Day 3 of the Pizza Tour

Today is Friday, so I knew I didn't have much time. I decided to go to Patis for a breakfast of pizza. They have loads of fancy personal pies. I asked the guy for a "plain" pizza and he steered be towards something with slabs of cheese and extra tomatoes. I hesitated and he mentioned that they also had the kids' pie, just sauce and cheese. I opted for that.

The pie was a bit smaller than the personal pies, cut into 4 pieces (as opposed to the 6 and 8 that the other personal pies were cut into). The cheese has an orange cast to it. The pie was oily but the slices had a nice fold to them. The crust is a little thicker that I would like (so it wasn't so crispy) but provided the right amount of texture and chew. The tangy cheese (and there was a lot of it) stayed on the pie and helped make a sturdy slice. On the whole, this was a surprisingly good pizza.

Questions?

Competitive Dining, Day 2

The first step towards being able to assess pizza on day 2 of my "Mouth across Teaneck" adventure is finishing up my yesterday.

While I wallowed in crapulence after eating all that pizza, I sat on the couch thinking about dinner. While I did that, I ate half a package of Oreos. That helped my thinking process and soon enough, I was online, looking to order Chinese food for dinner. The website indicated no available times for delivery and I was curious why, so I called the restaurant to let them know of the hijinks playing across their website. While they had me on the line, they asked for my order. I was a bit caught short as I view the ordering process as a long opportunity to decide what I want, but with the guy on the phone asking me my order, I didn't know what to do. So I ordered wings. I didn't even have the sense to say "deliver them in a few hours" so before I knew it, I had a large order of wings. I ate them. Then I polished off the rest of the package of Oreos.

I did NOT sleep well. I think I might have over eaten or something. I guess we'll never know.

I woke up this morning and started getting ready for my eatings for the day. After an hour's worth of grading papers, I bundled up and went out. I made a conscious decision today to stick with places where I can get a single slice. Getting personal pies means more to eat, and personal pies are just a different beast from a plain slice.

So I drove over to Poppy's, which now boasts "Fialkoff's" pizza, as if I am supposed to know what that means. Catchy name.

The sauce was sweet, and initially flavorful, but there was a little too much. The crust was very thin and reasonably crisp. The cheese had almost no pull/stretch, and had only a very light flavor but there was a good amount of it. It was, ultimately, a bland slice. This might be because it was reheated (though I don't know that I was; it just seems like that), which also might expain why there was no fold -- the reheated crispiness towards the end was nice but made folding impossible.

I headed then to Season's Express as I had heard that they had pizza and it was good. They served it in one of those little triangle boxes. When I opened it, I was hit with a strong buttery odor. The slice was easily folded and had a good saltiness to it, but there was little depth of flavor. As I moved towards the edge, I was able to discern a bit more garlic flavor. The crust gave a good chew without being oppressive. Not a bad slice.

Then I drove all the way to Grand and Essex, and their pizza shop called "Little Italy." It was very little Italy, more like Italess. The slice was reheated and put in the same kind of triangle box. It had a strong smell and a tangy sauce (though a little more than I would have liked). The slice folded well and had a nice flavor but there was a LOT of oil on this slice and that caused the slice to fall apart, and the crust to go from crunchy to chewy really quickly. It was thin, though, so it wasn't too bad. The cheese has a good pull to it and the crust at the edge did have some nice fluffiness to it, but it felt a tine bit underdone and the dough became really chewy at the end quickly.

This leaves me with Patis and La Cucina (both of which will have me order a personal pie). Where else in Teaneck can I get a slice? Will I move to Englewood next?

Stay tuned. I think the answer is "no" but who knows?

Competitive Dining, day 1

Many years ago, my dad (OB"M) took me to a deli. As I knew that I enjoyed kishke when my mom (AOB"M) had it in the house so I ordered it. If came in a shallow dish, smothered with gravy, nothing like the slice of fried orange stuff that I ate at home. I tried it and it was delish.

At that moment I decided to go on a quest -- I would try kishke at every restaurant I went to and keep a log of all of them so I could authoritatively say which kishke was the best. The problem with this plan was that I was without a car in a city which had only one place that served kishke. My sample size for my conclusions about kishke was 1 with no others on the horizon. Thus endeth the quest.

My dreams of eating and thinking about what I ate were not completely squashed. In fact, this past summer, I decided to go to a bunch of different pizza places in Jerusalem and describe them for you. I enjoyed doing that because I got to eat pizza and, man, I love me some pizza.

