Everything and everybody in New York City needs a good power-wash. I imagine one, big, beautiful musical montage of spraying the town back to its original colors (whatever those might be) as grey sludge drips down the buildings and into the sewage grates where it belongs. There’s nothing that can’t be accomplished with a good musical montage – Ashley Judd running around the jail yard track in Double Jeopardy, Mulan readying to face the Huns to Donny Osmond’s motivating anthem, and Daniel LaRusso’s fight to the top in the Karate Kid.
Each week when I go to class, I imagine a version of my musical number power-washing the city clean. The mental imagery is as satisfying as a full bottle of Softscrub and pack of new sponges from Costco. This is my last semester at NYU’s Food Studies Master’s program and my third year of taking the two-hour trek on the Metro North. If it weren’t for the grind of traveling with disgruntled, pushy commuters, rather than happy-go-lucky weekenders, I might still find romance in the city’s gruff charm. But for me, New York City more closely resembles that hot rebellious crush from high school whom you recently ran into while he was working at the Sunglass Hut and whose glory years were smoked away in the parking lot of a Dairy Queen – once attractive and exciting, but no longer easy to talk to, practical or your vision of success.
Lot’s of people disagree with me on this. But then again, lots of people think that Cadbury Eggs aren’t delicious. And they are wrong. Cadbury Egg season is upon us and I’ve been eating my fill. A milky chocolate shell filled with pure fondant is right up my alley. It’s like a cherry cordial with no cherry and completely skewed proportions of chocolate to fondant. Is it excessively sweet? Maybe. Is the yellow tinted yolk disturbing to some? Perhaps. Are they made of pure Easter Bunny magic? Absolutely. Queue the Cadbury Egg eating montage…Hey, if I can’t have a train beer to get me through the commute, a shot of pure sugar will do.
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