The last NYC post for a few weeks

Perhaps it is because of a bit of Old Worldness my mother had, but as we get ready to leave this evening to visit our son in Israel my husband and I are also doing some "in case the plane crashes and we die" prep.

We have let our daughter know where the essential papers are. No, I am not sharing that information with you. I also did a wander around the neighborhood thinking perhaps this is my last look at the familiar.

The autumn roses have begun blooming in Spare Change Plaza ( the plaza in front of the 96th Street subway station).

The pigeons are busy, as they always are, in front of what had been the public bathrooms but is now a community art exhibition space.

The building on the north east corner of Broadway

and 96th street that in 1900 housed a drugstore, and until recently a Citibank and a florist is in the process of being torn down. It may be gone by the time we get home.

I stopped by the thrift store just to fill my eyes with new things. The store stock was just refilled .

And now a small digression.

At some point in the early 1970s the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston hosted an exabit called Treasures of the Hermitage. This exhibit took place during the height of the demonstrations to free Soviet Jewry. Many of our Sunday afternoons were taken up with attending demonstrations and rallies to do our best to help convince the government of the USSR to allow Jews who wished to to emigrate.

Anyway, our whole family went to picket and chant in front of the museum.

At some point my parents sat down on the low stone wall in front of the museum. They were joined by the then director of the museum, I believe that it was Perry Rathbone dressed in a blue blazer and grey trousers. He began chatting with my parents and said, "I get why these people are protesting the Russians, but most of the stuff in the exhibit....If I won it at Revere Beach I wouldn't take it home". For those of you not from Boston, Revere beach is one of Boston's answers to Coney Island. It was smaller than Coney Island but exactly as tacky

This wonderful line was quoted often in my home. The if you won it at Revere Beach standard was something employed as you looked in stores that sold fine gift wear, or bric-a-brac or even art.

So with that in mind, this was yesterday's crop of if I won it at Revere Beach, I wouldn't take it home from our local thrift.

A stack of American historical plates by Wedgewood.

My parents were fond of Wedgewood but this would have been a bridge too far, even for them.

Hummel figurines. You couldn't pay me to take this home. Nor would I take home this teapot.

I could see that it would be possible to make this tea set work but I would have to change my life to do that.

This china figurine is the ultimate piece of If I won it at Revere Beach, I wouldn't take it home.

I felt very sentimental when I found this hand woven top and skirt . You can't see the skirt but it is on the same hanger.

Had I been at a craft show with my mother she would have admired this set and possibly would have offered to buy it for me. It is lovely but not something I would ever wear.

If you are in need of stripper boots there are three pairs currently available for purchase.

This next pair is actually made out of beautiful leather.

Lastly, there is a slightly more sedate pair of stripper boots.

I think I finished packing there is still some householdy stuff to take care of before we leave the house. I hope that I can write some posts while we are away...but until then--- Play nice!

Connecting with the past

A few months ago I had a craving for my father’s chicken fricassee. If my father were still alive I would have called him up and he would have talked me through the process of making it. My father is no longer alive so I turned to my cookbooks and the recipes I found for chicken fricassee were nothing at all like the stew of chicken necks, gizzards and wings in a watery sweet and sour tomato sauce that I enjoyed as a kid. I assumed that the dish was an invention of my father’s. I then attempted to replicate the dish from my memory of it and failed. A couple of weeks ago I saw an article on the internet, and I can’t remember where, that talked about Jewish fricassee and it sounded an awful lot like the dish I was hankering after. This afternoon I went to the butcher and picked up all of the chicken elements of the dish, a couple of packages each of wings, necks and gizzards. My father never cooked directly from a cook book. He used to re...

The light themed tallit has been shipped!!!

I had begun speaking to Sarah about making her a tallit in the middle of August. It took a few weeks to nail down the design. For Sarah it would have been ideal if the tallit were completed in time for her to wear it on Rosh HaShanah., the beginning of her year as senior rabbi of her congregation. For me, in an ideal world, given the realities of preparing for the High Holidays I would have finished this tallit in the weeks after Sukkot. So we compromised and I shipped off the tallit last night. I would have prefered to have more time but I got the job done in time. This tallit was made to mark Sarah's rise to the position of senior rabbi but it was also a reaction to this year of darkness. She chose a selection of verses about light to be part of her tallit. 1) אֵל נוֹרָא עֲלִילָה God of awesome deeds ( from a yom kippur Liturgical poem) 2) אוֹר חָדָשׁ עַל־צִיּוֹן תָּאִיר May You shine a new light on Zion ( from the liturgy) 3) יָאֵר יְהֹ...

A Passover loss

My parents bought this tablecloth during their 1955 visit to Israel. It is made out of linen from the first post 1948 flax harvest. The linen is heavy and almost crude. The embroidery is very fine. We used this cloth every Passover until the center wore thin. You can see the cloth on the table in the background of this photo of my parents and nephew My Aunt Sheva bought my mother a replacement cloth. The replacement cloth is made out of a cotton poly blend. The embroidery is crude and the colors not nearly as nice. The old cloth hung in our basement. We used the new cloth and remembered the much nicer original cloth. I loved that my aunt wanted to replace the cloth, I just hated the replacement because it was so much less than while evoking the beauty of the original. After my father died my mother sat me down and with great ceremony gave me all of her best tablecloths. She also gave me the worn Passover cloth and suggested that I could mend it. I did. Year after year ...

sarah in nyc

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