Our beloved Penguins had an untimely end to their season this year, falling in a seven-game second-round series to the Montreal Canadiens. It was a disappointment all around the city, although the ending seemed somehow fated - this season was the final flight for the Igloo, and the very last game played within its walls ended the same as its first, Canadiens over the 'Guins.
However, despite their fire against the reigning Stanley Cup champs, the Canadiens couldn't pull off an Eastern Conference Finals win, and they fell to those nefarious Broad Street bullies, the Philadelphia Flyers, in just six short games.
I like to believe we've always hated the Flyers, but for me, it all comes down to one defining moment on May 6, 2000. We were playing the Flyers at home in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Semi-finals, and we were up in the series, 2 games to 1. The game began on May 5, but went into overtime after goals from Alexei Kovalev and John LeClair, and stretched on long into the night, and long into the next morning... across five overtimes, to be exact. Those of us who suffered through the whole thing will never forget that early morning when it all came crashing down around us - Keith Primeau, who never seemed to score in important moments, slid the puck past goalie Ron Tugnutt, and ended the third longest game in the history of the NHL in favor of the Flyers.
I have never forgiven Keith Primeau for that. In fact, I don't believe that I ever will. To be quite honest, Keith Primeau could probably walk into my life right now, give me a million dollars, rescue my puppy from a tree, bake a cake for my grandma, and although I would thank him in the moment, I would probably still give him the finger the second he turned his back to leave.
(And I'm not the type of person who holds grudges, so you can imagine how others of that sort must feel.)
So, back to today, the Flyers are in the Stanley Cup playoffs, but as there are two teams competing, all should not be lost, right? Wrong. Where this typically would have led us Yinzers to simply declare we were rooting for the West Coast team in the Finals, the decision has not been such an easy one this year. Enter the Chicago Blackhawks, who haven't won a cup since the early 1960s. Playing on their team? Pittsburgh's Most Hated, one Marian Hossa.
The right-winger wasn't always hated around these parts. In fact, back in 2008, we loved the guy. That's because, for thirty-two games up to and including that failed Stanley Cup playoff run, he played right wing for the good guys. Us. He came in at the trade deadline as a sidekick for Sidney Crosby's line, and he produced well in the playoffs with twelve goals and twenty-six points. But, as everyone knows, the efforts of our boys weren't enough, and Detroit crushed our dreams of bringing home Lord Stanley with a game six win on our home ice.
That summer, Hossa was a free agent, and in one of the most-talked-about outrages in Penguins history, he signed with the Red Wings because he "would have a little better chance to win the Cup in Detroit."
Pittsburgh began to hate this man. It was nearly as bad as the time Sienna Miller dissed our city, and the staff of local restaurants and bars had anti-Sienna t-shirts made in the aftermath. But our revenge was sweet - when we faced the Red Wings in a second Stanley Cup Final matchup, we held Hossa scoreless and came out the champions at the end of a seven-game series. Many were the jokes at his expense (did you hear about the new drink at Starbucks? It's called a Hossa and it comes without a cup), t-shirts were found on street corners in the Strip District, and all around the city was a general feeling of, "That'll teach him to mess with the 'Burgh."
So here we are, the eve of game six, with the Blackhawks poised to win the Cup with a victory tomorrow night. Who do we choose? Who do we root for? The man who did us wrong, or the team who has been one of our arch-nemeses since the dawn of hockey time?
I've enjoyed watching people pick sides via Facebook statuses and blog posts. You can't really tell who's going to be on which side until the statement is made, and some decisions have very much surprised me. What's been consistent all around though is a preface to the statement. "I really hate the Flyers, but I can't stand to see Hossa get the cup..." "I'm still mad at Hossa for turning on us, but if those dirty Flyers touch Lord Stanley..." It's the lesser of two evils. You have to pick a side, because it's hockey, and there's just no other way. So who is it going to be? Who is truly evil, and who is just simply horrid?
As for me, I'm going to have to root for the Hawks. Yes, Hossa choose poorly when he left the 'Burgh for so-called Hockeytown, but I feel he's served his time. He's had to go through the trauma of two Stanley Cup Final losses in a row, transfer through four teams across three seasons, and a whole mess of dirty looks from us Yinzers should he set foot out of his hotel while his team is in town.
And besides, although he may have retired in 2006, there's always a chance that a bit of Keith Primeau's soul (and I'm going a long way here by assuming he has one) might yet be lingering around the Flyers' locker room, and, well, I just really don't think I can forgive that guy.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Friday Five - The Out-of-Town Edition
So, to celebrate the opening of the newest Sex and the City movie (I'm kidding - we planned the trip long before we knew the opening date, it just conveniently worked out that way), my husband and I shipped off to New York City for the last week of May. We took the train up and stayed at the unique Hotel Chelsea (which was not entirely coincidental with respect to my favorite Ryan Adams song).
The Chelsea was one of those things that grows on you. It's grungy, smelly in some places, like that old-building-who-has-suffered-so-much-in-its-years kind of way, but there is a vibe there that you can't deny. It has been home to so many famous writers, artists, and musicians, and it's like each person has left behind a little piece of inspiration for the people who would come next. We had the best conversations, the funniest jokes, and the most productive writing sessions of recent memory while we were there.
That said, I still compulsively checked the sheets and mattresses for cleanliness and a lack of bedbugs. Oh, and I started checking the city for resassuring sights that reminded me of home. That's what this blog is - five Pittsburgh references in New York City. Believe me, this was harder to find than I thought it would be!
#5. Steeler Guy on the Train:
There were a ton of backwards Pirates hats floating around, but this was one of the rare Steeler shirts we could spot in our travels. Thanks, Steeler guy on the F Train!
#4. Pierogies on the Menu:
Our last night in the city, we searched for a bar in Chelsea with cheap bar food and stumbled upon Flight 151. They had pierogies on the menu, and a whole mess of flavors to choose from. They were slightly more fried than the traditional Ukrainian ones we make, but man were they still good! I thought we only put pierogies on the menu here in the 'Burgh, but I was glad to see them out of state!
