Easter Weekend, alleluia
Apr. 21st, 2003 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7The following is an exhaustive chronology of my awesome weekend, explaining how I acquired the red plastic flag I had sticking in my hair that says "Alleluia", explaining what a "butter lamb" is, and generally discussing the awesomeness of a Buffalo Easter.
I left Thursday from work with a co-worker who drove me across the Tappan Zee and dropped me off at the Palisades Mall on her way home. Dave's work is like two miles from the mall, so he met me there. It's a huge mall; he met me near the ferris wheel, which gives you some idea of what this place is like. (Massive. And hideous-- my coworker described the decor as "Early Subway System. The architect should be sued.") Dave and I bought fast food to go at the food court and hit the road by 5:45 (after of course one last potty stop). We made it to Rochester by 11, and hung out for a little while with Darius, at Tahou's for a garbage plate of course. (And another potty stop. Six hours' worth of sipping tea in between leads to some impressive feats of bladder control. But we didn't have to stop for gas...)
That section of 17 between the Thruway and Binghamton is just... about an hour longer than you think it should be, because there are no landmarks. Mentally you divide the epic journey up into smaller sections and you never give as much weight to that section as it actually consumes in time, because there's nothing there so you forget about most of it as soon as you've driven past it. We didn't get in to Buffalo until 1:30. We were enthusiastically greeted by Bertie, the elderly family beagle, who was so excited to see us that she had to go outside and pee. (As usual.) She loves Dave, of course, and was so excited to see him, and would yip and whine and wiggle and jump at him, and then would turn to me, expecting... I don't know what she expected, but she'd sort of stop and look at me and have a residual little wiggle but mostly look quizzical, and then would turn back to Dave and would get excited again, and then would turn back to me and go through the same procedure. Dave's mom claimed later to have been awake already when we got there but too lazy to get up, so she let the dog do the greetings. Dave's dad wasn't home yet; he'd been on a job in Horseheads, next to Elmira, for a week or so, and had been staying there (it's a 3-hour drive away). She'd expected him home late Thurs. night, and had left him a note not to leave his truck in the driveway so that Dave could park his new car there. But he didn't arrive that night.
So the next morning I was awake at 6:15 because I usually wake up then. Frustratingly, I knew I was exhausted and would wish all day I'd slept longer if I got up, but I had to go to the bathroom so I did and by the time I'd done that there was no way I was getting any more sleep. And then Bert came to see about the exciting visitors-- mostly to see if I'd open the door into Davie's room for her so she could mug him, and I sat and gave her some scritchies because I knew Dave would never cease his reproachful grunting all morning if I let her in there. That distracted her enough that she totally forgot why she'd tiptoed up the stairs in the first place, so I got semi-dressed (not fully because the suitcase with my clothes in it was in Dave's room) and went downstairs to say hello to Dave's mom.
Dave was down astonishingly early (and was given much love by the terribly excited Bert); his reputation in his family is as the one who never gets out of bed until the day is mostly gone, but as he's been working more and more and going out with his buddies less and less, that doesn't happen so much anymore. He had to pretend to not want to get out of bed on Christmas, just for the sake of tradition. So I showed his mom the slide show I'd made in iPhoto of the pictures of our new apartment and the moving into it, and we had some orange juice and woke up a bit, and then we set out for our full day of pre-Easter errand running. We had to go to the Broadway Market, which is the old Polish market in Buffalo-- it's been there for something like 150 years, and Dave's Latvian grandmother used to go every month to it so she could say confession in Polish at the nearby Polish church (her Polish remained better than her English throughout her life) and then would bring home the traditional delights of Polish cuisine-- from hog ears and trotters to beef tripe to blood-and-tongue sausage, pepperette sausages, traditional Polish breads, and more regional delights like sponge candy. When we went it was mobbed; everyone in Buffalo goes there before Easter to get their Redlinski's sausage and their butter lamb (though you can get those at Wegman's too... have you ever heard of such a thing as a butter lamb? I got to keep the tail from the one we had for Easter-- a red plastic flag that says "Alleluia") and of course some of the best Easter candy you'll ever encounter. Unfortunately the neighborhood around the market is no longer Polish. It was always a poor area, but now it's mostly African-American, and so the ancestrally-Polish suburbanites (about 90% of Buffalo, honestly, and generally of triple heritage: Polish, Irish, and Italian) don't have any reason or desire to go to that neighborhood on a regular basis. So just the two weeks before Easter the market is inundated with guilty suburbanites who must reacquaint themselves with their ethnicity at least once a year. The market makes 70% of its income in those two weeks, despite being open all year.
