Page Two Hundred Eighty-One.
Last year I wrote heavily about one of my favorite events: Cleveland's Feast of the Assumption. I won't get into that again, here and now. But, suffice it to say, the food is extravagant and one of the things I look forward to the most during the entire calendar. This year though, I'm off to New York City to help my ex-step-nephew celebrate his wedding which will be the same weekend. So, I'm only going to catch one day of the most glorious food that Cleveland-based Italians have to offer. I may not survive the lack of nourishment.
By the way, after NYC, I'm off to Vermont for a couple of days to visit some other friends. One friend in Vermont is the head chef at a vacation lodge and the other friend is her mother who's an elderly, German woman. NYC food... head chef food... elderly, German woman food... okay, fine... I won't starve, I guess.
Showing posts with label Feast Of The Assumption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Feast Of The Assumption. Show all posts
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Quito. Chapter 1. The Fireball
Page Two Hundred-Six.
Quito died recently, Friday, March 7th, 2014, 6PM, to be exact. The world lost one special doggy in that one, lemme tell ya. Now that he's gone though, his secrets can finally be told. And I'm just the person to tell 'em. Here goes.
Quito was a 50 pound, poly-breed, long-haired black and white thing whom I dog-sat whenever his pet humans were out-of-town. He resembled a Collie, preferred The Who over Led Zeppelin, knew 6 languages fluently* was 12 when he died and had quite a life. Few people knew his clandestine affairs, but he shared them with me while we were alone in his rather large, contemporary, pink champagne beige, brick Shaker Heights home during all those extended weekends.
His humans are world travelers; they're royalty. Their cousins, Clair, Hannah, Evelyn and Grant along with their dog, Harli-Monster, are rulers of a European country which must, obviously, remain anonymous. But, those 5 have no direct heirs so these four children, Quito's humans, are going to be taking over the throne one day. All you really need to know for right now are their names: Jordan is the baby girl (who's now 7), then Jackson (8), Thomas (14), finally William is the crown prince (15). They're beautiful and charming children who's down to earth demeanor belies their upper crust, blue blood, royal status.
Parents found Quito in the Rubbermaid garbage can one morning. Plain and simple. Seems he'd crawled in one night looking for food, then couldn't get out. What a humble beginning to one of the most auspicious lives of the 21st century. He was about 10-12 weeks old when found but 5 months old when he began developing his super-powers.
William and Thomas were very little that August day when they took Quito outside and were ho-humming through a game of Twister with him in the steamy, hot sunshine. Nena was singing about 99 Luftballons on the outdoor Victrola. The smell of freshly shaved grass was in the air as Ippolitto & Sons had just finished cutting the large emerald green expanse of backyard. The three of them were excitedly looking forward to the Feast of the Assumption street festival they'd be attending a few days later.
"I can't wait to eat the scrumptious fried calamari," piped baby Thomas. "If I shan't get my bellyfull of those luscious ringed morsels, I shan throw a tantrum like Parents never experienced. I mean from me anyhoo."
"I'm anticipating with great glee the elephant ears with extra Vietnamese cinnamon sprinkled atop," squeaked young Prince William. "I do believe Vietnam grows the best cinnamon, don't you Quito?"
"Heavens to Murgatroyd! Who cares about cinnamon? I want the homemade sausage pizza," woofed Quito.
They proceeded to have an overly animated conversation about which food would taste the best. Then it happened. There was a quick flash in the atmosphere above and they all looked up just in time to see a fireball the size of a scoop of pralines and cream gelato come flying down out of nowhere, well the sky really, and land right near the Twister board. Quito went close, but not too close, to the still flaming ball because he wanted to protect the boys, yet investigate also. After a moment, the flame went out but the heat scorched a bit of grass which gradually grew to the approximate size and shape of a red, felt Christmas tree skirt with white furry trim; the kind you might purchase from K-Mart. Quito was standing in that spot while it happened. He felt no burn, instead just a slight stinging sensation in each foot; a stinging similar to the shot of penicillin you get in response to a positive strep throat culture. It barely registered with him at the time.
