Spanakopita : An Obsession

At the risk of sounding freakishly Rachel Rayish, my relationship with this flaky, Greek goodie started in a dining hall on Mt. Olympus Drive (<--how weirdly appropriate) at Syracuse University. The usual "cereal-bagel-and whatever other carbs I can cram onto my tray" diet was getting old, and I couldn't help but gravitate towards the gleaming, golden triangles, basking under the neon cafeteria lights. What began as an impulsive decision soon became a full-fledged filo fetish and only grew when I moved to Astoria, Queens, about a year ago...as I scoured the city, searching for the perfect pie, I inadvertantly put together a "Best Of" list
which you are treated to here. Thank me later ;).

1. THE NEPTUNE DINER (3105 Astoria Blvd Astoria, NY, 11102)
Voted "The Best Diner in Queens" (and that's a credential!), The Neptune boasts a delicious spanakopita, crammed with herbs and feta, accompanied by a delicious side salad...so all you Manhattan snobs, wrinkling your noses at the thought of crossing the Queensboro Bridge, stick it out on an N train for an extra 15 minutes and you will not be sorry.

2.ATHENS CAFE (3207 30th Ave Astoria, NY 11102)
Maybe its the breezy ambience that adds an extra sumthin-sumthin to their version of spinach pie, but whatever the ingredient, Athens's authentic rendition (no side salad)can be enjoyed while people-watching in the heart of Astoria. The added bonus:
The cafe's star waiter, whom I've dubbed "Superman," for his breakneck water pouring skills.

3.RAINBOW FALAFEL (26 E 17th St, New York 10003)
A trusted,fellow connoiseur tells me that this blink-and-you'll-miss-it Union Square joint is his ultimate mood lifter, thanks to their impeccable crust, straddling the line between flaky and firm...and their falafels aren't bad, either.

Shaa'ir & Func

So I schlepped over to interview this up-and-coming rock duo, "Shaa'ir & Func" for my freelancing gig at Nirali. If stage-fright had an anti-thesis, it'd be Shaa'ir, aka, Monica Dogra. She's the gorgeous, passionate and astonishingly articulate lead singer and Func's her uber-talented boyfriend, Randolph Correia, whose kind of a big deal back in Bombay, thanks to his band Pentagram (http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?NewsID=1090820). At the risk of sounding creepy, they are intoxicating. Not sure if its Monica's soothing voice (even when she's not singing), Randolph's way of making everything sound effortlessly profound or the fact that they met, fell in love, and formed a band (WHOSE JEALOUS?!? can you say modern-day fairy-tale??). They said they wrote most of their album, "New Day," when they were doing the long distance thing for a whopping 5 months--her in New York, him in Bombay. She mentioned a particularly inspiring poem by someone called Veronica Shofstall, something about learning the difference between chaining a soul and holding a hand. We chatted over cappuccinos, which Randolph, very sweetly whipped up in their cozy upper west side apartment. All in all, a fabulous way to spend a Tuesday afternoon.

Stay tuned for a full-fledged article on www.niralimagazine.com

PS: I hate my tape-recorder for shutting down half-way through our two hour interview.

The Best Elevator Music I Ever Heard (aka, "An Ode to the Cosbys")

I still remember the humble beginnings to my Cosby Show affliction. I had just finished the 2nd grade, and was spending the summer in a monsoon-soaked Mumbai. While my mom was out on her routine sari shop expedition, my younger sister, Anisha and I would choose the stay-at-home option, which usually involved a pathetic attempt at channel surfing (this was before the glitzy MTV Desi days) and staring out the window of our Nani's 8th floor apartment, overlooking the gusty Arabian Sea. On one such listless afternoon, Anisha and I came across a dusty set of video tapes, tucked away in the bottom shelf of the VCR. Intrigued--and hopelessly bored--we popped a tape in. And there they were. The Cosbys. In their immaculate Brooklyn home with their perpetually stocked refrigerator (sidenote: what was with the never-ending supply of apple juice? and who did the groceries?). In my eyes, they were sheer perfection--they showed me that a dad could willingly stay at home and take care of his feverish five-year-old, that a pet fish is entitled to a funeral, and that there's no problem that a bacon burger dog can't solve.

And so, in honor of the Cosbys...

-Huxtapalooza- (<--okay so I stole that from a Nick at Nite special but its cute, no?)

Best Line: "She's late, but looks good. You're just late!" (The community center dude, Chester, on Cliff's tardiness)

Best Guest Character: Mrs. Westlake (The dragon lady, aka Theo's geometry teacher who receives a "Get Well" card in the shape of a parallelogram)

...TBC...

Just a Ride?

It's just a ride, it's just a ride
no need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you round and round
Sometimes you're up
sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
don't be scared
don't hide your eyes
It may feel so real inside
but don't forget it's just a ride
-JEM-

I think I'm getting old.

I genuinely enjoy "Everybody Loves Raymond"--a show I swore I would never add to my list of must see TV--can no longer finish gin & tonics--a drink I effortlessly guzzled in college--and write my parents long e-mails on a fairly regular basis. What's up with that? And so, committed to reconnect with my kickass, young, fun, self, I did what any unemployed 23-year-old, teetering on the verge of a quarter-life crisis would do. I went to Six Flags.

Determined to find the ultimate thrill ride, hours of consideration led my two friends and I to "Kingda Ka", a colossal, lime-green serpent of a catapult, which promised "a 129-foot hill designed to induce negative-G weightlessness." (Yeah, I'm not sure either, but sign me up for anything that has the phrase "negative-G" in it). After 2 hours of inching along in line, in 90-degree weather, we strapped on our harnesses, willed ourselves not to puke-up the overpriced pizza slices we'd had for lunch, and prepared for the next 32 seconds--a blur of speed, wind and blood-curdling screams. If you don't believe me, look for yourself.

I'm still dizzy.