We’re not kosher. Seriously, guys. We’re NOT kosher!

I noticed a sign on the door of Chickpea on 23rd and Lexington and couldn’t help but wonder why it was that important to display a “non kosher” status. I’m a pisher when it comes to kosher diets, but it seems that unless you say you are kosher certified, most would assume that you are not.  Intrigued, I decided to research the Chickpea chain and their history with kosher oversight. The result is a saga so long and winding it needed three whole paragraphs to detail.

In January, 2009, the kosher food blog and online community thanksaglatt.com cheered Chickpea for becoming kosher again. Again?  Even though the blog showed excitement for the new status (there was an exclamation point in the article title) the last sentence gives Chickpea two weeks until they convert back to just another gentile joint. It was clear — the kosher chaos had been blessed long before.

The discussion board of Chowhound.com is riddled with Chickpea posts dating back to 2007. One visitor writes:

“Was Chickpea (the one at Astor Place) ever kosher? I thought it used to be, but when I went by there the other day there was no hashgacha…”

The real kicker comes from the home page of Koshertopia, announcing Chickpea’s new kosher certification.  The problem?  There’s no article date!  It’s on the home page so one would assume it’s new. The title even says “NEW”. Unfortunately, without knowing for certain the last time Koshertopia was updated I’m afraid I’m left wondering.  Was there some sort of shemozzle?  No matter, it doesn’t feel right.  The next time I’m out for something to nosh on, kosher or otherwise, I think I’ll choose a place more consistently focused on the needs of its customers and quality of the food.

Warm Weather Brings Out the Sounds of New York City

I noticed something when the sun went down last night on the Hudson – I wasn’t freezing to death! In fact, it was a beautiful night. And aside from the welcomed warmth, I noticed that the weather brought new sounds as well.  Cyclists now wooshed along the West Side pathway. Joggers chatted in between breaths. All the while, I fixated on the Hudson River sunset.

Cars rushed south on the West Side Highway. In winter, they greedily hold in heat and sound. Tonight, windows were down and even as commuters blew past me, I could hear music coming from their systems. Rolling Stones, Jay-Z, and even a quick hit of Aretha Franklin at one point.  Of course if you’re on the phone or eager for a moment’s peace, this isn’t cool.  But, for anyone who like’s to sing “sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me,” forever on end, hey, that sound bite of Aretha is all you need.

When the cars were still, the sound of kids playing on brightly lit astroturf fields filled the air. Coaches blew their whistles and called out instructions. Their energy radiated to all who passed by, probably pausing to remember when they were just a kid on a field, dreaming of going pro some day.  All the while, the city skyline, quiet as the clouds, speaks louder to New Yorkers than all the joggers, cars and soccer-playing kids combined.

Here comes spring in New York City.