By AMANDA BENSEN
Published in The Post-Star (Go)
March 15, 2007
I'm not a morning person. It must be biological, because I've had plenty of behavioral training to the contrary.
My high school was about 30 miles away, which meant I had to leave the house by 7:15 a.m., and I was usually still staring blankly at my closet around that time. It feels like my brain doesn't fully switch on before the hours hit double digits.
My mother tried the cheerful drill sergeant approach -- marching into my room, giving the blankets and window shade a vicious tug as she sang ditties like "Good Morning, Good Morning," and "Rise and Shine" -- but that only made me more determined to hide my head under a pillow.
Friends tried the gentle, coaxing approach, especially after I nearly gave one of them a bloody nose as I tried to shoo away the nasty noise disturbing my slumber. They laughed and rolled their eyes on Sunday mornings when I was late for youth group -- quite a feat since it took place in my own living room.
Realizing that I was developing a reputation for being lazy, I tried setting my alarm to a radio station that hosted a screaming fire-and-brimstone preacher in the early morning time slot. That worked pretty well, although I still dawdled in the stage between getting out of bed and getting out the door. Fortunately, I was a good student and my teachers usually let the tardiness slide.
These days, I have plenty to incentive to get up at a reasonable hour. I have a day job, and I usually look forward to going to it, unlike school. It helps that I live on a street with alternate-side parking that switches at 8 a.m. every day, and a truly dedicated parking enforcement official who begins his patrol about 15 minutes later (thanks, City Hall, you keep me on my toes).
I still love lazy mornings, but I've grown up enough to realize that some things are more important. Last weekend, I went to visit some old friends and their 3-year-old daughter, who is the closest thing I have to a niece.I slept on their couch -- or tried.
That cup of coffee after dinner probably wasn't such a good idea, and their cat kept yowling. I think I finally fell asleep about 3 a.m., which was actually 4 a.m. because of the daylight savings time change.
About three hours later, a little voice pierced my dreams from the upstairs hallway:"It's da mornin!" the 3-year-old announced, as though delivering a present.
Her dad brought her down to the kitchen for breakfast, pointing out the lump on the couch with a whisper as they passed. He offered her a bowl of cereal.
"No thanks, Daddy, cereal is noisy, and she's sleeping," she responded at full volume.
I smiled, and got up.
Amanda Bensen is a features reporter for The Post-Star. She tried unsuccessfully to wake up early this morning to write this column.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
The dredging tales of two rivers
By AMANDA BENSEN
Published in The Post-Star
Monday, March 12, 2007
The word "dredging" stirs up strong emotions in communities along the Hudson River, where PCB contamination has kept a 200-mile stretch of the river on the National Priorities List of hazardous waste sites for 23 years.
The question seems obvious, though the answer isn't: If it's been a top federal priority for that long, why isn't the river clean yet?
Some place the blame on General Electric, the company responsible for the pollution, which balked at undertaking an expensive dredging project until the federal Environmental Protection Agency ordered the cleanup in 2002.
"If GE had cooperated years ago, in my opinion, we would be done with it by now," said Rich Schiafo, environmental project manager for Scenic Hudson.
Others have criticized the EPA for taking too long to force GE into action, or local officials for trying to wrangle control from the federal agency. Even the environment itself has been blamed -- the EPA cited "the seasonal nature of the work" when it announced last month that the dredging would be pushed back for another year.
General Electric says it has cooperated with the EPA, but a project of such size and complexity is bound to take time.
"Keep in mind that it's the largest environmental dredging project ever undertaken in the United States," said General Electric spokesperson Mark Behan.
It isn't the first such project, however. A similar effort has been taking place in the Housatonic River of western Massachusetts for years. Although the two projects are not identical, they both involve dredging to remove river sediment contaminated with PCBs from General Electric plants.
Has the Housatonic cleanup been delayed as much as the Hudson cleanup?
"To be very honest, that probably depends on who you ask," said David Deegan, a spokesperson or the EPA's Region 1 office, which oversees the Housatonic project. "In any sort of cleanup like this, it's typical that EPA will try to build in as much public involvement as we can. Frankly, that doesn't necessarily speed the process, but it's really important."
Tim Gray, director of a community action group called Housatonic River Initiative, said there was "a long period of stalling" by GE about cleaning up the river, but action was rapid once the company reached a consent decree with the EPA in 2000.
Gray said the issue really heated up in the late 1990s, when PCB-contaminated soil from the plant was discovered in playgrounds and backyards throughout the town of Pittsfield."As you can imagine, parents were not very happy," Gray said. His group successfully nominated the Housatonic River site for inclusion on the registry of Superfund sites in 1997.
"Superfund is the only way the government can sort of hold a hammer over a corporation's head, because if they don't clean up, the government will do it, and bill them," Gray said. "And getting Superfund [see correction] woke up the city leaders, because they saw it as a stigma."
Then, GE became the target of a grand jury investigation for concealing memos from the EPA about which local properties contained PCB-contaminated soil from its plant. Pittsfield's PCB problem was suddenly a national news story, Gray said, adding to the public pressure for cleanup action.
"Once GE finally agreed to do it, the cleanup has been moving along about as fast as it could possibly happen," he said. "It's been seven years, but the steamshovels have been working overtime, you know?"
Two miles of the Housatonic have been dredged since 1999, and contaminated soil has been removed or capped on many residential and commercial properties.The next cleanup phase will address what the EPA calls "Rest of River," a 135-mile section stretching to Connecticut, and GE's participation in that has not been decided yet -- much like in the Hudson, where the company has only consented to an initial cleanup phase.
In Gray's view, one of the big differences between the Housatonic and Hudson projects is the scope of the cleanup.In Pittsfield, the Superfund designation includes the surrounding floodplain and the GE plant itself, while the Hudson site does not.
Schiafo and Gray said they both believe PCB soil contamination exists throughout the Hudson floodplain, but in a less localized and high-profile context than at the Housatonic site.
"They just haven't looked as hard in the Hudson," Schiafo said. "It's been much more spread out (in the Hudson), and contamination hasn't been found next to parks and schools. When you're finding PCBs under a swingset, it's a much worsepublic relations issue than finding them at the bottom of a river."
