the joy of flying April 7, 2008

I took a trip to Chicago this weekend, and chose to fly with American Airlines.  After all, you do have a choice and we thank you for choosing American. Riiiiiiiiiight. 

 

Weather caused delays in most flights out of New York on Friday but eventually we headed for the dreaded “line” of planes leaving LaGuardia.  “Well passengers, looks like we’re number twelve in line for take off, flight attendants: please prepare for departure.” 

The flight attendants then walk up and down the aisle about 6 times, each time a little faster than the last and continuing on until they give you a dead stare – up and down- as they bolt past you towards the back of the plane.  What a friendly way to kick off my flight!  I can’t wait to spend the next two hours with these people. 

Finally, we take off and after a while the pilot tells us we’re reaching our cruising altitude.  Seconds later the flight attendant screeches over the microphone and begins to explain the snack and beverage service. 

We’re proud to introduce [some new kind of] Lipton Tea for purchase of $5.00, as well as complimentary coffee and select sodas.  Today our snacks for purchase include a chocolate chip cookie, $3.00, and trail mix [think vending machine bag, 75 cents], for $4.00.  We take cash and American Express, as well as any other credit or debit cards with a Visa or MasterCard logo.

Seriously?  What happened to the little bags of peanuts and pretzels?  Again, I live in New York so I feel like I get cheated enough already, but now you take away my free 2 oz. bag of pretzels?  Ugh.  Fine.  I decided I would pay for the stupid trail mix since I’m so hungry I could throw up.

The two men in front of me each ordered a double round of  mini scotch bottles (they seemed European, and were quiet and very friendly).  Both flight attendants rolled their eyes and gave each other a look like, “are they kidding?”  It was about 11:00 a.m., so maybe a touch early, but not a bad idea considering the tension across the plane.  As one of the flight attendants passed along the four small bottles, she said, “how ‘bout some water, too, so you boys’ll play nice?”

How ‘bout flight attendants refrain from treating adult passengers like children?

It was my turn next, so once I agreed to the ridiculous purchase of trail mix, I hand the attendant my Jet Blue AMEX.  She looks at it still in my hand projected outward and snaps, “We don’t take cards for other airlines.”  I explained that it’s an American Express card (so chill) and she then swiped it through the machine successfully.  It was obvious, though, that I was quickly heading to the top of her List of Irritation. 

The rest of the flight was just as eventful and it really makes you think twice about flying unless you absolutely have to.  I read this morning in the Bureau of Transportation Statistics that consumers filed 13,168 complaints about airline service with the Department in 2007, 58.2 % more than the 8,325 filed in 2006. I know it gets much worse than flight attendant attitude and food/beverage service, but will flying ever be the same?

arepa arepa April 2, 2008

Last night I ordered in from a local Venezuelan cafe in Astoria.  It honestly took me about 20 minutes to figure out what I wanted to order from the menu.  Front to back, it’s packed with decisions like arepas, ensalada de gallina and empanadas, my weakness.  Cazon (baby shark) was easy to knock off the list pretty quickly.

 

I decided on pabellon de pollo, a national Venezuelan dish with shredded chicken, black beans and white rice, sprinkled aged white cheese and served with sweet plantains.  I’m sure I was Latina in a former life. “20 minutes,” she said, and the total came to $12.50 with a Diet Coke.  Seems reasonable, I guess.

 

Family Guy passed the time and eventually I was opening the door, cash in hand ready to seal the deal.  I grabbed the bag and it was so heavy I actually asked if he was sure this was my order.  Yep, all mine – all five pounds worth.

 

Still, I opened the white paper bag expecting to find about half of what I actually did.  It could literally take me two full days to get through this much food. I might be willing to do that, though.

 

Waste no time, I dug right in.  The black beans were a nice surprise, since they were much sweeter than the flavor I’m accustomed to.  Maybe from brown sugar?  I’m used to Cuban-flavored black beans that are spiced with peppers and onions.  Still, the fresh flavor of the Venezuelan style was quite pleasing.

 

I love to make sweet plantains at home, so I was really looking forward to trying theirs.  Delicious, as I expected, and I liked the fact that they were sliced lengthwise and thin.  They were cooked to perfection and had just the right blend of sweet to salty.  The plantains went especially well with the shredded chicken, since it was lacking in the flavor department a touch.

 

When I finished (what seemed like hours later), there wasn’t even a dent but I did the best I could.  I think I might have polished off about 1/5 of that plate, conservatively speaking.  Should I be in the mood for aged white cheese and black beans tonight (or the next night, or the next night), there’s plenty more where that came from.

i knead it April 1, 2008

I have met very few people who lack a soft spot for pizza.  In fact, I’m not even sure that’s legal. 

 

My addiction started with movie night.  Blockbuster rentals and Pizza Hut deliveries go together like Cubs games and Vienna dogs. . . or Mister Softee and any day that ends with a “y”.  Movie night was great.  My brother and I avoided making fun of each other for at least a couple hours and I had my very own half-pizza to top with my favorite ingredients – pepperoni and black olives. But just as VHS rentals from Blockbuster went out of style, so did the Hut (for me, at least).

 

I moved to Chicago and discovered lasagna all over again, in the form of deep dish pizza. It took a while, but I got used to the strength and endurance needed to finish just half a slice.  There really should be a training program dedicated to that. How anyone can finish a whole slice, let alone several, baffles me.

 

But just as I got used to a pie that’s 3 inches thick, I was headed to New York, where thin is in.  (I’m talking pizza, not the starving 5’11” skeletons walking down 5th Avenue.)  I was back to my two-slice usual and relieved of carpal tunnel symptoms when trying to hold up a piece.

 

Eventually I decided making pizza at home would be a fun thing to do (not to mention a bit healthier), and that became my preference. It wasn’t until recently, though, that I noticed you can buy a mini-brick oven to use at home.  A mini-brick oven! How long have I been in the dark? I understand it’s only big enough to feed a four year old, but still.  It doesn’t take much to get me excited these days.

 

These do the trick, too:

 

The Best Deep Dish Pizza

 

Thin Crust Pizza Dough

 

Fruit Pizza

 

Pizza Pockets

 

BLT Pizza