If I knew something about the mystery of numbers I'm sure today
would portend something special
Since I don't, let's just say it looks good.
And at any rate, we have passed the darkest days of Winter
and can be reassured that Spring will soon be here.
On some days there is already a breath of new, along with
bird voices and sweet smells.
On the days when there is not, it is very grey and disagreeable.
I am then consoled by the wise words of a musician friend who remarked
no Beethoven without bad weather.
Recently there has been lots of Beethoven weather,
but I'm managing.
Years ago Lothar and I would escape the Beethoven weather by visiting
my parents in Florida, for 2 weeks, sometimes even for 3 months.
But in the beginning, we only came for a short respite.
Due to jetlag we were sleepless at 4 in the morning and would go to the beach to watch the sun come up.
On the west coast you can only watch the sun go down.
Once we had a moving experience, equal to the whales
blowing fountains in the Hebrides.
A group of dolphins swam in the evening balm
close to the edge of the water.
One jumped full out of the water in a great arch before carrying on.
Back to breakfast, Lothar is an avid breakfast person.
As the saying goes, Emperor for breakfast, King for lunch,
Pauper for dinner.
And at breakfast Lothar rules the world.
So it was fun to walk to a nearby deli for breakfast. I think
the breakfast special was 2 eggs cooked any way you liked them,
with a bagel and coffee for 99cents.
That was a long time ago, 35 years? At that time there was a single track dirt road in each direction that ended at the corner to my parent's house.
Now there are 6 lanes in each direction, and when the pedestrian
light turns green you've got to sprint to get to the other side in time
and watch out carefully for aggravated South Florida drivers.
South Florida drivers are always aggravated.
A spicey mix of old people, firey Latin temperament, and tourists sharing the road besides the regular aggravated locals.
Nestor's was the name of the deli, and it became a ritual for us
to have breakfast there.
Sometimes we had dinner there too and I would order a cup
of matzo ball soup. One big fat fluffy creamy yellow matzo ball
filled the cup, so there was hardly room left for the chicken broth.
Sometimes a slice of carrot slid in there somehow. Heavanly.
If you try to cook them yourself it's hard to get them right.
I'm sure somebody's grandmother brought a secret over from
the old country, that she will take with her to the grave,
and fluffy matzo balls
will be gone forever.
Here's the recipe I found.
David would have had fun with it.
The blog is created by 4 Chinese kids
who grew up in Brooklyn and one of them has a Jewish Uncle.
Otherwise they have a bunch of delicious Chinese stuff-
I'm going to try the dumplings.
The soup part is easier.
My grandmother Gert made a pretty good chicken soup.
(Do all grandmothers cook better than us?)
My chicken soup is also pretty good and easy.
Take the best chicken you can find,
Put it in a pot, whole, and cover with boiling water.
Simmer for an hour with celery stalks, carrots, garlic, onion, parsley,
dill, salt and pepper. Add precooked noodles or matzo balls.