Another major difference is that GE provided Pittsfield with a major economic development package as part of the consent decree agreement for the Housatonic site.In addition to funding the cleanup, the company agreed to fund a $50 million brownfield redevelopment of the former plant and provide $15 million cash for ecosystem resoration in the region.
Town officials in Fort Edward, where the Hudson River sediment processing facility will be located, are well aware of that difference.
"We know the Pittsfield site has certainly set a precedent as far as benefits to the host community," said Fort Edward Town Supervisor Merrilyn Pulver. "That project is, of course, much smaller. ... Given that this is the largest environmental dredge project in history, it certainly would seem appropriate that we are compensated accordingly."
She said the town is working with the EPA, GE and Congresswoman Kirsten Gillibrand on the issue.
"I'm just going to simply say that we feel ... we're in a David-and-Goliath situation," Pulver said.
Construction of the Fort Edward facility is expected to begin within weeks, although GE is still negotiating a lease to the property. Dredging is scheduled to start in 2009 and last six years, said EPA Region 2 spokesperson David Kluesner.The delays have been "frustrating at times" for the EPA as well as the public, he added.
"We would like to be out there today; that would be a great thing," Kluesner said. "But I think it's important to make sure it's done right ... and we're moving forward."
But activists like Schiafo, who has been intensely involved in the dredging debate for the past decade, fear the delays aren't over yet.
"I hate to be pessimistic, but there have been a lot of monkey wrenches thrown in throughout this process," he said. "I'll believe it when I see it."
LOGGING ON:
More information on the Housatonic River PCB cleanup is available on the EPA's Web site: www.epa.gov/region01/ge/
More information on the Hudson River PCB cleanup: www.epa.gov/hudson/
General Electric also provides information on both projects: www.ge.com/en/citizenship/ehs/remedial/index.htm
Published in The Post-Star
Monday, March 12, 2007
The word "dredging" stirs up strong emotions in communities along the Hudson River, where PCB contamination has kept a 200-mile stretch of the river on the National Priorities List of hazardous waste sites for 23 years.
The question seems obvious, though the answer isn't: If it's been a top federal priority for that long, why isn't the river clean yet?
Some place the blame on General Electric, the company responsible for the pollution, which balked at undertaking an expensive dredging project until the federal Environmental Protection Agency ordered the cleanup in 2002.
"If GE had cooperated years ago, in my opinion, we would be done with it by now," said Rich Schiafo, environmental project manager for Scenic Hudson.
Others have criticized the EPA for taking too long to force GE into action, or local officials for trying to wrangle control from the federal agency. Even the environment itself has been blamed -- the EPA cited "the seasonal nature of the work" when it announced last month that the dredging would be pushed back for another year.
General Electric says it has cooperated with the EPA, but a project of such size and complexity is bound to take time.
"Keep in mind that it's the largest environmental dredging project ever undertaken in the United States," said General Electric spokesperson Mark Behan.
It isn't the first such project, however. A similar effort has been taking place in the Housatonic River of western Massachusetts for years. Although the two projects are not identical, they both involve dredging to remove river sediment contaminated with PCBs from General Electric plants.
Has the Housatonic cleanup been delayed as much as the Hudson cleanup?
"To be very honest, that probably depends on who you ask," said David Deegan, a spokesperson or the EPA's Region 1 office, which oversees the Housatonic project. "In any sort of cleanup like this, it's typical that EPA will try to build in as much public involvement as we can. Frankly, that doesn't necessarily speed the process, but it's really important."
Tim Gray, director of a community action group called Housatonic River Initiative, said there was "a long period of stalling" by GE about cleaning up the river, but action was rapid once the company reached a consent decree with the EPA in 2000.
Gray said the issue really heated up in the late 1990s, when PCB-contaminated soil from the plant was discovered in playgrounds and backyards throughout the town of Pittsfield."As you can imagine, parents were not very happy," Gray said. His group successfully nominated the Housatonic River site for inclusion on the registry of Superfund sites in 1997.
"Superfund is the only way the government can sort of hold a hammer over a corporation's head, because if they don't clean up, the government will do it, and bill them," Gray said. "And getting Superfund [see correction] woke up the city leaders, because they saw it as a stigma."
Then, GE became the target of a grand jury investigation for concealing memos from the EPA about which local properties contained PCB-contaminated soil from its plant. Pittsfield's PCB problem was suddenly a national news story, Gray said, adding to the public pressure for cleanup action.
"Once GE finally agreed to do it, the cleanup has been moving along about as fast as it could possibly happen," he said. "It's been seven years, but the steamshovels have been working overtime, you know?"
Two miles of the Housatonic have been dredged since 1999, and contaminated soil has been removed or capped on many residential and commercial properties.The next cleanup phase will address what the EPA calls "Rest of River," a 135-mile section stretching to Connecticut, and GE's participation in that has not been decided yet -- much like in the Hudson, where the company has only consented to an initial cleanup phase.
In Gray's view, one of the big differences between the Housatonic and Hudson projects is the scope of the cleanup.In Pittsfield, the Superfund designation includes the surrounding floodplain and the GE plant itself, while the Hudson site does not.
Schiafo and Gray said they both believe PCB soil contamination exists throughout the Hudson floodplain, but in a less localized and high-profile context than at the Housatonic site.
"They just haven't looked as hard in the Hudson," Schiafo said. "It's been much more spread out (in the Hudson), and contamination hasn't been found next to parks and schools. When you're finding PCBs under a swingset, it's a much worsepublic relations issue than finding them at the bottom of a river."
Another major difference is that GE provided Pittsfield with a major economic development package as part of the consent decree agreement for the Housatonic site.In addition to funding the cleanup, the company agreed to fund a $50 million brownfield redevelopment of the former plant and provide $15 million cash for ecosystem resoration in the region.
Town officials in Fort Edward, where the Hudson River sediment processing facility will be located, are well aware of that difference.
