In my first string of New York
minutes, I cohabited with locals who relentlessly ordered their meals in. They
would wake up or come home and get somewhat settled before picking up the phone
to place an order for delivery, sometimes from eateries stationed down the
street. What a bunch of lazy asses, I
decided, you couldn’t pay me to live like
that. We children of Started-from-the-Bottom-Now-We-Here
immigrants value home-cooked meals over making bicyclists hazardously weave through
buses and cars to fetch our hot food.
Fast forward to about ten
years later. In the past week, I’ve called out for delivery twice, with the updated
standpoint of: Bring me my dinner, and be
quick about it. In fact, bring enough to last a couple of days so I have
leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch, as I’m in no frame of mind to cook or shop for
what’s missing in my kitchen. It's alarming how often someone who’s out foraging for food so
much can have nothing left to nosh on. That’s the downside
of high metabolisms and the upside of living in communities where it’s
commonplace to drive to the grocery store and stock up with impunity, instead
of having to make multiple on-foot trips, settling for as much as you can carry
for five blocks. The idea of ordering groceries online and having the cargo dispatched
to my doorstep hasn’t sounded nuts to me in months. Neither has the idea of
sending my laundry out. I’m at the edge of my bed in suspense about what will seem
normal next.
The act of being a New
Yorker, one who’s really a part of it all, can periodically sap the energy out
of you, to the extent nowhere else I’ve lived has. It’s almost like being an
older version of what you were in college (the last time I had meals delivered
with any regularity), when you and the people tightly packed around you were up
at all hours, fighting to balance the serious with the social, maturation with
exploration, without burning out too soon, and the thrill of finding a free
Coke at the bottom of your delivery bag can be all it takes to keep the mojo humming
for another night.
I love eating. Cooking? Not so much, even through I've been told I'm a decent cook. It's not the actual cooking. . .it's purchasing everything, and then all that chopping and cleaning. And the dishes? Don't ask. We are only two people in my apartment, but much of the day is spent thinking about food, preparing food, washing up after food. . .I dunno, sometimes I wish human beings didn't have to eat, but we are indeed biological creatures.
ReplyDeleteEverything you've ever whipped up for me has tasted much better than decent!
DeleteA meal does take a huge amount of time, something NYers just don't have! :)
ReplyDeleteI've often heard that buying food in the US is cheaper than buying groceries... if this is true, then by all means, bring on the deliveries.
ReplyDeleteHere in SA, buying take-out is much more expensive than buying groceries - which most people seem to do begrudgingly these days.