Around 10:30 pm last Sunday, after a shopping run, we stopped by the closest thing this neighborhood has to a hip coffee shop (as opposed to the Starbucks that opened a block away & the many Colombian coffee shops that have weird pastries, a cheerful vibe & surprisingly vile coffee). The coffee shop has a Bengali owner & some of the employees are from Bangladesh as well. They serve wine & beer (bottled, small breweries) as well as coffee, plus European sodas, organic cookies, & snacks -- about what you'd expect, chosen half for the flavor & half for the affectation. It's a pleasant enough place, provided one doesn't show up at family-friendly hours (yes, a child must be allowed to express his creativity by running around the room screeching, but the temptation to stick a foot out as he passes by for the third time howling at 120 decibels is very hard to resist, & those parents sue), & the coffee isn't bad.
This night, it was quiet; the coffee shop is right near the main South Asian shopping strip & there were a few young desis having coffee & faffing about with their iPads, & the owner -- from Bangladesh, remember -- was behind the counter.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Reason #1,147 why I'm going to hell
Despite having grown up south of the Mason-Dixon Line, as a rule, I don't drink Coke (HFCS, fang rot, etc.), & the engineer prefers Pepsi. Occasionally in the summer I will stagger out on a really hot day to one of the Mexican groceries & buy a small imported Coke (in one of those old heavy bottles, no less), because Mexican Coke is usually made with sugar, not HFCS.
There is, of course, the yearly exception: Passover. To be kosher for Passover, Coke must be made with sugar; it tastes exactly like what I remember from childhood, & is available only briefly: self-limited indulgence. We buy one or two bottles & that's it until next year, aside from any summertime forays.
This year during spring cleaning, which happened to coincide with the run-up to Passover, I discovered a large bottle of last year's Passover Coke. Of course it had gone rather flat, & this year's was available, but why waste it?
So I used it.
To cook a Coca-Cola ham for the engineer.
Granted, we are goyim & I don't even eat meat at all, but still ... .
I do so hope that the downstairs neighbors, an elderly rabbi & his wife, did not hear the engineer laughing hysterically & repeating, "You used Passover Coke to cook a ham?"
Then he ate it on sourdough bread all this past week, cackling every time.
There is, of course, the yearly exception: Passover. To be kosher for Passover, Coke must be made with sugar; it tastes exactly like what I remember from childhood, & is available only briefly: self-limited indulgence. We buy one or two bottles & that's it until next year, aside from any summertime forays.
This year during spring cleaning, which happened to coincide with the run-up to Passover, I discovered a large bottle of last year's Passover Coke. Of course it had gone rather flat, & this year's was available, but why waste it?
So I used it.
To cook a Coca-Cola ham for the engineer.
Granted, we are goyim & I don't even eat meat at all, but still ... .
I do so hope that the downstairs neighbors, an elderly rabbi & his wife, did not hear the engineer laughing hysterically & repeating, "You used Passover Coke to cook a ham?"
Then he ate it on sourdough bread all this past week, cackling every time.
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