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The Chasing Taste Blog
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 Waiting is one of the hardest things a person can do. I’ve been on the hook for a possible big deal, life-changing job opportunity for literally months. The powers that be assure me that my name is on the “list” as a could-be-candidate. For the first month or so, this was quite fun, actually. What’s not to like about a life-changing money deal? But now five months down the pike, as each day clicks by, I feel myself growing increasingly weary. By this afternoon, I was so bogged down by it all; I took myself down to the lower east side for a spur of the moment comfort food eating tour. It may sound strange, but my “go-to” comfort food is borscht. And the hands down best borscht in New York City is at Veselka. Operating for the last 61 years and located at 144 2nd Avenue, this Ukrainian foodie hot spot makes 5,000 gallons of borscht a year. (So, I’m not the only one guzzling this stuff down!) The chatter of happy eaters greeted me as I slid into my seat. A waiter walked by with an armload of meatless stuffed cabbage, potato pancakes and a small plate of pierogi. What’s not to like about latkes? I ordered and then compulsively looked at my phone; still no message. And still the same holding pattern I was in ten minutes ago. My soup came and with a heavy heart, I lifted my spoon and took a chunky bite of lovely. Did I mention that the broth is made from a combo of beef and pork? The flavors of the carrots, celery, potatoes and lima beans hit my T-buds, bringing me into the moment and the wonder, the absolute miracle of this recipe. Three slurps in, I was on my way to feeling whole again. I flagged down the waiter and ordered a plate of kielbasa. Here’s the thing, I may or may not get that upward mobile big deal dealio. And I can’t really put “I waited well” on my resume. But I can be kind to myself by having one of the best tastes I’ve ever tasted while I wait. Waiting is hard. Tasting is easy. And Veselka’s borscht is first-rate great! Love freely, eat slowly and ride a horse now and then,
The Down Home Taster
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 Let’s start from the end and work back to the beginning. She was that one regret that I couldn’t quite shake from my memory, that question mark on lonely nights. Mara. It was a misty New York night when we literally bumped back into each other on the corner of 8th Avenue and West 51st Street. As the mist turned towards out and out rain, we took refuge in Vice Versa, a nearby Italian Restaurant. I should’ve remembered why this romance would never work when, ignoring the rather fabulous menu, she requested a dressing-less bowl of arugula. Meanwhile, as we caught up, I feasted on the Casoncelli Alla Bergamasca. (Roasted veal, amaretti cookies, raisin filled Casoncelli seasoned with Grana Padano cheese, sage and pancetta! Seriously, this dish is the stuff of sonnets.) In all fairness, things seemed connected and off to a good re-start with Mara. Until, the dessert arrived, that is. Mara had leaned in rather close and she was using words like “destiny” and “future” when my dessert arrived. I do sometimes ask myself, “What if I’d been less of a foodie on that misty night when Mara blurted out “I love you?” Problem was, I’d just taken my first bite of the warm Vice Versa chocolate cake. And to say that my taste buds were having a mouth party is an understatement. Perfection comes in fits and starts. So, when it arrives, one must take note. And boy was I! I tasted the moist cake, felt its warm dark chocolate sauce slide down, delighting and soothing the back of my throat. I was in a certain sort of heaven, which is why I was completely surprised when around my third bite, I looked up to see Mara collecting her sweater and purse. “Did I miss something?” “I just told you ‘I love you,’” she said. “I’m sorry.” I replied, trying to explain the impact and excellence of this beyond delicious cake. Mara, however, was strictly a salad eater. So, my cake talk fell flat. She left, sending a spoon clattering as she bumped a nearby table. I smiled awkwardly at Franco, one of the owners. I was, of course, tempted to chase her down the street, but the thought of not finishing my dessert felt like the bigger crime. Now, countless Vice Versa cakes later, I know I made the right choice. Some loves are forever and some simply don’t have the right ingredients. Love freely, eat slowly and ride a horse now and then,
The Down Home Taster |
AuthorLori Fischer, screenwriter of Chasing Taste. |
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