I don't usually claim something to be "the best" as I recognize that everyone's tastes, priorities, desires, etc. are different.
I can, however, and without qualification state that I had the best cup of coffee (okay it was a cappuccino) yesterday and it was thanks to the folks at Ninth Street Espresso.
I've had really bad coffee and really good coffee. Ninth Street Espresso is off the charts on the good side of that spectrum. I have never had such a strong reaction to something so good, which surprised me.
There are only 6 or 7 things on the menu and they are all coffee. A Mocha is about as fancy as they get, and the quality comes from a combination of the beans, the roasting and the preparation which is done with great care.
I also love the last item on the list of house rules. "Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free dog." Outrageously outstanding coffee, free WiFi AND a sense of humor. What's not to love?
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Sunday, February 01, 2009
The Paper Goods on Shabbat Story
Over MLK weekend, we held the fifth Limmud NY conference at the Nevele (see my original post "Coming Home to the Catskills") and it was not without its challenges, namely that the hotel was unable to get the heat going in the building until after the conference had started. Even then, it never got to parts of the hotel all weekend. And this was the weekend that arctic chill hit the region with overnight lows below zero, not even factoring in wind chill.
I had been asked to be the M.C. for our big Sunday night event - a Catskills-style variety show. I had prepared some shtick in advance and was looking forward to being a "kosher ham." Little did I know that the problems with the heat would have provided me with a story which, when I told it between acts at the show, turned out to be one of the highlights of the weekend. Aside from the laughs I got while telling the story, I got many accolades afterwards, including some requests for a recording of my performance. One person actually offered to pay for a recording (does that mean I'm now a professional?).
Unfortunately, the person recording the show was - in order to conserve battery power - recording the acts only, and not my patter between them. Sadly, no record of my performance exists, but I have tried to recreate the story here. It certainly loses something in the transition from spoken delivery to the written word, but I have tried to be faithful to the story. If you'd like me to perform the routine, I'm available for bar mitzvahs, weddings and birthday parties.
As a member of the board of Limmud NY, I was one of those working closely to address the heating problems at the hotel. I learned more about boilers and plumbing that weekend than I ever cared to (just ask me about the virtues of #4 oil in a #2/#6 oil world). I also learned about catering, more specifically about kosher catering, and even more specifically about kosher catering on Shabbat.
The boilers at the Nevele are located about a quarter mile up a hill behind the hotel. Once repaired and brought on-line, the boilers have to build up enough pressure to send steam down through underground pipes to the hotel to provide heat both for ventilation and the domestic water supply (i.e. the water that comes out of faucets). The boiler was repaired Friday morning and came on-line around lunch-time. When the steam finally started flowing, the first place it had to go was the kitchen so that they could start cooking Shabbat dinner.
In order to prepare the kitchen at the Nevele for kosher catering, one of the things that must happen is that the two dishwashers (one for dairy, one for meat) must be koshered - that is to say they must be cleansed with water that has reached a certain minimum temperature. This is for food safety reasons as well. Because of the Nevele's problems, the water was not getting hot enough in the meat dishwasher. Since Friday night's Shabbat dinner was a meat meal - chicken dinner for 700 people - this posed a serious problem, and our caterer, Mark, kept telling us that if the dishwasher did not get hot enough by a certain time, he would have to serve on paper goods. Yoni, the mashgiach (the person who certifies that a kosher kitchen is, well, kosher) kept monitoring the temperature but it wasn't looking good.
Now I should tell you that I am a Reform Jew who does not keep kosher. I do, however, know the laws and rules for keeping kosher - in the home. Learning about kosher catering, and the intricacies of feeding 700 people was new to me.
With 3 hours to go until Shabbat was to begin, I learned two very important facts that would make those next 3 hours among the most interesting of my life to date. First, I learned that while Mark kept referencing paper goods, he did not have those paper goods. Why should he? He assumed - and rightly so - that he would have access to a working kitchen. Second, I learned from the mashgiach that only goods delivered before Shabbat started could be used.
