Everything I know about Troy, I learned from Mary Panza

A flower grows in South Troy

Ok, maybe that isn’t 100% true, but she really did get me started on my Troy education.  When I first moved to Albany almost 25 years ago, I received some advice from a childhood friend regarding Troy.  He said, and I quote, “Troy is the armpit of the Universe.” I was uncertain exactly what that meant, but seeing as how I didn’t have a car, Troy wasn’t an area that I planned to explore with any haste anyway.  No problem.

But, then I met Mary Panza, South Troy denizen extraordinaire, and began venturing across the river.  We generally ended up at her sister’s house, where we consumed fantastic quantities of eggplant and pasta, all bathed in the senior Mary Panza’s fabulous red sauce.  My personal opinion began to form about the collar city – Troy was ok with me.

Since that time, I’ve been pulled to Troy for their superior Farmer’s Market, beer and music venues, restaurants and unique shops.  I learned to never move a folding chair left in the street and to maintain a sense of the river’s location to navigate the grid of one-way streets.  I like Troy – there, I said it.

Last night I intensified my like of Troy to a level of affectionate love.  Granted, the company I was in was a definite factor, but the charm of Troy is strong and it has never looked better. Speaking of looking, our evening began at the beautiful and historic St. Agnes Cemetery in Menands. Photographer and TU blogger, Chuck Miller, had an event to celebrate the opening of his stellar photo exhibit.  The images he captures are primarily local and demonstrate a keen eye for both lighthearted humor and thoughtful observation.  Cool venue, great show, get there before it’s all gone.

Plenty for two – with leftovers for lunch!

Our next stop was DeFazio’s in Troy for some real pizza.  Everything about this joint charms me – the almost magical way the simple ingredients combine for a pizza that is the best I’ve ever had outside of NYC, the politeness of every person who helped to take care of us, the black and white tiled floor, and the red convertible the delivery guy drives.  Everything!  We went with an antipasto and a small pizza with olives and prosciutto.  The antipasto is substantial (served with crunchy garlic bread) and the small pizza was the perfect size for 2.  I think we may need to try the pasta next time because we witnessed a plate of it being served and were practically in need of restraints.  Have any of you ever had their pasta?

The pizza is all that.

We ended the evening with a visit to the Charles F. Lucas Confectionary around the corner from Monument Square, in downtown Troy.  I would feel guilty about not getting to this place sooner, but I believe last night was the first time I’ve been in Troy since this fantastic place opened.  I have to say, it isn’t as if I’ve been missed, because the joint was positively jumping!  The waves of guests entering and departing during our 90 minutes there, was impressive.  We had a tour of the space by the owner, Vic Christopher, and I can’t say enough about the vision he and his wife, Heather, made into a dreamy reality for us all to share.  Wow.  Our bellies were full of pizza and cappicola, but the beautiful glass of Cote du Rhone rose’ Vic brought my way was exactly the crowning touch to a memorable May evening.  I am incredibly enthusiastic about this project. the additional related grocery store business in the preliminary works and the new-to-me term “reclamation construction.”  Troy is a lucky city to have landed such super smart and cool entrepreneurs and I imagine myself finding my way to the Collar City with previously unimagined frequency.

Armpit of the universe?  Au contraire – more like the heart of the Capital District.  Let’s hope our next Albany mayor fosters the kind of growth Troy is now experiencing – and that Mary invites me over for eggplant really soon.

Smooth operator

A recipe for you, courtesy of Quinn Lilly, for a fast breakfast treat for the whole family.  Here’s the “list*” of ingredients:

Lacking punctuation – it’s ice, milk not ice milk

Place together in blender and push the button.  Simple!

The chocolate mustache tells the tale.

Seeing as how we’re (finally) done with foil-wrapped chocolate Easter eggs, I imagine we’ll be modifying this recipe.  What will remain consistent is the absolute joy this boy gives to me.

*Some may call it a recipe, but Q prefers list.

Getting ramped up

Although I generally avoid trends, thinking them to be too cliched for my attention, I have to confess to being susceptible to trends when it comes to food – specifically vegetables.  Over the years, I’ve bought in to fiddlehead ferns and garlic scapes and jicama with varying degrees of commitment.  This year, I jumped onto the ramps wagon, although I didn’t make it to Hudson’s Ramp Fest last week,  and I’m suggesting that you do the same while you can.  The season will be over really soon and you’ll be left wondering and waiting until 2014 for your own taste of these lovely spring onions.  You can try your hand at foraging, but I was able to “source” the ones below the other night at Capital City Gastropub.  Get ‘em while you can!

Ramps with olive oil and a sprinkling of Maldon sea salt

Amy, Aimee

Maybe 10 or 12 years ago, my friend Amy turned me on to Aimee Mann.  I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but it involved a show at The Egg and an extra ticket.  I don’t think I had any familiarity with Aimee Mann’s music beyond her ‘Til Tuesday stuff, but she hit me big.  There was something appealing about her soft voice and her hard to take lyrics that I found powerful and moving.  In the Egg’s lobby, immediately after the show, I bought two of her cds.  A fan was born.