"We know the Pittsfield site has certainly set a precedent as far as benefits to the host community," said Fort Edward Town Supervisor Merrilyn Pulver. "That project is, of course, much smaller. ... Given that this is the largest environmental dredge project in history, it certainly would seem appropriate that we are compensated accordingly."
She said the town is working with the EPA, GE and Congresswoman Kirsten Gillibrand on the issue.
"I'm just going to simply say that we feel ... we're in a David-and-Goliath situation," Pulver said.
Construction of the Fort Edward facility is expected to begin within weeks, although GE is still negotiating a lease to the property. Dredging is scheduled to start in 2009 and last six years, said EPA Region 2 spokesperson David Kluesner.The delays have been "frustrating at times" for the EPA as well as the public, he added.
"We would like to be out there today; that would be a great thing," Kluesner said. "But I think it's important to make sure it's done right ... and we're moving forward."
But activists like Schiafo, who has been intensely involved in the dredging debate for the past decade, fear the delays aren't over yet.
"I hate to be pessimistic, but there have been a lot of monkey wrenches thrown in throughout this process," he said. "I'll believe it when I see it."
LOGGING ON:
More information on the Housatonic River PCB cleanup is available on the EPA's Web site: www.epa.gov/region01/ge/
More information on the Hudson River PCB cleanup: www.epa.gov/hudson/
General Electric also provides information on both projects: www.ge.com/en/citizenship/ehs/remedial/index.htm
Bacteria found that eats PCBs
By AMANDA BENSEN
Published in The Post-Star (A1)
March 12, 2007
Researchers at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute announced last week they had discovered bacteria capable of naturally breaking down PCBs.
Dr. Donna Bedard, an RPI biology professor who led the work, said the research is "years away" from being a viable alternative to dredging, but it is a groundbreaking step. This is the first time bacteria have been found capable of dechlorinating complex commercial PCB mixtures, such as those found in contaminated river sediment, she said.
The bacteria, known as Dehalococcoides (Dhc), can grow only by removing chlorines from compounds known as halogenated organics, most of which are toxic, explained Bedard.
Dhc bacteria are anaerobic --they cannot survive in the presence of oxygen -- but seem to thrive on PCBs, a type of halogenated organic.
Bedard's research used sediment samples from the Housatonic River in western Massachusetts, which, like the Hudson River, was contaminated with PCBs from a General Electric factory several decades ago.
EPA and GE spokespeople said that while the new research is promising, it does not change the plan to dredge PCB-contaminated sediments from the Hudson beginning in 2009.
"I think it's exciting ... but it sounds like it's not commercially viable at this point," said David Kluesner, a spokesperson for EPA's Region 5 office. "We're always keeping our eyesand ears open for newtechnologies, but to our knowledge, there's nothing available that is proven to work on a large scale."
"We're moving ahead with the dredging project that EPA has selected," said Mark Behan, a GE spokesperson. He noted that GE has funded research about natural PCB dechlorination for years at its laboratory in Niskayuna, where Bedard worked until 2000. He said most scientists agree that PCBs break down in the environment over time.
"The good news is that these natural processes are occuring naturally every day, including, we believe, in the Hudson," he said.
Environmentalists dispute that assertion, however.
"The bad news is that they're just washing downriver," said Rich Schiafo, environmental project manager for Scenic Hudson. "They don't break down. That's why, even though they were banned more than 30 years ago, they're still a serious environmental problem."
Bedard said although "PCB dechlorinating bacteria occur naturally in PCB-contaminated sediments, the challenge is to learn enough about them to be able to promote their activity so they do the job."
The next step in the research process, she said, is to identify a second bacteria that can break down the rest of the chlorine molecules, since Dhc onlyworks on five to nine chlorines per molecule. Bedard also plans to study the particular enzymes in Dhc which appear to be linked to dechlorination, called reductive dehalogenases.
Published in The Post-Star (A1)
March 12, 2007
Researchers at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute announced last week they had discovered bacteria capable of naturally breaking down PCBs.
Dr. Donna Bedard, an RPI biology professor who led the work, said the research is "years away" from being a viable alternative to dredging, but it is a groundbreaking step. This is the first time bacteria have been found capable of dechlorinating complex commercial PCB mixtures, such as those found in contaminated river sediment, she said.
The bacteria, known as Dehalococcoides (Dhc), can grow only by removing chlorines from compounds known as halogenated organics, most of which are toxic, explained Bedard.
Dhc bacteria are anaerobic --they cannot survive in the presence of oxygen -- but seem to thrive on PCBs, a type of halogenated organic.
Bedard's research used sediment samples from the Housatonic River in western Massachusetts, which, like the Hudson River, was contaminated with PCBs from a General Electric factory several decades ago.
EPA and GE spokespeople said that while the new research is promising, it does not change the plan to dredge PCB-contaminated sediments from the Hudson beginning in 2009.
"I think it's exciting ... but it sounds like it's not commercially viable at this point," said David Kluesner, a spokesperson for EPA's Region 5 office. "We're always keeping our eyesand ears open for newtechnologies, but to our knowledge, there's nothing available that is proven to work on a large scale."
"We're moving ahead with the dredging project that EPA has selected," said Mark Behan, a GE spokesperson. He noted that GE has funded research about natural PCB dechlorination for years at its laboratory in Niskayuna, where Bedard worked until 2000. He said most scientists agree that PCBs break down in the environment over time.
"The good news is that these natural processes are occuring naturally every day, including, we believe, in the Hudson," he said.
Environmentalists dispute that assertion, however.
"The bad news is that they're just washing downriver," said Rich Schiafo, environmental project manager for Scenic Hudson. "They don't break down. That's why, even though they were banned more than 30 years ago, they're still a serious environmental problem."
Bedard said although "PCB dechlorinating bacteria occur naturally in PCB-contaminated sediments, the challenge is to learn enough about them to be able to promote their activity so they do the job."
