As I sat outside at the open-air cafe chomping on jerk chicken salad and staring past the bust of Buddha in the middle of the bougainvillaea-filled entrance, I couldn't stop thinking about the power of choice. Not just because the custom salad I chose was chock full of savory chicken breast and within the parameters of my new weight loss plan to "get my dancer's body back". But staring back at me was a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses; a huge symbol of my past.
I discovered this whimsical, candy-colored, carnival of an ice cream shop that instantly awakened my inner child, while appealing to my mature taste buds that can easily distinguish between a decent dessert and a decadent dessert.
After living on this private resort island for the last five months, anything other than food from the Staff Cafeteria (which we call "canteen") and my own limited repertoire in the kitchen is considered a delicacy to my taste buds. In fact, it's pure ecstasy. Food is my sex on this god-forsaken island (that I love) where the pickings are slim when it comes to men and culinary pleasure.
When you live at a destination getaway that’s perfected the picture of privacy and romance; where the majority of guests are honeymooners or people celebrating decades of marriage; and where couples come to my Pilates classes hand-in-hand and engage in friendly competition during the Series of 5. And when you’re suffering from a tricky diagnosis of single-itis plus PMS...
For the last few months I’ve been submerged in a bubble of picturesque beauty, long periods of solitude and self-reflection, and teaching Pilates to a fascinating collection of international guests who often have nothing on their to-do lists other than spa treatments, seaside sun bathing, stargazing and cocktails.
Sweetgreen put it on me like a sensual lover; making me crave more than just memories. It reawakened my desires and got me jonesin' for salad like a grown-ass woman who's just experienced orgasm for the first time. The taste is so seductive I never even blinked at the $12 price tag for a bowl of greens. And now this creature of habit longs for a Sweetgreen salad everyday.
I was cordially greeted with "Table for one?" Normally, that wouldn't sting. But, it did. Yes, table for one... for the last friggin' six years of my life, thank you very much! "Yes" I responded, with an equally cordial (but strained) smile and took my seat, quickly noticing that I was the only one dining alone. Thank god it was happy hour and Nero Doro has a delicious Montepulciano.
Who knew that Extra Fancy Memphis Fried Chicken and a plate of greens at Marietta's would bring me to this epiphany: I need to add a little Southern drawl to my life and stop trying to accomplish everything in a New York minute!
I woke up recently with an aversion to coffee. I have no idea what suddenly turned my taste buds against one of my all-time favorite vices. I wondered if that's what happened with my EX. Did he wake up one day, look at me and go "meh!". Because now I finally get it!
When my mind feels scattered and my body feels depleted, it's a startling wake-up call that I'm spreading myself way too thin and I needed to replenish my resources. It was time to come back to my senses; all five of them. So I stepped into Gobo with that intention.
Sometimes you need a hole in the wall Cuban spot with Celia Cruz wailing "Guantanamera" like you need a big ol' hug from a barrel chested man. Lonely times call for community tables and comfort food to soothe the soul.
It was like walking into an industrial forrest; polished steel and shiny glass cohabiting with natural woods and serving pre-industrial food (PIF) in the heart of Union Square. I was intrigued by Hu's honest philosophies and aversion to gimmick, gluten, sugars and GMOs.
“Sorry, we’re staring at your taco” he said apologetically. “No apologies needed, my taco is delicious.” I responded with a wink. I only wish it had been a flirtatious come-on by some tall, dark and handsome dude but, just my singleitis-suffering IndieGirl luck, it was a gay couple salivating over my double decker broccoli taco.
I've learned from experience that a big ol' void in your heart can quite easily be filled with food; at least temporarily. And while my listless heart languishes from limited love possibilities, my tastebuds never seem to lack vast mouth-watering options to satiate my soul.
Not only did my first date in four years cancel on me (emotional buzz kill) but, add to that, it was grey, dreary and rainy outside (amplifying said buzz kill). Ah, the perfect day for a depressive afternoon of self-pitying and over-indulgent eating.
Quintessence is a hidden gem in the eclectic East Village of 5-story walk-ups and passers-by that seem to carry complex life stories and eccentricities. I sat at a table by the window which became an entertaining picture book of characters; some of whom seemed stuck in an 80s time warp, swathed in vintage clothing and signs of bygone-era excess lingering on their wandering souls. It was an interesting mix of those types, plus rent-stabilized hanger-on-ers surprised to see their hood become hip and the young hipsters that help make it so. If it weren't for NY, these characters would never co-exist.
Sometimes, the best Indie Date for a lonely Indie Girl is a place where, like Cheers, "everybody knows your name". I have yet to discover my home away from home where I become a familiar face that bellies up to the bar. But I think I've reached a certain comfort level at The Grey Dog, which is a cozy neighborhood hang in Union Square.
In true cougar mode, I exited the 1 train at 116th St Columbia University trying to blend; rockin' an Adidas track suit and a ponytail hoping to grasp the attention of Ivy Leaguers half my age just to prove I've still got it. With divorce pending and a recent discovery of my 1st gray hair in the middle of pole dance class, I needed some type of validation. I was simultaneously PMSing and craving comfort food.
I figured I was finally ready for a healthy, new relationship; one that made me feel good about myself. A relationship that supported me, made me feel strong and helped my best "self" emerge... even if it only involved a healthy new relationship with food. Gotta start somewhere! So, I went to the Bare Burger location in Murray Hill to indulge in a healthy version of one of my greatest weaknesses; a bacon cheeseburger with fries!
If the tangy-sweet aroma of smack-yo-mama barbecue were a pheromone, Blue Smoke and I would undoubtedly share an instant chemical attraction that would lead to a passionate love affair. It wasn’t bad looking either for a casual, down-home, suck your fingers, wet nap required dining.
