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Third Thursday Feast
Kirsten Thorn, the "Crepe Girl" of North Street.
I went to Pittsfield last night to cover a story (see iBerks’ homepage). It was hot, the weather I mean, and while I was snapping photos of John Olver and Mayor Ruberto I couldn’t help but be distracted by the powerful strains of music calling from North Street. I asked questions, I took notes, I snapped more pictures, and by the end of the fourth speech I was ready to go check out the buzz of people and the smell of delicious foods; it was Third Thursday.
As I strolled up North Street, it occurred to me that I didn’t even recognize the city of my birth. This was not the Pittsfield that I’ve known for these many years. This was downtown Philly on a Sunday, Quincy Market on Friday night, not Pittsfield on a Thursday.
I felt like I had somehow stumbled home. Or, at least, what I thought home should always be.
Thousands, and I do mean thousands, of folks filled the streets; kids with painted faces (Spiderman seemed to be the request of the evening), big tattooed biker dudes, little old ladies with summer hats, veterans, babies, you name it, they were out. It was a feast for my people- watching eyes. And the experience didn’t stop there.
There was food everywhere, of every kind. The deep aroma of Lucia’s kabobs and Spanish rice rose into the air, tempting the 20 or so people waiting their turn to experience Latino food at its finest. It was hard to choose. Thankfully, I had only 20 bucks in my pocket and a mission; crepes.
You see, I am French. Very French. Politically, this does not leave a good impression, but my taste buds could care less. For me, crepes represent comfort food. And there they were, right in the middle of North Street, being made and filled by the dozen before my very eyes.
And the innovator of the legendary crepes is 17-year-old Kirsten Thorn or the “Crepe Girl as she is known. Every Tuesday through Thursday, Kirsten sets up shop in front of Charter’s Bookstore and serves up these golden delicacies filled with fruits, mozzarella, ham, Nutella, you want it this young entrepreneur has got it.
I settled on the apple-ham-Gruyere filled crepe. Within five minutes I was sitting curbside with my crepe and a plastic fork in hand, watching kids do skateboard stunts and nearly dying of pleasure every time I took a bite of the fast-disappearing food.
I savored and mourned the last bite, licked the remnants of the buttery cheese from my fingers and continued on down the street, amazed at the vibrancy of the city. Shops were open, blues, Latin, rock and oldies music filled each street corner, and nearly everyone had a smile on his or her face, not to mention stains from chocolate ice cream. Booths peddling jewelry, lemonade and social awareness lined the sidewalks and uniformed cyclists whizzed by in the hopes of winning the street race happening that night.
I didn’t want to leave. As I was driving away from the city, I felt almost melancholy to be leaving all the noise and activity (and food) for my country life in Sheffield. But I will be back next month, Third Thursday, and I will have my crepe and eat it, too!
Hope to see you there.
| Tags: Third, Thursday, Crepes |
Inside/Out not upside down
I am sad to say that summer is almost over. I’m even sadder to say that last night was my first visit to Jacob’s Pillow’s Inside/Out program and that next week is the last week to see some amazing artists perform some very innovative dances, all of which take place under the canopy of woods and sky.
And did I mention that the shows are free and that you can bring your dinner, your kids and even your dog (if it is well-behaved and relatively small and enjoys contemporary dance)?
Jennifer Nugent, a dancer with the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company is the mastermind behind last night’s performance of “I’d Go out with You,” which was accompanied by the twangy, somewhat eerie Chris Isaak-esque music of Sam Crawford (music director for company). Nugent, who in addition to choreographing the piece also danced in it with Asli Bulbul, is clearly not afraid of anything.
The rest of us were, for a little bit.
The piece begins with Nugent using her elastic, quick-moving body, to find a rhythm while pitted against the lonely lyrics of “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain.” Her muscles are just controlled enough to be on the edge of frantic, the effect is tense. When Bulbul joined Nugent on the stage the game changed drastically, even for the audience. Especially for the audience.
You see, we brought the girls; my nine-going-on-sixteen-year-old daughter and my six-going-on-princess niece. And watching two women (no matter if they are amazingly talented dancers) sensually pursue each other on stage is a tough thing to explain to an adult, much less a child.
