Heaven is a little peach.
Talk of money is not.
We’re on an aggressive savings plan. Our sugarplum dreams are ones of dazzling vacations, playtime upgrades, weekends spent prone adjacent deep blue pools. We wish to be responsible with money in the bank and freedom on our minds. We tell our roommates, our families, ourselves.
So why are we nestled at the blonde wood counter of momofuku (“little peach” in Japanese), the latest hotspot, nibbling at steamed pork buns, thick with Bershire belly, vinegary young pickles, scallions and sweet sauce? When our plan all along was to cook from the freezer, not frolick in the dwindling Sunday sun?
Between bites and sips of water—(we’re saving, after all)—he asks himself a question, a non sequitur.
“I wonder when I’ll be making enough money so that I no longer feel like I have nothing.”
I respond in kind. I have no idea how to answer that wonder for myself, let alone him. But do we really feel like we have nothing?
We live in the East Village, in the epicenter of the world for many people, and sampling the signature ramen; savory chicken and pork broth, shredded shoulder, sweet peas, thick noodles, and a poached egg quivering atop it all. With one stab of our chopsticks, the yolk runs yellow, oozing towards the edges of the bowl.
At our feet, a linen Scoop bag holds a pair of crisp jeans. He’s breaking in a hat, tagged by a notorious graffiti artist of the eighties, and an eye-searing turquoise blue shirt, just hours old.
When we’re supposed to be saving.
We thought we’d be making more money by now. Maybe we would be if we could spend a little less.
But there at the counter, with our steaming bowls, our elbows touching; our arms full and our wallets empty, we’re having too much fun being young and in the city and snapping up the experience to stop.
Everyone falls off the wagon, I tell myself.
Talk of money is not.
We’re on an aggressive savings plan. Our sugarplum dreams are ones of dazzling vacations, playtime upgrades, weekends spent prone adjacent deep blue pools. We wish to be responsible with money in the bank and freedom on our minds. We tell our roommates, our families, ourselves.
So why are we nestled at the blonde wood counter of momofuku (“little peach” in Japanese), the latest hotspot, nibbling at steamed pork buns, thick with Bershire belly, vinegary young pickles, scallions and sweet sauce? When our plan all along was to cook from the freezer, not frolick in the dwindling Sunday sun?
Between bites and sips of water—(we’re saving, after all)—he asks himself a question, a non sequitur.
“I wonder when I’ll be making enough money so that I no longer feel like I have nothing.”
I respond in kind. I have no idea how to answer that wonder for myself, let alone him. But do we really feel like we have nothing?
We live in the East Village, in the epicenter of the world for many people, and sampling the signature ramen; savory chicken and pork broth, shredded shoulder, sweet peas, thick noodles, and a poached egg quivering atop it all. With one stab of our chopsticks, the yolk runs yellow, oozing towards the edges of the bowl.
At our feet, a linen Scoop bag holds a pair of crisp jeans. He’s breaking in a hat, tagged by a notorious graffiti artist of the eighties, and an eye-searing turquoise blue shirt, just hours old.
When we’re supposed to be saving.
We thought we’d be making more money by now. Maybe we would be if we could spend a little less.
But there at the counter, with our steaming bowls, our elbows touching; our arms full and our wallets empty, we’re having too much fun being young and in the city and snapping up the experience to stop.
Everyone falls off the wagon, I tell myself.
(Back to the savings plan tomorrow.)
12 comments:
Lovely post. I can totally relate!
Your description of ramen took me right back to Japan. I had the best noodles of my life there, just outside of the Harajuku shopping district!
And about the money - you only live once!! besides, I think a state of gratitude is more important anyways...just be thankful for where you are, and don't wish for anything to be different! Now THAT is BLISS!
I don't know that you ever get old enough to feel like you have more than nothing because as your income rises, so do your supposed and actual needs.
But you DO need to treat yourself sometimes...
I fell off the wagon so badly this weekend. NYC does that too me. I even opened up another credit card account when I promised myself I was done. I'd even paid almost everything off. But that damn 10% discount will get you every time. And coupons. Coupons will get you too.
this is the second time in a week that i've heard about momofuku. hmmm....
oh i love food. so much.
Better to be off the wagon now than being 80 years old and wishing you were falling off of it. ;)
Well, seeing as how we're still paying for this wedding, we truly now know the meaning of saving up. So, if we fall off anytime between now and August, it's gonna hurt.
It's all relative isn't it?
Just as you say - you don't have nothing. The poor people starving in camps in drought ravaged they have nothing.
Another putting it in perspective bit – if you didn’t have the crisp new jeans, the food etc. you still have ….. your health, your love, a chance, freedom from oppression, a blog to share through….. etc.
Look at what we have not what we want.
Oh and all this great holier-than-thou stuff from a guy who spent £200 ($350) on some frivolous “toys” himself on Sunday. We’re all the same aren’t we?
To live in this city at our age and not enjoy the fruits it bares would make be like slapping lady liberty in the face...come on' we've got our whole lives to save! Great Post!
chef and i juuuuust going through this...
and, lovely food descriptions!
I know how you feel, I'm on a savings plan myself. And NYC is so addictive!!!
And yes, everyone falls off the wagon sometimes ;-)
I could have written this today. I'm trying to decide whether I want another ridiculous priced piece of jewelery, or a trip to Dubai come Bank Holiday.
I'm saving. Just not very well.
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