The next step in the research process, she said, is to identify a second bacteria that can break down the rest of the chlorine molecules, since Dhc onlyworks on five to nine chlorines per molecule. Bedard also plans to study the particular enzymes in Dhc which appear to be linked to dechlorination, called reductive dehalogenases.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Rising to the top
By AMANDA BENSEN
Published in The Post-Star
March 7, 2007
SARATOGA SPRINGS -- Life is sweet for Michael London, especially in sight of newsstands this month. A nine-page homage to his Broadway bakery, Mrs. London's, graces the March issue of Saveur, a national culinary magazine.
The "America's Greatest Baker" promo on the magazine cover might be, as he says, "a bit over the top," but that seems fitting for someone in the business of indulgence.
"It's the kind of cover that could get you enemies," he said. "It would have been preferable if they said America's greatest bakery."
But he likes the subtitle inside the magazine: "A gifted baker with the soul of a poet brings the refined art of the French pastry to upstate New York."
Almost four decades ago, only part of that was true -- the poet in upstate New York. London taught poetry at Skidmore College from 1968 to 1970, and was among the founders of the school's groundbreaking literary magazine, Salmagundi. But he felt "alienated and strange" in an intellectual environment, and became intrigued with the idea of working with his hands to reconnect with physical realities.
"Baking was a way of becoming a part of the world and not apart from it," he said, repeating what he told Darra Goldstein, the author of the Saveur article.
London, who grew up in Brooklyn, moved back to the city to become a bakers' union apprentice. It was a difficult career shift. The head of the apprenticeship program told him there were far more applicants than openings, and he would have to find a bakery that specifically wanted him.
He finally gained access to the kitchen of William Greenberg Jr. Desserts in Manhattan.
"Mr. Greenberg thought I was out of my gourd, because I had a master's degree and I wanted to do what was basically slave labor," Michael said. "But I kept going back, and, finally, he relented."
In retrospect, London calls it a "karmic moment," because he was tied up in jury duty when Greenberg told him to report to the bakery immediately if he wanted the job. The master of jurors turned out to be a former bakery manager who "recognized this sort of pivotal moment in my career, and released me," London said.
By 1977, he had met and married Wendy, a fellow chef, and moved back to Saratoga Springs to be closer to his son from a previous marriage. The couple opened the first incarnation of Mrs. London's on Phila Street, where Four Seasons Natural Foods is now located. It was highly successful -- The New York Times called it "a landmark bakery" in a 1983 piece -- but they closed in 1985 to pursue full-time bread baking.
The Londons founded Rock Hill Bakehouse from their Greenwich farmhouse kitchen, soon becoming what London calls "pioneers in the crusty bread revolution." They eventually sold that business, but still run Rock Hill Consulting, licensing their recipes and techniques to bakeries throughout the nation.
The consulting business had risen into a sizable lump of dough by the mid-1990s, but London again began feeling that sense of disconnection he had felt in the academic world.
"We were running around the country, but we wanted to get back and serve our own community," he said. The Londons reopened their bakery in 1997, after Michael traveled to Paris to learn "the art of the French pastry" from chefs in the some of the finest patisseries.
"We actually have a more extensive repertoire than most Parisian patisseries, because we have other influences as well," Michael said. "We have Danishes, tiramisu, cannoli, even a very American type cookie called a tree-hugger."
He rehired Tim Hangarter, a pastry chef who had worked in the previous Mrs. London's and is now the lead baker. Hangarter said his recipe for success is pretty simple.
"We use great ingredients, make things the best we can, and are always trying to learn new things," he said. "I try to make things I'd like to eat myself."
Hangarter described London as "a warehouse of baking knowledge," although he seemed to be choosing his words carefully when asked what he thought of Saveur's choice of words for its cover.
"I'd say this is one of America's greatest bakeries, and Michael's a great baker," he said. "Whatever it is he's doing, he's consumed by it at the time."
Not surprisingly, London has yet another venture in the oven this year. He's planning to open a Mediterranean restaurant called Max -- with his son, Max London, as executive chef -- next door to the bakery. If all goes well, they could be open by track season, Michael said, and he's looking forward to being part of the action.
"I'll be sort of the maitre d', sommelier, schmoozer," he said. "I like hovering around the dining room, sort of getting in the way and meeting people."
Published in The Post-Star
March 7, 2007
SARATOGA SPRINGS -- Life is sweet for Michael London, especially in sight of newsstands this month. A nine-page homage to his Broadway bakery, Mrs. London's, graces the March issue of Saveur, a national culinary magazine.
The "America's Greatest Baker" promo on the magazine cover might be, as he says, "a bit over the top," but that seems fitting for someone in the business of indulgence.
"It's the kind of cover that could get you enemies," he said. "It would have been preferable if they said America's greatest bakery."
But he likes the subtitle inside the magazine: "A gifted baker with the soul of a poet brings the refined art of the French pastry to upstate New York."
Almost four decades ago, only part of that was true -- the poet in upstate New York. London taught poetry at Skidmore College from 1968 to 1970, and was among the founders of the school's groundbreaking literary magazine, Salmagundi. But he felt "alienated and strange" in an intellectual environment, and became intrigued with the idea of working with his hands to reconnect with physical realities.
"Baking was a way of becoming a part of the world and not apart from it," he said, repeating what he told Darra Goldstein, the author of the Saveur article.
London, who grew up in Brooklyn, moved back to the city to become a bakers' union apprentice. It was a difficult career shift. The head of the apprenticeship program told him there were far more applicants than openings, and he would have to find a bakery that specifically wanted him.
He finally gained access to the kitchen of William Greenberg Jr. Desserts in Manhattan.
"Mr. Greenberg thought I was out of my gourd, because I had a master's degree and I wanted to do what was basically slave labor," Michael said. "But I kept going back, and, finally, he relented."
In retrospect, London calls it a "karmic moment," because he was tied up in jury duty when Greenberg told him to report to the bakery immediately if he wanted the job. The master of jurors turned out to be a former bakery manager who "recognized this sort of pivotal moment in my career, and released me," London said.
By 1977, he had met and married Wendy, a fellow chef, and moved back to Saratoga Springs to be closer to his son from a previous marriage. The couple opened the first incarnation of Mrs. London's on Phila Street, where Four Seasons Natural Foods is now located. It was highly successful -- The New York Times called it "a landmark bakery" in a 1983 piece -- but they closed in 1985 to pursue full-time bread baking.
