began to hit the food blogs, people began camping out on the bakery's doorstep to be among the first lucky 150 to 250 people to snag a cronut or two before the day's supply runs out. (Ansel makes them only once a day, and there is a two-cronut limit per customer.)

So, in that wee groggy, cloudy hour of the morning, this morning, we caught each other's half-opened eye and murmured to each other, "should we do it?" We had learned from a few websites that if we got there by 7 a.m., we were most likely to get a cronut. However, due to that damn Jimmy Fallon inviting Ansel to demo the frying and filling process on the Late Show, the line was already wrapped around the corner of Spring and Thompson, and well past the first couple basketball and handball courts, about as far back as we'd seen in any of the photos on the food blogs.