(Let me interrupt myself right here and now. I'm relating this story as Quito told me. I've never had any reason to question it.)
So later that evening, after changing Thomas's very smelly diaper, rapping Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina" to William and changing the burned out bulb in the boys' bedroom night light, he began noticing a taste in his mouth. The taste was definitely that of Hamburger Helper, but more effervescent somehow. Could it be? Yes! it was... the taste was homemade Hamburger Helper. "Oh great! And here I am on a low-carb diet" he barked to himself. But he could just smell the cheesy, gooeyness. It was too late in the evening by that time though and he didn't feel like starting a project like that at this late hour. "I'll make some tomorrow" he thought. He then put out Penny, the Maine Coon cat; turned off the Victrola, now playing Springsteen; left a note for the milkman to leave extra cheddar cheese and went to sleep.
Next morning started and he absolutely knew something was different.
To be continued next week... Chapter 2: Quito the Astro-Pup
*Languages which Quito was fluent in: English; Spanish; Arabic; French; Russian; Chinese.
Quito died recently, Friday, March 7th, 2014, 6PM, to be exact. The world lost one special doggy in that one, lemme tell ya. Now that he's gone though, his secrets can finally be told. And I'm just the person to tell 'em. Here goes.
Quito was a 50 pound, poly-breed, long-haired black and white thing whom I dog-sat whenever his pet humans were out-of-town. He resembled a Collie, preferred The Who over Led Zeppelin, knew 6 languages fluently* was 12 when he died and had quite a life. Few people knew his clandestine affairs, but he shared them with me while we were alone in his rather large, contemporary, pink champagne beige, brick Shaker Heights home during all those extended weekends.
His humans are world travelers; they're royalty. Their cousins, Clair, Hannah, Evelyn and Grant along with their dog, Harli-Monster, are rulers of a European country which must, obviously, remain anonymous. But, those 5 have no direct heirs so these four children, Quito's humans, are going to be taking over the throne one day. All you really need to know for right now are their names: Jordan is the baby girl (who's now 7), then Jackson (8), Thomas (14), finally William is the crown prince (15). They're beautiful and charming children who's down to earth demeanor belies their upper crust, blue blood, royal status.
Parents found Quito in the Rubbermaid garbage can one morning. Plain and simple. Seems he'd crawled in one night looking for food, then couldn't get out. What a humble beginning to one of the most auspicious lives of the 21st century. He was about 10-12 weeks old when found but 5 months old when he began developing his super-powers.
William and Thomas were very little that August day when they took Quito outside and were ho-humming through a game of Twister with him in the steamy, hot sunshine. Nena was singing about 99 Luftballons on the outdoor Victrola. The smell of freshly shaved grass was in the air as Ippolitto & Sons had just finished cutting the large emerald green expanse of backyard. The three of them were excitedly looking forward to the Feast of the Assumption street festival they'd be attending a few days later.
"I can't wait to eat the scrumptious fried calamari," piped baby Thomas. "If I shan't get my bellyfull of those luscious ringed morsels, I shan throw a tantrum like Parents never experienced. I mean from me anyhoo."
"I'm anticipating with great glee the elephant ears with extra Vietnamese cinnamon sprinkled atop," squeaked young Prince William. "I do believe Vietnam grows the best cinnamon, don't you Quito?"
"Heavens to Murgatroyd! Who cares about cinnamon? I want the homemade sausage pizza," woofed Quito.
They proceeded to have an overly animated conversation about which food would taste the best. Then it happened. There was a quick flash in the atmosphere above and they all looked up just in time to see a fireball the size of a scoop of pralines and cream gelato come flying down out of nowhere, well the sky really, and land right near the Twister board. Quito went close, but not too close, to the still flaming ball because he wanted to protect the boys, yet investigate also. After a moment, the flame went out but the heat scorched a bit of grass which gradually grew to the approximate size and shape of a red, felt Christmas tree skirt with white furry trim; the kind you might purchase from K-Mart. Quito was standing in that spot while it happened. He felt no burn, instead just a slight stinging sensation in each foot; a stinging similar to the shot of penicillin you get in response to a positive strep throat culture. It barely registered with him at the time.
