New York State of Mind 29/04: Diners and Dining In
We had breakfast at a diner, which is pretty much my favourite thing to do. Frieda is a regular at Peter's, where the owner addressed us as 'you girls' and told Frieda off for not eating her crusts. I had pancakes with streaky bacon and two mugs of Maxwell House (as namechecked in The Spy Who Loved Me; Fleming did love his brands).
I settled in and let the conversation between the regulars, mostly old men in no hurry, wash over me.
“All the deer were foraging on the mountain this morning. I slowed right down cos you don’t know which way they’re gonna jump.”
“I know all the turkeys are out makin’ little turkey babies.”
“Saw a coyote at Junction Ten.”
(At this point Frieda leaned across to me. “You’re not going to see a coyote,” she said. “Just so you know.”)
My expectations thus managed, we paid and left. On the walk back to the house, we spotted a bird with a red head noisily excavating a huge hole it had made low down in a dead tree. A pileated woodpecker - a real-life Woody with the little tuft at the back of its head - rarely seen this close to people but so absorbed in its task it let us get close enough for photos.
I got to experience two more of my favourite US activities before lunch. First stop was a secondhand shop where, by a delightful coincidence, I found three glass tankards commemorating the 2007 graduating class of a local college with a parody of the 007 logo. We bought them all, of course. Then a supermarket, always exciting in another country, so I could buy an embarrassing quantity of terrible snacks including peanut butter-filled pretzel nuggets and Dunkin' Donuts caramel-flavoured ground coffee.
We did some more local sightseeing, taking in a river bank where we looked for tiny ammonites, and driving the beautiful road to Frieda's secret swim hole. Lorries laden with logs passed in the other direction; fortunes were made here in lumber. More local treats: ice cream from Stewart's, a chain of petrol stations with a nice sideline in fast food. I had 'fireworks' flavour: vanilla with sour cherry and popping candy.
This evening we were eating in, with several of Frieda's local friends coming round. Frieda had bought steaks at the supermarket, to be expertly cooked by Gus (he did mine with extra chilli, having been informed I liked things hot) and I bought the local craft beer under her direction. So we ate steak and talked about cats, a pleasant evening wherever in the world you do it.
I settled in and let the conversation between the regulars, mostly old men in no hurry, wash over me.
“All the deer were foraging on the mountain this morning. I slowed right down cos you don’t know which way they’re gonna jump.”
“I know all the turkeys are out makin’ little turkey babies.”
“Saw a coyote at Junction Ten.”
(At this point Frieda leaned across to me. “You’re not going to see a coyote,” she said. “Just so you know.”)
My expectations thus managed, we paid and left. On the walk back to the house, we spotted a bird with a red head noisily excavating a huge hole it had made low down in a dead tree. A pileated woodpecker - a real-life Woody with the little tuft at the back of its head - rarely seen this close to people but so absorbed in its task it let us get close enough for photos.
I got to experience two more of my favourite US activities before lunch. First stop was a secondhand shop where, by a delightful coincidence, I found three glass tankards commemorating the 2007 graduating class of a local college with a parody of the 007 logo. We bought them all, of course. Then a supermarket, always exciting in another country, so I could buy an embarrassing quantity of terrible snacks including peanut butter-filled pretzel nuggets and Dunkin' Donuts caramel-flavoured ground coffee.
We did some more local sightseeing, taking in a river bank where we looked for tiny ammonites, and driving the beautiful road to Frieda's secret swim hole. Lorries laden with logs passed in the other direction; fortunes were made here in lumber. More local treats: ice cream from Stewart's, a chain of petrol stations with a nice sideline in fast food. I had 'fireworks' flavour: vanilla with sour cherry and popping candy.
This evening we were eating in, with several of Frieda's local friends coming round. Frieda had bought steaks at the supermarket, to be expertly cooked by Gus (he did mine with extra chilli, having been informed I liked things hot) and I bought the local craft beer under her direction. So we ate steak and talked about cats, a pleasant evening wherever in the world you do it.