Happy Passover, my lovely followers!
What you're about to read is an unbelievable story about a young girl trying to prepare for Passover, trapped outside her apartment with nothing but a dog, house slippers, and a panic.
It all started on Sunday afternoon. I had just finished my shift at the Gap, and I stopped by Fairway to get everything I needed for Passover. Fairway is the biggest grocery store I've seen on the UES, but on Sunday, it was packed with little space to move a cart. Every bubbe and zayde on the planet must have been there, crowding the small Jewish food section, slowly making their decision between whole wheat or regular matzoh. I was stuck there an hour an a half, trying to fight my way through crowds of annoying Jewish mothers trying to get the last slices of brisket (I got some, don't worry).
I spent the rest of the afternoon baking. If you're clueless to Judaism, here's a tip for you: Don't offer us anything that is a bread product this week. I had recipes for grain-free Passover rolls, special granola, and a matzoh-apple kugel, which all turned out perfect. After finishing my Passover meals, I put some breaded chicken fingers in the oven for dinner and started to grill some asparagus. I noticed the trash was full and beginning to stink up the apartment, so I took it out, with little puppy Maya following me to play in the hallway.
Can you guess what happened next? When I went back to tend to my food, the door was locked. LOCKED. WITH THE OVEN AND STOVE ON. I immediately went into Alert Jennifer Mode, picked up Maya and started pounding on every door on the first 3 floors of my building, but of course no one was home. I had to run outside to Delizia, the Italian place we order food from all the time, and call 911. I literally had no phone, no keys, but thank GOD I was wearing real clothes and a bra. After a calm phone call (I later realized I was actually screaming to the woman), I was left to wait outside on the streets of New York, carrying a pomeranian and wearing leopard house slippers.
But, in true Jennifer fashion, I of course met a nice Jewish woman outside who is BFFs with the owner of Delizia. She helped keep me calm, although her kids made it very hard to hold Maya without a leash. She asked me if I was single, and when I said yes and asked why that mattered she goes, "Well 12 gorgeous firemen are headed your way!" 12--Literally 12--firemen came up to the door, along with 3 policemen.
Now, my street is residential, but on a nice night like Sunday, it was packed with people at all the restaurants, including the one next door which had it's windows open so customers were eating facing the street. Imagine me in my slippers holding the dog, and there's about 300 people in the nearby block or two, and suddenly a fire truck, 2 police cars, and a fire hydrant blowing water all over suddenly take over the street. Needless to say, it was ridiculously embarrassing.
I had to wait downstairs because the hallway is so small everyone had to file in single file. The firemen had to break open my lock, but after only a few minutes they were all coming back down, happy to update me that my food wasn't even burned (it actually was, not even edible, but still). They showed me that because they had to break the lock, the door wouldn't close and the lock would have to be replaced. $300 later, I have a new lock, and a new paranoia for checking my door every time I leave. Just another day in the life, I guess. Stay tuned for more on my first NYC Passover!
xoxo,
Ms. Manhattan
What you're about to read is an unbelievable story about a young girl trying to prepare for Passover, trapped outside her apartment with nothing but a dog, house slippers, and a panic.
It all started on Sunday afternoon. I had just finished my shift at the Gap, and I stopped by Fairway to get everything I needed for Passover. Fairway is the biggest grocery store I've seen on the UES, but on Sunday, it was packed with little space to move a cart. Every bubbe and zayde on the planet must have been there, crowding the small Jewish food section, slowly making their decision between whole wheat or regular matzoh. I was stuck there an hour an a half, trying to fight my way through crowds of annoying Jewish mothers trying to get the last slices of brisket (I got some, don't worry).
I spent the rest of the afternoon baking. If you're clueless to Judaism, here's a tip for you: Don't offer us anything that is a bread product this week. I had recipes for grain-free Passover rolls, special granola, and a matzoh-apple kugel, which all turned out perfect. After finishing my Passover meals, I put some breaded chicken fingers in the oven for dinner and started to grill some asparagus. I noticed the trash was full and beginning to stink up the apartment, so I took it out, with little puppy Maya following me to play in the hallway.
Can you guess what happened next? When I went back to tend to my food, the door was locked. LOCKED. WITH THE OVEN AND STOVE ON. I immediately went into Alert Jennifer Mode, picked up Maya and started pounding on every door on the first 3 floors of my building, but of course no one was home. I had to run outside to Delizia, the Italian place we order food from all the time, and call 911. I literally had no phone, no keys, but thank GOD I was wearing real clothes and a bra. After a calm phone call (I later realized I was actually screaming to the woman), I was left to wait outside on the streets of New York, carrying a pomeranian and wearing leopard house slippers.
But, in true Jennifer fashion, I of course met a nice Jewish woman outside who is BFFs with the owner of Delizia. She helped keep me calm, although her kids made it very hard to hold Maya without a leash. She asked me if I was single, and when I said yes and asked why that mattered she goes, "Well 12 gorgeous firemen are headed your way!" 12--Literally 12--firemen came up to the door, along with 3 policemen.
Now, my street is residential, but on a nice night like Sunday, it was packed with people at all the restaurants, including the one next door which had it's windows open so customers were eating facing the street. Imagine me in my slippers holding the dog, and there's about 300 people in the nearby block or two, and suddenly a fire truck, 2 police cars, and a fire hydrant blowing water all over suddenly take over the street. Needless to say, it was ridiculously embarrassing.
I had to wait downstairs because the hallway is so small everyone had to file in single file. The firemen had to break open my lock, but after only a few minutes they were all coming back down, happy to update me that my food wasn't even burned (it actually was, not even edible, but still). They showed me that because they had to break the lock, the door wouldn't close and the lock would have to be replaced. $300 later, I have a new lock, and a new paranoia for checking my door every time I leave. Just another day in the life, I guess. Stay tuned for more on my first NYC Passover!
xoxo,
Ms. Manhattan