#3. Pittsburgh Publishers:
We hit up the famous Strand Bookstore in the East Village, and what was on the poetry shelves but a Pitt Poetry Series compilation by Kathleen Norris, published by our very own University of Pittsburgh Press.
#2. Thunderbolt:
We walked into a random dive bar in the Lower East Side after dinner, and although it was a bit too crowded for us to stick around and have a drink, we saw this picture hanging over the door. Not sure if it's truly the Kennywood Thunderbolt (there is also a Thunderbolt ride at Coney Island, but it's much more like a Music Express than our famous wooden coaster), but it counts!
#1. Hibernia:
On the hottest day of our trip, when it was in the mid-90s with 100% humidity, we found ourselves wandering up near Hell's Kitchen and dying for a cold drink and some lunch. Lucky for us, we were just a few blocks from a true NYC Steeler bar, Hibernia. An interesting piece of trivia: the guys who used to run Scruffy Duffy's (the awesome Steeler bar just a few blocks away that closed down a few years back) now run this place. And they are super wicked kind to Yinzers. Just let them know you're a Steeler fan, or a current or former Pittsburgh resident, and see what I mean. :) We were not disappointed, and now have yet another Steeler Bar added to our list. Someday, when I'm rich and famous and have nothing better to do than travel, I'm going to hit every one and tell you all about it.
For now, I'm going to get back to the lengthy task of captioning and posting all of the trip photos, but I'll be back soon with some captivating hockey discussions and Arts Festival reviews!
The Chelsea was one of those things that grows on you. It's grungy, smelly in some places, like that old-building-who-has-suffered-so-much-in-its-years kind of way, but there is a vibe there that you can't deny. It has been home to so many famous writers, artists, and musicians, and it's like each person has left behind a little piece of inspiration for the people who would come next. We had the best conversations, the funniest jokes, and the most productive writing sessions of recent memory while we were there.
That said, I still compulsively checked the sheets and mattresses for cleanliness and a lack of bedbugs. Oh, and I started checking the city for resassuring sights that reminded me of home. That's what this blog is - five Pittsburgh references in New York City. Believe me, this was harder to find than I thought it would be!
#5. Steeler Guy on the Train:
There were a ton of backwards Pirates hats floating around, but this was one of the rare Steeler shirts we could spot in our travels. Thanks, Steeler guy on the F Train!
#4. Pierogies on the Menu:
Our last night in the city, we searched for a bar in Chelsea with cheap bar food and stumbled upon Flight 151. They had pierogies on the menu, and a whole mess of flavors to choose from. They were slightly more fried than the traditional Ukrainian ones we make, but man were they still good! I thought we only put pierogies on the menu here in the 'Burgh, but I was glad to see them out of state!
#3. Pittsburgh Publishers:
We hit up the famous Strand Bookstore in the East Village, and what was on the poetry shelves but a Pitt Poetry Series compilation by Kathleen Norris, published by our very own University of Pittsburgh Press.
#2. Thunderbolt:
We walked into a random dive bar in the Lower East Side after dinner, and although it was a bit too crowded for us to stick around and have a drink, we saw this picture hanging over the door. Not sure if it's truly the Kennywood Thunderbolt (there is also a Thunderbolt ride at Coney Island, but it's much more like a Music Express than our famous wooden coaster), but it counts!
#1. Hibernia:
On the hottest day of our trip, when it was in the mid-90s with 100% humidity, we found ourselves wandering up near Hell's Kitchen and dying for a cold drink and some lunch. Lucky for us, we were just a few blocks from a true NYC Steeler bar, Hibernia. An interesting piece of trivia: the guys who used to run Scruffy Duffy's (the awesome Steeler bar just a few blocks away that closed down a few years back) now run this place. And they are super wicked kind to Yinzers. Just let them know you're a Steeler fan, or a current or former Pittsburgh resident, and see what I mean. :) We were not disappointed, and now have yet another Steeler Bar added to our list. Someday, when I'm rich and famous and have nothing better to do than travel, I'm going to hit every one and tell you all about it.
For now, I'm going to get back to the lengthy task of captioning and posting all of the trip photos, but I'll be back soon with some captivating hockey discussions and Arts Festival reviews!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday Five - Pittsburgh-Isms
Whether or not you live in Pittsburgh, if you've met someone who has or does, you've heard the infamous Yinzer accent. In fact, if our friends over at Greg and Donny are telling us the truth, you don't ever even have to leave Johnstown to experience our fantastic own take on the English language (PS, I love those guys, and you really should too).
But moreso than the accent, it's the words and phrases we come up with. There's the classic 'hey yinz guys,' or any combination of words that involves going 'dahntahn' or buying 'chipped ham,' but I have a special interest in entire phrases that are both full sentences and only recognizable to Pittsburghers. It's a good way to find your own people when you're abroad. For example, there's a special place in my heart for whatever displaced or road-tripping Yinzer it was in Cuyahoga Falls who started a "Here we go, Steelers" chant as we were exiting the Blossom Music Center after a Dave Matthews concert. (And to that extent, I have to mention the guy who yelled 'HAIL TO PITT!' at me in the lot for the Alexandria, VA Dave show, which was the last known sighting of my favorite blue & gold t-shirt. Still don't understand where that thing went...)
Anyway, I digress. I'm trying to come up with a comprehensive listing of Pittsburgh phrases, and I'm going to start you off with five that I love.
#5. Kennywood Outfit:
While I've been Googling around, looking for phrases that I may have missed, I found a mention of "Kennywood Outfits." I had almost forgotten this entirely - all the Pittsburgh area schools have 'Kennywood day,' which is a chance for you to buy a really cheap Ride-All-Day pass in the cafeteria on a certain afternoon. Then, on your school's Kennywood Day, you would get all geared up and divide your friends into even-numbered groups (if it was something that divided nicely by four, you were set for pretty much any ride in the park) and head to Kennywood, feeling particularly important, because it was *your* school's day. So of course, for this momentous yearly occasion, you had to pick a Kennywood Outfit, which was the most important thing you'd wear all summer, probably. Unless, of course, you were like my tiny high school, who got stuck with the first weekend in May (or last weekend in April, if we were really lucky) as your Kennywood Day, in which case, you'd never see your Kennywood Outfit because it would be under your snowsuit and scarf.
