I love cooking, but I also love, love dining out. I love divey hole-in-the-walls where the only seats available are on dinky stools in food stalls (with slightly questionable sanitation), I love everyday affordable ethnic and “new American” casual restaurants, and I love the experience of five-star, multi-course tasting menus at coats-required restaurants. What I do not love, though is terrible service. In a city as competitive as New York, restaurants with rude service deserve only to go out of business. I rather just get delivery than deal with nasty service.

Tonight, we encountered the rudest service of my life in the company of Chris’s parents when the server at Olio e Piu had the nerve to wrestle the check holder out of Chris’s hands when Chris had already insisted he was *not* ready to give him the check. “Yes, you are ready to leave now,” the server responded to Chris. As you can imagine, this resulted in a lot of other diners staring at this pathetic act of idiocy. And Chris doesn’t take crap from anyone, so he let the server have it. The server was the rudest, most condescending person I’ve ever encountered on a restaurant wait staff. We went there just for drinks and were never told we had to order dinner in order to be seated in the outside dining area, and then we got scolded at by the host, which led to attitude and abrupt behavior by our server, who already had an icy tone when he first said hello to us. Restaurants that offer “hospitality” like this deserve to go out of business; there’s no place for that in New York – or anywhere, for that matter.

So in preparation for our World Cup Brazil trip next month, I’m going to a travel clinic to get vaccinated tomorrow. Unfortunately, the health insurance through my company does not cover travel vaccines, and before I could really complain about it, I found out that pretty much no modern health insurance in the United States covers them. They’re not considered necessities… since no one really needs to travel outside of the country, right?

So leave it to money-grubbing Americans to open up travel clinics all over this city and charge $70-80 just for a “travel consultation” – to discuss where you are going, diseases you should be aware of and how you can get them, etc. That fee doesn’t cover any vaccines. When you want a vaccine for something like yellow fever, in New York, it costs somewhere between $145-160. If you want the Hepatitis A vaccine, it will cost $95 per shot (there are two), and that doesn’t even cover the “administration” fees for having someone give you the shot… because you can’t really give yourself the shot. Well, it’s a good thing that my travel visa fee ($160 USD) got waived with proof of World Cup tickets because all that saved money is just going toward my vaccinations, and then some.

I’m convinced that this is the subtle way our lovely country wants to indirectly discourage us from traveling and realizing that there is a world outside of the United States that actually matters.

I made two loaves of double chocolate banana bread tonight. It’s the first time I’ve made banana bread with chocolate, and two types – cocoa powder and dark chocolate chunks. I realize I haven’t baked anything for my office since I have started working there last August. I used to bake all the time and share when I was at my last company… Until I started getting jaded and realized it was a bad place for me to be.

I’ve become a lot more hesitant to share food, especially things I have made, with my colleagues in general. Part of the reason for this is that I really just don’t think that the average person appreciates anything that is homemade or handmade. Most people just take it for granted; most people won’t even say thank you. Homemade food is a rarity in New York; pretty much no one you know will ever invite you over for a home-cooked meal here. It takes a lot of time and energy, and although homemade food is generally cheaper than food in restaurants, in New York, groceries aren’t that cheap, so your homemade meal may not be as cheap as you thought.

I’ll bring some in tomorrow and see what people’s reactions are. I’m sure I have an idea of what it will be – some people will be really excited; others will be the same jerks they always are. People will be who they are.

I’m not sure if this is a good thing, but I really think my patience level for certain things has waned over the last couple of years. In my Twitter feed at work a couple of days ago, I saw that Uber had expanded to Auckland. I’ve been getting into Uber lately (well, for work use, anyway), and I exclaimed out loud, “Uber is in Auckland now!” At least three male voices surrounding me asked in annoyed, confused voices, “What/where is Auckland?” I immediately felt irritated and told them it was a major city in New Zealand, and I exchanged a look with one of our auditors, who is temporarily on assignment in our office for three weeks and who is originally from New Zealand. He’s used to people not knowing what Auckland or Wellington are, and is even more used to people not even knowing where New Zealand is. He told me that he used to think that the stereotype that Americans’ geographical knowledge was poor was just exaggerated, but in his five and a half months living here in the States, he’s realized that maybe it actually isn’t an exaggeration. He’s had people ask him where New Zealand is or if it’s in Australia or Canada. He’s even confused people when he’s said he’s from New Zealand, and when they’ve heard him speak, they’ve told him, “You speak really good English.” Well, I’d hope so since New Zealand is an English-speaking country. “These people are morons!” He said to me. He must feel at ease because he can speak quickly with me and know I understand everything he is saying. I guess that’s what happens when my life partner is from Australia and I’ve spent extensive time with his Australian family and friends. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Aussies and Kiwis sound very similar accent-wise.

Some of my colleagues think I am odd for befriending an auditor who is checking our books, but I just find it ironic that I’ve made a friend at work who is not even my colleague.

Tonight, a friend and I went out for dinner and we were talking about how he’s thought about moving to the Bay Area to live for a while. He just visited my hometown for a wedding and lamented that despite how much he loves it there, he absolutely hated all the driving. He said he ultimately wants to settle down here in New York; it’s pretty much the only place you can live in this country where you don’t need a car.

I hate driving. I know I’m going to have to drive again at some point, but once we reach this summer, it will officially mark seven years since I was last behind a wheel. I don’t want to live in New York City the rest of my life, so I guess I will have to suck it up and drive again, but I’m not looking forward to it. Parallel parking sucks, and gridlock makes me want to grind my teeth. Lately, I’ve been romanticizing about having a beautiful house somewhere in Southern California – maybe Santa Barbara or San Diego, but those romantic daydreams do not include road rage and constant honking.