I tried to explain to Anna (my daughter) that the dancers were curious about each other, that the highly sexualized kissing motions and the lifting and laying on of hands was supposed to represent their curiosity about each other and that when Nugent lifted Bulbul into the air or vice versa that they were giving support.
“But they’re both girls,” Anna said. “I think there should be a guy and a girl dancing. This is weird.”
She had a point. The audience shifted uncomfortably, now and again a child would laugh at the aggressive push-pull of arms and legs and the light-footed chase across the stage.
Silence fell as the two women danced provocatively in and out of a seeming lover’s embrace, unable to dance alone for too long. Even little liberal me contemplated taking the girls before the performance ended.
Of course, I didn’t. Somewhere, perhaps as the piece was coming to a close and the dancers were quieting and still, I reminded myself that this discomfort is exactly the thing that keeps us from introducing our kids and ourselves to new adventures outside of the proverbial box.
What did I expect, an antiseptic show of dance steps and no body contact? It’s Jacob’s Pillow for petessake, they wouldn’t dare anesthetize the power of dance for the sake of Puritan impulses!
Bottom line, go to Inside/Out, leave your preconceptions at the end of the road, and enjoy something new. And yes, you can bring your children. Trust me; it will inspire quite a conversation on the ride home.
| Tags: Inside, Out, Jacobs, Pillow, Jennifer, Nugent |
A bean for all seasons
Cafes are cliché, without a doubt. In the movies, the glamorous, beret-clad, cigarette-smoking romantics sip their latte and have nothing better to talk about than love and communism.
But that’s just the cliché. I am a café haunter, and proud to say that in this little corner of the earth, there are many moods and good cups of coffee to be had at local cafes. I can’t say that I have a favorite place…yet. But there is truly a café for all seasons and all desires here in SoCo. If I’m feeling like I need a little social isolation but not so much that I am staring at my own wall trying to write a blog (ahem) I head to Rubi’s in Great Barrington. It is the epitome of cool and for some reason that is a draw. It is Europe, all over again, right down to the special-order mocha from France (and what a disaster when they run out). Great latte, people speaking in hushed tones, a perfect place to really write or have an inspiring conversation. And did I say how good the mocha is?
Speaking of mocha (let’s face it, that’s just a fancy word for chocolate which is a civilized word for heroin), Chocolate Springs in Lenox is another haunt for this road-weary writer. I make many trips from Sheffield to Pittsfield to cover a plethora of events and meetings. While I grumble about the drive it dawns on me, every single time, that I will be passing the fountain of chocolate and thus have to make a stop and then be forced to get an exquisite mocha drink which will of course require a coma-inducing dessert. I talk myself out of any guilt by saying that this will be my lunch (and dinner). Plus, it is my reward for not driving 80 mph back from Pittsfield. I take my time on the way back, fearing I will miss the turn into Aspinwell. And if I’m lucky, which I usually am, someone will be playing the piano there, thus completing the entire decadent experience.
And then there is the Marketplace Café in my little town of Sheffield. A trip like this (for me) really only requires a pair of sunglasses and a sudden urge for a very strong cup of joe (we joke around when I order a small Columbian) and, if I’m feeling ambitious and hungry, a giant, buttery, cinnamon scone that will literally last for hours. The sandwiches are amazing as well, and I think the secret is the chipotle sour cream and the golden ciabatta, or maybe it’s the pasta salad side. Or maybe, and this could be it, it’s Robby who decorates the foam of my latte with chocolate hearts and flowers.
Or maybe it’s the fact that all of South County’s “tree guys” are there first thing in the morning and then again at lunch.
Either way, don’t be afraid of the café. They are friendly places that lift us out of anonymity and into a community that appreciates a friendly face and a good brew.
| Tags: cafes, south, county |
An Afternoon in the Afternoon Garden
To tell you the truth, I was VERY hesitant about taking three children to Naumkeag in Stockbridge. In fact, I’m very hesitant about taking children anywhere because my 6-year-old son is a maniac, especially after he ingests carbs of any kind.