#4: Kiss My Ass Under the Kaufmann's Clock:
While this phrase is probably now defunct, as our favorite downtown department store has been bought out, I had to mention it. Since I first heard that you could tell someone to kiss your ass under the Kaufmann's clock, I've always found this to be a great retort, particularly when in a verbal hockey debate with a Flyers fan. Although, now that I'm thinking about it, this may not have been such a popular phrase for anyone who wasn't just mastering use of the word 'ass' in or around 1991. But it really should have been! (I know it's a Macy's now, but don't we all know that as the Kaufmann's clock still? Can we bring this phrase back?)
#3: That's It, Fort Pitt:
Anybody who grew up with Pittsburgh parents has probably heard the phrase, "That's it, Fort Pitt." My understanding is that this was originally a slogan for Fort Pitt Brewing Company, but it's used as a general end to things ("The Buccos are under .500 already, and it's only May? That's it, Fort Pitt!") However, as a kid growing up in the 'Burgh, it was also usually the thing your dad said to shut you up when you were whining. "No, you're not getting a pony; that's it, Fort Pitt." Not sure if it was because we were all sitting there going, "What the hell does he mean by that?," but it always seemed to work.
#2: Kennywood's Open:
"Kennywood's Open" is a great phrase, because it means two things at once: not only can you ride the Thunderbolt at the present moment, your fly is down. For people who didn't seem to be clued in to the phrase, we would throw in an, "And the rides are about to begin..." if he or she didn't zip up fast enough.
#1: Anything Mike Lange Says:
No Pittsburgh phrase list would be complete without the famous Mike Lange-isms, which could cover an entire blog entry on their own. (For non-Yinzers: Mike Lange is the radio voice of the Pittsburgh Penguins - fomerly the TV voice. Really, no better sportscaster around.) Although I've never tried it, I bet you could single out your fellow Yinzers at a crowded out-of-town bar during the first round of the playoffs by yelling, "Buy Sam a drink, and get his dog one too!" My favorites are, "She wants to sell my monkey," and "How much fried chicken can you eat?" although the latest, "Slap me silly, Sidney" is kind of growing on me. Other notable Mike Lange-isms: "Scratch my back with a hacksaw," "Michael, Michael, Motorcycle," "Never Teach a Pig to Sing," my former roommate's favorite, "Get in the fast lane, Grandma, the Bingo game is ready to roll," and probably the most-quoted, "Elvis has just left the building." (Is it time for hockey season again yet???)
I plan to keep adding to this list. I'm a sucker for those Things that Aren't There Anymore Rick Sebak films, and a comprehensive only-in-Pittsburgh phrase list is surely going to spawn the next big hit. Help me out - what are your favorites?
For now, this is my list, and that's it, Fort Pitt. :)
But moreso than the accent, it's the words and phrases we come up with. There's the classic 'hey yinz guys,' or any combination of words that involves going 'dahntahn' or buying 'chipped ham,' but I have a special interest in entire phrases that are both full sentences and only recognizable to Pittsburghers. It's a good way to find your own people when you're abroad. For example, there's a special place in my heart for whatever displaced or road-tripping Yinzer it was in Cuyahoga Falls who started a "Here we go, Steelers" chant as we were exiting the Blossom Music Center after a Dave Matthews concert. (And to that extent, I have to mention the guy who yelled 'HAIL TO PITT!' at me in the lot for the Alexandria, VA Dave show, which was the last known sighting of my favorite blue & gold t-shirt. Still don't understand where that thing went...)
Anyway, I digress. I'm trying to come up with a comprehensive listing of Pittsburgh phrases, and I'm going to start you off with five that I love.
#5. Kennywood Outfit:
While I've been Googling around, looking for phrases that I may have missed, I found a mention of "Kennywood Outfits." I had almost forgotten this entirely - all the Pittsburgh area schools have 'Kennywood day,' which is a chance for you to buy a really cheap Ride-All-Day pass in the cafeteria on a certain afternoon. Then, on your school's Kennywood Day, you would get all geared up and divide your friends into even-numbered groups (if it was something that divided nicely by four, you were set for pretty much any ride in the park) and head to Kennywood, feeling particularly important, because it was *your* school's day. So of course, for this momentous yearly occasion, you had to pick a Kennywood Outfit, which was the most important thing you'd wear all summer, probably. Unless, of course, you were like my tiny high school, who got stuck with the first weekend in May (or last weekend in April, if we were really lucky) as your Kennywood Day, in which case, you'd never see your Kennywood Outfit because it would be under your snowsuit and scarf.
#4: Kiss My Ass Under the Kaufmann's Clock:
While this phrase is probably now defunct, as our favorite downtown department store has been bought out, I had to mention it. Since I first heard that you could tell someone to kiss your ass under the Kaufmann's clock, I've always found this to be a great retort, particularly when in a verbal hockey debate with a Flyers fan. Although, now that I'm thinking about it, this may not have been such a popular phrase for anyone who wasn't just mastering use of the word 'ass' in or around 1991. But it really should have been! (I know it's a Macy's now, but don't we all know that as the Kaufmann's clock still? Can we bring this phrase back?)
#3: That's It, Fort Pitt:
Anybody who grew up with Pittsburgh parents has probably heard the phrase, "That's it, Fort Pitt." My understanding is that this was originally a slogan for Fort Pitt Brewing Company, but it's used as a general end to things ("The Buccos are under .500 already, and it's only May? That's it, Fort Pitt!") However, as a kid growing up in the 'Burgh, it was also usually the thing your dad said to shut you up when you were whining. "No, you're not getting a pony; that's it, Fort Pitt." Not sure if it was because we were all sitting there going, "What the hell does he mean by that?," but it always seemed to work.
#2: Kennywood's Open:
"Kennywood's Open" is a great phrase, because it means two things at once: not only can you ride the Thunderbolt at the present moment, your fly is down. For people who didn't seem to be clued in to the phrase, we would throw in an, "And the rides are about to begin..." if he or she didn't zip up fast enough.