So I took a bunch of photos there and we followed Dave's nose through the hordes to try and find the pepperette sausages his grandmother used to buy over a decade ago. We didn't, so we had to make another stop-- a little Polish butcher's shop in another part of town. They had Easter cards in Polish, Hungarian, Russian, Ukranian, and Romanian. But not English. The cards were labeled in English, however, telling you which language they were. (In Polish, you don't say "Happy Easter"-- you say, "Christ is risen, Alleluia" and the person you're greeting responds in kind. I suppose it's a good way to keep the reason for the season in mind.)
We also went to the largest liquor store in the world. It was amazing. OK, maybe not in the world; I don't know. But it was huge, and awesome. Everything you ever wanted was there. We filled a shopping cart. (My reasoning: liquor's cheaper here than in Westchester. Stock up here, get the purchasing over with, save money, save yourself running down to the corner liquor store every time you have someone over. Plus you can't get the good local New York wines in Westchester; not posh enough I guess. Bully Hill wines were on sale...)
So we got an incredible stash of liquor, and Dave's mom paid for the whole purchase (more than half of the shopping cart was her replenishing the household stash, which had seen severe depredations since Christmas, and was due for some heavy entertaining coming up) and gave us the ones we'd chosen as a housewarming gift. Very sweet of her, and very generous. We were very happy.
Dave's dad still wasn't home when we got there, but he did arrive as we were eating lunch (tuna salad, as it was good friday and we weren't eating meat. Dave's mom assured him he'd go to heaven for resisting a sample of the long-anticipated pepperette sausages, to which Dave replied with no small anguish that he'd better-- resisting them was a sore trial to him). Bertie was so excited to see him she had to go outside and pee. As usual.
We went out for a fish fry for dinner-- a traditional Buffalo fish fry, of course. Haddock, with a side of cole slaw, and some fries or macaroni salad. There was over an hour's wait for a seat in the restaurant, as everyone in Buffalo goes out for fish fries on Fridays in Lent. So we sat in the bar and drank local microbrews. Flying Bison Dawn Patrol was a good one... I got a promotional coaster touting the Flying Bison brewery as a souvenir. The fish fry was excellent-- everything Dave had droolingly told me it would be when we'd begun to discuss Lent months ago (Dave often tells drooly stories about the food you can get in Buffalo. It's cute).
We didn't manage to go out that night afterward: we were too sleepy. So we went to bed early, and so of course were awake awfully early. Ah well, the vicious cycle continues. We dyed Easter eggs with Dave's cousin, Anita, a 38-year-old accountant who because of the family's generational structure is still classified among the "kids", like Dave and his 27-year-old sister. I had some creative little beauties among my efforts. And got dye all under my fingernails. Oh boy.