Side note -- my English for this piece will be in the conversational mode, and I will be sticking with the rules of SPOKEN English, not formal, written English, so please do not come to me and say "you broke this and that rule". No. I ate pizza. Pizza rules apply.

My goal for this vacation is to eat pizza from a variety of local stores and compile a series of descriptions and discussions regarding said pizza. This will be a sort of "Shpizzar," a walk around town, during which I try pizza. Except without the walking because it isn't July in Jerusalem, but January in Teaneck. So car rides, it is.

Another apology before the fact -- I live in a community which provides an embarrassment of dishes and I am going to limit myself to a single slice of plain pizza and (maybe) water. Level playing field. To do this, I am forgoing other food options. You're welcome. My quest for a good mac and cheese will have to wait. Now, as you know, I have a problem with standard food reviews -- they tell me what the reviewer liked, not what I would like. So for this adventure, I will be judging, describing and opining base on what I like to eat. You may not agree with my assessments, or share my pizza-taste values. I can't help you if you choose to be wrong. But you will have the information with which to go forward and no one can ask more than that, except "one billion dollars." And I'm not asking that, yet.

So here we go. I drove over to Lazy Bean, figuring that if I parked there and walked around, I would end up there and I could go grocery shopping. I'm all about planning. They sell personal pizzas so I asked for one of those. It took about 10 minutes. That's fine. I had to defrost.

The dough is premade. The cheese has a very buttery flavor and there is a good amount of it. But both it and the dough lack any real distinct flavor or character. The pizza is slightly sweet; it has crispy edges but no pizza soul (assuming pizza has a soul, this one didn't have it). The question is whether this entire pizza was premade and frozen and then cooked with some added cheese on it. That cheese provides a reasonable pull/stretch. I imagine that the "bake at home but it tastes like delivery" pizzas taste like this.

When folded, the crust was too thick and chewy. Bottom line, if I found myself at LB and had an insane need for pizza, this would suffice, but it is not a destination pizza.

I walked over to EJ's. In Israel, walking from one pizza place to the next might actually burn a few calories. In Teaneck, the "walk" is shorter than that so I don't get the myriad health benefits that the holy land provides. Also, it is 28 degrees outside. F, that. At EJ's I got the first slice out of a clearly left over pie, reheated. The dough has a strong yeasty flavor and there was very little sauce (though that might be a side effect of the reheating). I tasted some oregano in the sauce. The dough was crispy all the way to the center (an effect of the reheating, I surmise). There was no powerful pizza flavor. This was an OK, but boring slice.

Next stop on the walk was Sammy's. I got a reheated slice there as well. The crust edge has a higher curl than the others, looking more like a traditional slice, and the crust has been dusted with corn meal. The sauce was tangy (though there wasn't a lot of sauce), and the upfront cheese has the buttery flavor. Slice folds well and the crust at the edge is downright fluffy. A really nice slice. Then to Mocha Bleu.

At MB, I had to get a personal pie (I wonder if they trade personal details with LB). It is fancier and served on a little pedestal, hand made to order. The well done crust just screams "garlic" at my nose, and the crust is actually tasty. The cheese has an incredible stretch/pull, but tastes a bit stale. There is too much sauce and cheese and the dough, insubstantial away from the crust, has no presence other than a slight chewiness. In fact, it almost seemed slightly underdone. The salt level is nice. I had to take most of it home because I reached my limit for one morning. Instead of finishing it, I got it packed up and went to the store to get cookies for later. And I got Cinnabon. For "later."

Well, it's later. Bye for now. Tomorrow, I finish the West Englewood area and head over to Cedar Lane, then swing back to the edge of Bergenfield.

Stay tuned. Now I have to go lie down. And eat Cinnabon.

What would Terrence Mann have written?

I told you that I’d write – I’d write the story of heaven and Iowa, of a field in the middle of no where, of a lure to the fantasies of youth that would put our souls at rest. What I saw was more than that.

I’ll write of baseball, and its promise: simplicity in return for closure, eternity for freedom. Throw the ball, hit the ball, catch the ball. A winner and a loser, no ties. I’ll write of the moment a son’s hand squeezes his father’s as he  sees the field for the first time. Of the moment a girl guns down a runner who made a wide turn at first. I’ll write about the warmth that surrounds the team which just pulled one out of the fire, and of the silence on the bus after a sure thing slips away in extras.

I will write about the all-American meal of ribeye steaks and a can of corn. I will share the hopes of every child who has picked up a glove and learned to keep his body in front of the ball. What I saw was the idea of baseball – the idea of playing as a team and backing each other up. Of hitting the cut off man because you can’t make that throw home on your own. I delved the mysteries of why not swinging is called “taking” the pitch and why the curve ball drops but the slider curves. I wandered in ghostly limbo not knowing where the next pitch would be coming from and I dreamed among dreams about the game that defined a country.

