829 Southdrive

829 Southdrive

A New Jersey state of mind

Friday, September 28, 2012

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Monday with Charley

After talking about it for a couple of years now, Charley and I 
finally got out for a sail on our home waters.  We sailed on Bay 
Rhumb, out of Forked River, on a gorgeous fall Monday.
  I fully planned on coming home that afternoon loaded 
with pictures and anecdotes, ready to have a couple of cocktails
and attack the laptop at full speed.  It was when I stopped for
corn and tomatoes on the way back that I realized I left my camera 
on the boat, hanging on the gear shifter, seen in the second photo
of Charley's post, chronicling said outing.  Luckily, the Park Ranger 
on duty at the marina was able to board my boat and bring the
camera safely to the office until the weekend.  So much for highlights
of the day.  No worries.  Sandscraper did an exemplary job of 
providing photos and riveting commentary during our 21 minute
trip back up the river to the State Marina.  If you have a spare 21
minutes to watch the clip, it'll give you an idea of what we see on 
our way home every time we sail.  The sound is kinda low, so use 
headphones if you've got 'em.  I always say that the trip down 
the river and back is just as enjoyable for me as the time sailing on 
the bay. It gives me an opportunity to anticipate the day as well as 
to reflect on the day we just had. I gotta get one of them Go-Pros.

I'll post a couple of photos when I get my camera back, but my friend
has done our day of sailing some serious justice. 

Sunday, September 23, 2012

A Knack for Photography

I scratch my ear and I feel like I'm being nailed in the butt

I don't even ask any more, because I know MillieMac
will absolutely allow me to use her spectacular photos.
This one, among thousands of others, was taken in
beautiful Forked River, New Jersey.  

Had the nail been driven closer to the center of the piling,
it may have been more effective in keeping shorebirds 
from crapping on it.  I'm glad the nailer was off-center.

BTW:  MillieMac, will you crew for me this Saturday?

Monday: Quiet After the Storm

Hazel making sure the ducks, geese, and swans are moving 
along.  Shhhhh..... It makes her feel important.

Hubris.  With only 1200 HP, she's got 1187 more horses than me.
It seems like she spends more time at the dock than Bay Rhumb.

Proof that global warming is no farce.  Palm trees in New Jersey.

The backdrop couldn't have been better, except if it was less blurry.
A Barnegat Bay A Cat with the Barnegat Lighthouse in the distance.
And Dad's ashes are still stirring around on the bay floor.

Spy, from Island Heights, had a leisurely sail downbay toward
Surf City, and then doubled back downwind home to its Toms
River mooring.  This may very well be the first time I've seen an
A Cat on the bay on a day other than a Saturday.  When I spotted 
the huge mainsail on the southern horizon, I made a concerted effort
to cross behind her, allowing me to snap some shots.  I think they 
thought I was stalking them.

When daddy sails without mom on board, the cockpit cushions
stay down below.  Sailing isn't always supposed to be comfortable.
Doggie seemed to adapt to the hardship.

With a bone in our teeth, we sailed to weather into the prevailing 
southerly breeze, knowing that in about an hour or so, we'd reach
the mouth of Forked River.  After enduring the raucous 
surroundings of tailgating and the following game the day before, 
this was the perfect ending to that most satisfying two day stretch.

Friday, September 21, 2012

For Charles and Dorothy

Robiola di bosco was a nice start to this simple but totally satisfying
dinner.  Served with sliced parmesan-black pepper baguette and 
ciabatta, it took enough of the edge off for us to be full halfway 
through dinner.  No worries; leftovers are an everyday occurance
in this house of overindulgences.

Yellow and green zucchini marinated in olive oil, red wine vinegar,
 mint, rosemary, salt, and pepper.  Grilled whole, that way every 
slice is firm and al dente.  Just the way it's meant to be.

Jersey frickin tomatoes, with fresh mootz, roasted red peppers,
assorted marinated olives, and an abundance of chopped basil.
The cracked black pepper and kosher salt is intended to be
liberally sprinkled over your entire helping.

Sweet Italian sausage, unevenly browned but thoroughly cooked,
gave the otherwise very veggie dinner a good, fatty accompaniment
and assured the attending dinner guests had a well balanced meal.