#1: Anything Mike Lange Says:
No Pittsburgh phrase list would be complete without the famous Mike Lange-isms, which could cover an entire blog entry on their own. (For non-Yinzers: Mike Lange is the radio voice of the Pittsburgh Penguins - fomerly the TV voice. Really, no better sportscaster around.) Although I've never tried it, I bet you could single out your fellow Yinzers at a crowded out-of-town bar during the first round of the playoffs by yelling, "Buy Sam a drink, and get his dog one too!" My favorites are, "She wants to sell my monkey," and "How much fried chicken can you eat?" although the latest, "Slap me silly, Sidney" is kind of growing on me. Other notable Mike Lange-isms: "Scratch my back with a hacksaw," "Michael, Michael, Motorcycle," "Never Teach a Pig to Sing," my former roommate's favorite, "Get in the fast lane, Grandma, the Bingo game is ready to roll," and probably the most-quoted, "Elvis has just left the building." (Is it time for hockey season again yet???)
I plan to keep adding to this list. I'm a sucker for those Things that Aren't There Anymore Rick Sebak films, and a comprehensive only-in-Pittsburgh phrase list is surely going to spawn the next big hit. Help me out - what are your favorites?
For now, this is my list, and that's it, Fort Pitt. :)
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The View
I wanted to share a few pictures I took of the city from LeMont restaurant last month. LeMont is the ever-classy restaurant at the top of Mt. Washington, famous for proposals and fancy work banquets and proms. Despite the stereotypical picture this may paint, it's really a fantastic restaurant, with excellent service, delicious food, and of course, some of the best views of the city.
Also, from now until June 6th, LeMont is offering some unbeatable dinner deals in honor of their 50th anniversary (dinner for two at $50, and a whole list of $25 wine bottles). If you've never been, I really have to recommend checking it out. And if you go, ask if you can sit in Marco's section. He was our waiter the last two times we were there, and I really think he's one of the top waiters in the whole city. Never once did we feel rushed through our meals, and he was funny, charming, and knowledgeable about the entire menu. He even got the bartender to open a special bottle of wine for me so I could try a single glass (it was a Paso Robles wine that is typically only available by the bottle, but being the Central Coast wine afficionado I am, I had to ask).
We went just before sundown, so we were able to enjoy the sky changing colors over the city. The view is so crystal clear from LeMont that you can almost see what's showing on the big screen at the Buccos game across the river at PNC Park. Almost any view from Mt. Washington is beautiful on the right day, but the entire city and the Point are just perfect from this restaurant.
The view at the beginning of sundown.
Looking into PNC Park across the Ft. Duquesne Bridge.
The Point and the city behind it after dark.
Also, from now until June 6th, LeMont is offering some unbeatable dinner deals in honor of their 50th anniversary (dinner for two at $50, and a whole list of $25 wine bottles). If you've never been, I really have to recommend checking it out. And if you go, ask if you can sit in Marco's section. He was our waiter the last two times we were there, and I really think he's one of the top waiters in the whole city. Never once did we feel rushed through our meals, and he was funny, charming, and knowledgeable about the entire menu. He even got the bartender to open a special bottle of wine for me so I could try a single glass (it was a Paso Robles wine that is typically only available by the bottle, but being the Central Coast wine afficionado I am, I had to ask).
We went just before sundown, so we were able to enjoy the sky changing colors over the city. The view is so crystal clear from LeMont that you can almost see what's showing on the big screen at the Buccos game across the river at PNC Park. Almost any view from Mt. Washington is beautiful on the right day, but the entire city and the Point are just perfect from this restaurant.
The view at the beginning of sundown.
Looking into PNC Park across the Ft. Duquesne Bridge.
The Point and the city behind it after dark.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Overwhelmed
Sometimes, this city overwhelms me. It isn't always in a bad way, and really, the good ways that it overwhelms me are what got me thinking about this entry, but I do think it's worth noting that my extremes in moods are quite often linked to this city.
Let me begin by telling a story about Los Angeles.
I lived in Los Angeles for about eighteen months. The part of LA where we lived was actually Burbank, which is home to lots of movie studios and unbearable temperatures. Burbank is in the Valley, which is the San Fernando Valley, home to Valley Girls and the adult film industry. I'm not making that up; Boogie Nights was based on an area about ten miles from our house, and every Tuesday night, the bar down the street from us hosted Porn Star Karaoke, which is precisely what it sounds like it is. (Since you are now wondering, porn stars are excellent at karaoke.)
If you've ever visited Southern California, you know that it is home to two colors, brown and smog-brown. Brown is the color of the mountains and vegetation, and smog-brown is the color of the cloud that hangs over the city any time there is daylight.
Los Angeles is also home to two major weather conditions, which are 'hot' and 'unbearably freaking hot.' In the Valley, the temperature would easily top triple digits in August. In fact, I distinctly remember searching for over an hour for a parking space at Santa Monica beach on Labor Day, because it was only 98 degrees on the shore, and that felt chilly compared to the 117 in Burbank.
There is, however, a minor weather condition, typically seen only from mid-January through February, and this is 'torrential downpour.' Basically, once we were so exhausted with sunlight, the sky decided to spend thirty days dumping water on us, causing all sorts of traffic accidents and flooding conditions, and a leak in the closet that held our hot water tank. And then in March...
We went to San Francisco for a weekend, just to get the hell out of LA, and suddenly, the hillsides... they were green. I'm not just talking like, mildly green, I'm speaking new-birth-of-the-forest freaking Fern Gully green. And there were wildflowers! The hills were covered with little dots of yellow that just coated the side of the road. We were driving up the 5, and I remember thinking, "Holy Jesus, this isn't Los Angeles! What the hell? Has the city finally come to life?" The brown hills were green, the yellowish mountains were green, the wildflowers were everywhere, and on that day, the world was full of promise.
This lasted about a week, and when we drove up the same route to Sonoma for the film festival in the beginning of April, the hills were brown again. The sun had returned and scorched it all, and all I had were the photos we'd taken to prove that LA really had another color stored away somewhere.
That weekend in Sonoma, I made a solomn vow that I was going to get the hell off the West Coast and back to Pittsburgh where I belonged.
