Crazy Drivers, Jersey Girls, and Too Much Italian Food…

Whoa partner, what’s going on here? Two days in a row? Too much coffee? Bored? Illicit drugs? No, just finally landed in a place where we are settled in for a week and it feels good. I will wax poetic about the spectrum of accommodations as we drove every day and only stopped to eat, sleep and charge (electric car, remember?).

Let’s talk Jersey. One word about the drivers… LA has nothing on these road warriors… nay road gangsters! For those unfamiliar with my checkered past, I am a product of the Garden State. Newark, to be exact; a city that has the distinction of having many consecutive mayors indicted for corruption. Ah, the land of opportunity. This was an opportunity for me to not only be in the company of my many cousins but also feast upon the foods of my youth. There was the pizza festival with my sister and my nephews where nine, count them, nine pizzas were ordered. By the way, there was only ten of us! And there you have the age old motto, “If you don’t have too much food, you don’t have enough.”

Has a car ever been broken into in the parking lot? Has the place ever been vandalized? Has it or any of the patrons been robbed? You know the answer… no. There is a big gold chained Italian knit wearing tough guy outside keeping watch on the cars, most of them the ever present Cadillac the ride of choice. The food? The best of the classics. Mine was eggplant parmesan, a personal favorite.

At the other Caligula like dinners I was tucking into veal scaloppini, more pizza, ragout of rabbit, multiple helpings of Southern Italian pastries (sfogliatelle being my favorite), the list goes on. Finally, after seven days of this my darling Mrs. T tapped out… that’s it buster…. salads from now on!

A quick trip into the city, New York City to be exact. A great trip on the train wherein we were exposed to not only no eye contact whatsoever but also the odd crazy who attached themselves to us instantly due to our sweet, open, friendly (read, easy mark) faces.

A fantastic exhibit at the Whitney of an artist I only know from her painting of First Lady Michelle Obama. All large pieces and all striking… check it out…the works of Amy Sherald.

More about our adventures in the big city.

An interesting use of a defunct elevated rail line turned into a park/promenade, the High Line. They even left the tracks in place!

The view from the 3rd floor of the Whitney…

Not to mention a fine dinner at Barbuto’s. A favorite. You will see all empty plates here because I was just too excited to be back there. They bake potatoes, cut them up and then deep fry them… what can I say.

I promise, I will try and take some pics before I go crazy on the food…

Last word, on our train ride into the city Mrs T broke a heel on her sandals… that sent us in search of a new pair of shoes near the museum. Those of you who are familiar with the neighborhood will know it is the fashion district. Do you know what you find there? $1200 sneakers!

Mrs. T would not stand for that so it was off to the vintage shop and lo and behold, a pair of gently used sandals for a mere $20. NYC SAVES THE DAY!

And now.. the ever loud, ever opinionated, ever ready to slap the smile off you face, the women/girls of my youth who make up the fabric of who and what I am… the Jersey Girls.

The last big event was the annual cousins’ reunion, which I catch about ever five years. Most of the cousins are female, due in part to just the way longevity works between the sexes and in part because you just can’t kill a Jersey Girl! That is not just a generalization. There was not a moment of dead air! Fortunately, the restaurant owner knew what he was dealing with and gave us the empty restaurant at 2PM, thinking we would clear out by the dinner rush… oh no, not to be. Seven pm found us in full rage, completely ignoring all the other diners who had filed in for a nice relaxing Sunday dinner. I had to finally call for everyone’s attention and herd them out of the place. I will not go into the quantity of food that kept coming out but suffice to say we could have fed the ever mentioned starving children in China in which our mothers would admonish us. I give you the Jersey Girls…