I went to Tory Burch’s Madison Avenue location yesterday to return a hand bag I ordered during their Friends and Family Appreciation Sale that ended up being too big for me. Even though I was there for a return, the service was still extremely attentive and friendly, and the person helping me even offered me a beverage – bottled water, Coke, or Diet Coke? When I noticed a similar bag I was interested in and started playing with it, out of nowhere, another sales person discreetly puts the same bag in two other colors within my reach and gently lets me know this is the same bag I am looking at, just in their other available colors for me to see. Part of me felt weirded out by it, but the other part of me felt relieved that I didn’t feel pressured to make a decision or buy anything right away the way you do at other department stores, or even brand-specific stores like Coach. This is what it’s like to shop at a really nice boutique store. They actually want you to feel special. Sort of.

And then I thought, actually, I think I feel the most comfortable shopping online when i don’t have to be around other prissy shoppers making all of their buying decisions out loud. I love online shopping and how easy, fast, and pressure-less it is.

For the first time ever, I met someone who did not enjoy the Broadway show Book of Mormon. He said that he found it too cheesy – the lines, the music, and even the facial expressions. Then again, he also is not someone who enjoys Broadway shows or theater at all, for that matter, so I’m not sure if Book of Mormon should be any exception for him in his theater opinions.

I’ve definitely had moments when I thought certain lines or smiles or songs were cheesy when at a Broadway production, but that’s partly there because that’s what appeals to people; people like to see and hear things that feel good, and that’s why Broadway is Broadway; it’s mainstream, and it’s what people want. The one show I do know (and saw) that was off-Broadway that dealt with a real topic – depression, mental illness, and suicide in the context of a family – didn’t have a very long off-Broadway life. You can’t really bring your family to a show about rape or murder or people jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. If you want that kind of stuff – what is arguably more real to life – smaller theater groups are where you should be looking.

Tonight looked to be a miserable rainy night according to the weather forecast, and since Chris wanted to stay in, he suggested we order a pizza and go home after work. I wasn’t really keen on the idea of ordering Domino’s, so I decided that I would order a Previti pizza (half Sardinia – artichoke, spinach, and creamy cheese truffle sauce, half chicken parm) for pickup and take it home. When I suggested it, I barely thought about the fact that a) I was going home during rush hour and b) because of that, the 6 train would be packed, so how would people react to my carrying an 18-inch pizza in a large box on the train?

Surprisingly, the experience was comical… and even inviting. Most of the time, people get contentious and pushy when others carry baby carriages and other large items on the train, but this time, not only did two people offer their seat on the train for me, but as soon as people saw me with my big pizza box, they literally started moving into the train and pushing other people to get further in (and if you are unfamiliar with the trains during rush hour here in New York City, you will know that people hate doing this and absolutely love to hover around the doors. They don’t care that there is space in the middle and that you need to get on the train, too). A few people joked that they would make room for me if I were willing to share a slice with them. Someone asked me where the pizza was from because it smelled so good. And a couple other people commended me for “being so brave” to carry a pizza box onto the train at this time. “I’m not sure if it’s bravery or cheapness for not wanting to pay for a cab,” I laughed. “Actually, maybe it’s a little of both!”

So New Yorkers aren’t that bad. Sure, they can be rude, but there are these moments when you realize that they are real people who have a sense of humor… and just love their pizza.

One day when I leave New York, I know one thing I will miss is the number of great, “hidden” spots that are sprinkled all over the city – the secret restaurant that you can access only by walking through an unmarked door in what appears to be a pawn shop, a bar that you get to by dialing a phone in an old-school telephone booth, a Japanese speakeasy you get to by walking through another Japanese restaurant – the list goes on. A colleague just told me about a pop-up ramen spot that opens only after 1am in Lower East Side, and it’s in the basement of an unmarked building; really, you have to know someone to get into this place. New York is a city where it’s probably impossible to see, do, and eat everything. It keeps you wanting more – and wanting to be in the know.

Tonight, Chris surprised me with a handmade pasta making class at Taste Buds Kitchen, which specializes in fresh, handmade cooking classes and “culinary experiences.” The class was less than 20 people, and we all got grouped into stations organized into three categories – marinara sauce and fettuccine, butternut squash ravioli, and spinach ravioli. Chris and I got placed into the marinara and fettuccine group with another couple. The marinara sauce was pretty straightforward since I’ve made similar versions many times, but the pasta making part was the most exciting. We made it from scratch using just flour, olive oil, salt, and eggs, formed the dough, kneaded, moved it through the pasta machine (a KitchenAid stand mixer attachment), and left it to dry. Then the assistants helped us boil the noodles and ravioli, and we were ready to eat. Nothing compares to freshly made pasta. The texture in your hands and the mouth-feel are a world away from dried, packaged pasta noodles.

So me being me, we went home, and I immediately wanted to look at the prices of the different pasta attachments. Apparently there is no single attachment that can just have a switch flipped to produce different pasta types, like linguine, fettuccine, spaghetti; if you want to create different types, you need to buy additional attachments, which go for around $75-100 each. I personally like the wider noodles the most, as I find it far more satisfying to eat wide strips of papparadelle or fettuccine than thinner spaghetti or angel hair.

I can’t wait until we get a bigger apartment or house so that I can buy my dream KitchenAid stand mixer with all my wide noodle pasta attachments, ice cream attachment, meat grinder attachment, and sausage stuffer kit. 🙂