I sat around with the greats and argued the infield fly rule, the DH and aluminum bats. I learned the struggles of minor league ball and the elation when you get called up to the Show. Schooled on the dead ball era and shown the highlights from before video. I saw a country trying to find its feet, testing its wings and delivering a frozen rope across a diamond to beat the runner by half a stride. The pop of the catcher’s mitt and the shadows and swirling winds which turn a run of the mill pop up into an adventure.

I have felt the warmth that a home crowd can make you feel, no matter the temperature because baseball is a celebration of home. We strive to get there, and we celebrate with friends when we cross the plate. It wasn’t as much what I saw as what I understood, out there, somewhere beyond the corn. That baseball isn’t a game of cliches, it is a game of truths. The fair poll and the stolen sign, the risky lead off of first in an attempt to spark a late inning rally. Never giving up because a team behind in the bottom of the ninth still has every chance to succeed.

I disappeared into a field and found myself in the light shining down on a twi-night double header. I watched from above as outfielders shaded to the right and the catcher corralled a pitch thrown only 57 feet. I watched boys become heroes but stay little boys, playing a game that gives structure to existence, that turns ghosts into people and memories into reality.

I saw the promise of baseball, its failings and successes. Strikes, fights, scandals and war only sharpened our collective love of the game and we squeeze that last out with the love of a mother holding her son, returned from the battlefield.

I went with a team and discovered fathers, sons and brothers. I came back with friends who turned into legends before my eyes. I watched rookies pick up habits, good and bad, and veterans watch the next generation fill their shoes and more. I saw a game which is not a game, but a metaphor for who we are and what we have yet to achieve, a game that has grown and changed but still remained recognizable Baseball, as America, always changing, will forever be America.

And I came back, not because I did not value that time on the other side of the veil, but because I was pulled back by The Game, by the third base coach’s signs and by the vendor, imploring me to have some cotton candy. All the sights and sounds, the smells and tastes and the feelings of the baseball experience, whether one is watching or playing – these are the things that bring us together and which drew me in return to this field, this game, this ever changing, “now.”

The confluence of Torah and Lit analysis

I don't know if I was born an English teacher, but I do know that I am one, and that's something. I also know that I like reading Chumash and stuff like that. Yesterday, though, while I was standing in shul during leining, I started applying some English teacher thinking to the text. Now, I'm not here to advocate for a documentary hypothesis or do anything to separate myself from the divinity of the text. I am a true believer that the 5 books of Moses are the word of God. Feel free to dismiss me because of my belief. I'm used to it.

Anyway, I considered a pretty standard topic for English teachers -- that of the narrative voice. Through much of the Chumash, the narrator is Hashem. He acts the ultimate third person, omniscient narrator. I mean, this is the only way that the text makes sense to me. How else could we trust that the narrative voice can tell us the thoughts inside different characters heads, recording the emotions and the private dialogue. I believe that Hashem dictated the 5 books (I'm not going to get into any discussion of the different narrative voice in the 5th book, or for the last 8 verses of Devarim), using his authoritative position as seer of all.

All of this SHOULD make me feel like the narrator is reliable, right? A huge topic I discuss with my classes is that narrative voice-choice and whether it can be trusted to tell the story. I love To Kill a Mockingbird, but how can we trust an adult Scout as narrator, telling me things she could not know or remember from when she was 7 years old? It doesn't destroy the text, but it brings up layers of discussion and possibility. But the Chumash?

So I was reading a dvar Torah about the meeting of Yehudah and Yosef (who was still in incognito mode). According to one explanation, 2 simple words that Yehudah uses indicate a much deeper statement to Yosef. Does the text record the entirety of every conversation? Does the text's retelling match what actually happened? That's not an heretical question -- is it possible that Hashem ADDED information (as opposed to an unreliable narrator who might delete or twist information following another agenda) or changed the words to be more full of the intent. Did Yehudah really have all these things in mind when he spoke? Did Hashem infect his vocabulary to make sure that he used the precisely useful words? Was the cryptic conversation that cryptic intentionally?

Take a look at the Kli Yakar on the first pasuk of Vayigash. He points out that the first 2 words that Yehudah uses (bi adoni) indicate a much deeper content. Why is it boiled down to 2 words? Was that how Yehudah said it? Or was it reduced in Hashem's retelling? Maybe Hashem is an unreliable narrator in that he is TOO reliable, letting us see things that the characters themselves would not know. Look at the Ohr Hachaim (https://www.sefaria.org/Genesis.44.18?lang=bi&with=Or%20HaChaim&lang2=en) there and see how much is included in the sparse recorded conversation. Did those saying these things KNOW they were hinting at layers or did Hashem add the layers to establish the relationship he wants us to learn from? Or did he just control what they said so that later generations could dive in and find specific meaning?

