I wish I could tell you about the food here. Good or bad, mediocre or spectacular. But for me, here, it's not about food. I try and eat well, I attempt to educate without preaching, but it's a very difficult proposition.
I eat here what comforts. What is familiar and familial. I eat what is in season in my heart: Jewish renditions with American ingredients. I eat what I ate when I lived with my grandparents in high school.
Today I sat with Nanny (Eve Gordon, my maternal grandmother) and she said how wonderful it was that she could eat her food because now her family made her dishes. Kasha Varnishkas, Noodle Kugle, Stuffed Cabbage (sweet & sour), Brisket. And for an in-between snack we schmear matzoh with whipped sweet butter.
We eat Italian American favorites because in NYC and Long Island, where my mother and her family grew up, Jews live side by side with Italians and eggplant parmigiana is as much a staple as matzoh ball soup.
This week is not about food, per se, but it is about nourishment.