A mild panic began setting in as I started going over the options in my head. First of all, how many paper goods were we talking about? I asked Mark for a list of what he would need to get through Shabbat. The answer - approximately 8,000 plates, 700 soup bowls, 7,000 cups, and 10,000 pieces of plastic cutlery (All the other meals on Shabbat are buffet and between people using more plates than usual at a buffet, the goods were also needed for the snacks that were served all day long).
I immediately realized that we had two options. The first and preferable option was to see if the hotel's supplier could get us the paper goods quickly. The hotel put me in touch with their Sysco rep - Mike "something Italian." I explained what I needed, and that I needed it by about 4:30PM. He said he would call me back. I also started thinking of our back-up option - where was the closest Costco or Wal-Mart? It turned out that there is no Costco nearby, and the closest Wal-Mart was in Middletown - about a 30 minute drive away. Mike "something Italian" called me back about 15 minutes later to report that while he had the goods, he could not get a truck to us before Shabbos. These were his words - "before Shabbos." My initial reaction was, how did he know we needed this for Shabbat? I hadn't mentioned it. Then I realized - an emergency call, it's from the Nevele - a Borscht Belt hotel, they need delivery by Friday afternoon to feed several hundred people. What else could it mean?
I then thought, maybe I could go to Mike's warehouse and pick it up myself. I asked Mark the caterer whether I could get all of the paper goods in my car, and he immediately responded "no." Thinking about my friend Marco's Honda Odyssey, I asked "How about a minivan?" Again, the answer was no, so I asked Mark, exactly how much were we talking about here? He showed me a box that was about 2 feet by 2 feet by 2 feet. He said 30 or 35 of these.
Mild panic started turning to hysteria as I thought of 700 people who, although the heat was now spreading through the building, were still fairly cold and uncomfortable, and how to tell them, "Sorry - no meals during Shabbat because the dishwasher couldn't get hot enough." I figured that any effort was better than none, and I headed to my car which I prayed, given the cold temperatures, would start. It did, and I started racing towards Middletown. Along the way, I called a fellow board member, told him where I was headed, and asked him to call me if there were any updates, such as the temperature getting high enough in the dishwasher.
I ran into Wal-Mart, grabbed two shopping carts to start, and headed to the paper goods aisle. The first thing I noticed was that they had the plates, but they were made of Styrofoam. We strive as an organization to be as ecologically conscious as possible, and Styrofoam is a big no-no. Hmmm - Styrofoam or food for 700 people? That decision was easy.
I next looked for cups and cutlery, and an impending heart attack was prevented by my phone ringing. As I noticed that Wal-Mart had only about one tenth of the cutlery and cups that I would need, I got a call that they had found cups at the hotel, and that the moshgiach had said we could use our cutlery as it had been koshered properly after its last use. This was good news too because as the caterer had pointed out, there was no way that all of the plates, bowls, cups and cutlery could have ever fit into my car.
I still needed to get 8,000 plates and 700 soup bowls back to the hotel before Shabbat started (they only had 650 soup bowls so I hoped that some people would not be in the mood for soup that night). I filled my two big shopping carts until they were overflowing and navigated my way - pushing one cart and pulling another - to the cashier. Waiting on line, the older gentleman behind me showed me that he had only 3 items and asked if he could go ahead of my enormous load. My vehement "NO!!" was followed by a sincere apology that while I could not explain why at this moment, every second counted.
As the cashier scanned each item, I packed them carefully directly back in the shopping carts so that none would fall out in the parking lot as they had on my way to the cashier. Another woman passed and said, "I know - you must have a pizza joint." I replied that she was wrong, but again that there was no way I could explain right now. I made it to my car where I just started throwing packs upon packs of plates and soup bowls into every available space.
I got in the car and called our team at the hotel, asking how much time I had until Shabbat started. I was told 24 minutes. I punched the Nevele's address into my GPS which told me that the trip would take 26 minutes. As I started racing back up Route 17, only one thought was present in my mind. How was I going to explain this to the state trooper that pulls me over?