This does not shake my faith. It makes me wonder about the text, though.

Another thought dump

Yes, I'm doing this again. I walk around my place and jot down every halfway, unvetted thought that pops in my head and then I'm left with random pieces of paper (and paper plates) emblazoned with idiocy. It is more efficient if I type the stupidity up and keep it in one place so a carefully detonated EMP can destroy all my worst ideas at once.

1. Is there a log of NFL coverage broken down by the number of replays after the initial play? I'm not talking about scoring plays or flagged plays (or injuries), but for the run of the mill play, I'd like to see how the number of replays correlates to the type opf play.

2. Watching more football. I got offended on behalf of the athletes. The commentator kept insisting "that's a play he has to make" or "he should have done X in that situation." This professional is making a split second decision and asking his muscle memory and finest of motor skills to operate with a tolerance of fractions of a second and fractions of an inch. And burly men are bearing down on him, and he's wearing a helmet which reduces mobility and vision. You are sitting wearing a suit. Shut up and sit down. On the flip side, hey football player -- you are getting paid more in a year than I'll make in a lifetime. Catch the ball.

3. I was considering the way movies show us the dynamics of a "team." There is the required racial and gender diversity with each person playing an archetypical role. Then, the relationships between them, their jokes and tensions, their backstories and quirks, make the characters real. And this is why it used to be more the rule not to show these aspects of the bad guys' networks. We don't want to see them with redeeming qualities or human values. We want to feel good about killing them so don't tell me that they prefer vanilla or have a toothache, or a school performance to attend. Think back to the movies you watched in which there are bad guys (especially in a group). Are they as fleshed out as the good guys? [note -- in Die Hard, the extra bits we see are of the villauins doubling down on villainy]

4. I think that it is impossible to throw a Hail Mary pass in football and not find some pass intereference (offensive or defensive).

5. Which Infinity Stone would you want to misuse and how/why?

As Dark as Dark can be

Warning -- if you are easily offended or triggered by dark humor, discussions of death and disease and like that, skip this one. But first, send me money. That's the tl;dr of this. You have been warned.

I think we all know that I'm falling apart. I have had surgeries on both feet and on my back. My shoulder is doing ok, but my back is acting up again. I'm sitting, typing this while wearing a heating pad that doubles as a weight belt. My back still hurts and I'm heavy. Mission accomplished. I originally figured that I get my bad back from my dad. Genetics and all. But if I recall correctly, my dad hurt his back in some sort of vehicular accident. I don't think you can inherit injuries like that unless evolution is actually some sort of Lamarckian joke.

But once I started thinking about genetics, I started to consider what else I would get from my parents. I missed out on the "no discernable butt" gene that my dad had. I have a double helping on that front, i.e. back. I'm balding, just like (eventually) both my parents. And that points to the big C.

Cancer lives well in my family. That's just an historical fact. Grandfather (mom's side) had it. Uncle (mom's side) had it. Mom had it. Dad had it. And they didn't just have 1 -- no, they were polycancerists and believed that one should sample all the cancers that life has to offer. Cancer dilettantes maybe, but I prefer to call them generalists. A Jack of all Cancers, as it were.

The way I figure it, all sorts of conditions and diseases are vying for the chance to take me down, but the cancer family has a real head start. I also figure that cancer is an expensive disease, as one has to spend all that money on wigs and marijuana, and I'm guess that that adds up. I won't add it up because that's math, something which I fear more than cancer, so I'll just let you imagine someone adding up the costs of my care. I figure it won't be cheap because I want brand name chemo, not the generic stuff.

How am I going to pay for all that, you might ask. And it would be a good question, so here's the plan:

I am starting a lottery. You pay an an entry fee of $10 and can put in a guess as to the type, location, date of diagnosis or date of death.  More entries and you can make more guesses!

The winner of each category will get one eighth of the collected entry fees. I get half and the remaining half is split among the 4 winners (random drawing of correct entries in the event of a tie).

Maybe I'll set up odds. Pancreas is more likely, but the dark horse of tongue cancer pays off much better.

So step right up, pay your way and make a guess. I can't guess because of the conflict of interest but I can advise you not to put money of "colon" because I'm pretty clear in that department. I'd advise something more esoteric.