(Let me interrupt myself right here and now. I'm relating this story as Quito told me. I've never had any reason to question it.)
So later that evening, after changing Thomas's very smelly diaper, rapping Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina" to William and changing the burned out bulb in the boys' bedroom night light, he began noticing a taste in his mouth. The taste was definitely that of Hamburger Helper, but more effervescent somehow. Could it be? Yes! it was... the taste was homemade Hamburger Helper. "Oh great! And here I am on a low-carb diet" he barked to himself. But he could just smell the cheesy, gooeyness. It was too late in the evening by that time though and he didn't feel like starting a project like that at this late hour. "I'll make some tomorrow" he thought. He then put out Penny, the Maine Coon cat; turned off the Victrola, now playing Springsteen; left a note for the milkman to leave extra cheddar cheese and went to sleep.
Next morning started and he absolutely knew something was different.
To be continued next week... Chapter 2: Quito the Astro-Pup
*Languages which Quito was fluent in: English; Spanish; Arabic; French; Russian; Chinese.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Dieting While Attending The Feast Of The Assumption - How I Did
Page One Hundred Twenty-Six.
Per one of my blogs last week, I was determined to attend the feast and still remain on my weight reduction diet. So... how did I do?
Okay. I attended three times: Thursday mid-late afternoon; Saturday evening and late Sunday night for the fireworks.
Thursday: I deeply soul-enjoyed the one slice of sausage pizza which I purchased. However, afterwards I was still hungry and didn't have the defenses in place to protect myself from the Devil's wares. I purchased a small order of fries (which was huge) but was only able to eat about 1/3 or so before I was full. Then just prior to leaving I bought a pound of cinnamon pralines, but ate none while walking. Later that night, I ate about 1/2 ounce.
Friday: ate about 1 more ounce of the pralines.
Saturday: no pralines that day. At the feast had one more slice of pizza. An hour later purchased one single meatball. Then got a lemonade.
Sunday: no pralines at all. At the feast had one more slice of pizza. An hour later purchased one single meatball. Then got a lemonade. Enjoyed the stunning fireworks.
So, I'm moderately pleased with my performance. (But, I'm stuck with almost a pound of the Devil's pralines on my kitchen shelf. Do you want them? I'll mail them to you. Seriously.)
On Saturday, in the middle of this whole thing, I got some good news. At my gym they tested my percentage of body fat. The preferred fat content of gentlemen my age should be 22% or below. I'm at 21.6%. This is with a loss of ten pounds, ten to go. If you ever hear me complaining about my fat, tell me to be quiet.
Per one of my blogs last week, I was determined to attend the feast and still remain on my weight reduction diet. So... how did I do?
Okay. I attended three times: Thursday mid-late afternoon; Saturday evening and late Sunday night for the fireworks.
Thursday: I deeply soul-enjoyed the one slice of sausage pizza which I purchased. However, afterwards I was still hungry and didn't have the defenses in place to protect myself from the Devil's wares. I purchased a small order of fries (which was huge) but was only able to eat about 1/3 or so before I was full. Then just prior to leaving I bought a pound of cinnamon pralines, but ate none while walking. Later that night, I ate about 1/2 ounce.
Friday: ate about 1 more ounce of the pralines.
Saturday: no pralines that day. At the feast had one more slice of pizza. An hour later purchased one single meatball. Then got a lemonade.
Sunday: no pralines at all. At the feast had one more slice of pizza. An hour later purchased one single meatball. Then got a lemonade. Enjoyed the stunning fireworks.
So, I'm moderately pleased with my performance. (But, I'm stuck with almost a pound of the Devil's pralines on my kitchen shelf. Do you want them? I'll mail them to you. Seriously.)
On Saturday, in the middle of this whole thing, I got some good news. At my gym they tested my percentage of body fat. The preferred fat content of gentlemen my age should be 22% or below. I'm at 21.6%. This is with a loss of ten pounds, ten to go. If you ever hear me complaining about my fat, tell me to be quiet.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
On Loosing A Few Pounds - Update #1
Page One Hundred Twenty-One.