We zonked out on the couch for the afternoon, which prompted many amused comments from folks going by. I had jokingly lain down and put my head in Dave's lap, and the next thing I knew it was an hour later and I'd been snoring. Whoops. So had he. Guess we were tired. We woke up just in time to get down to the local Catholic gift shop before it closed, hunting for a cheesy St. Christopher figurine for Dave's dashboard. We couldn't find one, and had to settle for a pewter visor-clip with St. Christopher and Our Lady Of The Highway, which protected us wonderfully all the way home, I guess. We went out to dinner for Dave's mom's birthday-- wonderful Cajun food in a restaurant a couple of blocks from the meeting places of the Lackawanna Six (the Al-Quaeda members known outside the region as simply the Buffalo Six, as nobody knows where Lackawanna is outside the steel industry), which was depressing because poor Lackawanna is so ravaged. There were the acres and acres of abandoned steel plant, and there were the blocks of boarded-up houses. But the food was great. We made it home, overstuffed and well-contented after some jerk chicken, conch chowder, and a fabulous chocolate dessert, and then went to the going-away party for Dave's buddy Sean, who's finally, after years of talking about it, joined the Army. He ships out in about a week for Basic. He's enlisted as an e-5, I think-- has an associate's degree already, which the Army counts as something, so he gets to rise up in the ranks to start off with. I think that's some kind of noncommissioned officer, possibly a sergeant, but I'm not sure. He's going to be a crew chief on a Blackhawk helicopter once they finish training him. He hopes to rise high enough to someday pilot the helicopters, but we'll see. He's very bright but has just never had much motivation. He's also quite well-built-- about 6'2", very broad shoulders, tattooed, good with the ladies and generally charming. He knows when to keep his mouth shut and when to cause trouble, and can hold his liquor admirably, so he'll probably do fine. He made Dave drink numerous Irish Car Bombs, a drink consisting of Guinness, Jameson's, and Bailey's, so I had one beer and then steeled myself for the drive home. We left at 3; Dave was slightly tipsy and I was sleepy, but Our Lady Of The Highway protected us and we made the long (10-minute) drive from Sean's amusingly-named suburb of Cheektowaga back to Dave's folks' house.
Easter morning was bright and sunny and beautiful and full of good, good smells. Of course we went to church at the church affiliated with Dave's elementary school. I sang all the songs loudly, attracting glances from the mostly-silent crowd of occasional churchgoers, and thought of how embarrassed we used to be when Mom would do that. Oh dear. We hunted for chocolate eggs; I won the hunt handily as I had to find the bright blue ones which are impossible to camoflage. Dave's green eggs were harder to find. I was quite pleased with myself. Dinner was smoked turkey, ham, smoked Polish sausage and fresh Polish sausage, traditional potato salad, baked vegetable casserole, green salad with some elaborate dressing and sunflower seeds, fresh wheat bread and the butter lamb. I was awarded the lamb's tail flag, which I cleaned off and stuck into one of my braids so that I had a little flag labeled "Alleluia" hovering over my head. Dessert was some wonderful brownie confection that Dave's Aunt Ruta had made, and I drank a huge mug of coffee because i knew I'd have to drive. Dave had naturally eaten too much, and was catatonic on the couch. Dave's mother put together a bag of goodies for us to bring home-- wonderful, glorious leftovers-- and I dragged Dave into the car with our worldly goods (clean laundry. Mmm) and drove him to Elmira. In Elmira we stopped to see Fiona and ate dinner in the dining hall with her. We got to meet her boy, who really isn't my type but seems nice enough. The chin piercing is really un-cute, especially as he keeps playing with it. (By the way, Dave's mom agrees that failing to remove one's baseball cap is a getting-thrown-out-of-the-house-worthy offense.) But he was entertaining, and nice, and seemed bright enough and good for a decent conversation. I gave Fiona an Easter present that I'd picked up for her at the Broadway market, and then we piled back into the car for the rest of the journey. Which was longer than it ever had any right to have been, but that's how these things go. I tried to pass the time by singing old songs but kept forgetting the lyrics. Dave sang enthusiastically enough on a few songs but wasn't really into it, so we gave up eventually. His car's tape deck is malfunctioning so we couldn't listen to the usual road tapes... but we had fun anyway, for the most part. I like car trips with him.
We decided on coming home over the Bear Mountain bridge, since at the end of a holiday the Tappan Zee was likely to be a zoo. Of course, by the time we got there, it was midnight or a little after, so nobody would have been on either bridge. But we'd already decided on our course so it wasn't really worth it to bother changing our plans.
