day on

The irony of living with 3 employed persons is that I'm often the only one who knows what the date is. It must be my internal clock. I know the day of the week, the date and the time. I'm atomically accurate.

Karen has one weekday off that changes every 7 days. As a pastry cook the rest of the week, on this wholly decompartmentalized day, she just wants to be a normal human being who sees the sun and walks into stores during normal business hours. She doesn't want to plan or navigate or think. Her day off becomes my day on because it is her day of leisure. It's my day to schedule crucial meetings with clothing we don't need and bakeries with cakes of laughable but delicious simplicity.

A few weeks ago, Karen slept while I went for a long run on 110th Street, along the north edge of Central Park. I needed stamps so I headed to the post office in Spanish Harlem. Along this route, I passed carnecerias and panaderias filled with the hungry people who prefer their rice orange with cumin. The day was bright and sharp. When I got home, I was sunburnt which reminded me of the sun's power even at this latitude. My skin didn't register its heat but its rays made me look cheerful. As if I needed the help! Today was someone's day off and I would appreciate the morning promise as if it were my own.

Our first stop was the Korin shop downtown where a knife would be purchased. Dramatically lit with steel blades of noblesse displayed in glass cases along the walls and on islands in the middle, the store is serene. And deadly. They don't have silk screen printed art for decoration. They use swords.

Conveniently, Korin is downtown near the bargain fashion mecca Century 21 which is one of my favorite stores here. I purchased a pair of boots and we met up with April, meeting-taker/ laptop dragger. The poor girl was weighed down like a mule but in office clothing. We took a train to her hotel The London where we dined on small plates at the London Bar. Gordon Ramsay's kitchen may be hellish but the pale aqua green upholstery of the space was chic and cool. Mirrors reflected the afterwork crowd of women in cowl neck sweaters and pencil skirts. Seemingly oversized men huddled around tiny tables with tiny dishes and large drinks. The three of us had a slew of snacks... hamachi tartare rolled in cucumber which was mediocre and fishy tasting, wonderful cubes formed of braised short rib topped with fat, sliders with an extra side of fries (the frozen kind but still acceptable), Caesar salad with real anchovies and a pleasant charcuterie plate.

We saw April off as she prepared for the next leg of her trip which meant Vancouver to be on set with one of the corporate partners on a film. Before she left us, her enthusiasm and focus was inspiring. I've known her for a long time and was never more proud to call her my friend.

Before going home, Karen and I walked two blocks to Kate's Paperie where we stood agape at the intricate and expensive wedding invitations that so many exuberant brides must decide on. The books of samples were heavy with proofs for envelopes and card stocks so carefully designed that you'd never want to throw the announcement away. Oh but wait, YOU WILL. Quite possibly the greatest waste of money and time because the hours spent choosing the right one and then the cost associated with printing up the specifics will both go into the wire mesh garbage can in the guest bedroom eventually. Our smug disbelief evaporated when we stumbled across what may be the greatest piece of correspondence stationery we'd ever seen - a box of fine paper notecards in a classy shade of off-white but not with a monogram or a graceful flower, no, that'd be pedestrian. Instead, in raised lavender ink, two sumo wrestlers locked in battle. If the box of 6 cards wasn't $30, we would have still laughed at whatever price it was. Even though the cards are awesome.

At home, we sat complacently on Ed's leather couches and watched a bit of bad reality on the ALT. Despite the variegated ways that Rock of Love (I think that's what it's called) offends me, the way it gets me the most is that it reminds me of how skinny women inaccurately represent the general population and how no matter the intelligence or willingness to sleep with him, the dipshit with the long hair and bandana wouldn't ever give a "backstage pass" to the girl in the turtleneck and khaki pants. I have successfully avoided a lot of trashy TV in my day. In New York, this is the first time I've ever felt so appalled at the lows of human transparency. And I'm from LA!

On another of Karen's days off, I ran, and I use the term loosely, 30 blocks to Zabar's with a canvas tote rolled up in the pouch of my hoodie. I bought lox and bagels and orange juice again and took the train home what with a heavy bag of groceries on my arm. Canvas shopping bag, public transportation...I was feeling very green.

We spent most of the day shopping at the many discount clothing stores here that put the ones in California to shame. Karen exclaimed that she never realized I was such a bargain hunter. For a period of about 6 months during the ghastly I'm-about-to-turn/ I've-just-turned 30 phase, I bought every and any retail item I wanted. Now, in the cluttered aisles of Daffy's I give many hours of my time to make up for the shoes and dresses I've so capriciously purchased at full price. Oh, my father would be proud. Sort of. He still wouldn't understand the coup of finding a $650 blazer for $200. Even though it's made in Italy. And it fits me perfectly. And I'm spoiled.

That particular afternoon included a stop at NYC Cake and Baking where I found Callebaut chocolate chips for cookies that I wanted to make for a dinner party. I've truly fallen in love with the smooth, Belgian/French confection that has a hint of coffee mingled with the cocoa. I don't know that I will ever bake with another chocolate again. Other people swear by Valrhona or Scharffen Berger... but me, my heart belongs to Callebaut.

The store is a smaller, cramped, baking version of Surfas in Culver City, another one of my favorite stores. Shelves were crammed with cake molds and styrofoam rounds for displays. But Karen and I hit the jackpot when we discovered scads and scads of silver and gold dragees which are illegal in California. Small round sugar centers coated in real silver which leave them looking like ball bearings that make cakes look darling. So what if you eat 10 pounds of them they'll give you silver poisoning. Who's going to eat 10 pounds, you big bad FDA? We will be back for supplies as both of our sisters are getting married in the next year and have bestowed Karen with the honor (or horror) of creating their wedding cakes. I look forward to being her first mate in the sea of bridal decision making hell.

That evening, we had dinner at the new Blue Ribbon Sushi Bar and Grill which is near Columbus Circle. We asked to sit at the sushi bar where we admired the graceful movements of hands and knives over smooth wood.

We started with a tofu salad followed by a few bites of sushi and sashimi which made me want to run back under the stern gaze of Mr. Nozawa on Ventura Blvd. I miss that man more than some of my friends. My friends can't cut fish for beans. After sushi, we had a few chunks of grilled hamachi collar which was salty but fine. Then, a new friend Chef David who oversees the grill in the kitchen sent out a scallop dish which really came together nicely. A scallop shell (think of the eponymous gas station) filled with sauteed mushrooms, tender scallops topped with smelt roe mixed with a touch of mayonnaise. It was a supple spoonful of delicious subtlety. Before we got our "fried chicken" which we ended up canceling, David also sent us a beef and bone marrow skewer, sort of like takoyaki but without the octopus. This was by far the most incredible dish of the night. The charm of beef flavor sprang out with the first bite with bone marrow oozing out all around. The ratio of beef with other ingredients yielded a fantastic spring and soft chew. It erased the mediocre sushi and the service which was friendly but somewhat uninformed as evidenced by the waiters suggestion of having a light dessert like creme brulee. We ordered it because we wanted a heavy dessert and it was good, flavored with roasted green tea powder which made it a touch gritty a times but, we did manage to eat most of it. Light, my ass.

Karen says that she just lets me lead her around on her days off because I know where I'm going whether by train or bus or foot. She tells me that it's great that she doesn't have to think. I've since passed on to her a small pocket map of the city I don't use very much. Which is ironic because I am still jobless and I don't know where I'm going but I certainly have a lot of fun finding my way. I never feel lost.