The thing about Pittsburgh is that the feeling that the world is alive is what keeps me going. Yes, there are depressing things around every bend, if you're looking. The Pens lost Game 6 to the Canadiens last night, when we really should have won, but as I was rushing home to catch the third period, I passed over the Hot Metal Bridge, and the lights of the city reflected off of the Monongahela, and for one minute, I couldn't worry about the outcome of the game. I knew there was a chance we weren't going to pull through and win it, but I also knew, in that moment, that in a city as beautiful as ours, there was always going to be another chance.
In autumn, the trees here cover such a wide expanse of colors, and the sky in October is just so very, very blue, and the sight from the top of the hill where I live of the Steel Building peeking up over the trees from downtown is just unmatchable. And in winter, that quiet stillness after a huge snowfall, when the trees are hanging low, bare branches outlined in white... it just makes me feel warm.
So maybe it's the fact that I had to live through the shades of brown in Los Angeles that lets me get so overwhelmed with this city's beauty. I'll take it. I don't regret the fact that we spent so much time and money and heart getting beat down on the West Coast, if the trade-off is that I can appreciate this little city so much more fully. This is our first spring in this house, and I have been watching the green burst out on the trees, watched the blossoms erupt pink and then fade into emerald. The Steel Building towers over green now, a million different gorgeous shades, and I just feel overwhelmed - overwhelmed in a good way, struck with the fact that maybe life is, after all, full of possibility and promise.
If I could give this city a hug, I would do it. If I could wrap my arms around Pittsburgh, even on a rainy day, even on the day after a Pens loss, I would do it. In fact, maybe right now is the moment that this city needs a hug. Last night, when I was feeling down, the city lights lifted me up, and if I could tell this city just how much I love it, maybe tomorrow, the sun will shine again and the Pens will bring home a win.
Really, in this city, I think it's quite possible. :)
Let me begin by telling a story about Los Angeles.
I lived in Los Angeles for about eighteen months. The part of LA where we lived was actually Burbank, which is home to lots of movie studios and unbearable temperatures. Burbank is in the Valley, which is the San Fernando Valley, home to Valley Girls and the adult film industry. I'm not making that up; Boogie Nights was based on an area about ten miles from our house, and every Tuesday night, the bar down the street from us hosted Porn Star Karaoke, which is precisely what it sounds like it is. (Since you are now wondering, porn stars are excellent at karaoke.)
If you've ever visited Southern California, you know that it is home to two colors, brown and smog-brown. Brown is the color of the mountains and vegetation, and smog-brown is the color of the cloud that hangs over the city any time there is daylight.
Los Angeles is also home to two major weather conditions, which are 'hot' and 'unbearably freaking hot.' In the Valley, the temperature would easily top triple digits in August. In fact, I distinctly remember searching for over an hour for a parking space at Santa Monica beach on Labor Day, because it was only 98 degrees on the shore, and that felt chilly compared to the 117 in Burbank.
There is, however, a minor weather condition, typically seen only from mid-January through February, and this is 'torrential downpour.' Basically, once we were so exhausted with sunlight, the sky decided to spend thirty days dumping water on us, causing all sorts of traffic accidents and flooding conditions, and a leak in the closet that held our hot water tank. And then in March...
We went to San Francisco for a weekend, just to get the hell out of LA, and suddenly, the hillsides... they were green. I'm not just talking like, mildly green, I'm speaking new-birth-of-the-forest freaking Fern Gully green. And there were wildflowers! The hills were covered with little dots of yellow that just coated the side of the road. We were driving up the 5, and I remember thinking, "Holy Jesus, this isn't Los Angeles! What the hell? Has the city finally come to life?" The brown hills were green, the yellowish mountains were green, the wildflowers were everywhere, and on that day, the world was full of promise.
This lasted about a week, and when we drove up the same route to Sonoma for the film festival in the beginning of April, the hills were brown again. The sun had returned and scorched it all, and all I had were the photos we'd taken to prove that LA really had another color stored away somewhere.
That weekend in Sonoma, I made a solomn vow that I was going to get the hell off the West Coast and back to Pittsburgh where I belonged.
The thing about Pittsburgh is that the feeling that the world is alive is what keeps me going. Yes, there are depressing things around every bend, if you're looking. The Pens lost Game 6 to the Canadiens last night, when we really should have won, but as I was rushing home to catch the third period, I passed over the Hot Metal Bridge, and the lights of the city reflected off of the Monongahela, and for one minute, I couldn't worry about the outcome of the game. I knew there was a chance we weren't going to pull through and win it, but I also knew, in that moment, that in a city as beautiful as ours, there was always going to be another chance.
In autumn, the trees here cover such a wide expanse of colors, and the sky in October is just so very, very blue, and the sight from the top of the hill where I live of the Steel Building peeking up over the trees from downtown is just unmatchable. And in winter, that quiet stillness after a huge snowfall, when the trees are hanging low, bare branches outlined in white... it just makes me feel warm.
So maybe it's the fact that I had to live through the shades of brown in Los Angeles that lets me get so overwhelmed with this city's beauty. I'll take it. I don't regret the fact that we spent so much time and money and heart getting beat down on the West Coast, if the trade-off is that I can appreciate this little city so much more fully. This is our first spring in this house, and I have been watching the green burst out on the trees, watched the blossoms erupt pink and then fade into emerald. The Steel Building towers over green now, a million different gorgeous shades, and I just feel overwhelmed - overwhelmed in a good way, struck with the fact that maybe life is, after all, full of possibility and promise.
If I could give this city a hug, I would do it. If I could wrap my arms around Pittsburgh, even on a rainy day, even on the day after a Pens loss, I would do it. In fact, maybe right now is the moment that this city needs a hug. Last night, when I was feeling down, the city lights lifted me up, and if I could tell this city just how much I love it, maybe tomorrow, the sun will shine again and the Pens will bring home a win.
Really, in this city, I think it's quite possible. :)
Thursday, May 6, 2010
A Food Festive Day
Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo, and like many other Americans, I choose to celebrate this holiday with margaritas and delicious Mexican food despite not really understanding what the point of the holiday is. (Because I don't like to be 'that guy', I looked it up and have learned that its original intent is to simply commemorate the Mexican victory against the French in the 1862 Battle of Puebla, although it is presently celebrated more in the US just how I thought, as a day to appreciate Mexican heritage and culture, and consequently give us an excuse to overindulge in all that fantastic cooking).
