My baby brother and I were walking all over lower Manhattan this day how many years ago? I remember that as we crossed the Bowery and encountered many drunken panhandlers, Brien asked me, “How do they know to come here?” An interesting question, no? How does anybody know where to go? From accumulated knowledge? The movies? Popular culture? Tradition? Happenstance? Continuing east, we passed community gardens, local musicians and this huge mural (Kenny Scharf continues to contribute to it even now) that stretched for almost a block. How could we not take advantage of the photo op it afforded? Brien obliged. A lovely serendipitous find. How did we know to come here?
Sometimes the side streets are best. I headed to the Peabody Essex Museum specifically to see the Joseph Cornell exhibit, which was sensational (collages, boxes, films, assorted ephemera) in spite of the gruff guard and the somewhat day-care crowd (The museum is admirably free to Salem residents, especially, it seems, to those with loud youngsters in strollers. Just saying.) I bypassed the Chinese house, a top draw at this museum, and happened upon this mixed-media installation by Bose Krishnamachari. The artist had strung up 162 lunchpails, typical of the kind that are daily delivered to Indian laborers for their midday meal, and fitted 102 of them with small video monitors displaying a range of Mumbai residents -- street vendors and socialites, industrialists and intellectuals -- talking about their day-to-day lives (their voices heard on headphones if you so desired.) Surprising and unexpected, it provided a lovely reality-based moment after hours spent within the seductive and phantasmagorical world of Cornell.
It seems every time I run into a friend these days, he or she has become vegan. What’s going on? Is everyone turning vegan? Is this The Twilight Zone? Actually, when I started cooking for these friends, I realized, hey, I’ve generally been eating somewhat vegan myself without knowing it. And now that the tide is turning, and even mainstream restaurants offer vegan options (sometimes they’re not on the menu, but they have them), this dining philosophy is shedding some of its “outsider” status. Chinese, Indian and other ethnic restaurants here in the USA seem to serve up the easiest choices. And sticking to a “no animals/no animal liquids” diet while traveling can be relatively simple, too. For example, consider Turkey, land of lamb, lamb, more lamb...and yogurt. Turkish cooking also has a rich tradition of savory vegetable dishes braised in olive oil found in just about every restaurant. Here are just three examples of the many zeytignali (olive oil) offerings we had at Istanbul’s Haci Abdullah: grape leaves stuffed with rice, mint and pine nuts; beets with peppers and cabbage; artichokes with potatoes, carrots and peas. All terrific. Spain, France, Italy...assembling a vegan meal from appetizers, antipasti and a wide variety of vegetarian choices is a snap. (In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that my vegan friend David arrived in Italy, surveyed the markets, saw all the wonderful cheeses, quickly announced that he was going to be lacto-vegetarian for his three-week stay...and eventually couldn't resist the pasta alla carbonara.) Vegans of the world, rejoice! Just like at home, you are no longer forced to eat salad at every meal when you travel.
I was staying in Venice for a few days with a train pass to allow easy access to other places in the Veneto that I wanted to visit, including Vicenza, 60km to the west. I came here to see the villas designed by the great 16th-century architect, Andrea Palladio, but I found so much more. I discovered what appeared to be a small village living within (almost in spite of) Palladian grandeur. As I walked from the train station to the main piazza, I was stunned by a poster for the local porn cinema with a somewhat shocking English title...next to a Renaissance palazzo. Then a group of elderly Vicenese women carrying bags of groceries as they walked home through magisterial public spaces, arches within arches, columns and more columns. I love the photo of this cool guy, in shades and a sweater tied around his waist, cycling idly past me in the empty main square, the Piazza dei Signori. I’d seen him approaching, readied my camera, and just as I pressed the shutter, his greeting. Ciao.
What a lovely find this small Portuguese city midway in our trip between Santiago de Compostela and Lisbon. We’d stopped earlier for a few hours in Braga, then trained it here, checked into the Hotel Oslo and headed out to find dinner. No problem. The streets were filled with students who kept ducking in and out of restaurants and bars to check on the progress of the evening’s soccer game. Jay and I settled in for a meal of cream of vegetable soup, stewed goat, roast potatoes and Brussels sprouts. Mmmm. Vegetables, and lots of them. This was also our first introduction to Portuguese portion sizes. Yikes! I read somewhere that the meals are geared toward men who’ve spent their day in manual labor. OK with us. After dinner, a stroll through the warm and relatively empty downtown, its beautifully crafted sidewalks reflecting the golden light, the sounds of music echoing through this wonderful university town.