He had a peanut butter and fluff sandwich before we left. The odds were already stacked against me.
But I did it. Or we did it. And it was amazing.
I’ve been to Naumkeag several times, but never with children. It always seemed too, you know, fancy, for little kids. But yesterday, I discovered the key. First, admission to Naumkeag is free if you have valid driver’s license from the Berks. So that saved us about $30. Secondly, you can spend a whole day in the gardens alone. This is exactly what we did. There was no shortage of amazement as the kids roamed (or ran) the grounds of Choate’s “cottage,” marveling at the many hidden vignettes and statues and pathways lined with evergreens and lindens. Not only does Naumkeag provide a wealth of natural and stately beauty, all well-balanced against distant sweeps of farmland and cows, it also inspires A LOT of questions at every turn. It is truly a place to learn and explore without pressure. All you need is a little one page map and a very fierce imagination.
I almost brought them into the cottage itself, but just as we were about to enter (and try to sneak into the tour that was already going on) my son banged on the giant gong outside the door.
Maybe some other time.
| Tags: Naumkeag, for, kids |
Gone...casting?
Fishing in South County requires three things; a decent pool, a good friend, and an amazing sense of humor. None of them are negotiable, trust me. I’ve had several fishing adventures (or mishaps depending on perspective) this summer.
I’m not sure if my luck will change, but I can say that each outing has been memorable, whether it’s been a full gear, strap-the-canoe-to-the-jeep-and-grab-some-subs-afternoon or a quick run down to the old (new) covered bridge to throw a few lines in before the sun goes down.
I’ve been taking stock of the conditions in my fish haunts. The Stockbridge Bowl is, by far, my favorite. The best time to go is early, early on a Sunday morning. The lake is pristine, the houses are quiet, and birds are VERY helpful in locating fish and yes, the fish are diverse and yes, they do bite. Plus, you can work up a good appetite all morning and head over to the Elm St. Market for some good eats and coffee.
A word of caution about the Bowl, if you are a novice caster or just feeling off your game, stay away from shore. So far I’ve snagged my lure on several tree branches and even someone’s porch. So glad no one was home during the lure rescue. What? Did you think I would leave it there?
Another familiar hole, although I’m reluctant to even mention it because I usually leave it completely angry and shy at least one lure, is Gilligan’s Pond in Sheffield. One word; WEEDS. Weeds everywhere. It actually looks like a cornfield is growing underwater. So DO NOT USE a three-hook lure. Or, if you do, expect to spend most of your time randomly tugging on your pole trying to unsnag your lure.
Also, as if the weeds weren’t bad enough, there are some big, sneaky, fallen trees lurking on the edges. Just when you think you’re clear of the edge and the really bad weeds suddenly your line is tight and there is your lure, embedded in wet wood. In fact, on one of these adventures, I’m not sure if my pole was rebelling against the location, but I cast out and half of my pole went with the lure. I saved it from sinking completely but knew to pack up after that. On the positive side, Gilligan’s Pond has some really interesting birdlife and twists and turns and marshes. It is also a gorgeous place to watch the moon come up.
Lastly, and somewhat ironically, there is the Housy (formally known as the Housatonic River). The old (new) covered bridge in Sheffield is about a 40-second drive from my house. I go there when I am itching to cast a few lines, sometimes still in my work clothes. I grab my pole and my tackle box (which are both in my car at all times, as are my fishing flip-flops), trip down the slope to the river’s edge, set up shop on my little rock, and just start throwing lines in. I’m sure I should have more of a strategy, but so far, this has been my most successful fishing spot. I’ve snagged two enormous pike (the last one was over two feet long) within the first three casts. Which reminds me, since there are a ton of pike in the Housy, bring your needle-nosed pliers if you want your lure back because that’s the only way you’re going to get it out of a pike’s mouth. They’ve got some nasty teeth and they fight like demons.
I’ll keep you posted on more adventures. Might be heading up to Lake Buel on Saturday morning. Anyone know where I can get some decent shiners?
| Tags: fishing |
