Category Archives: Nostalgia

Autumn Comfort Food and Ancestors

It’s autumn and the thermometer has dropped, so, as I sit bundled in a sweater, my thoughts go to comfort food. Specifically, to soup. Memories of my mother making escarole soup rise to the surface like steam off the soup pot. She made her own beef stock, so escarole soup also meant marrow bones. I can still taste that marrow, spread thick on a piece of bakery rye bread, then heavily peppered. And then the soup! Thick with escarole, scented with garlic and heavily ladened with Parmesan.

I will make my own soup today. It is a distant relative of my mother’s recipe, adapted to my expanded waistline and desire to minimize cholesterol, and it will be delicious in its own way. My grandmother’s spirit is at my side as I saute cabbage with onions to create a base. Next come tomatoes, bok choy, carrots and butternut squash. Pepper, perhaps a touch of dill, a few red pepper flakes. Green beans and cauliflower, if the spirit moves me. These are my own additions to replace the heartiness of the beef marrow.

Finally, I will add lots and lots of escarole. My mother’s spirit nods in approval. The soup will simmer on until all the flavors have blended. I may thicken it with some turnip puree (thinking of the old children’s book Rutabaga Tales). Later, I will feast on my soup, trying to avoid dipping in too many huge chunks of sourdough bread.

It’s a good day to bake some apples, too. I think of Auntie Adelaide, who made the best apple pie in the world, and honor her as I core apples. As they bake, I smell Auntie’s pie.

Autumn days are perfect for comfort and memories. Family members long absent visit in my kitchen on days like this and I am content.

West Village Nostalgia

For more than fifteen years, the Far West 10th Street Block Association has hosted a street fair and for many of those years my friend Betsy has coordinated the event. This past year, in part because she no longer lives on West 10th Street, she stepped down from this role. This year was slated to be the final fair, so I wasn’t going to miss it. The fair set of a chain of nostalgic stops in and outside of the neighborhood.

Saturday was one of those perfect September days where you need to think about whether or not to add a second layer. The fair seemed a little smaller than some years, but there were so many familiar faces that it was a delightful experience. I had time to chat with a couple of the vendors and we reminisced about fairs past and the neighborhood and history. My sole purchase was an old pedometer – no bells and whistles, needs to be reset, operates on a pendulum, no battery. He wanted a dollar. I gave him two.

Then, on to lunch at Rosemary’s Enoteca and Trattoria – a wonderful new place on Greenwich. It’s on the site where Sutter’s Bakery was in the 60’s and 70’s. As I sat facing out onto the street and the community park, I was immediately transported to those days long ago when we would sit in Sutter’s for hours. For probably about $2.00, you could get coffee and a croissant and sit with the Sunday Times enjoying the great show provided by men and women calling up to their girlfriends in the Women’s House of Detention across the street. Even as I admired the beautiful trees and flowers across the street in the garden that has replaced the jail, I could hear the echos of those voices.

As I walked along Greenwich and down 6th Avenue to Houston Street, I thought about shops and restaurants long gone and celebrated those few that have remained. I spent another nostalgic hour staring at the former home of The Fantastics and missing Jerry Orbach’s wonderful voice while having espresso at Dante, one of the few remaining coffee houses, a place where laptops are banned. Raffetto’s is still selling pasta but the Mystery Bookstore is gone.


The Belly Button transformed to become Elephant and Castle, but is still selling their signature burger with bacon, curry sauce, cheese, tomato and avocado.

The day ended with drinks with a friend at the Algonquin in tribute to Dorothy Parker.

Driving rain aided a more rapid transition to the present than I might have wanted, but, within the safe (dry) confines of the bus home I reflected on a day full of a wonderful blend of past and present and wondered what the future will hold.