Grocery shopping in NYC can be a royal pain in the ass. Sure, its fun when you only have to get the necessities for that night’s dinner, and you can extol the virtues of residing in a City where nearly any ingredient is at your fingertips. Its much like I always imagine it would be to live in Paris, where I could drop in on the butcher, the baker, and the local fromagerie, filling my darling little red Hermes bag full of goodies as I daintily make my way home from work, smiling sweetly at the delivery boys who whistle at the sight of me tip-toeing down the cobblestone streets in my perfect pencil skirt and 3 inch heels.
But sometimes, you really need to stock the pantry, like the times you don’t just need milk and eggs, but you’ve also run out of pasta, soy sauce, the husband’s hot pockets, and triscuits (gotta have triscuits). On those days, I substitute my imaginary darling red Hermes bag for my not-so-darling red Granny Cart (its impossible to be dainty when using a Granny Cart), and make my way to Brooklyn’s own ‘Steve’s “Boogie Down” C-Town.’ (No, its not actually called “Boogie-Down.”) Steve’s C-Town is usually a complete and total zoo, but comes the closest to suburban one-stop grocery shopping that you are likely to find in my part of Brooklyn. Packed to the gills, and staffed almost entirely by teenagers. I once made the error of asking a young man working the produce section to help me to find won-ton wrappers. 15 minutes later, he led me to taco shells, and seemed satisfied with a job well done. He then went to the next aisle, where I think I heard him break up with his girlfriend.
What does any of this have to do with Seared Tuna Steak w/ Avocado and Cilantro Lime Dressing? Well I am getting to that. You see, your heroine made the trek to Steve’s C-Town, in the pouring rain mind you, just to be able to make this dish for you, my dear readers. As some of you have pointed out, I have been a particularly bad blogger as of late. My dear friend Rebecca further pointed out that this has been particularly frustrating, as she now has to actually pick up the phone and call me when she wants to know what is going on in my life. This will not do.
There are actually benefits to grocery shopping in the pouring rain in NYC. For one, C-Town was dead, and I did not have to stand in a 15 minute line where I always seem to end up getting questioned by the woman behind me about why I would ever be crazy enough to pay that exorbitant amount for organic eggs. Two, the deli guy was in rare form, giving me samples to try when I couldn’t decide on my deli meat. Three, one of the teenagers actually helped me to load my Granny Cart, and lifted it over the gate that prevents anyone from stealing grocery carts. I even got a “New York whistle” (this is when men hiss at you like you are a cat) from some delivery boys on break. My Paris dreams were all coming true! And that’s when the rain wetting the plastic bags in my cart caused the entire top layer of stacked bags to fall to the ground, with the bag holding my organic eggs leading the pack. Oh New York, you do make it hard to love you sometimes.