Another sunny, pleasant day on Sunday. I went to the 3rd Avenue street fair, which gave me a major disappointment. One reason I loved the street fairs, besides being able to walk in the middle of the street, was food, particularly “Mozzarepa.” This is a made up, probably copywritten name, for an Americanized, non-authentic, Latin American street food–a circle of corn bread (the kind you get in American restaurants), split in half horizontally and filled with yellow mozzarella (not the fresh kind), and grilled on both sides until the read was browned and the cheese melted.
I’ve been eating this high calorie, high cholesterol for years, at least once every summer. I went to the street fair looking for my Mozzarepa fix, and found a new and different arepa with mozzarella, claiming to be made with real corn. I bought one; it was certainly as advertised and probably more authentic, but not what I wanted. I guess I have to forget Mozzarepa.
Met Jean for dinner and had a lovely visit. This is why I come back to NYC year after year.
Another lovely day Monday: brunch and an all afternoon visit with Mary, dinner with Phyllis. Lots of rain on Tuesday morning. I stayed here until the sun came out, then went to see the other two parts of the exhibit about Al Mutanabi. First stop was Poet’s House in Battery Park City at the bottom of Manhattan, then took the subway up to 114th St. to the library at Columbia University. These exhibits have given me lots to think about, in particular integrating content and structure, and I really enjoyed seeing all the books. After a quick sandwich I went further north to Riverdale to Evy’s apartment where my Teaneck friends gathered for a stitch and bitch.
Here in Utah where the temperatures have been triple digits to set a new record this summer, I have to tell you the picture of the apartment across the way with the rain looks positively refreshing. And I fondly remember the delicious salmon salad I had in Jewish Deli in the vicinity of Battery Park when we were there in July. I’d be disappointed if I tried to find its equivalent anywhere here also. Don’t give up on the Mozzarepa. It must have taken me a good 10 or 12 years to find a custard bun worthy of those I had once in San Francisco. Finally found them in Las Vegas. Sounds like you’re having a lovely visit.