I had just finished typing the period at the end of that first sentence when we heard an explosion and the power disappeared. Thank you to El for her hospitality today so that we could all plug in and turn on.
It was Monday. Figuring streets would be quiet and stores closed, we took a walk.
The Open Pantry
was open. Why wouldn't it be? was Themis's shrug of an answer. The Pantry had weathered the East Village for the last four decades. It was always open, come rain, come shine, come anything. "Come back and take a picture when Pete is here," Themis said.
|Themis and Jose|
was packed, not a seat in the house, everyone storing up on pre-storm pierogi, cutlets and burgers.
So an emergency smoked mozzarella from Russo's
was the next best thing, catching up on medical procedures and gossip about customers who were always surprised they could swing by later and pay if they didn't have enough cash on them. Any gluten-free pasta in the future? A sigh, and then "No. Just dried pasta". I stared at the refrigerator case filled with the best ravioli, tortelli, and spaghetti in the world.
The mozzarella lasted a day.