Reached new heights of culinary delight Saturday night, merging asparagus, eggs, caciocavallo, and … sweet potato. (I’m afraid there are no pictures, as you may not be mature enough to handle it. Also, my camera, like Oedipus, has gone blind.) We were at the Grand Army Plaza farmer’s market during the day and OHS suggested a frittata when we were trying to figure out dinner plans. I thought: some potato would be nice with that. But we were about 2/3rds through the vendors, and I didn’t want to backtrack to see if there were any actual spuds for sale. I spied sweet potatoes, though. Hmmm. A couple of sweeties later, I sliced one thinly with the skin on and laid the rounds out in the hot cast iron. More than fit the skillet, so I juggled them around to get ‘em cooked. Mostly; I figured the continued heat after the addition of the eggs, cheese, and caramelized onions would finish them off. Not to mention the last bit under the broiler. Good figuring. An educated guess (all those summers under the hot lights of greasy spoons and haute/expensive restaurants…). What a combo: salty cheese, tangy, ineffable asparagus, sweet potato and caramelized onions. For you aesthetes, I’d recommend trimming the asparagus short so that you can make a radial design of the spears. The era of Emmenthaler is over. All hail caciocavallo! Some baked rhubarb with yogurt for dessert.
Thus fortified, we went up to Hunter College to see roller derby. Women’s flat track roller derby, that is, O, my. Actually, I expected a little more of the ol’ T&A and ultra-violence, perhaps on the basis of early film going experience, not to mention the tight security at the door. Anyway, the Manhattan Mayhem hosted the Queens of Pain; the Queens hurt so bad, trouncing by the Outer Borough broads (if I may), with many of the mostly rookie Mayhems going down repeatedly. But damn, they showed a lot of character out there. Beyond the vampy/campy, I took most of the match to figure out how they scored the spectacle, and near the end I saw some fine tactics. All the players have noms de blade: Surly Temple, Fisti Cuffs, Roxy Hotrod, Sweet Cherry Pie, Em Dash. It’s a very pale subculture, players and audience alike. Also, OHS’s friend said that she bet the rollergal’s had lots of boy fans. No doubt, but the audience also suggested that there were plenty of girl crushes, too.
On Sunday I went a bee-ing, but things didn’t quite work out as planned. Back to the drawing board, and we’ll try again next week. Anyway, a couple who showed up to help turned out to have a hive only a few blocks away. We visited. It’s in the back of a small garden. They’re everywhere, the hives, but not nearly enough.
Then I meet OHS and the Adventuress at Grand Central. We took the faster train to the New York Botanical Garden. (On the weekends, there’s an MTA City Ticket for trips within city boundaries. Harlem Line trains are way cushier train than the scow I take up to Stammy.) There’s a exhibit on Darwin’s garden. The place was packed with Mother’s Day revelers. I hadn’t been there in a very long time: it’s so enormous compared to the BBG. We had a good time and I want to go back because I couldn’t take it all in. We were almost cold when we returned, so radical was the weather change in the late afternoon.