We got home a bit before 1, I think, and of course couldn't find a parking space... we partly unloaded the car, but only what we could carry in one trip. We went to bed right away but were still so exhausted this morning... I can't focus well enough to do any work (my eyes hurt, my head hurts, and I'm really just not here) so I wrote all this out instead and am hoping that the coffee will kick in soon, but think I may be hoping in vain. I'm just not here, and that's too bad. Next time we go to Buffalo, we're either taking more days off to make the trip slower, or we're flying. Actually we're thinking that maybe we could leave Thursday night for the next weekend (a graduation party for Dave's sister's husband, mid/late may), drive to some tourist destination, spend the night there in a hotel or something, wake up early, go see the tourist destination, and then continue on to Buffalo and arrive in time for lunch, and not totally exhausted by the drive. Doing the same thing on the way home would be great, or at least driving back on the Monday mid-day to arrive home by supper, would be the best possible method the other way, as well. Either way, you have to have at least four days there.
I'd prefer that to flying because I don't really like airports, don't really like flying, and would rather not spend the money.
Anyhow. Remains to be seen what we'll do. But this weekend was great, we're having great leftovers for dinner tonight, and I need a nap, badly. Sigh.
I left Thursday from work with a co-worker who drove me across the Tappan Zee and dropped me off at the Palisades Mall on her way home. Dave's work is like two miles from the mall, so he met me there. It's a huge mall; he met me near the ferris wheel, which gives you some idea of what this place is like. (Massive. And hideous-- my coworker described the decor as "Early Subway System. The architect should be sued.") Dave and I bought fast food to go at the food court and hit the road by 5:45 (after of course one last potty stop). We made it to Rochester by 11, and hung out for a little while with Darius, at Tahou's for a garbage plate of course. (And another potty stop. Six hours' worth of sipping tea in between leads to some impressive feats of bladder control. But we didn't have to stop for gas...)
That section of 17 between the Thruway and Binghamton is just... about an hour longer than you think it should be, because there are no landmarks. Mentally you divide the epic journey up into smaller sections and you never give as much weight to that section as it actually consumes in time, because there's nothing there so you forget about most of it as soon as you've driven past it. We didn't get in to Buffalo until 1:30. We were enthusiastically greeted by Bertie, the elderly family beagle, who was so excited to see us that she had to go outside and pee. (As usual.) She loves Dave, of course, and was so excited to see him, and would yip and whine and wiggle and jump at him, and then would turn to me, expecting... I don't know what she expected, but she'd sort of stop and look at me and have a residual little wiggle but mostly look quizzical, and then would turn back to Dave and would get excited again, and then would turn back to me and go through the same procedure. Dave's mom claimed later to have been awake already when we got there but too lazy to get up, so she let the dog do the greetings. Dave's dad wasn't home yet; he'd been on a job in Horseheads, next to Elmira, for a week or so, and had been staying there (it's a 3-hour drive away). She'd expected him home late Thurs. night, and had left him a note not to leave his truck in the driveway so that Dave could park his new car there. But he didn't arrive that night.
So the next morning I was awake at 6:15 because I usually wake up then. Frustratingly, I knew I was exhausted and would wish all day I'd slept longer if I got up, but I had to go to the bathroom so I did and by the time I'd done that there was no way I was getting any more sleep. And then Bert came to see about the exciting visitors-- mostly to see if I'd open the door into Davie's room for her so she could mug him, and I sat and gave her some scritchies because I knew Dave would never cease his reproachful grunting all morning if I let her in there. That distracted her enough that she totally forgot why she'd tiptoed up the stairs in the first place, so I got semi-dressed (not fully because the suitcase with my clothes in it was in Dave's room) and went downstairs to say hello to Dave's mom.
