Summer Fridays + Trader Joe's

Summer Fridays are a Manhattan thing, I think.  Details vary by employer, but generally, if you work in the city, between Memorial Day and Labor Day you can work a little longer Mondays through Thursdays and finish early on Fridays.  Those who have the means, or the connections, will head out to the Hamptons, or the Berkshires, or Nantucket, or one of the dozens of places around that offer a break from the heat and rank of an urban summer.  The rest of us, well, we do what we can.

The highlight of my summer Friday schedule has been my crowd-free afternoon grocery shopping excursions at the Trader Joe's in Chelsea.  Don't let the exhilaration kill you, but listen, IT'S AWESOME.

Because of my schedule, I usually go at peak times on weeknight evenings or weekends.  It's murderous how many people ram themselves in there.  I liken the shopping experience to what I hear about L.A. traffic, only instead of being stuck bumper-to-bumper on a freeway with cars honking all around, you're stuck standing in the frozen food aisle wedged between thousand-dollar strollers, red carts, jarred sauces, yuppies, and their babies screaming bloody murder.  Now that I've taken the time to write out that metaphor, I think it's fair to say that it's probably worse than L.A. traffic.

So, yeah.  Trader Joe's Chelsea at 1:30 on Friday afternoons TOTALLY RULES because nobody's there!  I know many of you can't relate to this, but just trust me.  After living as a commoner in this city for long enough, mark my words: there will come a time when there will be no greater high to experience than cruising through an aisle without getting nicked by carts and strollers; no jumbles of arms to wiggle through to grab hummus; no pleading with the guy behind you to pretty please save your spot in the long line fifty people deep because you forgot your tofu...and oh, did I forget the cheddar Soeur likes, too?  I'll be right back, I promise!  This is the stuff of living in NOO YAWK, people.  

From every Trader Joe's run, I'll return with a bag of brussel sprouts.  I thought I'd be over this infatuation since I had these buggers all winter long, but no.  I'm still game.  Rinse them, add a drizzle of olive oil, a dash of cracked pepper, and a whole lot of sea salt and roast until their edges turn black and crispy.  It'll make your place smell peculiar at first, but you won't mind once you take your first bite.  This is a shot from a batch I made in April, before roasting.