Just an update on my weight reduction diet...
It's now been 33 days and I've lost a solid ten pounds, which is evident. I was very concerned about the wedding a couple days ago and how could I possibly stay on a diet at a festival like that? (You know... the wedding with the accompanying memorial the day prior which I catered? See blogs #120, 118, 109). In fact, I didn't even bother to stay on the diet at a banquet. Why torture myself? So I ate pretty much everything. I just didn't overeat. Who knew that was possible? And then, the next day, I simply went back to my dieting habits.
What'll also be tough is the Feast of the Assumption which is this coming weekend. I've mentioned the Feast before in this blog: see page#190. I've already decided that I'll go down and only get a piece of Old Church Lady Pizza a couple times during the course of the four days. I won't get anything else. No Elephant ears, no cavatelli, no kettle corn, no ravioli, no cotton candy... just homemade pizza. Come to think of it, I'll save about thirty dollars, too!
I'd like to loose another twelve pounds. But, we'll see. At the wedding, my niece, who was my date, was really concerned about me loosing another twelve. She believes that I can't afford to loose too much more. Though one or two of my friends have commented that I can. Who knows? Maybe I won't loose that much. I just want to be able to fit into certain trousers that I haven't been able to comfortably squeeze into for a while. The question is: how much of the weight I've put on in the last decade is muscle? And, how will that affect my slithering into old trousers? Lord knows, I can't wear my older suits because I'm broader in the shoulders. I get that. In fact, I've given some of my older suits and jackets away already. But what about trousers?
In theory, if I can get my waist close to what it was, I should be fine. But, one thing at a time. First loose twelve more pounds. Second, start wearing old, out of style pants. Third, adopt the new eating habits long term. But in the meantime, six more weeks of the diet; I still say that I'm rarely starving though. thankfully.
The real irony is that right now two people owe me fancy dinners. My niece owes me one because I gave her a free haircut a month ago. And one of my buddies owes me dinner me 'cause I helped him move a few weeks ago and refused to let him pay me. I can't wait for that tasty food.
Just an update on my weight reduction diet...
It's now been 33 days and I've lost a solid ten pounds, which is evident. I was very concerned about the wedding a couple days ago and how could I possibly stay on a diet at a festival like that? (You know... the wedding with the accompanying memorial the day prior which I catered? See blogs #120, 118, 109). In fact, I didn't even bother to stay on the diet at a banquet. Why torture myself? So I ate pretty much everything. I just didn't overeat. Who knew that was possible? And then, the next day, I simply went back to my dieting habits.
What'll also be tough is the Feast of the Assumption which is this coming weekend. I've mentioned the Feast before in this blog: see page#190. I've already decided that I'll go down and only get a piece of Old Church Lady Pizza a couple times during the course of the four days. I won't get anything else. No Elephant ears, no cavatelli, no kettle corn, no ravioli, no cotton candy... just homemade pizza. Come to think of it, I'll save about thirty dollars, too!
I'd like to loose another twelve pounds. But, we'll see. At the wedding, my niece, who was my date, was really concerned about me loosing another twelve. She believes that I can't afford to loose too much more. Though one or two of my friends have commented that I can. Who knows? Maybe I won't loose that much. I just want to be able to fit into certain trousers that I haven't been able to comfortably squeeze into for a while. The question is: how much of the weight I've put on in the last decade is muscle? And, how will that affect my slithering into old trousers? Lord knows, I can't wear my older suits because I'm broader in the shoulders. I get that. In fact, I've given some of my older suits and jackets away already. But what about trousers?
In theory, if I can get my waist close to what it was, I should be fine. But, one thing at a time. First loose twelve more pounds. Second, start wearing old, out of style pants. Third, adopt the new eating habits long term. But in the meantime, six more weeks of the diet; I still say that I'm rarely starving though. thankfully.
The real irony is that right now two people owe me fancy dinners. My niece owes me one because I gave her a free haircut a month ago. And one of my buddies owes me dinner me 'cause I helped him move a few weeks ago and refused to let him pay me. I can't wait for that tasty food.
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