Dave was down astonishingly early (and was given much love by the terribly excited Bert); his reputation in his family is as the one who never gets out of bed until the day is mostly gone, but as he's been working more and more and going out with his buddies less and less, that doesn't happen so much anymore. He had to pretend to not want to get out of bed on Christmas, just for the sake of tradition. So I showed his mom the slide show I'd made in iPhoto of the pictures of our new apartment and the moving into it, and we had some orange juice and woke up a bit, and then we set out for our full day of pre-Easter errand running. We had to go to the Broadway Market, which is the old Polish market in Buffalo-- it's been there for something like 150 years, and Dave's Latvian grandmother used to go every month to it so she could say confession in Polish at the nearby Polish church (her Polish remained better than her English throughout her life) and then would bring home the traditional delights of Polish cuisine-- from hog ears and trotters to beef tripe to blood-and-tongue sausage, pepperette sausages, traditional Polish breads, and more regional delights like sponge candy. When we went it was mobbed; everyone in Buffalo goes there before Easter to get their Redlinski's sausage and their butter lamb (though you can get those at Wegman's too... have you ever heard of such a thing as a butter lamb? I got to keep the tail from the one we had for Easter-- a red plastic flag that says "Alleluia") and of course some of the best Easter candy you'll ever encounter. Unfortunately the neighborhood around the market is no longer Polish. It was always a poor area, but now it's mostly African-American, and so the ancestrally-Polish suburbanites (about 90% of Buffalo, honestly, and generally of triple heritage: Polish, Irish, and Italian) don't have any reason or desire to go to that neighborhood on a regular basis. So just the two weeks before Easter the market is inundated with guilty suburbanites who must reacquaint themselves with their ethnicity at least once a year. The market makes 70% of its income in those two weeks, despite being open all year.
So I took a bunch of photos there and we followed Dave's nose through the hordes to try and find the pepperette sausages his grandmother used to buy over a decade ago. We didn't, so we had to make another stop-- a little Polish butcher's shop in another part of town. They had Easter cards in Polish, Hungarian, Russian, Ukranian, and Romanian. But not English. The cards were labeled in English, however, telling you which language they were. (In Polish, you don't say "Happy Easter"-- you say, "Christ is risen, Alleluia" and the person you're greeting responds in kind. I suppose it's a good way to keep the reason for the season in mind.)
We also went to the largest liquor store in the world. It was amazing. OK, maybe not in the world; I don't know. But it was huge, and awesome. Everything you ever wanted was there. We filled a shopping cart. (My reasoning: liquor's cheaper here than in Westchester. Stock up here, get the purchasing over with, save money, save yourself running down to the corner liquor store every time you have someone over. Plus you can't get the good local New York wines in Westchester; not posh enough I guess. Bully Hill wines were on sale...)
So we got an incredible stash of liquor, and Dave's mom paid for the whole purchase (more than half of the shopping cart was her replenishing the household stash, which had seen severe depredations since Christmas, and was due for some heavy entertaining coming up) and gave us the ones we'd chosen as a housewarming gift. Very sweet of her, and very generous. We were very happy.
Dave's dad still wasn't home when we got there, but he did arrive as we were eating lunch (tuna salad, as it was good friday and we weren't eating meat. Dave's mom assured him he'd go to heaven for resisting a sample of the long-anticipated pepperette sausages, to which Dave replied with no small anguish that he'd better-- resisting them was a sore trial to him). Bertie was so excited to see him she had to go outside and pee. As usual.
We went out for a fish fry for dinner-- a traditional Buffalo fish fry, of course. Haddock, with a side of cole slaw, and some fries or macaroni salad. There was over an hour's wait for a seat in the restaurant, as everyone in Buffalo goes out for fish fries on Fridays in Lent. So we sat in the bar and drank local microbrews. Flying Bison Dawn Patrol was a good one... I got a promotional coaster touting the Flying Bison brewery as a souvenir. The fish fry was excellent-- everything Dave had droolingly told me it would be when we'd begun to discuss Lent months ago (Dave often tells drooly stories about the food you can get in Buffalo. It's cute).
We didn't manage to go out that night afterward: we were too sleepy. So we went to bed early, and so of course were awake awfully early. Ah well, the vicious cycle continues. We dyed Easter eggs with Dave's cousin, Anita, a 38-year-old accountant who because of the family's generational structure is still classified among the "kids", like Dave and his 27-year-old sister. I had some creative little beauties among my efforts. And got dye all under my fingernails. Oh boy.
