A Day in the Neighborhood
On Neighborhood Feelings at Rosa's Pizza and the Hungarian Pastry Shop
Let’s cast a fortune: One day, I’ll be a secret contributor to The Receipt.
It’s a fascinating series—the contributor keeping a journal of their eats, from groceries to snacks to takeout to restaurant meals, from preparations for the self, for others, dietary restrictions, the time of consumption, down to the pennies spent. A peek at the life of someone living in a city on a salary, partnered, single, childless or caring for others. Social studies around perceptions of food, consumption, behaviors, the economics and space we make for preparing something for ourselves within our time constraints and daily rhythms.
My time has been crunchy, to say the least. I describe so much of the day as “having to be on,” where we must be present for others—yes, even for our closest beloveds, even with the comfort there. I type this, for example, while my beloved sleeps, after we’ve consumed a bountiful breakfast of pumpkin French toast (cooked in a cranberry butter), eggs cooked in brown butter, and chicken sausages I heated through in the air fryer. The butters were from PopUp Bagels, when my beloved walked over to see what new weekly spreads and butters they had available.
If you don’t know the PopUp Bagel deal, they switch out their butters and spreads every week, keeping plain and scallion cream cheese options as staples. My beloved also bought a pumpkin cream cheese and a sesame cream cheese that we’ll be sampling later this week. (The reason for so many flavors is that our location changed their weekly offering the day after Carlos went, so he went back to get the pumpkin cream cheese.)
Let me take you on a little stroll: my time in the outside world has been limited lately. I’ve been preoccupied with work, locked into my desk from 9-5, quick breaks for snacks, logging off to relax and prepare dinner, eventually fall asleep. Yes, I’ve fallen asleep on the couch at 7:45 PM, I admit. After another week, with projects finally dwindling down, my beloved said, “Saturday, let’s go for a walk to the Hungarian Pastry Shop.”
We love this little shop. It’s about 20 blocks away, with two steep hills and avenues to cross as well. A line, per usual, when we arrive, with passersby asking what all the ruckus is about. The rucks is incredible cookies, strudel, cakes. While I’ve never had a coffee or tea from there, I’m sure they’re just as perfect.
We arrived with our sweet teeth—immediately, we order apricot hamentaschen, triangle-shaped butter cookies filled with apricot jam at the center. The beloved eyes two red cookies, as we call them—thin, with white frosting. (Red velvet, perhaps? I cannot confirm as I didn’t try them.) I choose a cherry strudel—buttery puff pastry around tart cherries. Then, we both eye horseshoes—cookies shaped as such, studded with almonds, a sweet marzipan filling throughout.
We enjoyed them, obviously, at home—we needed to walk back home to get groceries. We’d discussed a movie night all week, so we settled in to enjoy M. Night Shyamalan’s Trap (which uh, well, was… fun?! Yes, fun, absolutely. But we all know to expect the twists, and I caught it quickly. But still! Fun!) The treats made the movie that much more fun—the not-so-sweet cookie to share between us and bites of slightly buttery, salty popcorn.
Yet there was a stop before the pastry shop—Rosa’s Pizza. We had just watched Adam Richman’s new show on First We Feast, Pro Moves, where he hangs with expert guests (chefs and restauranteurs, I’m sure some influencers) and celebrities to explore how to enjoy a meal best. Well, his first episode was about pizza, so we wanted to put our “new” knowledge to the test.
We love Rosa’s for its variety: Margherita, vodka sauce slices, BBQ chicken, a “sweet heat” chicken slice. Pepperoni pinwheels! Garlic knots! so many Strombolis and calzones and even Caesar chicken salad slices! And within walking distance to a Levain! Truly, what a treat. We were immediately drawn to the Margherita slices—fresh out of the oven, shiny, inviting, with torn basil adornments and dollops of tomato sauce atop the mozzarella cheese. Out of the oven, the cheese melted into little crusts along the crust—so crispy, the slice following the proper protocols: larger than the plate, a foldable crust. There were no pepperoni pinwheels in sight, so we pivoted to splitting a spinach roll, where garlicky spinach was piled high with mozzarella and ricotta on top, a little marinara sauce on the side. We were famished when we arrived, yet when we left, we were fueled to climb the hills toward the pastry shop. (And well, we did stop for a quick matcha latte and chai latte to warm our spirits and hands.)
These little bites—another studding of the week. A chance to stroll and meander around my little home, peek into the happenings around me. It is fall, my favorite season. I need to soak in the colors and flavors before they go.
And Now, We Further the Plot: Your Literary Rec
As soon as I publish this, I will most likely be picking up Rachel Kushner’s The Flamethrowers. My pal Ruth Madievsky recommended Rachel’s work during her book tour (for her debut, All-Night Pharmacy, which is now in paperback!) I saved The Flamethrowers for basically a year, reading through other fiction and nonfiction until I was like “k, I’m ready to dive into a 400-page novel.” And wow, it’s exquisite—it’s been my companion as I ride the subway to chiropractor appointments, to hot yoga, back home, cuddling on the couch for a few quick pages. The sentences, as Ruth likes to say, slap. And they do—so taut, so perfect. I’m following Reno, the protagonist, until the very end. (I’m halfway, currently.) She’s a photographer who ends up in the world of motorcycles, her boyfriend from a prominent motorcycle family. She ends up in Paris—and currently, I’m in the portion where a betrayal occurs, and she finds herself needing to leave her situation. It’s a book that, even as I move through my day, I look at the cover and go, “Soon, Reno, we’re riding at dawn… or, y’know, we’ll ride the subway together at the very least.”