The Student Does the Master Proud Restaurant Review: Sushi Nakazawa in the West Village
The moment-to-moment joys of eating one mouthful of sushi after another can merge into a blur of fish bliss. But almost everything Mr. Nakazawa cups in his hands and places in front of you is an event on its own. A piece of his sushi grabs control of your senses, and when it’s gone, you wish you could have it again. These little events carve themselves into your memory. So does the meal, 21 pieces or so over about two hours. There are three seatings a night at the counter. Reservations there can be made only for parties of two, which is needlessly unaccommodating; sushi counter dining is one of Japan’s great gifts to solo diners, and I can’t imagine Sushi Nakazawa would have trouble filling the slots. Reservations for the 25 seats in the back are more flexible, with staggered times and a discounted price, $120 instead of $150 at the counter. http://www.nytimes.com/2013/12/11/dining/reviews/restaurant-review-sushi-nakazawa-in-the-west-village.html --- Dasani’s own neighborhood, Fort Greene, is now one of gentrification’s gems. Her family lives in the Auburn Family Residence, a decrepit city-run shelter for the homeless. It is a place where mold creeps up walls and roaches swarm, where feces and vomit plug communal toilets, where sexual predators have roamed and small children stand guard for their single mothers outside filthy showers. It is no place for children. Yet Dasani is among 280 children at the shelter. Beyond its walls, she belongs to a vast and invisible tribe of more than 22,000 homeless children in New York, the highest number since the Great Depression, in the most unequal metropolis in America. Nearly a quarter of Dasani’s childhood has unfolded at Auburn, where she shares a 520-square-foot room with her parents and seven siblings. As they begin to stir on this frigid January day, Dasani sets about her chores. Her mornings begin with Baby Lele, whom she changes, dresses and feeds, checking that the formula distributed by the shelter is not, once again, expired. She then wipes down the family’s small refrigerator, stuffed with lukewarm milk, Tropicana grape juice and containers of leftover Chinese. After tidying the dresser drawers she shares with a sister, Dasani rushes her younger siblings onto the school bus. “I have a lot on my plate,” she says, taking inventory: The fork and spoon are her parents and the macaroni, her siblings — except for Baby Lele, who is a plump chicken breast. “So that’s a lot on my plate — with some corn bread,” she says. “That’s a lot on my plate.” full: http://www.nytimes.com/projects/2013/invisible-child/#/?chapt=1 _______________________________________________ pen-l mailing list [email protected] https://lists.csuchico.edu/mailman/listinfo/pen-l
