Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Reading Rainbow

I'm a fast reader. I'm not a speed reader but I've been known to curl upon the coach with a good book and not leave until every page is devoured, taken in and used for at least a good laugh or cry. I buy new books when I travel but for the most part I borrow them or re-read my own books if I'm desperate for something to read-anything. There were times when I was young that I would want to escape the terror of my little sister and would hide in the bathroom for an hour or so for some private time with my books. I guess you could say it started with little house on the prairie. I read and re-read Laura Ingalls Wilder from the time I could pronounce her name right on through to high school until we moved and I either donated them or sold them in a yard sale. I used to imagine that I was going back in tine where one had no electricity and had to cut the ice for their ice box from a frozen pond in 12* weather. I"d imagine that Laura popped by my house in modern times and I'd take her on a tour of our house. "Would you like a glass of ilk?" I"d ask, to which she'd respond "but I where do you keep your cows?"

You might say that I was a bit of an odd kid and that would probably be an understatement. When my mom would take me to the library near our house in DE I became fascinated by the book check out process. The grey haired librarian would take the hard cover books and stack them neatly on the counter in front of her and one by one, open to the back flap and pull the borrowers date card from the Manila flap taped to the back. Then she'd stamp it with the return date, telling my mother that her best sellers were due back sooner than my Little House on the Prairie books. I always took out too many books from the library at one time and almost never finished them. In the second grade there was a summer reading contest and I spent more time in the pool than I did with my books. I remember the panic I felt as the days to school grew ever closer and I hadn't even read the required five. I skulked to my moms bookshelf and wrote down the names of the books she had there. Danielle Steele, Stephen King, Nora Roberts and other books I probably shouldn't have been reading just to add some weight to my list. I turned in my list of the 53 books I had read that summer on the first day of school. I chose to list 53 because it seemed like an arbitrary number. As if I had time to read 53 books but couldn't squeeze in that extra two. The top reader had read 113 books and I wondered if their mother's bookshelf simply had more books than mine.

Many, many years later I still lag behind my mom's passion for reading and she typically passes me more books than I pass along to her. She's recently joined a book club and the devout readers choose a new book a month. My mom kills that book in less than two weeks so she recently went back to our local library to become a member again. When she handed over her ID the librarian told her she needed to clear a fine from her record in order to join. My mom and I speak nearly everyday so when she called me on my bus ride from the city I had to let her call roll into voicemail. When I got off the bus - I checked it. "Hey, its me. Need to talk to you about the money you owe me-call me back". Instantly I think back to the parent loan they took out for me for college, the money I borrowed to buy my first car, the $20 bucks she sent me to Wal-mart with that I never gave her change for. All things she's never asked me to repay. I reluctantly hit her number on speed dial and wait for the wrath. "Hey! "She says like she always does, "Did you ever return that Laura Ingalls book to the Library?" Your ten year overdue fee is $2.15 and I'd like my money back please."

Bada Bing

I had never seen The Godfather. My husband, who was then my boyfriend couldn't believe that I'd never seen it let alone ever read the book since I've been known to buy and plow through books in a couple of days. In my stocking last year was a copy of The Godfather. I couldn't wait to get started reading it and in true form, devoured the book like it was smothered in Mrs. G's red sauce. I've always been obsessed with Italian food and while I just recently started cooking and enjoying wine I've been eating lasagna, spaghetti and gnocchi since I was old enough to chew solid foods. I've also got a strange kind of fascination with the Mob and enthusiastically watched every episode of the Sopranos. I get excited about driving past Satin Dolls, the strip club in the Sopranos called the Bada Bing and I live around the block from the local diner where they filmed the last episode. I'd probably pass out if I ever met "Tony Soprano" but the fact that I can sit in the same booth that he did during the last episode is pretty darn close if you ask me. And as many people know the last song that played during the last episode is my all time favorite. And in case you're wondering, I do think he was whacked.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to attend a food and wine show in NYC. My husband and I talked about it all week and couldn't wait to walk through the event tasting wines and snacking on the delicious foods prepared by some of NY's finest restaurants. Armed with a list of wines to sample and tasting glasses we circled the floor searching for some new wines to try. It is a strange and wonderful thing to attend events like these. Not only for the variety of things you'll encounter but for the people watching. Dressed in a simple long sleeved black dress with a hint of cleave and open toed kitten heeled shoes, I felt very New York chic. The hubby looked dashing in his 'cute professor' look; jeans, white collared shirt and hound's-tooth jacket. The average food and wine event attendee wore jeans, a sweater, sneakers or flats. Many didn't seem to give a damn about their outfits and while it shouldn't matter what they were wearing it seemed to me that if you are to attend this kind of event you'd probably give a little bit more thought to your outfit than you would if you were schlepping around Disneyland. The event was held at the same time in the same venue as the Chocolate Show so we occasionally dodged an over-sugared child with chocolate smudged fingers and brown stained lips. We pondered the idea of bringing kids to an event like this; especially a chocolate show. There are literally 25 – 30 booths all distributing free samples of chocolate products: truffles, brownies, cookies, hot chocolate, milk chocolate, dark chocolate, chili powder chocolate. How can you contain a small child and hold him back from this delicious disaster? What do you say? "Ok honey, now you can only have five pieces and then you have to drink water and sit down."