The Londons founded Rock Hill Bakehouse from their Greenwich farmhouse kitchen, soon becoming what London calls "pioneers in the crusty bread revolution." They eventually sold that business, but still run Rock Hill Consulting, licensing their recipes and techniques to bakeries throughout the nation.
The consulting business had risen into a sizable lump of dough by the mid-1990s, but London again began feeling that sense of disconnection he had felt in the academic world.
"We were running around the country, but we wanted to get back and serve our own community," he said. The Londons reopened their bakery in 1997, after Michael traveled to Paris to learn "the art of the French pastry" from chefs in the some of the finest patisseries.
"We actually have a more extensive repertoire than most Parisian patisseries, because we have other influences as well," Michael said. "We have Danishes, tiramisu, cannoli, even a very American type cookie called a tree-hugger."
He rehired Tim Hangarter, a pastry chef who had worked in the previous Mrs. London's and is now the lead baker. Hangarter said his recipe for success is pretty simple.
"We use great ingredients, make things the best we can, and are always trying to learn new things," he said. "I try to make things I'd like to eat myself."
Hangarter described London as "a warehouse of baking knowledge," although he seemed to be choosing his words carefully when asked what he thought of Saveur's choice of words for its cover.
"I'd say this is one of America's greatest bakeries, and Michael's a great baker," he said. "Whatever it is he's doing, he's consumed by it at the time."
Not surprisingly, London has yet another venture in the oven this year. He's planning to open a Mediterranean restaurant called Max -- with his son, Max London, as executive chef -- next door to the bakery. If all goes well, they could be open by track season, Michael said, and he's looking forward to being part of the action.
"I'll be sort of the maitre d', sommelier, schmoozer," he said. "I like hovering around the dining room, sort of getting in the way and meeting people."
Thursday, March 01, 2007
When the food court is your living room
Published in The Post-Star (D1)
Feb. 18, 2007
By AMANDA BENSEN
QUEENSBURY -- The mall rats are talking about the fight, and the story inflates with each telling. Although mall security guards say fists were the only weapons they saw that day, one boy claims the Chaos Crew kids showed up with an ax. Another says someone was stabbed in the hand.
"I walked out there and someone punched me right in the face," said Caitlin Koch, 16, a petite, bouncy girl from Glens Falls.
"There's always drama here," she said. "It can range from 'he or she stole something from me,' to who made out with who. Usually, it turns out somebody's lying, so most of the time I just ignore it."
Koch explained that she is one of a group of teenagers drawn to Aviation Mall because it's one of the few places they can hang out in the Glens Falls/Queensbury region. They call themselves "mall rats," and nearly every afternoon and evening at least a few can be found scurrying among the arcade, the food court, Target's Starbucks and the parking lot.
"I know it's probably not the best way to meet people and spend your time, but I like it," Koch said of the mall. Glens Falls has a youth center, she said, but she won't go there. "It sucks, it's kind of all middle-schoolers."
Like many kids in the group, Koch's favorite mall attraction is the "Dance Dance Revolution" arcade game, where players dance on the foot pads in step to fast-paced songs. It can be rhythmically and aerobically challenging.
"This is the mall rat game," declared Lee Beckwith, an almost-16-year-old boy who is at the mall most afternoons. He likes DDR and Soul Calibur, another arcade game, he said, because he's good at them.
"Most of the games that we play in here are just about trying to be better than the other people, if you want to put it bluntly," he said. "I've probably spent $500 on this machine since I started coming here last summer."
Like most of the kids, Lee walks to the mall from school or his house.
"Our parents just basically leave us to ourselves," he said, dropping three more quarters into the DDR machine. Words of affirmation flashed across the screen with every sequence of footwork he nailed: "Good! Great! Perfect!"
A pretty young redhead named Ashley Camp watched, swigging from a can of Mountain Dew. When her friend Jen Desrosiers showed up, Ashley greeted her with a loud kiss on the cheek, and whispered something in her ear.
"The father?" Ashley asked, her voice returning to normal volume. She said a guy's name.
"I know," Jen responded. "Everybody knows."
"How does everybody know?" Ashley said. "I only told three people! I guess it was the wrong three people."
She turned to Lee, whose song had just ended.
"Can you do tricks over the poles yet?" she asked.
"I can do bar hops," he said, jumping over the waist-high metal hand railings.
"Bar hops are easy," she said.
Ashley dropped out of high school after her junior year, got engaged and followed her fiancee to Louisiana. That relationship ended -- "he left me stranded," she said -- and she recently returned to Glens Falls. Now 18, she's a few months pregnant by another man, who is not her current boyfriend. She's excited about becoming a mother, but starting to wish she had made different choices.
"I wish I hadn't dropped out of school," she reflected. "I'm going to work on my GED."
'They're just kids'
At first glance, it would be tempting to write the mall rats off as little more than categories in an amateur sociologist's notebook -- rebels, slackers, freaks and geeks. But their strongest defense comes from a surprising source.
"You can't judge a book by its cover. Just because these kids are dressed different than what we would expect doesn't mean they're bad kids. I judge 'em by their actions," said Ed Rose, director of mall security.
Rose started working at the mall as a security guard 14 years ago, and oversaw a previous generation of mall rats. A pack of teenagers can scare off other mall customers, he said, but he doesn't see them as a problem.
"I hate to use that term, mall rats," Ed said. "As far as I'm concerned, they're just kids that are here at the mall more so than others."
But the absence of parental supervision can lead to trouble, he said. He's seen children as young as 7 dropped off by the vanload to spend an entire day at the mall.
"If something happens, we ask them who's in charge of them. We page that person to the office, and in walks a 10 or 11-year-old!" he said. "You leave a kid alone like that, eventually, he or she is going to hang with the wrong people and get into trouble."
Beneath the surface
The mall rats can spend hours talking about teenage dramas or the intricacies of arcade games, but barbed wire lurks beneath the conversational fluff. In the same breath as a sentence about soda -- and with equal nonchalance -- they'll mention things like pregnancy, suicide, gender identity, dropping out of school or getting in trouble with the law.