We zonked out on the couch for the afternoon, which prompted many amused comments from folks going by. I had jokingly lain down and put my head in Dave's lap, and the next thing I knew it was an hour later and I'd been snoring. Whoops. So had he. Guess we were tired. We woke up just in time to get down to the local Catholic gift shop before it closed, hunting for a cheesy St. Christopher figurine for Dave's dashboard. We couldn't find one, and had to settle for a pewter visor-clip with St. Christopher and Our Lady Of The Highway, which protected us wonderfully all the way home, I guess. We went out to dinner for Dave's mom's birthday-- wonderful Cajun food in a restaurant a couple of blocks from the meeting places of the Lackawanna Six (the Al-Quaeda members known outside the region as simply the Buffalo Six, as nobody knows where Lackawanna is outside the steel industry), which was depressing because poor Lackawanna is so ravaged. There were the acres and acres of abandoned steel plant, and there were the blocks of boarded-up houses. But the food was great. We made it home, overstuffed and well-contented after some jerk chicken, conch chowder, and a fabulous chocolate dessert, and then went to the going-away party for Dave's buddy Sean, who's finally, after years of talking about it, joined the Army. He ships out in about a week for Basic. He's enlisted as an e-5, I think-- has an associate's degree already, which the Army counts as something, so he gets to rise up in the ranks to start off with. I think that's some kind of noncommissioned officer, possibly a sergeant, but I'm not sure. He's going to be a crew chief on a Blackhawk helicopter once they finish training him. He hopes to rise high enough to someday pilot the helicopters, but we'll see. He's very bright but has just never had much motivation. He's also quite well-built-- about 6'2", very broad shoulders, tattooed, good with the ladies and generally charming. He knows when to keep his mouth shut and when to cause trouble, and can hold his liquor admirably, so he'll probably do fine. He made Dave drink numerous Irish Car Bombs, a drink consisting of Guinness, Jameson's, and Bailey's, so I had one beer and then steeled myself for the drive home. We left at 3; Dave was slightly tipsy and I was sleepy, but Our Lady Of The Highway protected us and we made the long (10-minute) drive from Sean's amusingly-named suburb of Cheektowaga back to Dave's folks' house.
Easter morning was bright and sunny and beautiful and full of good, good smells. Of course we went to church at the church affiliated with Dave's elementary school. I sang all the songs loudly, attracting glances from the mostly-silent crowd of occasional churchgoers, and thought of how embarrassed we used to be when Mom would do that. Oh dear. We hunted for chocolate eggs; I won the hunt handily as I had to find the bright blue ones which are impossible to camoflage. Dave's green eggs were harder to find. I was quite pleased with myself. Dinner was smoked turkey, ham, smoked Polish sausage and fresh Polish sausage, traditional potato salad, baked vegetable casserole, green salad with some elaborate dressing and sunflower seeds, fresh wheat bread and the butter lamb. I was awarded the lamb's tail flag, which I cleaned off and stuck into one of my braids so that I had a little flag labeled "Alleluia" hovering over my head. Dessert was some wonderful brownie confection that Dave's Aunt Ruta had made, and I drank a huge mug of coffee because i knew I'd have to drive. Dave had naturally eaten too much, and was catatonic on the couch. Dave's mother put together a bag of goodies for us to bring home-- wonderful, glorious leftovers-- and I dragged Dave into the car with our worldly goods (clean laundry. Mmm) and drove him to Elmira. In Elmira we stopped to see Fiona and ate dinner in the dining hall with her. We got to meet her boy, who really isn't my type but seems nice enough. The chin piercing is really un-cute, especially as he keeps playing with it. (By the way, Dave's mom agrees that failing to remove one's baseball cap is a getting-thrown-out-of-the-house-worthy offense.) But he was entertaining, and nice, and seemed bright enough and good for a decent conversation. I gave Fiona an Easter present that I'd picked up for her at the Broadway market, and then we piled back into the car for the rest of the journey. Which was longer than it ever had any right to have been, but that's how these things go. I tried to pass the time by singing old songs but kept forgetting the lyrics. Dave sang enthusiastically enough on a few songs but wasn't really into it, so we gave up eventually. His car's tape deck is malfunctioning so we couldn't listen to the usual road tapes... but we had fun anyway, for the most part. I like car trips with him.