However, we Pittsburghers are fortunate enough that we can cross over into two ethnic food worlds, as the St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral runs its Greek Food Festival the first week of May, coinciding nicely with the holiday. And yesterday, I was one of those lucky Pittsburghers who got to experience both.
My husband and I decided to hit up St. Nick's for lunch, and we took advantage of the beautiful weather by walking from our house in Squirrel Hill through Schenley Park into Oakland. It was quite a hike, but the scenery was just unbeatable. Here are two pictures we took from the Panther Hollow Bridge in Schenley.
We had missed lunch by the time we got to St. Nick's, but the a-la carte menu runs straight through the day. We wound our way into the church basement (I could write a whole blog about how I love church basements and their random stages and feel of a Bingo game about to begin) and tenatively approached the food.
I am going to admit this right now: those big rotating meat-slab things at the Point during the Regatta have always made me a little terrified of gyros. Even though I lived within walking distance of the Greek Food Festival for six years, I had never been there, and really, the only Greek food I can think of that I've ever eaten was feta cheese and mini spanikopitas at someone's wedding reception. I was a little intimidated.
Lucky for us though, each food name had a description next to it on the order sheet, so I was able to see what sounded like things I'd like and pick those. After we paid and headed upstairs with our selection, I also had to try out the things they were advertising as 'Greek fries.' I don't know how authentic those were, but I was not going to pass up a chance to eat fries under the excuse of supporting a local Pittsburgh organization.
In the end, we decided on these choices:
The bottom left corner is the spanikopita (fillo pastry filled with feta cheese and spinach), above that is souzoukakia (meatballs in tomato wine sauce), next to that is a dolmathe (herbs and rice in a marinated grape leaf), and of course, those fantastic Greek fries (which were really just fries with feta cheese on top). Oh, and that's my carton of raspberry iced tea (I'm really a Marburger farms kind of girl, but so far, the only place in town I can find that serves those besides my old high school is Wholey's). If I'm going to celebrate, I'm *really* going to celebrate ;)
I really can't say enough good things about this food. That spanikopita was fantastic, and I'm really picky about meatballs, but this one was just melt-in-your-mouth good. The grape leaves were probably my least favorite, but even they were still tasty. And the fries? It was as if they had been snatched from the Potato Patch itself. Oh man.
Thankfully, we were a few miles from home with no car, so we got to walk off some of that meal and get ourselves prepped for Food Splurge #2 of the day.
Last night, we headed up Murray Avenue to Cuzamil, which is a tiny Mexican restaurant and bar that you would probably miss if you weren't walking right past it. And that's a shame, because now that La Fiesta is gone (bless its little soccer-game-supplying soul), this is probably the best Mexican restaurant in the city. The El Campesino on McKnight Road is a close second, but if you're staying within the city limits, Cuzamil is really fantastic.
They were packed (as expected), but the Buccos game was on, and we were feeling quite patient, so we ordered a pitcher of margaritas and set to work on the chips and salsa. The pitcher took a little while to arrive, but it was well worth the wait. The blend was light and delicious, a perfect balance of mix and tequila, so it wasn't overpoweringly sweet.
I had the chicken quesadilla, and my husband had the mahi mahi milanesa (I do not really know what 'milanesa' means, but I can only guess it means something like 'lightly breaded and fried in a batter made of amazing'). All the meals come on those huge plates with refried beans, rice, and salad topped with guac and sour cream, just like La Fiesta used to make. This is quite dangerous, as this place is literally less than half a mile from our house, and I no longer have the metabolism of my early twenties when I lived two blocks down from La Fiesta.
The best news of all? Somehow, our day's worth of gluttony spurred the Buccos to beat the Cubbies. I was going to make a comparison about the underdog Buccos being like the underdog Mexicans in the Battle of Puebla, and get all metaphorical to tie things together at the end here but... really, I'm still just working off that pitcher of margaritas ;)
Also, it's only 2.5 hours until the puck drops, and I've got to get my game face on! Let's Go Pens!!
However, we Pittsburghers are fortunate enough that we can cross over into two ethnic food worlds, as the St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral runs its Greek Food Festival the first week of May, coinciding nicely with the holiday. And yesterday, I was one of those lucky Pittsburghers who got to experience both.
My husband and I decided to hit up St. Nick's for lunch, and we took advantage of the beautiful weather by walking from our house in Squirrel Hill through Schenley Park into Oakland. It was quite a hike, but the scenery was just unbeatable. Here are two pictures we took from the Panther Hollow Bridge in Schenley.
We had missed lunch by the time we got to St. Nick's, but the a-la carte menu runs straight through the day. We wound our way into the church basement (I could write a whole blog about how I love church basements and their random stages and feel of a Bingo game about to begin) and tenatively approached the food.
I am going to admit this right now: those big rotating meat-slab things at the Point during the Regatta have always made me a little terrified of gyros. Even though I lived within walking distance of the Greek Food Festival for six years, I had never been there, and really, the only Greek food I can think of that I've ever eaten was feta cheese and mini spanikopitas at someone's wedding reception. I was a little intimidated.
Lucky for us though, each food name had a description next to it on the order sheet, so I was able to see what sounded like things I'd like and pick those. After we paid and headed upstairs with our selection, I also had to try out the things they were advertising as 'Greek fries.' I don't know how authentic those were, but I was not going to pass up a chance to eat fries under the excuse of supporting a local Pittsburgh organization.
In the end, we decided on these choices:
The bottom left corner is the spanikopita (fillo pastry filled with feta cheese and spinach), above that is souzoukakia (meatballs in tomato wine sauce), next to that is a dolmathe (herbs and rice in a marinated grape leaf), and of course, those fantastic Greek fries (which were really just fries with feta cheese on top). Oh, and that's my carton of raspberry iced tea (I'm really a Marburger farms kind of girl, but so far, the only place in town I can find that serves those besides my old high school is Wholey's). If I'm going to celebrate, I'm *really* going to celebrate ;)
I really can't say enough good things about this food. That spanikopita was fantastic, and I'm really picky about meatballs, but this one was just melt-in-your-mouth good. The grape leaves were probably my least favorite, but even they were still tasty. And the fries? It was as if they had been snatched from the Potato Patch itself. Oh man.