Take this exchange, for example, when a 14-year-old girl was asked if she had seen a certain friend that day:
Girl: Yeah, I saw him outside earlier when I was puking.
Reporter: Are you OK?
Girl: Yeah, I just drank a lot of shots earlier and I hadn't eaten anything, so I puked like six times.
Reporter: Why don't you eat something?
Girl: Um...I don't really eat.
A growing concern
The mall security guards aren't baby-sitters, although they feel forced into that role at times. They leave the kids alone unless they sense trouble.
One day last month, members of a Warrensburg-based group of youths called the Chaos Crew showed up to confront the Juggalos, a group of local youths who identify themselves as fans of the band Insane Clown Posse.
June MacPherson, a mall guard for 18 years, said she doesn't consider either group a full-fledged gang.
"They call themselves a gang, I call them a group of kids," she said. "And the Juggalos that I know, for the most part, are good kids who get bad publicity."
She said she hadn't heard of the Chaos Crew until recently. So far, all she knows is the members typically carry "smileys" -- bandannas with a padlock attached, which could be swung around to hit someone in a fight -- tucked into their back pocket.
"When we see that padlock, we take it," she said. "That is a weapon."
The mall guards remember the recent showdown as little more than a fistfight, although it drew a huge crowd.
"I walked out on that patio, and I think every young person who was in the mall that day was out there -- must have been 100 of them," June said.
The guards broke up the fight before it got serious, she said, but the threat of violence between the Chaos Crew and Juggalos is "a growing concern."
Another world
Some afternoons, several of the mall rats, mostly guys, move from the arcade to the Starbucks in Target, where they play a fantasy trading card game called World of Warcraft.
"Don't do it! It's social suicide!" one of the girls in a cluster of mall rats yelled to Ray D'Andrea as he walked away from the food court with Lee and a few others. The guys just smiled, and kept walking.
They spread out at their usual table, in the far corner. Among them, they had hundreds of cards, which Lee said cost about $5 a pack. He estimated that he'd spent about $55 that day on a combination of cards and arcade games.
"That was the last of my Christmas money," he said. "I'm going to get a job when I turn 16, though."
Getting a job is something many of the mall rats talk about, but few have actually done. June, the security guard, said it's a conversation she's had often with some of the older ones.
"I tell them, if you want to improve, put on some dress clothes and get a job. Get an education," she said. "Some of them just have no goals, unless it's, 'Get dinner tonight because we're hungry.'"
As the card game progressed, the players' conversation was nearly incomprehensible to an outsider, loaded with terms like "Onyxia," "the Horde," and "the Alliance."
"I could use more protectors," someone said, referring to a certain type of card.
"Who couldn't use more protectors?" Lee responded.
'Lost children'
A few days after announcing her pregnancy to her friends, Ashley was back at the mall, talking about plans to shop for baby clothes and showing off her still-tiny stomach. She shared a rapidly dwindling bag of Doritos with a friend, as a way of complying with the mall's rule that food court seats are reserved for customers who actually have food.
Security guard June MacPherson eyed the youths from beneath the broad brim of her hat, as if aware that their Dorito defense was crumbling. When she finally approached, however, it wasn't to shoo them away from the table. Instead, she leaned in close to Ashley, speaking quietly but firmly:
"Did you lie to me earlier?" she asked.
June was living up to her nickname among the guards as "the mom of the mall." Ashley suddenly looked a decade younger. "Uh oh, I'm in troub - le," she muttered, getting up and following June over to a spot beside a trash can, out of earshot.
She returned a minute later, looking shaken.
"What did she say?" her friend asked.
"She said, 'Are you pregnant?'" Ashley said. "She told me, 'You know, that baby didn't ask to be born. You'd better figure out how to take care of it.'"
"I see a lot of sad things here," June reflected later. She's not surprised, she said, when some of the teenage girls end up becoming mothers.
"I've seen it before. They go from guy to guy, they end up pregnant, and I think the baby suffers the most," she said. "Mom usually isn't educated, so she can't find a good enough job, and it's hard...but how can she raise a child when there's been nothing taught to her by her own parents?"
Not all of the mall rats come from troubled homes, June said, but it's easy to spot the ones who do.
"Sometimes, I tell them I have to call their parents and they get so scared," she said. "I say, 'Do you get hit often?' and they clam right up. Kids like that, I keep a special eye on. I look for bruising, but usually you can't see it."
Others may not be physically abused, but have parents who are absent or don't know what's going on with their kids, she said.
"They're like lost children," she said. "Most of them live together, bond together -- that's their family. They take care of one another. Unfortunately, sometimes they make bad decisions."
Some mall rats don't drink, smoke or do drugs, describing themselves as "straight edge."
Sixteen-year-old Adam Dudley comes to Aviation Mall as often as his parents will give him a ride from Fort Edward, mostly to meet friends and get exercise playing DDR.
The mall, he said, is one of the few places teenagers can hang out without getting into trouble. He expressed concern about a rumor that security guards might start banning kids 16 and under from the mall at night unless they have adult supervision.
"I could not go to the mall, and what, go out and do drugs? That's a good idea," Adam said, his eyes concealed behind a curtain of shaggy hair. "This is more of a straight-edge scene. Some of the kids smoke, and that's just dumb," he added.
All in the family
Though the mall rats stick together, they're a diverse group, spanning a range of ages and interests. Some look fairly ordinary, while others have body piercings and tattoos. In a few cases, heavy eyeliner and androgynous hairstyling make it hard to distinguish male from female, to the point where they themselves get confused.
"Some of us have known each other for a long time, but like, I just met him today," Ashley explained to a reporter, gesturing across a food court table to another mall rat.
"Hey, you think I'm a him?!?" responded the teenager, who turned out to be a girl with short hair and baggy clothes.
She quickly shrugged off Ashley's embarrassed apology.
"Nah, whatever, I don't care," she said. "Give me some chips!"