Through the years, I’ve listened to Aimee Mann with an enthusiasm which bordered upon obsession.  When I was feeling positive about life, she made me appreciate my happiness. During the more emotionally challenging times, I knew that Aimee Mann understood my struggles and she kept me looking ahead.  Her music is penetrating and she has written moody music for movies (Magnolia soundtrack) and revisited childhood classics with her contributions to the I Am Sam soundtrack and her cover of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

I caught her show a few years ago in Washington Park, a venue that didn’t necessarily suit her, in my opinion.  Thursday night, on the invitation of two dear friends, I headed down to Hudson’s Club Helsinki to check her out again.  The gorgeous space that is Helsinki, perfectly matched the intimacy of Mann’s music and she and her band put on a terrific show. Opening act and collaborator, Ted Leo, seemingly the result of some sort of merging of Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson, was a bit weak as a solo act, yet he shined when he shared the stage with Aimee.  She was funny as hell – self-deprecating and quick-witted in the same way  her lyrics tend to be.  Her observations, along with her black-framed glasses, were sharp and defining and it was a memorable show.

Although I failed at capturing a photo of she and I together, wearing our strikingly similar outfits of short shorts and nerdy eyewear, the night overall was perfect in every way.

Thank you, Amy.
Thank you, Aimee.

Dash is done!

No, not my commitment to an insane schedule – the Delmar Dash 5 miler.  This was my first race of the year (!) and the longest run I’ve had in nearly 3 weeks.  And that’s longest run out of 2.  The weather on the quick drive over, was silly.  What was sunny and blue in Albany, was cloudy and spitting mixed precipitation on the other side of the Normanskill.  This is not just a figurative statement.  I almost turned around to select some different gear in acknowledgement of the weird weather, but decided ,optimistically, that this too would pass.  It did.

Parking was the usual challenge, but I’ve learned my way around a bit and did fine parking with a few minutes walk of the middle school.  Check-in was smooth and the shirt is awesome, something I never say.  The course is one of the sweetest courses I know and I did ok.  Nothing record-breaking, but I was satisfied with my efforts.  My body is still complaining a little, but I feel like we’ll declare a truce soon enough – and I have a massage Friday to look forward to.  Looks like running season is starting…

Were you there today?  What have you been up to?

The Paris Wife

“Though I often looked for one, I finally had to admit that there could be no cure for Paris.” Isn’t that an inspired opening line?  I, regrettably, just finished reading The Paris Wife and all I can do is sigh that it is over.  Wow, I almost feel as if I just had 2 trips to Europe, one via a printed time machine, to those heady expatriate days I originally fell in love with while reading Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and A Moveable Feast.   In this creative,  fictionalized retelling of Ernest Hemingway’s first marriage, author Paula McLain has told a completely captivating tale of a time with which I could easily become utterly obsessed.  Ok, maybe I already have.

A long time ago, I took a course, or two, on Hemingway and pretty much read everything he wrote.  I had a bit of a conflict between my Women’s Studies minor and Papa’s misogynist ways, but overall, I was smitten.  His use of language, his characters, the romanticism of the time period and the settings.  I became an admirer and have never wavered in my affection for his talent, or my fascination with his life.

In the Paris Wife, McLain has beautifully recreated those days and tells the tale from Hadley* Richardson Hemingway’s perspective.  The debauchery and drinking, the traveling from city to city, country to country, the presence of other famous literary personalities and characters… I absolutely could not stop reading this book.  I was completely taken in by the story, one which was familiar to me from my studies, and truly feel as if I was given a bird’s-eye view to the birth and subsequent death of a marriage, along with the nearly mythical career of one of America’s finest writers.

Fascinating, well-researched and written, this is the best novel I’ve read since Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken.    Get it.

*Hadley was my “girl name” if I ever had a daughter.

A love letter to Belleayre Mountain

This is my happy face.

Maybe it is because this was the first place I ever truly skied.  Perhaps it is a result of the stunning panoramic views in every direction.  It may be because of the friendliness of every staff member I’ve ever encountered.  Or, it might be because of the all-things-considered reasonableness of the price of a lift ticket and rentals.  This past Sunday, the spectacular weather was definitely a factor.

Whatever it is, I absolutely love Belleayre Mountain.  If you know me, you are aware that my general expectation is not “perfection.” I actually find it to be a bit overrated as a measurement.  Yet, Sunday, I heard myself saying “perfect” an uncountable number of times.  It truly was a day of skiing that I will have a hard time ever matching, much less surpassing, regardless of how many seasons I revisit those slopes.

Why was it so special?  Well, the drive south was beautiful, as winter and spring continued to switch places for a few days.  Getting my equipment and lift ticket was a breeze, and I was on the chairlift within 20 minutes of parking my car.  The snow was soft, the sun was blazing and the sky was blue.  I was traveling light (sans boys), hanging with Aloysius and his next generation, and feeling absolutely giddy on sunshine and life.  To all of you who weren’t there – I’m sincerely sorry you missed the opportunity to feel the joy of gliding down a mountain with the warmth of the sun on your back.  Or the simple happiness of a tasty beer sipped al fresco midway down the slopes.  Bliss.

Upon my return to Albany, the only way I could possibly punctuate a day that glorious was with a terrific dinner at the Capital City Gastropub and my first TasteeFreez visit of the year.  It may not get any better than this, but, no worries, I’ll continue to keep trying.  Kisses – Silvia

That would be a sundae – with nuts.