• Instagram Social Icon
  • Twitter Social Icon

Add us on Instagram for photos of great food and great friends!

Check out our Twitter for Conversation Crutches!

Alex TenBarge
Jun 21, 2018

Day 16: My Commute

0 comments

Edited: Jun 21, 2018

6/17/18

 

After a lovely weekend, there will always be a Monday. My Monday starts off with me getting ready for work and making my commute to Manhattan. And that’s what I’m going to write about.

 

I wake up at 6:00 to prepare for my day. I shower, eat (possibly play a game or two of chess), put my clothes on, pack my bag, and then head out the door. I do this all while listening to music, if you dance even a little in the morning, in my mind that’s the right way to start the day. Once I leave the door, I drop my longboard and start heading down Hoffman Street. There’s this perfect, slight decline from my house to Fordham Rd, every morning I drift down it to start my commute. Once at Fordham Rd this is where things start to get tricky. The mini-highway that is Fordham Rd. is always bustling and it can take awhile to cross. Not to mention, it has various steep slopes throughout the area I’m in. My train arrives at one of the low points on Fordham Rd. Technically I could ride straight down the road’s hill and arrive at the train station, but to be honest it scares me to think about that. How I dodge this treacherous area is by first crossing Fordham Rd and going onto Fordham’s campus. For a brief moment I go from being in the loud, urban city to a quiet, eloquent campus. Large trees line up next to the smooth roads, the greenest grass I’ve ever seen fills Eddies Parade, and the historic stone buildings scatter about the campus. The steep hill from Fordham Rd. becomes easier to handle once on campus. With multiple curved paths, I have more friction to work with and a better handle on control. Listening to music through my headphones, this is usually a great part of my day. I exit at the Metro North gate and arrive at the train platform. From there I take a train to Grand Central terminal that takes about 20 minutes. I usually read during the train which is good for me because I feel like I don’t read enough. Anyway, once arrived at Grand Central I ride towards the east river then head south until getting to the jobsite. It goes by fast on the board, but I always have to keep my head on a swivel looking out for cars and other people. I’ve fallen several times on the board, but since I got the it a couple of weeks ago I do it less and less. My calves that once felt ripped because of it can now move the board faster and longer than ever before. It’s good to see progress like that. There are some things in life where progress isn’t so easy to see, but when we observe the simple things we improve upon, it should reassure our belief of progress in the more complex things. Anyway, that's my morning story, what’s yours?

 

 

Thanks,

Alex

New Posts
  • Robert Quintas
    Apr 30

    As I chop away at the head of fresh lettuce beneath me, I walk back to my fridge to collect the rest of my ingredients. Immediately after grabbing feta, tomato, cucumber, and olives, my ears tune in to the blaring sound of my timer, indicating to me that it is time to flip the chicken. I make my way to the stove, and as I stand there, I take a chance to take in the aroma of the garlic- seasoned chicken cutlets, sizzling in the pan. After flipping the cutlets and adding a pinch of salt and pepper, it comes to my attention that the garbanzos in the pan next over are done cooking. I slowly empty them into a large serving bowl, and I make my way back to the counter where I can finish my salad. In what seems like a situation of chaos and complications, I am actually in a state of peace. For me, cooking is a state of mind. The enjoyment in the act itself has little to do with the end result. Don’t get me wrong; I love food just as much as the next guy, if not more. Yet, there is something almost therapeutic about the actual process of preparing food that I find intrinsically satisfying Gathering and mixing my ingredients is menial labor that allows for a bit of creative freedom. The physical aspect of it is not challenging, but it requires some sense of coordination and rhythm. The beating of eggs, the stirring of batter, the mincing of ginger: these are all movements that don’t stress the mind, but the simplicity of these tasks do instill a sense of relaxation and mindful tranquility. Yet, there is also flexibility; recipes should not and do not exist as precise rulesets. Instead, they are general guidelines, and that gives me the ability to experiment and integrate my own originality into the dish by means of deviating from the suggested mixture of ingredients. I take a moment to imagine how a meal would taste by adding a specific component. Would this savory piece of salmon benefit from the addition of a sweet honey marinade? The recipe doesn’t call for basil, but do I want to add that herbal essence to these baked potatoes? Each ingredient has its own identity, and with so many of them at my disposal, there is almost a limitless amount of possibilities in what I am able to create. It’s all dependent on what kind of flavor and texture I desire. And even in those moments where action and thought are not required on your part, you still have to maintain some focus. Your hands may be away from the knife or the oven, but maybe you are paying attention to the timer, the thermometer, the scent of the food, the redness of the meat, etc. It is in those moments of patient concentration where you stand and breathe, unconcerned with whatever is going on outside the kitchen that bring peace of mind. Finally, once the timer is up or your instincts tell you the dish is complete, it is then that your cooking session is finished, and you can bask in your accomplishment. It is the perfect combination of meditation and multitasking, the best balance of mindfulness and peace. For that reason, I love cooking.
  • Amanda Blaze
    Nov 2

    As a college student, it is not often that I get the chance to bake while at school. I am always very busy and since I live in a dorm, I have to either borrow or buy all the materials. Last week my friend and I were looking through the cabinets of the communal kitchen and found most of the ingredients to make cornbread, something I have never made before. We felt really excited and motivated, (and I had a lot of homework that I did not want to do) so we went to the grocery store and got the rest of the ingredients at the grocery store. We spent about an hour making this cornbread, and since there are people coming in and out of the lounge all the time, many people knew we were making it. I was really excited to share it with everyone, so I could barely wait until it was cooled to cut into it. I split a piece with two other girls and we all tried it at the same time. I bit into it, chewed a little, then had to restrain myself from spitting it out. Not to be dramatic, but this cornbread tasted like poison. It was so unbelievably gross that I rinsed my mouth out with water. Obviously, I wasn’t going to suffer alone, so I still had all my friends try it, but I was so embarrassed! Not to be cocky, but the last time I made something that didn’t taste good was in 7th grade when I made Nutella cookies and accidentally put in three cups of water instead of three tablespoons. Those were pretty bad, but I had never made something as inedible as that cornbread. Logically, since I was using a lot of communal ingredients that I didn’t really check for safety, one of the ingredients was probably expired in some way. However, it was still something I took as a personal blow to my reputation as a baker. However, once I thought about it more, it was a blessing in disguise. It was a reminder to not place so much importance on the end result and to enjoy the journey getting there. It was a reminder to be okay with failure. Most importantly, it was a reminder to not take myself too seriously. Now I know not everything I make is going to be delicious and honestly? I’m okay with that. � �
  • Amanda Blaze
    Apr 5

    Something that I love to do is share what I make with the people that I care about. There is something special about putting a lot of time and effort into something and being able to put a smile on someone’s face. Recently, I have gotten into the habit of bringing baked goods back to my friends at school after a break where I have the opportunity to use my kitchen. After winter break I brought my friends each a large slice of banana bread, saran wrapped and labeled with their names on them. Surprising people with homemade treats is great because it is easy to make a big batch of something at a low cost, but it is still a meaningful and delicious gift. Over Spring Break I was really interested in making cookies, so on the day before heading back to Fordham I made about 30 chocolate chip cookies and sorted them in piles on top of sticky notes with the recipients' names on them. It was hard to make sure my grandmother and brother didn’t eat them all before I had given every person at least two cookies, but other than that it was just an enjoyable and relaxing way to spend an hour or so before being thrust back into the business of classes and extracurriculars. I delivered all of the goods the day I got back and it was so nice to give something back to the friends who mean so much to me. Besides, who would say no to a homemade cookie? I certainly wouldn’t (and that why I set some aside for myself!). � �