A Brush with Greatness(?)

A couple of days ago I was walking by a restaurant (Roberto Passon) at the corner of 50th and 9th. I saw an odd-looking guy eating in there who looked really familiar. It struck me that he looked exactly like the wacky former UN Ambassador from the Bush Administration, John Bolton. But I dismissed that thought -- he probably just looked like him. Then it occurred to me: no one looks like John Bolton. It was most definitely him; not a great celebrity sighting by New York standards, but it was just in time for him to start squawking in the newspapers again. Apparently Mr. Bolton thinks Bill Clinton's moment in the sun, escorting the detained journalists out of North Korea, was a very bad idea.

Well I have a message for Mr. Bolton: Hey John, your mustache is white. Please tell the rest of your hair. (Oh and next time you're back in Hell's Kitchen, look me up.)

Let's Get You a Fresh One

Bodegas, you know -- the corner deli -- are a vital part of life in New York City. In a city where good grocery stores are few and far between, we really rely on them. In my neighborhood in Hell's Kitchen, there are about six in a two block radius from my house and I'm trying to figure out which one is the "good" one. They're almost all a little sketchy looking (i.e., grimy) but they serve their purpose when you want a breakfast sandwich or a loaf of bread.

My neighborhood around my office is similar and we have 3 or 4 bodegas within a block or two. I probably spend $20 - $30 dollars a week at the one closest to my office which like so many others is run by a nice Korean family. Yesterday morning I went in to buy a little bowl of sliced fruit as I often do. Behind the counter working the register was the teen-aged son (who is rarely there) and his tiny mother standing next him. I put my little plastic container of fruit on the counter and the mother began speaking in what I assume was Korean and took the fruit and walked to the back of the store. "She's gonna get you a fresh one," said the teenager.

"What a nice gesture!" I thought to myself ... until I noticed that they weren't taking the "old" ones out of the fridge, they just didn't want to sell one of those to me. About five minutes later the old woman emerged from the basement where they do their food prep with a nice little bowl of fruit for me -- which did turn out to be fresh and delicious. I just wonder:

a) Was I a regular customer they wanted to take care of?
b) Someone who looked like he worked for the health department? or
c) Was the old lady flirting with me?

I guess I'll never know. Good fruit though.