Waltzing waterfront walks

I have a bad habit of cocooning myself at home on the weekend—give me an uninterrupted block of 48 hours and I'll fill them up with projects and cooking and cleaning and reading and planning and exercising and nesting to my heart's content, all from the comfort of our apartment. R does not understand this at all. He rarely spends an entire day at home when he's not working, whereas I do it quite often.

But last Sunday I had it in my head to take an early morning walk along the waterfront with a good classical radio station playing. I meant to head out for half an hour, but instead, I meandered about for almost three times that, weaving amidst families and dogs and couples and runners and toddlers while listening to Chopin's Mazurkas and Mozart's Rondeaus. 

I started off at Pier 15 on the East River Esplanade, wound my way around the southernmost tip of Manhattan, up through Robert Wagner Park and in and around Battery Park City. Doggie heads were patted, new construction was noted, and the rest of my day was planned.

I had told R the day before that I was making a roast chicken for dinner that evening, and he begged me to roast it over a pan of potatoes, but I insisted that I couldn't, since I had already decided the rest of the meal and potatoes played no part. Plus, I had already done the shopping and no potatoes were to be found in our fridge.

Before we went to sleep he said, "really, no potatoes?". I stood firm.

But of course before I made my way home Sunday morning I took a loop by the market and picked some up. Although, if potatoes had to be had, they'd be done my way, so I also scooped up some sweet potatoes and parsnips to combine with the carrots and onion wedges at home. Altogether I had a nice little bed for my chickadee to roast over.

There was also a cabbage salad with a mouth-puckering vinegar dressing dotted with mustard seeds and tossed with bacon, its renderings and pickled onion, plus a roasted puree of eggplants and poblano peppers. Followed up by a platter of blueberries and homemade chocolate.

The mister was delighted to see some crispy-skinned potatoes and I was delighted that he let me have all the best bits of the chicken, including the parson's nose, as he was too busy spearing his tubers to notice me taking it all for myself. Turns out a little break from the weekend cocoon is a good thing.