I had a great visit with two old and dear customers from way back
in my restaurant career today.  After almost two years of mixed 
feelings about how my last job ended, I sat with them in their back
yard, having shown up at their doorstep on my bicycle, completely 
un-announced at their beautiful Princeton home, and we talked 
almost exclusively about food and the good times we all had in 
that old building.  Thank you Charlie and Dorothy.  
You most certainly made my day.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

MetLife Stadium: Where I Belong

Father and son.  My Dad would always say, "Let 'er rip!"

The Falce boys came loaded with dough, sauce and cheese.
And a wooden pizza board that's been handed down through
the generations.  Take my word for it.

The pies kept coming.  But a German Spatlese with pizza? 
Questionable.  Joe redeemed himself with some homemade 
Chateauneuf du Pape.  Extraordinary.  Game on.

So much pizza that they had to start giving it away to arriving 
traffic. What a welcoming sight:  'Take this paper plate and a slice 
of my pizza pie while you're looking for a parking spot.'

Only the regulars got to swoop in on the New Zealand green 
mussels with herbs, beer, and butter.  Holy shit.

Grilled marinated pork loin and curry-coconut chicken skewers.
Are we in heaven?  Yes, we're in the Meadowlands.

There's that number 43 again.

We get the shivers every time as we approach this hallowed arena.
BTW, that's not me to the left.

Me, outside another somewhat well-known venue.

My beautiful wife and me standing in our section, with our backs to 
the playing field.  The lions fared much better in this stadium than 
they did in the previous one.  

The Rochester Road Crew, Rose and Scott, who sit directly
behind us for every home game.  He listens to the broadcast
and often has the inside scoop before we even have a chance
to stand up and scream.  They're awfully dedicated fans who 
drive 6 hours each way for every game.  And we moan when
we have to drive an hour home to Lawrenceville.  Waaaaaah.

The crew stayed behind about 15 minutes to snap this photo of
the scoreboard.  A veritable statfest.  I love these guys.
And the Giants too.  Good to be back on track.

And thanks to the heads up from Rochester, I learned of the passing 
of someone who, with his Dad, kept us NFL fanatics up-to-date
with the comings and goings of the National Football League, with 
unparalleled footage, editing, soundtrack, and commentary of the
greatest game in the world.  This may have been the longest run-on 
sentence in the history of blogger.com.  Don't care.  I got a little
misty when I heard the news.  Jersey boy done good for sure.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Race For The Cured Ham

How hard could it be to start when you've been given an exact 
start time?  In the middle of the photo, we're balls to the wall,
with less than a minute and a half to the start, wishing we would
have tacked and started the approach twenty seconds earlier.
In the end, that could have made the difference between fourth
and third.  Shoulda Coulda Woulda.

The starting sequence, as per PHRF.  This way, whoever
crosses the line first wins the effin race.

Pedal to the Metal.  We were fast as shit
from start to finish.  It all boils down to sail
trim and boat speed.  I'm convinced that it's
better to foot than to point. 

Pearson sailboats dominated the racecourse.

Boats of all shapes and sizes participated in this pursuit race.

Dead center again, we were on track to working our way
through the fleet with a combination of sail trim, traveler
play, crew weight distribution, 
and full attention paid to lifts and headers. 

This guy is, week in and week out, the boat to beat.  

This is indicative of the wide range of competitors' boats.

Gosh darn Snake Stick, who was given the dubious distinction
of starting first, held out for the majority of the race and finished 
third.  A few seconds before us. 

Dead downwind  (my favorite.....not) finish.
We crept up on Snake Stick and went ahead
yards before the finish, but they eked it out at 
the short end of the line.  

Val sailing Providence II, the boat to beat.  Had there been 
300 more yards to the finish, he may have beaten us.


Paul used to sail a Pearson 303.

Captain Bill, Tall Oaks Yacht Club Commodore.  A visionary,
a driving force behind the TOYC machine, a race official
extraordinaire, a 50/50 raffle-meister nonpareil. 

Monday, September 3, 2012

32 Years Ago

32 years ago on Labor Day, we had our first 'date'.
One of the very best days of my life.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Dinner at the Shore

Krowicki's white corn just as sweet as can be
Kernels pop in your mouth, ears gone one two three

Tomatoes from Jersey and Pennsy as well
with olive oil and basil and mootzadell

The lobsters gave nobly their bodies for flavor
and sauce for the scallops (not shown) we did savor 

We could have eaten dinner by seven o'clock 
but I insisted on making the lobster stock  

The shells were strained out and the stock was reduced
and by nine o'clock, all of the dinner guests were seduced