Running, Trains & Bad Manners...

Last weekend was the Broad Street Run. I decided way back in February that I would sign up and put my new holiday chunk on notice. I was coming off of the marathon and thought, oh yeah, 10 miles? Nooooo problem, man. Well then, the weather has been crappy and I seemed to find any excuse not to train. My awesome friend Marisa and I texted each other daily, "Didya run today?" More often then not the answer would be negative. What was I thinking?

I could not sleep on the eve of the run. I was worried that I would oversleep. I had to get on the Broad Street Line before it was a sardine can filled with runners. I managed to rise and walk to the corner of Spring Garden and Broad. I arrived at the station at 6:50am. Marisa texted, "I am boarding on train 571, first car, left side of track." Left side of track. That confused me. Left side. Left side?.. A few moments later a train approached. Train #521. 5.2.1. not 5.7.1. I panicked, did she read it wrong while in haste? Was it a typo? What to do, what to do!.... The doors opened just as another train approached on the LEFT side (ahhhh, she boarded the express). Train #571, yipee! The doors closed on 521 and it began to pull out, just as 571 failed to stop. What the... Marisa texted, "We did not stop! I saw you!" Rats.

So it was another 25 minutes before another train arrived. Three express trains passed packed with runners and failed to stop. I was among 30 or so other runners when the first train passed, now there had to be at least 100. A train pulled up completely packed. When the doors opened I wedged myself in muttering apologies. The conversation between the runners was the usual talk of past runs and of lost training. "Are you ready?" "What did you run at the Bladee Blah Run?" Then it happened. Someone yelled, "Was that YOU?!! Grrrrroossss! I cannot believe you did that! HAHAHAHA!" Someone farted. Really people? It went on for several minutes with discussions of what the farter had consumed to produce such a stench, until I loudly said, "Please. Shut. Up." The faces scanned the car looking for the individual who said that bold statement. I raised my hand. They looked away. My apologies, but the fart talk needed to stop. I have two pre-teen boys. Fart talk is a big part of my life and yes, it commonly elicits giggles, but in a subway car packed like sardines, it is disgusting and unfunny at best prior to running 10 miles at the crack of dawn.

The subway arrived at the Olney station, I met Marisa at the turnstiles and off we went. Marisa is much faster than me and after stretching and talking, we went off to our separate corrals. The race started and it is really the people's race. The usual young girls and guys took off sprinting. I caught up with them at mile 5 and passed. I ran the first 5 slowly and the last 5 fast. It was a great run for me. You really see a nice slice of Philly running down Broad Street with 30,000 of your closest friends. The crowds are thin until the end. It is a nice run. I recommend it.

My biggest regret is that I did not get a pic with Marisa. So, here is the one with us at the marathon.

Wyck Old Rose Gelato

Each morning I check in on the World Cup news. It's important. Guiseppe Rossi, the American-born Italian was left off the Italian National team, along with Milan striker Marco Boriello. To the left is Sr. Guiseppe being mugged by the Italian team after scoring an incredible goal against France. Leaving them off the squad is a truly epic mistake. Just saying. Anywho, last week I was reading that a French international player turned down an offer from the Philadelphia Union because he wants to be in a "beautiful city." Huh? Okay, it's not Paris, but are you kidding me?

I will be honest, I am a little depressed. Work is very hard right now, the end of the school year always throws in some wrenches, it is soccer tryout season, refrigeration (need I say more?) and it so so hot to run on the drive. All this = exhaustion. One thing that always keeps me going is the eye candy in Philadelphia. Get yer minds outta the gutta! I am talking topography. I love what my eyes take in each day. Kelly Drive during a regatta, the million of blooms everywhere and the architecture. Philadelphia is old by American standards. I live in a row home that was built when Abraham Lincoln was in office. Very cool. One of the most beautiful parts of the city is Germantown. Germantown is breathtaking. I get to look at Germantown every morning and it makes me so very happy. It is filled with Quakers and their minimal asthetic and it thrills me. The amount of preservation here is phenomenal. This part of the city has been forgotten to some degree, which has probably helped it stay so beautiful. On the edge of Chestnut Hill, close to Manayunk and the Art Museum Area, it should be easy to get to. By car, yes; by public trans, no. The streets are a combination of ruin and perfect preserve. There are many Quaker schools and meeting houses and the amount of churches are ridiculous.

