Hello, Everybody--nice seeing you again.
Now, thanks to that damned cartoonist, when Iranians go to their local bakery to buy a delicious, flaky pastry, they have to ask for “Roses of the Prophet Muhammed” instead of danish. Just like we had to ask for Freedom Fries, remember? Do you even remember why we had to do that? Anyway, if I had read that thing about the pastry in the New York Times, I would have known it was just someone duping the Big Grey Pack of Lies again—Iranians eat danish?—but it was in Metro, the free newspaper that people are always thrusting at you on the street, so I believe it. Also, I found the same story online at the BBC News site, so as long as it never appears in the Times, I will believe it.
I found a really good place to buy walnut Roses of the Prophet Muhammed a few weeks ago when Sluggo and I were going to Great Small Works’ last spaghetti supper at P.S.122. It was January 7, and it was cold, and we were walking down 1st Ave. from the train at 14th Street and passed a nearly empty little storefront with one guy standing inside behind a counter, looking out at us. The counter was very small, with a few cookies and a few pastries and a small coffee maker on it, and behind the counter stood this big, wholesome-looking guy in a hemp jacket. There was nothing else inside, no business name on the window, no decoration, nothing pinned to the walls, and he was just standing there, like a soldier on duty. I caught his eye as we went past, and he gave me a tight little hopeful smile. “Let’s stop and get some coffee,” I said, and we turned around and went back inside.
All there was for sale was right there on the counter—a few of each of three kinds of cookies, and a few of each of three or four kinds of pastries. And coffee. “Is this all there is?” we asked. It was. The coffee was good, and the walnut danish rocked—flaky on the outside, moist on the inside, hardly sweet at all, with a few walnuts and a little bit of cinnamon in the very center. After I kept insisting that the place must have a name, the guy finally said we could call it Birdbath. Of course, he never said that was its name, he just said that we could call it that. Sluggo and I couldn’t figure out if it was a cult, or art, or what, but I went back last weekend and now they have a little statement up and I guess it’s a project. But the walnut danish are still mighty good.
I read another story the other day that I’m not sure is true, this one from the Daily News. It said that a fifth-grade teacher named Dolph Timmerman had been charged with groping 10-year-old girls at a public school in Bushwick. “Dolph Timmerman” is the name of a character on The Simpsons, allegedly named after a guy who went to high school with Matt Groening in Portland, Oregon. Lincoln High School’s alumni site says their Dolph Timmerman lives in New York now, but whether it’s the same Dolph who’s accosting children, I don’t know. Do you think having an animated character named after you would cause that? Sluggo had an animated character—a maggot, in fact—named after him once, but I didn’t see that it made much difference.
Thanks for reading my blog entry this week, and may Allah bless.