Thankfully, we were a few miles from home with no car, so we got to walk off some of that meal and get ourselves prepped for Food Splurge #2 of the day.
Last night, we headed up Murray Avenue to Cuzamil, which is a tiny Mexican restaurant and bar that you would probably miss if you weren't walking right past it. And that's a shame, because now that La Fiesta is gone (bless its little soccer-game-supplying soul), this is probably the best Mexican restaurant in the city. The El Campesino on McKnight Road is a close second, but if you're staying within the city limits, Cuzamil is really fantastic.
They were packed (as expected), but the Buccos game was on, and we were feeling quite patient, so we ordered a pitcher of margaritas and set to work on the chips and salsa. The pitcher took a little while to arrive, but it was well worth the wait. The blend was light and delicious, a perfect balance of mix and tequila, so it wasn't overpoweringly sweet.
I had the chicken quesadilla, and my husband had the mahi mahi milanesa (I do not really know what 'milanesa' means, but I can only guess it means something like 'lightly breaded and fried in a batter made of amazing'). All the meals come on those huge plates with refried beans, rice, and salad topped with guac and sour cream, just like La Fiesta used to make. This is quite dangerous, as this place is literally less than half a mile from our house, and I no longer have the metabolism of my early twenties when I lived two blocks down from La Fiesta.
The best news of all? Somehow, our day's worth of gluttony spurred the Buccos to beat the Cubbies. I was going to make a comparison about the underdog Buccos being like the underdog Mexicans in the Battle of Puebla, and get all metaphorical to tie things together at the end here but... really, I'm still just working off that pitcher of margaritas ;)
Also, it's only 2.5 hours until the puck drops, and I've got to get my game face on! Let's Go Pens!!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Snowpocalypse and Me: Wintertime AWESOMENESS and Hope on the Horizon
If you don't live in Pittsburgh, or if you had another reason to be shut in all weekend and thus haven't looked outside, let me be the first to inform you that we are in the middle of a massive SNOWPOCALYPSE (I am not kidding; the news stations are using this term, as well as 'Snowmageddon,' and quite liberally, I might add). You know what this means, right? I have been bouncing off the walls ever since the first coating of white hit the ground. What I didn't realize was that the snow would ultimately lead me to a great revelation. But I'll get to that ;)
On my Top Billion Favorite Things About Pittsburgh list, somewhere in between 'Fireworks' and 'Folk Festival Potato Pancakes,' there is 'Extreme Pittsburgh Weather.' I've blogged about my love for torrential downpours that result in flooding and the inability to park your car on the Mon Wharf, but now, for the first time, I am enabled to blog about my absolute favorite preciptation, snow.
To fully understand my enjoyment of this snowstorm, I should make it clear that this was my weekend off of work. Insane snowfalls during days when I have to work usually lead to plenty of whining from me, since I can't be home to enjoy the storm. But we'd known since about Monday that a storm was coming this weekend, and that meant that I had about four full days of "You know, there's going to be a BLIZZARD this weekend!" enjoyment. (I do apologize to my friends and coworkers who may be annoyed by this behavior on my part :)
I spent all Friday morning whining about the lack of snow. When was it going to start? Was this another Pittsburgh Extreme Weather Dream Gone Awry? Oh how many times in my life have I been teased by Joe Denardo and Kevin Benson, hoping for feet of snow and waking up to only a dusting? What if this was just another one of those moments? Finally, around 2:00, the flurries began, but it was just too warm for any of it to stick. I was postively heartbroken, so I laid down in bed to read for a bit, and accidentally fell asleep...
By the time I awoke an hour later, the first inch had fallen. Our road was coated, and our back porch and yard had a healthy inch of the beautiful stuff on it. However, I was not ready to get my hopes up yet, so I settled onto the couch to watch a DVR'd SNL special and periodically pull back the curtains to check on the progress.
The snow kept coming. And coming. We decided to abandon our plans of attending First Friday, and instead settled in for a night of snow-watching and gaming. Around 5:30, just before the night began to completely fall, we took little Lucy out back and I took some pictures. The snow was coating everything, but just a light blanket.
By the time I woke up the next morning to take Lucy out again for her 5:30am bathroom break, the snow was so high, she could barely step off the porch into it. When we all awoke for the day around 8am, the Snowpocalypse had fully arrived. The snow was so high that my husband had to dig a little valley for Lucy to walk through, and the snow on each side of the valley was taller than her head. Everything was covered, tree branches and power lines were sagging, and the snow was all the way up to our front and back porches.
Of course, this meant it was time for one of my favorite extreme weather events: obsessively watching WPXI. The news was fantastic - the storm was so severe that Julie Bologna had been forced to sleep at the studio, so not only was our favorite weekend weatherman, Kevin Benson, on duty, we had the Chief Meteorologist present as well! And then, oh then, the moment we had all been waiting for:
In the span of less than thirty seconds, both Julie Bologna and Kevin Benson referenced the Blizzard of '93.
If you didn't live in Pittsburgh in 1993, let me set the stage: It was nearing the Ides of March. We'd all counted winter out. Surely we'd survived, and spring was just around the corner. But oh no, what is this? An oncoming winter storm? WTAE's Joe Denardo, the most famous Pittsburgh weatherman (the man had a theme song, I kid you not), informed us that inches and inches of snow were on the way.
The Blizzard of '93 was the biggest weather adventure this city had seen in ages. The snow fell as fast as two-to-three inches per hour, and it was incredibly windy and freezing. By the end of things, we had well over two feet of snow. School was cancelled almost all week, and the neighborhood kids and I spent the entire time outside in the freezing weather having epic snowball fights and sledding down the gigantic hills behind our houses. We also watched a lot of home movies of beach vacations. For some reason, that was a really popular activity for us on snow days.
Anyway, I mention the Blizzard of '93 because it's important to our city's history, and every time there's a bit of snow involved, it's just a matter of time for the Blizzard to get mentioned. We had a terribly icy day about a month or two back, and the newscasters were all commenting on how it was the biggest shutdown of highways since the Blizzard of '93.