Constant monitoring of my mirrors and scanning the road ahead seemed to keep me safe from being stopped for speeding. Ten minutes away, I called the conference team and told them I needed a bucket brigade standing by to unload my car and get the goods into the kitchen. About two miles away I was back in walkie-talkie range and broadcast that I would be there momentarily. I screeched to a stop in front of the hotel and a gang of about 10 student volunteers were waiting. My car was unloaded in about 30 seconds, and the plates and bowls were brought into the kitchen. Time check: One minute until Shabbat.
I finally started breathing again. And that was the best Shabbat dinner I ever had.
I had been asked to be the M.C. for our big Sunday night event - a Catskills-style variety show. I had prepared some shtick in advance and was looking forward to being a "kosher ham." Little did I know that the problems with the heat would have provided me with a story which, when I told it between acts at the show, turned out to be one of the highlights of the weekend. Aside from the laughs I got while telling the story, I got many accolades afterwards, including some requests for a recording of my performance. One person actually offered to pay for a recording (does that mean I'm now a professional?).
Unfortunately, the person recording the show was - in order to conserve battery power - recording the acts only, and not my patter between them. Sadly, no record of my performance exists, but I have tried to recreate the story here. It certainly loses something in the transition from spoken delivery to the written word, but I have tried to be faithful to the story. If you'd like me to perform the routine, I'm available for bar mitzvahs, weddings and birthday parties.
As a member of the board of Limmud NY, I was one of those working closely to address the heating problems at the hotel. I learned more about boilers and plumbing that weekend than I ever cared to (just ask me about the virtues of #4 oil in a #2/#6 oil world). I also learned about catering, more specifically about kosher catering, and even more specifically about kosher catering on Shabbat.
The boilers at the Nevele are located about a quarter mile up a hill behind the hotel. Once repaired and brought on-line, the boilers have to build up enough pressure to send steam down through underground pipes to the hotel to provide heat both for ventilation and the domestic water supply (i.e. the water that comes out of faucets). The boiler was repaired Friday morning and came on-line around lunch-time. When the steam finally started flowing, the first place it had to go was the kitchen so that they could start cooking Shabbat dinner.
In order to prepare the kitchen at the Nevele for kosher catering, one of the things that must happen is that the two dishwashers (one for dairy, one for meat) must be koshered - that is to say they must be cleansed with water that has reached a certain minimum temperature. This is for food safety reasons as well. Because of the Nevele's problems, the water was not getting hot enough in the meat dishwasher. Since Friday night's Shabbat dinner was a meat meal - chicken dinner for 700 people - this posed a serious problem, and our caterer, Mark, kept telling us that if the dishwasher did not get hot enough by a certain time, he would have to serve on paper goods. Yoni, the mashgiach (the person who certifies that a kosher kitchen is, well, kosher) kept monitoring the temperature but it wasn't looking good.
Now I should tell you that I am a Reform Jew who does not keep kosher. I do, however, know the laws and rules for keeping kosher - in the home. Learning about kosher catering, and the intricacies of feeding 700 people was new to me.
With 3 hours to go until Shabbat was to begin, I learned two very important facts that would make those next 3 hours among the most interesting of my life to date. First, I learned that while Mark kept referencing paper goods, he did not have those paper goods. Why should he? He assumed - and rightly so - that he would have access to a working kitchen. Second, I learned from the mashgiach that only goods delivered before Shabbat started could be used.
A mild panic began setting in as I started going over the options in my head. First of all, how many paper goods were we talking about? I asked Mark for a list of what he would need to get through Shabbat. The answer - approximately 8,000 plates, 700 soup bowls, 7,000 cups, and 10,000 pieces of plastic cutlery (All the other meals on Shabbat are buffet and between people using more plates than usual at a buffet, the goods were also needed for the snacks that were served all day long).
