Across The Great Divide

I've yammered on at some length about the fact that there are some things that I like to buy and that we like to eat which simply aren't available in our neighborhood -- but that has changed.  As of a couple of weeks ago, we now have a Gourmet Garage in Spanish Harlem.  Of course, they'd probably say they're in Carnegie Hill or Upper Yorkville (depending on what's the most fashionable realtor-speak at the moment) or if they're trying to appeal to the set who likes to have street credibility, they might say SpaHa, which is El Barrio's moniker du jour.  But as far as I'm concerned, they're on the north side of 96th Street, right where Park Avenue starts to go downhill, both in terms of literal terrain and real-estate dollar values -- but not in the sense of a great neighborhood with a lot of history, heart, funk and flava.  East Harlem:  the Great Divide has been crossed.  And the heart of the matter is that I now have a reasonbly local place to buy what G likes to refer to as my "Yuppie F*cko Organic Gringo Groceries".  And you'll notice that he doesn't complain when the meals are ready.   I'm now within walking distance of organic milk, creme fraiche, imported cheese, artisanal bread, good olive oil, etc.   The down side is that they're pricey and they're small, relative to the acres of bounty available at my beloved Fairway.  So no, GG has not replaced Fairway in my affections -- but sheer convenience can be a real blessing on occasion.       

I was walking up Park Avenue the other day, from the Carnegie Hill side toward East Harlem, planning on a quick Gourmet Garage stop on my way home.  Two Upper East Side mommies were trilling excitedly about the wonders available at GG.  "Have you tried the baguettes?" one shrieked.  "Oh, I know, and the CHEESES!" the other one swooned.  Her preteen offspring viewed her with disgust.  "God, mom, you are so pathetic if that's what excites you," he said.  I like to think of myself as street-fightin' woman, but sudden revelation was upon me.  This is what excites me also, therefore...I too am pathetic.  Such a moment of self-knowledge can be quite crushing.  But it doesn't last, especially against the cheer imparted by finding my favorite imported-from-Edinburgh shortbread fingers on the Gourmet Garage's shelves.   

Comments

[raspberry sour]

my vote is for a street-fightin' woman who knows her cheeses. besides, how else will you get yourself to the front of the line when the baguettes come out of the oven and the cheeses appear on the shelf.

[Julie]

Good point, raspberry. I'm a street fightin' yuppie f*cko organic gringo grocery buyin' woman. Look out, everyone...

[Moira]

You'll be amused to hear that a good friend of ours from Colorado refers to people like us (well, not EXACTLY like us, but close enough) as Yuppie Dirtbag Scum. Right up there with Street Fightin' Yuppie F*cko Organic Gringo Grocery-Buyin' Woman, don't you think? In fact, I think that might have to be your super hero name, but you might have to use an abbreviation for your spandex suit.

[voiceover] "It's a bird! It's a plane! It's SFYFOGGB Woman!"

Maybe not.

[Julie]

Moi, you had me positively snorting with this one. It was right up there with an old post from the Julie/Julia project. Right after Julie and her husband saw the movie X-Men, they were trying to figure out what their X-Men names and secret powers would be. Julie decided that she would be Bechamel, who would flood her enemies with a deluge of rich creamy sauces...

[Moira]

Bwaaaahaaahaaa! Now we just need to come up with a theme song. How about we make up some lyrics to the music from "Brick House" by The Commodores?

[Julie]

Perfect! What were the lyrics you had in mind...?

[Moira]

Give me a bit and I'll be back with your theme song...

[Moira]

How about this? Sung, of course, to the tune of 'Brick House' by The Commodores:

Ow, she’s a yuppie…f*ck-o
She’s mighty mighty- a just keepin’ it way down low
Ow, she’s a yuppie…f*ck-o
The lady’s real whack and that’s a fact
Ain’t holding nothing back.

Ow, she’s a yuppie…f*ck-o
Well, she’s in SpaHa everybody knows
This is how the story goes.

She know she got everything
That a gringo needs to fill her list, yeah yeah.
How can she lose with what she use
36-24-36, and she can use her fists!

Chorus

Ow she’s a yuppie…f*ck-o
Yeah she’s the one, the only one
Got to her groceries on

The food she buys, her street fightin’ ways,
Make an old G wish for younger days
She knows she’s tough and knows how to buy cheese
Sure ‘nuff to knock a lowly clerk to his knees

Chorus

Come on down, come on down now (repeat 6x)
Come on down----Spa HA!

Chorus

Come on down, come on down now (repeat 6x)
Come on!

Bridge
Chorus

[Julie]

I'm in enough hysterics that I can barely type...

[Jessica "Su Good Sweets"]

Gourmet Garage is great, even though it's kind of pricey. I live near the Soho one.