Ah, back from another rejuvenating weekend at home, this
time to catch the annual Rockafellar Orchid Show Spectacular in New York City.
Along the way, our car broke down on the Cross Bronx Parkway, locally known as
the “unwashed crotch of the interstate”. The four of us, including my elderly
but still spunky grandmother lounged on the shoulder, sipping beer we had bought
from the local bodega. After two hours, we were rescued by
Frank-who-doesn’t-take-credit-cards. And we were on our way to Orchid Heaven.
Before I left home to return to school, Mommy dearest took
me shopping at the local health-nut-food store, Trader Joe’s. You may know him
for his famous “Pirate’s Booty”. Browsing the flax seed filled isles, I spotted
a gleaming container in the refrigerated section. It was none other than my
truest of loves. The pinnacle of culinary cream dreams; fresh mozzarella. Now,
we’ve all tasted the buffalo mozzarella, fresh and stringy. The kind that must
be topped with tomato, basil and de’ fresh peppa’. But this was better. Little
pearls of cheese floating in shimmering olive oil. Glistening and infused with
the spices of the motherland, thyme and oregano. This was perfection and I
grabbed it, along with some sesame crackers, and placed them with care, into the
cart.
On returning to the dorm room, Aaron greeted me with the
all so familiar, “What did you bring?” A smile cracked my face as I took out
delight after delicious delight. Mango juices, hmmmm, freshly roasted nuts.
And the latest issue of Hard Boys for Aaron’s private pleasure. And then, while
his eyes gleamed, I removed from the shopping bag my treasure, fresh mozzarella
in spiced olive oil. I positioned it in the back of the fridge, and said,
“Aaron, let’s save this for a special occasion” “Ok”, he replied as he guzzled
some sparkling lemonade and flipped through the “Hard Boys”.
I had a tough day today. I was annoyed that last night’s
initiative to wake up early for some vague purposes of “productivity” had fallen
to the wayside of exciting dream-time. How could you blame me, I was eating
dinner with none other than Butros butros Gali!! In any case, I spent the day
studying and dozing, thinking of those glistening pears of coagulated dairy
waiting in the fridge. Tonight would be the night, I decided, Aaron and I will
feed each other succulent, oily balls while giggling over Conan O’Brian. That
thought carried me through the last hundred pages I had to read, and I returned
to the dorm with an expectant spring in my step.
I sat down in my big chair and opened the fridge to check
on my little spiced babies. But no, it wasn’t in the back of the fridge!! It
was opened, its precious seal violated by none other than my former best-friend,
AARON. I was enraged. Ensconced in my anger, I decided that if we couldn’t
share the cheese, no one could!!! I stuffed them down my throat, not even
bothering to lick the sweet oil dripping down my fingers and chin. “Grrr, so
good. Aaron you fucker!” I mumbled. And then I saw his sweet, hairy face
looking at me, with eyes that wanted only one thing, to share in this oral
pleasure. I choked on that cheese as I choked back tears. Friend, you are a
friend to the end. You are a good friend.
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