ENDWednesday, February 07, 2007
Seeking out the "invisible homeless"
Published on 2/4/2007
THE POST-STAR
They started in the frigid hour before dawn last Monday morning, scanning playgrounds, parks, boathouses and cemeteries for signs of life. By the end of the day, Warren/Washington Housing Coalition volunteers had counted at least 235 homeless individuals in the two-county region, including six families and 11 children.
The one-day effort was the group's second official "point in time" census of the local homeless population, which will be used by the Department of Housing and Urban Development to calculate grant eligibility.
Several social services agencies also agreed to keep track of how many homeless clients they served on Monday, but had not yet reported their numbers to the coalition as of late Friday. The final total will be available later this week, but the numbers have already exceeded results of the group's first census in January 2005, which counted 198 homeless individuals.
"The numbers have been, for me, just startling. And they're increasing every year," said Cliff Green, who co-chairs the Housing Coalition with Lisa Coutu. "I suspect they will be higher again this year."
The Housing Coalition was founded in 2004 as a cooperative effort between about 20 public and private social service agencies that share a desire to develop more affordable housing options for the neediest members of the community. The coalition has applied jointly for HUD funding with the Saratoga Homeless Alliance, under the name Saratoga--North Country Continuum of Care.
Staci Franco, executive director of the Adirondack Vets House and a member of the Housing Coalition, was among the coordinators of the census. She set out by car around 5 a.m., watching for anyone who may have spent the night outdoors. By sunrise, she guessed, many might have moved on to warmer spots like fast-food restaurants.
Her first encounter was with a middle-aged couple she recognized as "chronically homeless," she said. They had sheltered themselves amid some playground equipment and appeared to be living out of their car, which Franco said isn't unusual.
Next, she found a middle-aged man sleeping in a cemetery -- he told her that he "preferred to live outdoors," Franco said.
She also spotted three youths in a park area in Glens Falls, carrying heavy bags. Franco decided not to approach them because they looked "edgy," she said, but counted them anyway. "You don't find too many 17-year-olds hanging out outside at the crack of dawn just for fun, especially in this weather," she said.
Meanwhile, other Housing Coalition volunteers were walking around the docks and shuttered seasonal buildings of Lake George, and other possible locations for the homeless to seek shelter.
Franco spent her morning working at the Vets House, then went out to continue the census on foot around 11 a.m. She dressed very casually, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible to anyone she might meet.
A bitter wind whipped through the streets, and few people were visible on the sidewalks. Franco approached three young men standing outside a store near the intersection of Broad and South streets. They were willing to talk, but said they didn't know anyone who was homeless. Then Franco asked if they knew anyone who did what she calls "couch hopping," spending a few months at a time at various friends' homes without maintaining a permanent residence.
"Yeah, that's like all my friends," one of them said, the others nodding in agreement.
Later, Franco said she thinks couch hopping is a growing trend that masks the true extent of homelessness in the region. "I've come to realize that there are a lot of people who are working and can't afford a place of their own, they are just shacking up with different relatives and friends to make ends meet. But unfortunately, we can't count them," she said, explaining that they would not be considered homeless by HUD's definition.
Seeing no one else on the street, Franco changed tactics and began approaching bartenders, waitresses, hospital receptionists and others who interact daily with a wide swath of the public.
"I'm doing a survey for the federal government..." Franco typically began her spiel. Listeners often appeared suspicious at first, then softened as she explained her cause.
At a few places, the response was quick. The waitress at the Off-Track Betting cafe on South Street said she had about five homeless customers on any given day, and the director of The Open Door promised to do his own mini-census among the soup kitchen's clients. The intake staff at Glens Falls Hospital agreed to keep track of how many homeless patients came in that day.
But other respondents looked puzzled by the question, said they hadn't seen any homeless customers and that "it's not really a problem around here."
That's a common misconception, Coutu and Green said. People tend to think homelessness is limited to urban areas, but the problem goes beyond than the stereotype of a ragged figure sleeping on a New York City park bench.
The federal definition of homelessness does include unsheltered individuals, who are defined as "sleeping in places not meant for human habitation," but it also includes people sleeping in emergency or transitional housing, such as a shelter or a cheap motel. Anyone who is about to be evicted from their residence and has no place to go also qualifies. Of the 261 individuals identified during last year's point-in-time count, 75 percent were in those latter categories.
"We do have homeless people in our region -- they're just invisible," Coutu said.
According to a report released last month by the National Alliance to End Homelessness, there are approximately 744,000 homeless people in the United States. New York had the second-highest homeless population of all states, about 61,000 people.
--
THE POST-STAR
They started in the frigid hour before dawn last Monday morning, scanning playgrounds, parks, boathouses and cemeteries for signs of life. By the end of the day, Warren/Washington Housing Coalition volunteers had counted at least 235 homeless individuals in the two-county region, including six families and 11 children.
The one-day effort was the group's second official "point in time" census of the local homeless population, which will be used by the Department of Housing and Urban Development to calculate grant eligibility.
Several social services agencies also agreed to keep track of how many homeless clients they served on Monday, but had not yet reported their numbers to the coalition as of late Friday. The final total will be available later this week, but the numbers have already exceeded results of the group's first census in January 2005, which counted 198 homeless individuals.
"The numbers have been, for me, just startling. And they're increasing every year," said Cliff Green, who co-chairs the Housing Coalition with Lisa Coutu. "I suspect they will be higher again this year."
The Housing Coalition was founded in 2004 as a cooperative effort between about 20 public and private social service agencies that share a desire to develop more affordable housing options for the neediest members of the community. The coalition has applied jointly for HUD funding with the Saratoga Homeless Alliance, under the name Saratoga--North Country Continuum of Care.
Staci Franco, executive director of the Adirondack Vets House and a member of the Housing Coalition, was among the coordinators of the census. She set out by car around 5 a.m., watching for anyone who may have spent the night outdoors. By sunrise, she guessed, many might have moved on to warmer spots like fast-food restaurants.
Her first encounter was with a middle-aged couple she recognized as "chronically homeless," she said. They had sheltered themselves amid some playground equipment and appeared to be living out of their car, which Franco said isn't unusual.
