I came today to Veselka in the East Village. It is jammed but I slid into a seat at the counter. I am across from the grill where a very competent fellow is doing well. It brings back memories of my first cooking job.
I dream about their borscht. Fir Christmas they added mushroom dumplings.
And, ever the optimist, I ordered a sandwich.
If this wasn’t enough it came with a potato pancake.
Impossible.
It has been fun trading quips with the guys next to me and tucking into this provender. I’ll have to take half the sandwich with me.
Oh my goodness, some of my favorite food. Izat ice tea?
Oh my goodness, I love borscht! It’s really good with a dollop of sour cream and a sprinkle of dill. Mmm.
Jamaican me hungry!
Fr. Z,
Next time you are in my neighborhood I would be honored to treat you to lunch or dinner!
I really enjoy your dining commentaries, Father Z, especially with photographs.
Wow, that’s some monster sandwich, Father Z-no wonder you had to take some of it with you!
then, very late tonight after whatever activities are engaged in, to kiev for kasha and bowties!
I spy – what’s the label on the container “Raspberry . . .”?
You remind me that I must attempt to prepare some Russian foods for our Russian-adoptee little men. It’s hard enough to get a meat loaf out of me sometimes! I finally mastered my German-French Grandmother’s meatball recipe (probably more of a Depression era make-do meal) this Christmas in memoriam of her death Dec 10. RIP.
A good short order cook in a diner like that is poetry in motion.
Looks like good food.
Betcha the folks at Veselka’s always snicker about the “priest that always takes photos of his food with his phone.” Little do they know he’s doing free advertising to thousands of potential customers.
Dear Father Z,
Your teasing me. I grew up in Rockland County, Pearl River NY. Married and lived in South FL for 25 years. I miss the small deli’s of NY, North NJ and South Florida. I now live in a suburb of Memphis. The BBQ capitol of the world. My father was a southerner so it was not a total shock. However, just try and find a decent pizza or a good bagel. No wonder Elvis had his food flown in from around the country when he didn’t want Memphis dry rub ribs. Maybe you can invent a way to send a good potato pancake and some borscht through the internet.
I didn’t see the potato pancake in the photo there, Father Z!
I love latkes! Haven’t had them in a long time, though!
[And to think I hated eating potatoes when I was a kid-the only ‘spuds’ I ate were in the form of French fries!]
So did you burst into singing “To eat the impossible lunch, to drink the improbable beer, to sing with a crowd at Veselka with naught but ineffable cheer . . . “? I’d guess not.