Food

Food is a problem in New York City. Well, for me, food has always been a problem. Since the age of 9, I've looked at food as though I have a sworn duty as an opera singer to get as fat as possible. Lucky for me, my family is made up of runners, and so I've somehow managed to balance my caloric intake with the excitement of buying new running shoes and the drudgery of going for a run up hilly Ft. Tryon park.

I've found out that people don't cook in New York. Don't, or can't, I'm not sure which. (Well, some people can definitely cook, but most of them are running a pricey restaurant where the rest of us suckers go to eat our 1400 calorie meal five nights a week.) I love to cook because, obviously, the end result is usually something I can eat. The next problem that ensues is that groceries are almost as expensive as eating out. I moved from a town in Colorado where there were at least three farmers' markets, all with cheap, affordable, fresh produce. Now I live in New York. Enough said.

New York has a law that requires all chain restaurants to post the amount of calories in a food or drink item in the same size font as the price. (See this link: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25464987/) The first time I walked into a New York City Starbucks and realized that my weekly scone had almost 500 calories, I ordered the oatmeal. Now I drink whole leaf tea instead of mochas (also easier on the pocketbook.) In general, though, I think that the majority of people (myself included) realize that, if they were eating it before and it didn't kill them, then putting a "CAUTION, TOXIC WASTE" sticker on it isn't going to make it any worse.

I do have weeks--usually the first few days after my roommate's parents take us over to Jersey for groceries--where I eat well. In fact, I think I even ate an eggplant last week (+10 points for me!) accompanied by green beans (let's add another 10...) which were promptly followed by a large, Kosher, Black and White Cookie, New York style. (I should include that it became my goal in my first month of living in the City to eat a large Black and White Cookie every day. If you haven't been to the City, let me know and I'll gladly send you one. And I'll pick one up for myself while I'm there...) Anyway, I definitely ended up in the negative points after the B&W Cookie, although I'm pretty sure the scale tipped upwards...


Today was the same. Breakfast: Honey Nut Cheerios. We're off to a good start. One hour later, a black tea and double chocolate doughnut at Dunkin' Doughnuts (I'm just realizing how gross that sounds...), two hours later at lunch, egg and English muffin sandwich with A LOT of cheese (I didn't ask for extra cheese) followed by a hot chocolate for the cold, depressing Friday rush hour subway ride home, a homemade hamburger and green pees for dinner, and, to top everything off, I made a batch of chocolate chip-cinnamon-almond cookies while watching the Rangers beat the (damn) Yankees. 


Enough with the Weight Watcher's food journal. Here's the problem in NYC: it takes almost everyone at least 30 minutes to get to work. That generally rules out eating lunch at home. And when you travel for so long during the day, who has time to pack a lunch? I had one lady tell me "My husband goes out for lunch every day! That's at least $10 a day! I said, that's it. I'm packing your lunch once a week." Clearly it was time to cut back.

Lucky for me, I don't work until 3pm, meaning that I can eat both breakfast and lunch at home, at least three or four days a week. Also, taking care of Stanzi means that I come home usually once a day if I have to leave in the morning, so I'm home for lunch to let her out of her crate anyway. The extra hour on the train is worth the joy of having a furry friend AND eating lunch at home.


The biggest "problem" with food in New York: availability. Everything is available wherever you are, whenever you want it, immediately. For a price. (Example: B&W Cookie. They're in every cafe/coffee shop/bakery window, and for three little dollars, why not? At my rate, that adds up considerably, and that's just dessert. Oh, and I haven't even started on Tiramisu yet, which was my second month's obsession and is almost twice as expensive.) New York pizza is as good as they say, and huge. It's a whole meal. I take that back. It's three meals. For one piece. A whole pie could feed an entire floor of the NYU dorms. (At this point, the hot dogs on the corner stands are starting to look healthy...) 


Adding in all the variables, here's the equation: let's say a person eats breakfast at home. A bowl of cereal. Fine. There's no room in the small NYC apartment kitchen counter for a coffee maker, so the next destination is, naturally, Starbucks. Let's be stingy and say $5 for a drink and tip. Oh wait! He sees the petite vanilla bean scone for $1, so add that in as well. (What harm can it do?) He walks into work, and a bakery in Brooklyn was having a 2-for-1 sale, so a coworker brought in bagels. And cream cheese. Lunchtime. Panini and soda: $10. Back to work. Snack before the hour-long commute back home: fresh cannoli, $3. Get home at 8pm (most places in NYC open and close later than 9-5 everyday), not in the mood to cook. No fresh groceries. Order Chinese take-out: $22 including tip.
The Results:
final cost: $41/day, approximately $287/week (I suppose you could make the Chinese take-out last for another night.)
final calorie count: too disgusting to list.
final vegetable count: 0 (Unless you could the olives and artichoke that were in the Panini at lunch.)
final fruit count: (what's a fruit?)

The worst part about all of this is that most of the New Yorkers whom I've met wouldn't see what's wrong with this picture, as long as there is nothing wrong with the picture in the mirror looking back at them.


The food situation in New York could be, and surely is somewhere, a topic that could fill volumes. This is already unfortunate in length, so I will simply end by saying that I can't wait to live somewhere where there isn't so much good food.

The First One

There is always the moment before you start writing when you sit, looking at a blank screen, wondering how to start. All that was going through my head was "it's this, or the novel about the Alaskan wilderness with the ax murderer".

Have you ever wondered how many opera singers there are in New York City? Let me narrow it down--we already know all about the famous ones and how great they are. I'm more curious about the not-yet-successful singers. I mean, if we could take a poll, say at Grand Central Station, asking what people are doing in NYC, I wonder how many would answer that they are here to study opera. My theory is that it's actually less than people think, but then I don't really know what people think.

Regardless, I am one of many young opera singers in the city. I moved here two months ago to study with a fabulous teacher and to become a better (and bankrupt) musician. So far, I am happy to say that everything is going according to plan.

My goal for this blog is to record my year (or first year) in New York. I realized tonight, while talking to my brother on the phone, that there is way too much going on in my life to not record it. (Consequently, there is also way too much going on in my life to record it all, so I'll try to find a happy medium.)

Moving to New York City after growing up in a tiny town in Alaska (a few miles further west and you can see Russia...) is obviously a big adjustment. Rather than go through all the events that have transpired (although at some point I should recall the strolling-and-entry thieving that happened the third night in my apartment, as well as my adventure at Yankee Stadium) I'll just say that I have met some incredible people in my first weeks here, and have received help from many sources, both human and Divine. I have discovered that New Yorkers, while perhaps louder and more aggressive, are also the ultimate humanitarians. You just might not always catch them at the best time. Seriously, though, I've met some amazing people in the past two months. It just goes to show that you're never alone and that people do care about you.

One example that I'll include was an email I received from the priest at the parish where I hold a church music position. After a long, semi-depressing day of YA and grad school app. preparation (preparation for the inevitable rejection, that is...) I got this email:
Dear Elena,
I have an "in" with the angelic choirs and you should know that I have requested my personal guardian angel, Guido "The Hammer" Bombardi to keep an eye on you. He has spent most of his guard duty in the Bronx before coming to watch out over me. He needs a little "Youth" ministry now. So, when good things happen...say "Thank you, Guido." He doesn't ask for much, just a thank you from time to time and a fresh cannoli on the window sill."

I think I'll go get a cannoli.
Soli Deo Gloria.