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Josh Karpf

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About Josh Karpf

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    New York, NY

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  1. Shhhhhh. I do this with a lowercase-f family. Let's not draw in the uppercase f.
  2. It is both bad and good that the one wine I've ever wanted to appreciate the most, a generous birthday gift of Lafite, which I researched for a week and cradled like a baby when pouring, not that I know anything about babies, was the worst I've ever tasted, one that had not only died but been fossilized in the bottle, thanks to past bad handling, and is just as memorable to me for having been hurriedly replaced, that otherwise celebratory night, by a Lucky-Charms-berry-sweet Fat Bastard red.
  3. When corona is history -- maybe after 2030 when the long-slowed capital project to reinstall risers might reach our gas and water lines, after the building spends several million for that, and we get to pay $5K just for building review of plans, and I get back my BlueStar and can install a gas dryer -- you're welcome to come over for 40 amps I won't be using. Bring a longish cord.
  4. Our plan was to go up from 150 to 200 amps, since we'd found 50 more amps in the building basement unused by our unit. Yet I caught our electrician about to install a 100 amp breaker box! At least I think he was the electrician. It may have been the GC's brother, also an electrician. Sort of. My twenty-year rent-stabilized brownstone walkup had 10 amps. Every amp is sacred, every amp is great.
  5. I hadn't heard of a grease cup before, enjoyed looking that up. It sounded vaguely pornographic, as Japanese fetishization-of-filth kitchen porn. I'll never forgive our contractors for the cheap bendy hose (photo several comments above) they used to connect the hood to the wide-diameter, nonbendy duct I fought so hard for two summers ago. But the hood works well when actually turned on. Its external vent also makes it a fine echo chamber for the neighborhood fireworks. The contractors screwed us over in the former kitchen on the other side of the wall, too, the once galley kitchen that now has our ventless W/D combo. They added the duct I wanted for a future, better dryer, but didn't add dedicated receptacles. When the W and D each broke as corona began, and I learned how to fix them via YouTube, I also discovered that that whole room's on only one breaker. So that one-power-cord, apartment-closet-style combo unit can't be replaced with two grown-up ones without architect-reviewed, multiply approved rewiring. If there's even any total amperage left after we had to replace the BlueStar with the induction, after the gas line turned out to be a colander. Grrr.
  6. Note to self: If the household left hand hasn't cleaned the range-hood grille recently, the household right hand should never boil pasta without turning on said hood. Because that steam, with nowhere else to go except for the rest of the kitchen, will soften and, as it condenses, dilute the accumulated grease in that grille, finally dribbling out along the sides. Who knew that pasta could spawn such a greasy mess.
  7. Though our apartment has 2,460 square feet of deck, its table is only six feet long, before ten became the new six. So we can't have anyone over after all. No, I'm looking forward to hosting again. And grateful that the guest bathroom is closest to the deck door. My motto with lovely spouse has always been, since before we were married, "food first," which is why our wedding was in a barbecue restaurant. But my new metric of friendship is sanitary, not culinary: you gotta be worth me closing that bathroom door for three days before I clean and Clorox it again.
  8. I've been honored to help uphold its solemn dignity these past fifteen years.
  9. Missing my winemaking, I've sometimes thrown Corinth "champagne" and other table grapes into the blender to try approximating the delicious fresh, chunky juice from the mess of dirty, yeasty, and sometimes a bit moldy grapes (usually from Lodi) we crush in Carroll Gardens. I'm almost glad to hear the haute fruit's not snackable. I don't see how we can safely bottle our last racking (see this Flickr folder for the past year's vintage) as a group, even outdoors. It'll have to be done by one of us or none of us.
  10. "The Kyoto Aquarium has a flowchart illustrating the complicated romantic relationships and breakups between their penguins."
  11. Amazon gave us around $500 of free Whole Foods food after a fulfillment kerfuffle. A good thing I'd insisted on a no less than 33" wide, full-depth fridge instead of the 29", cabinet-depth one the architect wanted. (I'd actually asked for 36", but the builders lied, saying it wouldn't fit through our door.) Our larder was near empty a few days ago. So we'd ordered $250 worth for a five-to-six p.m. time slot. Near seven I called and was told the order had been "damaged" and had to be sent back to a depot; would I like a replacement? Sure, tomorrow morning, I said, but you could have told me. We dined on what we had left. Then she went to bed while I scrubbed. She is a great cook and a terrible kitchen cleaner. At nine our lobby called, said our delivery was here. What? Of course it wasn't going anywhere, but I called Amazon again and said we didn't want it, that we'd been promised a full replacement in the morning. Was it all there? they asked. I didn't know, I didn't want to unpack or tally it, or unthaw the frozen. They said they'd refund it since it couldn't be fulfilled the next morning, thanks to changing inventory. Fine, we'd gotten our money back. I gave up on my fantasy of inviting my building, via email list at night, to somehow safely pillage. We took it up and stowed it away, Cloroxing and rebagging a little less than usual. Around four-fifths was there. And the frozen wasn't too unfrozen after all. Come morning, surprise! A delivery again, thanks to Amazon/WF''s left hand not having slapped down its right. This delivery was three-fourths complete, duplicating some fruit and all of the pricier fresh meat and frozen shellfish (including very good scallops), yet also missing other stuff. And this was the "free replacement" delivery. So except for the 20 percent tip -- which I think went to the first deliverer, unless Amazon/WF confiscated that to punish an error -- it was all comped. Yay privilege. I don't think the zip code to our east would've gotten the same favor. Despite all the new balanced-diet abundance, my breakfasts and lunches have been mostly milk and bananas, since we got six and twenty-five of those, respectively. I daren't snack on anything less perishable than our too many grapes. And this was the week I wanted to try Baldor for the first time. But felt lazy.
  12. Our wonderful apartment cleaner (formerly biweekly; long furloughed w/ pay; this is a winter photo) just dropped in to drop off four dozen eggs from her Bay Ridge backyard coop. They were magnificent last time. I imagine many quiches and eggs foo young to come. When she'd said ages ago that she'd bring us more eggs, we'd asked her to bring them to lobby, where we would go down to meet her in abundant space, to be as contactless as possible. But here she was in the elevator on our floor, masked, after having placing four cartons at our door and ringing our bell. So we waved, at least, and will call her soon to thank her more properly. By coincidence, we also saw a neighbor we almost never see (unmasked), so we may invite him to chat tomorrow (masked) from the other end of our deck's six-foot table. Jarring, this sudden almost-socializing. It's been so long since our doorbell rang that I didn't recognize it.
  13. Blue cheese and onions left over from last night's lamb burgers, served this morning on toast . . . with only one egg and only one slice of bacon, to keep it low fat. We love this North Country Smokehouse sliced bacon via Whole Foods deliveries. Maybe it's just oversmoked, and we're falling victim to the Starbucks overroasting effect. I can't cut through the "family owned," "artisanal" PR to learn about the pigs at the bottom, or find much corporate info at the top. Search for the annual reports of its processed-meats holding company (I'm sorry, "corporate family"; there's "family" again) and you mostly get product recalls for nuggets and "pâtés, mousses, terrines, and rillettes" from the intermediate firm. Maybe I'll just cut up some more of that bacon.
  14. I tried ordering a pineapple for a little juice's sake but the vendor substituted a couple of mangos. Mango Tango, I guess. Oh, what a shame, no coconut rum in the house. We'll have to eat them.
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