We decided on coming home over the Bear Mountain bridge, since at the end of a holiday the Tappan Zee was likely to be a zoo. Of course, by the time we got there, it was midnight or a little after, so nobody would have been on either bridge. But we'd already decided on our course so it wasn't really worth it to bother changing our plans.
We got home a bit before 1, I think, and of course couldn't find a parking space... we partly unloaded the car, but only what we could carry in one trip. We went to bed right away but were still so exhausted this morning... I can't focus well enough to do any work (my eyes hurt, my head hurts, and I'm really just not here) so I wrote all this out instead and am hoping that the coffee will kick in soon, but think I may be hoping in vain. I'm just not here, and that's too bad. Next time we go to Buffalo, we're either taking more days off to make the trip slower, or we're flying. Actually we're thinking that maybe we could leave Thursday night for the next weekend (a graduation party for Dave's sister's husband, mid/late may), drive to some tourist destination, spend the night there in a hotel or something, wake up early, go see the tourist destination, and then continue on to Buffalo and arrive in time for lunch, and not totally exhausted by the drive. Doing the same thing on the way home would be great, or at least driving back on the Monday mid-day to arrive home by supper, would be the best possible method the other way, as well. Either way, you have to have at least four days there.
I'd prefer that to flying because I don't really like airports, don't really like flying, and would rather not spend the money.
Anyhow. Remains to be seen what we'll do. But this weekend was great, we're having great leftovers for dinner tonight, and I need a nap, badly. Sigh.
Errata, Glossary, Gazetteer
Date: 2003-04-21 05:38 pm (UTC)The butcher shop we visited was German, not Polish.
The liquor store is indeed the largest in New York State, but not in the whole world.
I was chastized for nearly trying a sample of garlic liverwurst at the gourmet shop next to the liquor store.
The restaurant in Lackawanna specialized in Caribbean food, not Cajun.
Bridget also had an Irish car bomb.
GLOSSARY
but•ter lamb (bŭtʼɘr-lăm), n. Butter sculpted in the form of a lamb.
pep•per•ette (pĕpʼɘr ɘt'), n. A long, thin, spicy smoked sausage so named because it contains red pepper seeds.
sponge can•dy (spŭnj-kănʼdē), n. Candy that consists of a whipped, slightly carmelized sugar center surrounded by chocolate.
trot•ter (trŏtʼɘr), n. Informal. A foot, especially the foot of a pig or sheep prepared as food.
GAZETTEER
Broadway Market, 999 Broadway St, Buffalo, NY 14212, 716.894.1332, http://www.broadwaymarket.com/
'went out for a fish fry:' Buffalo Tap Room & Grill, 2309 Eggert Rd, Tonawanda, NY 14150, 716.832.6054, http://www.buffalotaproom.com/
'wonderful Cajun food:' Curly's Bar & Grill, 647 Ridge Rd, Buffalo, NY 14218, 716.824.9716, http://curlysgrill.com/
Flying Bison Brewing Co, 491 Ontario St, Buffalo, NY 14207, 716.873.1557, http://www.flyingbisonbrewery.com/
Nick Tahou Hots II, 2260 Lyell Ave, Rochester, NY 14606, 585.429.6388
'the largest liquor store in the world:' Premier Gourmet, 3465 Delaware Ave, Buffalo, NY 14217, 716.877.3574, http://www.premiergourmet.com/
'the local Catholic gift shop:' Pro Multis Catholic Book & Gift Center, 1850 Colvin Blvd, Tonawanda, NY 14150, 716.838.2898, http://www.promultis.com/
Redlinski Meats, 1585 Walden Ave, Buffalo, NY 14225, 716.892.5326, http://www.buffalofoods.com/sausage.html
'the church affiliated with Dave's elementary school:' St Rose of Lima R.C. Church, 201 Winston Rd, Buffalo, NY 14216, http://www.buffomi.org/st_rose.htm
'a little Polish butcher's shop:' Spar's European Sausage, 405 Amherst St, Buffalo, NY 14207, 716.876.6607