I immediately realized that we had two options. The first and preferable option was to see if the hotel's supplier could get us the paper goods quickly. The hotel put me in touch with their Sysco rep - Mike "something Italian." I explained what I needed, and that I needed it by about 4:30PM. He said he would call me back. I also started thinking of our back-up option - where was the closest Costco or Wal-Mart? It turned out that there is no Costco nearby, and the closest Wal-Mart was in Middletown - about a 30 minute drive away. Mike "something Italian" called me back about 15 minutes later to report that while he had the goods, he could not get a truck to us before Shabbos. These were his words - "before Shabbos." My initial reaction was, how did he know we needed this for Shabbat? I hadn't mentioned it. Then I realized - an emergency call, it's from the Nevele - a Borscht Belt hotel, they need delivery by Friday afternoon to feed several hundred people. What else could it mean?
I then thought, maybe I could go to Mike's warehouse and pick it up myself. I asked Mark the caterer whether I could get all of the paper goods in my car, and he immediately responded "no." Thinking about my friend Marco's Honda Odyssey, I asked "How about a minivan?" Again, the answer was no, so I asked Mark, exactly how much were we talking about here? He showed me a box that was about 2 feet by 2 feet by 2 feet. He said 30 or 35 of these.
Mild panic started turning to hysteria as I thought of 700 people who, although the heat was now spreading through the building, were still fairly cold and uncomfortable, and how to tell them, "Sorry - no meals during Shabbat because the dishwasher couldn't get hot enough." I figured that any effort was better than none, and I headed to my car which I prayed, given the cold temperatures, would start. It did, and I started racing towards Middletown. Along the way, I called a fellow board member, told him where I was headed, and asked him to call me if there were any updates, such as the temperature getting high enough in the dishwasher.
I ran into Wal-Mart, grabbed two shopping carts to start, and headed to the paper goods aisle. The first thing I noticed was that they had the plates, but they were made of Styrofoam. We strive as an organization to be as ecologically conscious as possible, and Styrofoam is a big no-no. Hmmm - Styrofoam or food for 700 people? That decision was easy.
I next looked for cups and cutlery, and an impending heart attack was prevented by my phone ringing. As I noticed that Wal-Mart had only about one tenth of the cutlery and cups that I would need, I got a call that they had found cups at the hotel, and that the moshgiach had said we could use our cutlery as it had been koshered properly after its last use. This was good news too because as the caterer had pointed out, there was no way that all of the plates, bowls, cups and cutlery could have ever fit into my car.
I still needed to get 8,000 plates and 700 soup bowls back to the hotel before Shabbat started (they only had 650 soup bowls so I hoped that some people would not be in the mood for soup that night). I filled my two big shopping carts until they were overflowing and navigated my way - pushing one cart and pulling another - to the cashier. Waiting on line, the older gentleman behind me showed me that he had only 3 items and asked if he could go ahead of my enormous load. My vehement "NO!!" was followed by a sincere apology that while I could not explain why at this moment, every second counted.
As the cashier scanned each item, I packed them carefully directly back in the shopping carts so that none would fall out in the parking lot as they had on my way to the cashier. Another woman passed and said, "I know - you must have a pizza joint." I replied that she was wrong, but again that there was no way I could explain right now. I made it to my car where I just started throwing packs upon packs of plates and soup bowls into every available space.
I got in the car and called our team at the hotel, asking how much time I had until Shabbat started. I was told 24 minutes. I punched the Nevele's address into my GPS which told me that the trip would take 26 minutes. As I started racing back up Route 17, only one thought was present in my mind. How was I going to explain this to the state trooper that pulls me over?
Constant monitoring of my mirrors and scanning the road ahead seemed to keep me safe from being stopped for speeding. Ten minutes away, I called the conference team and told them I needed a bucket brigade standing by to unload my car and get the goods into the kitchen. About two miles away I was back in walkie-talkie range and broadcast that I would be there momentarily. I screeched to a stop in front of the hotel and a gang of about 10 student volunteers were waiting. My car was unloaded in about 30 seconds, and the plates and bowls were brought into the kitchen. Time check: One minute until Shabbat.
I finally started breathing again. And that was the best Shabbat dinner I ever had.
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