Which brings me to the Wyck Historic House and Garden. The Wyck is deep in Germantown and can easily be missed snuggled between beautiful large homes. The Wyck home was continually occupied by 9 generations of the same Quaker family since 1690. The colonial house is beautiful and covered with climbing roses that date back to 1814. The variety of roses are called "old roses" and are breathtaking in fragrance as well as appearance. Looky! These roses are descendants of the roses planted in 1814. The grounds are beautiful and the smell divine. You can feel the history in the air.


Then the phone rang....(actually the email came) asking me if I would like to sell some gelato at the Wyck's Summer Festival, I jumped at the chance. I offered to donate the gelato and in turn they offered me some roses!!! Roses that were descended from 1814 AND never treated with any pesticides or chemicals. You could EAT them!! Pinch me, I feel faint.

Barbara Overholser, the Wyck's Development Coordinator, met me in a back parking lot. It was quite nefarious. She handed over 6 beautiful bags of petals. I could smell their fragance through the ziplock! I could not wait. Of course, being a small business, everything that could happen to postpone the making of the Wyck Old Rose Gelato happened. We had a power outage, a pipe burst, the air went down, and my little guy came down with strep. Everything that could take my attention away from the roses did. Good times. Finally, the roses slid into the hot milk and the aroma... We all stood around the pot with these sick smiles on our faces. The smell was reminiscent of baking bread or hot rain on the sidewalk. I know, I'm weird. When I had my first bite, it was light and playful, not cloying or sticky. It tasted like what I want roses to taste like. I hate those shopping center cakes with their blue roses. You always want them to taste as good as they look. Even the beautiful buttercream roses that you can find on delicious cupcakes, never seem to measure up. This measured up. We have made Rose Water Gelato and Rose Tea Sorbetto, but nothing, and I mean NUTHIN, was as delicious as Wyck's Old Rose Gelato.

Please! You must try this! They will be serving it at their Summer Festival on Friday June 11th!

Thank you Wyck!

Oh, New York...

New Yorkers think they have it all. And the thing is, when you say this to a New Yorker, call them out about their inflated pride in their city, they fess right up. As they should. Any true Philadelphian would do the same, then crap on New York in the same breath.
One of my favorite celebrity chefs (what a God-awful term...) is Anthony Bourdain. I'm a sucker for the badass, traveling, no nonsense kind of man, what can I say? My only qualm with him is due to his attitude towards Philly. His attitude? "Honestly, I've never even bothered with Philly. It seems to me it's a two-horse town: Starr and Perrier."
...What, seriously? Not only have both of them been eclipsed and stomped over by the mega-force of the Jose Garces Restaurant Group, we have tons of things New York just cannot compete with. (We'll save this list for another, much longer post).
And you know what, New York? That gap just got a little smaller. Cause now not only does Capogiro carry H&H bagels...we carry their BIALYS too!! HAHA! Take that!! Not only am I fairly certain it's the only bialy to be found in Philadelphia, we snatched em from your all-hailed bagel baker.
Now, I have to admit, when I first came upon these creatures I didn't quite know what to make of them. It's a bagel, but it's not...where's the hole?! And it's baked, but not boiled? So it's not a bagel...it's a roll!
But more than a roll, the traditional name for these little guys is Bialystok Kuchen! Translated to Bialystok Cake, they made their way to New York in the early 1900s with Polish (hence, Bialystok) and Russian immigrants who made their homes in the Lower East Side.
Traditionally, the indent in a bialy is filled with onion or garlic before baking, and when ready to eat is heating and served with butter (not sliced!). As time went on people started getting a little crazy, and shmeared those suckers with lox and cream cheese. Oh nom. The unfortunate thing about the bialy is that they are only really readily available in New York City, as the Polish population who came up with the idea was largely wiped out in the Holocaust.

So how bout them bialys, New York? Can't say much now, can ya??

photo by waffler