So today, when BOTH of our fantastic weather forecasters dropped the name of the Blizz, it was like my heart leapt a little. My husband moved to the city in 1994, so he never got to experience the magic of the Blizzard of '93 (or, coincidentally, a Buccos winning season), and I was excited for him to see a snowfall of such epic proportions. The resounding decision on WPXI was that this, the Snowpocalypse of 2010, was equal to or greater than the Blizzard of '93 in all ways except for the lack of extreme wind and low temperature.
It was this declaration that lead to my great realization. As we spent the morning running around in the snow with our little puppy, it gradually came to me. If this Snowmageddon was a match to the Blizzard of '93, it could only mean one thing: the curse has been reversed. Pittsburgh has seen a snowfall to equal the epic proportions of THE Blizzard of '93, and therefore, it naturally follows that the Buccos are about to snap out of their 17-season losing streak and go to the World Series.
No, not just go to the World Series. Our Pittsburgh Pirates are going to win the 2010 World Series.
You heard it here first: extreme weather and winning baseball seasons are on the horizon for this fantastic little city. Now if you will excuse me, I must go hop through snow piles and plan vacation days for October.
On my Top Billion Favorite Things About Pittsburgh list, somewhere in between 'Fireworks' and 'Folk Festival Potato Pancakes,' there is 'Extreme Pittsburgh Weather.' I've blogged about my love for torrential downpours that result in flooding and the inability to park your car on the Mon Wharf, but now, for the first time, I am enabled to blog about my absolute favorite preciptation, snow.
To fully understand my enjoyment of this snowstorm, I should make it clear that this was my weekend off of work. Insane snowfalls during days when I have to work usually lead to plenty of whining from me, since I can't be home to enjoy the storm. But we'd known since about Monday that a storm was coming this weekend, and that meant that I had about four full days of "You know, there's going to be a BLIZZARD this weekend!" enjoyment. (I do apologize to my friends and coworkers who may be annoyed by this behavior on my part :)
I spent all Friday morning whining about the lack of snow. When was it going to start? Was this another Pittsburgh Extreme Weather Dream Gone Awry? Oh how many times in my life have I been teased by Joe Denardo and Kevin Benson, hoping for feet of snow and waking up to only a dusting? What if this was just another one of those moments? Finally, around 2:00, the flurries began, but it was just too warm for any of it to stick. I was postively heartbroken, so I laid down in bed to read for a bit, and accidentally fell asleep...
By the time I awoke an hour later, the first inch had fallen. Our road was coated, and our back porch and yard had a healthy inch of the beautiful stuff on it. However, I was not ready to get my hopes up yet, so I settled onto the couch to watch a DVR'd SNL special and periodically pull back the curtains to check on the progress.
The snow kept coming. And coming. We decided to abandon our plans of attending First Friday, and instead settled in for a night of snow-watching and gaming. Around 5:30, just before the night began to completely fall, we took little Lucy out back and I took some pictures. The snow was coating everything, but just a light blanket.
By the time I woke up the next morning to take Lucy out again for her 5:30am bathroom break, the snow was so high, she could barely step off the porch into it. When we all awoke for the day around 8am, the Snowpocalypse had fully arrived. The snow was so high that my husband had to dig a little valley for Lucy to walk through, and the snow on each side of the valley was taller than her head. Everything was covered, tree branches and power lines were sagging, and the snow was all the way up to our front and back porches.
Of course, this meant it was time for one of my favorite extreme weather events: obsessively watching WPXI. The news was fantastic - the storm was so severe that Julie Bologna had been forced to sleep at the studio, so not only was our favorite weekend weatherman, Kevin Benson, on duty, we had the Chief Meteorologist present as well! And then, oh then, the moment we had all been waiting for:
In the span of less than thirty seconds, both Julie Bologna and Kevin Benson referenced the Blizzard of '93.
If you didn't live in Pittsburgh in 1993, let me set the stage: It was nearing the Ides of March. We'd all counted winter out. Surely we'd survived, and spring was just around the corner. But oh no, what is this? An oncoming winter storm? WTAE's Joe Denardo, the most famous Pittsburgh weatherman (the man had a theme song, I kid you not), informed us that inches and inches of snow were on the way.
The Blizzard of '93 was the biggest weather adventure this city had seen in ages. The snow fell as fast as two-to-three inches per hour, and it was incredibly windy and freezing. By the end of things, we had well over two feet of snow. School was cancelled almost all week, and the neighborhood kids and I spent the entire time outside in the freezing weather having epic snowball fights and sledding down the gigantic hills behind our houses. We also watched a lot of home movies of beach vacations. For some reason, that was a really popular activity for us on snow days.
Anyway, I mention the Blizzard of '93 because it's important to our city's history, and every time there's a bit of snow involved, it's just a matter of time for the Blizzard to get mentioned. We had a terribly icy day about a month or two back, and the newscasters were all commenting on how it was the biggest shutdown of highways since the Blizzard of '93.
So today, when BOTH of our fantastic weather forecasters dropped the name of the Blizz, it was like my heart leapt a little. My husband moved to the city in 1994, so he never got to experience the magic of the Blizzard of '93 (or, coincidentally, a Buccos winning season), and I was excited for him to see a snowfall of such epic proportions. The resounding decision on WPXI was that this, the Snowpocalypse of 2010, was equal to or greater than the Blizzard of '93 in all ways except for the lack of extreme wind and low temperature.
It was this declaration that lead to my great realization. As we spent the morning running around in the snow with our little puppy, it gradually came to me. If this Snowmageddon was a match to the Blizzard of '93, it could only mean one thing: the curse has been reversed. Pittsburgh has seen a snowfall to equal the epic proportions of THE Blizzard of '93, and therefore, it naturally follows that the Buccos are about to snap out of their 17-season losing streak and go to the World Series.
No, not just go to the World Series. Our Pittsburgh Pirates are going to win the 2010 World Series.
You heard it here first: extreme weather and winning baseball seasons are on the horizon for this fantastic little city. Now if you will excuse me, I must go hop through snow piles and plan vacation days for October.
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