To recap, DD and I had toured parts of NYC and we ate at one of her favorite vegetarian/vegan restaurants. The last stop was at a little hole in the wall raw vegan eatery. The chef had given us samples of some sesame/walnut candy that was to die for. That just whetted my appetite for what was to come—splitting a piece of raw vegan chocolate “cheese” cake with DD. Back at the apartment, she carefully cut the piece in two and put the shares on separate plates. Knowing that we’d probably fight him for it, merm declined have any.
I sank my fork into it and took a bite. Horrors! It was awful! The “crust” was okay. I think it would have been good by itself. However, the filling was like it had been liberally laced with sand. To say it was gritty would have been an understatement. I don’t remember if I finished mine (I’ve always been a member of the Clean Plate Club) or if I let DD have the rest. She was obviously enjoying hers but I had no idea how. The contrast between the “candy” and the “cheese” cake was huge.
Now, back to the future for a moment. When DD and I made the raw vegan “cheese” cake last summer, the filling was super creamy. We both liked that. However, I enjoyed the texture of the crust against the creaminess of the filling but DD didn’t. She thought, instead of being crunchy, it should have been smooth. So…to each her own.
Back in Queens (where the apartment was located), after the “cheese” cake disaster, I took to my room to start packing. I’d have to hie me to the airport the next morning. My vacation was almost over.
Morning came and a cab was called. The rental car had been turned back in. It would have cost a small fortune to keep it the additional days and none of us had the wherewithal that could be labeled riches. I wasn’t acquainted with the cab service in Astoria, Queens, New York. When it got there, it was an older car (if I remember correctly, it was a Lincoln Continental). It was deep maroon and didn’t look at all like a cab. Assured by DD that it was my ride, I reluctantly let the driver load my luggage in the trunk and I got in.
The trip to the airport was unremarkable. The driver didn’t spirit me away to some unknown location and rob me. In any case, I was glad to get there and take charge of my luggage.
Check-in went smoothly and the flight was eventually called. No potholes in the sky made for a non-bumpy ride. When the plane landed at my home airport, DIL1 and my granddaughter were there to meet me.
I was exhausted. Hauling around my personal extra weight and my luggage had worn me out. I asked my DIL to drive. She wasn’t terribly thrilled because she didn’t like to drive my car. I don’t know if it was because it was a straight shift or what but she agreed to suck it up and keep the wheel.
Back at their house, I dropped in my tracks. I’d taken Friday off so I didn’t have to go home until the next day. I needed to recuperate.
At the time, DS1 was working Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday of each week. He was at work when we got to the house but he would have Friday off, too, and I’d get to spend a little time with him.
When he got home that evening, I passed out the little goodies I’d picked up for each of them in New York. I wouldn’t see DS2 and his until later on since no one would be home when I planned to leave.
With my usual stops the next day, I got home. Twinkle met me at the door loudly complaining about being left alone for more than a whole week! I unloaded the car and put the perishables away. Other than that, I didn’t bother to unpack. That could wait for another time. I was beat.