Even the hubs and I had trouble pacing ourselves from table to table. Who can with that amount of free chocolate?! But for the low price of $28 per person, I guess you can let your kids overdose on sugar once a year. That sugar high and crash must be terrible. There were numerous presentations and demonstrations happening that day and we paused to watch NYC firemen create pancake delicacies and were dazzled by the world famous pizza dough tossing team. It was at this time that volunteers began passing out slices of Sicilian style pizza. I'm not kidding when I say that you must literally throw elbows to get a sample of almost any food being served. Like starving Ethiopians people swarm the poor volunteers and grab slices off his tray. I watched my overly polite husband try like hell to get the attention of the server who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there than surrounded by I Love Chocolate t-shirt wearing families of five. The wine booths all opened at 1:00 p.m. so we proudly stood in the line waiting to get in about 10 minutes before hand. Most people seemed to know a thing or two about food and wine and enthusiastically approached the wine booths with cleansed palettes ready to sample wines from all over the world; Chile, Australia, Italy, Spain and even Long Island. We walked the floor two or three times began sampling the wines. We started to see some of the same people staffing the booths over again. It made it a little awkward when you've already sampled the wines at that booth to approach it again and ask for more. Sure it was free, but who wanted to be seen as the freeloading wine samplers. It wasn't a frat party.

On our past a booth we had tasted at before, we noticed a crowd forming. I recalled the booth because behind it hung a poster of a handsome older Italian man who has probably lain in far too many tanning beds. His wine's label shared the same font as the recognizable Godfather and there were pictures of 'the family' posted as well. The man in the picture was staffing the booth and we noticed that in addition to his wine he was also selling red sauce. We stood about 10 feet from the booth and squinted, staring at the older man, wondering why he looked so familiar. Another couple approached us and asked if we knew who the older guy was. He looked like he could have been the younger brother of George Hamilton. He wore a dark pin striped suit with a white collared shirt open to the second button. His gold chain and pinky ring glistened in the fluorescent lights and his tan skin looked leathery and aged. We notice a picture from a famous scene in The Godfather in which Sonny beats up his sister's husband, Carlo Rizzi. Our eyes move from the old guy's face to the picture and suddenly it hits us. He's got to be the guy who played Carlo Rizzi. The name Gianni Russo is listed on the bottles of wine. The resemblance is clear but is it really him? I start to question it but quickly remember that the movie is a couple decades old and while Carlo was young and handsome, this tan gentleman could possibly be him. Remembering that I've got my Blackberry on me I quickly Google Gianni Russo. The IMDB website quickly pulls up a list of movies that Gianni Russo has starred in. Sure enough this guy was Carlo Rizzi. Not only that but he was also in Seabiscuit, The Freshmen and Any Given Sunday. I tell the couple we're chatting with that the old guy is indeed Carlo Rizzi and we all laugh about the fact that we've been staring at him for the last ten minutes. He suddenly notices us looking at him and gives us a dead pan mobster stare. We smile politely and nod in recognition and take our tasting glasses to the next booth. He wasn't exactly Tony Soprano, but I'd say he's just about close enough to get my movie mobster fix in.