Next, she found a middle-aged man sleeping in a cemetery -- he told her that he "preferred to live outdoors," Franco said.
She also spotted three youths in a park area in Glens Falls, carrying heavy bags. Franco decided not to approach them because they looked "edgy," she said, but counted them anyway. "You don't find too many 17-year-olds hanging out outside at the crack of dawn just for fun, especially in this weather," she said.
Meanwhile, other Housing Coalition volunteers were walking around the docks and shuttered seasonal buildings of Lake George, and other possible locations for the homeless to seek shelter.
Franco spent her morning working at the Vets House, then went out to continue the census on foot around 11 a.m. She dressed very casually, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible to anyone she might meet.
A bitter wind whipped through the streets, and few people were visible on the sidewalks. Franco approached three young men standing outside a store near the intersection of Broad and South streets. They were willing to talk, but said they didn't know anyone who was homeless. Then Franco asked if they knew anyone who did what she calls "couch hopping," spending a few months at a time at various friends' homes without maintaining a permanent residence.
"Yeah, that's like all my friends," one of them said, the others nodding in agreement.
Later, Franco said she thinks couch hopping is a growing trend that masks the true extent of homelessness in the region. "I've come to realize that there are a lot of people who are working and can't afford a place of their own, they are just shacking up with different relatives and friends to make ends meet. But unfortunately, we can't count them," she said, explaining that they would not be considered homeless by HUD's definition.
Seeing no one else on the street, Franco changed tactics and began approaching bartenders, waitresses, hospital receptionists and others who interact daily with a wide swath of the public.
"I'm doing a survey for the federal government..." Franco typically began her spiel. Listeners often appeared suspicious at first, then softened as she explained her cause.
At a few places, the response was quick. The waitress at the Off-Track Betting cafe on South Street said she had about five homeless customers on any given day, and the director of The Open Door promised to do his own mini-census among the soup kitchen's clients. The intake staff at Glens Falls Hospital agreed to keep track of how many homeless patients came in that day.
But other respondents looked puzzled by the question, said they hadn't seen any homeless customers and that "it's not really a problem around here."
That's a common misconception, Coutu and Green said. People tend to think homelessness is limited to urban areas, but the problem goes beyond than the stereotype of a ragged figure sleeping on a New York City park bench.
The federal definition of homelessness does include unsheltered individuals, who are defined as "sleeping in places not meant for human habitation," but it also includes people sleeping in emergency or transitional housing, such as a shelter or a cheap motel. Anyone who is about to be evicted from their residence and has no place to go also qualifies. Of the 261 individuals identified during last year's point-in-time count, 75 percent were in those latter categories.
"We do have homeless people in our region -- they're just invisible," Coutu said.
According to a report released last month by the National Alliance to End Homelessness, there are approximately 744,000 homeless people in the United States. New York had the second-highest homeless population of all states, about 61,000 people.
--
Friday, February 02, 2007
Tapping into the tapas trend
Published on 1/31/2007
THE POST-STAR
The most essential element of the tapas dining experience isn't food, it's pronunciation -- there's a big difference between indulging in small portions of several dishes and ogling a shirtless waitress.
David Britton, executive chef of Springwater Bistro in Saratoga Springs, learned this the hard way when he changed his upscale restaurant's answering machine message to advertise every Monday as "tapas night."
"If you don't pronounce the 'pa' clearly, it sounds like topless," he said. "I remember an older woman of obvious sophistication calling, and her message was, 'Oh, no, that's not what I called for,' then...click. We don't leave it on the machine anymore."
He doesn't need to advertise, anyway. On Monday nights -- traditionally the slowest day in a restaurant's week -- his bistro is bustling, both the dining room and bar brimming with customers.
They're all there to eat tapas, which means sharing a lot of little dishes instead of ordering larger individual entrees. The term comes from a Spanish word meaning "cover," and the centuries-old tradition may have started as an attempt to keep flies out of wine and sherry by placing slices of bread, cheese or ham on top of the glass. These unintentional bar snacks caught on and became more elaborate with time.
These days, tapas can be almost anything. A bowl of mixed nuts or olives qualifies, as does something snazzier like a chunk of salmon in a balsamic glaze reduction. Any meal of sampling-sized portions could be called tapas, and the food doesn't even have to be Spanish -- the tapas menu at Springwater Bistro has Asian, Italian, French and American influences, for example.
Springwater Bistro started its Monday-night tapas tradition about five years ago, on a night when, because of a snowstorm, only a handful of customers were in the restaurant, Britton said.
"We said, instead of a long, drawn-out meal, why don't we cook for you the way we eat?" he said, referring to the way that chefs sample many dishes together before setting a menu. The customers loved it, and it allowed the chefs to use up all the ingredients left in the kitchen at the end of each week (the bistro is closed on Tuesdays).
"The nice thing about tapas is that people can be adventurous with less risk," Britton explained. "And it's become a phenomenon ... look around, it's wall-to-wall people."
Gaffney's Restaurant in Saratoga Springs introduced a Thursday-night tapas menu last year. The menu includes about 20 tapas items priced from three to six dollars, and most customers order three to four items each, said restaurant owner John Baker.
"We just wanted to do something different, keep things fresh," he said. "It's been very popular."
Deena Lavigne, a longtime waitress at Gaffney's, said she still gets asked "What's tapas?" by a lot of customers, but she said the trend is catching on.
"It's about being able to sit and chat and not devour your food all at once," she said.
The tapas experience is about socializing as much as eating, Britton said. "It creates camaraderie, all the sharing and passing," he said.
IF YOU GO
Springwater Bistro, 139 Union Ave. in Saratoga Springs, devotes every Monday night to tapas. Chef David Britton's innovative menu, which changes weekly, adds a gourmet touch to familiar foods -- ever tried pizza with barbecue calamari, sesame, and Gruyere cheese? How about goat cheese fritters with lemon fondue? Want some curry aioli with those onion rings? Menu online at www.springwaterbistro.com or call 584-6440.
Gaffney's Restaurant, 16 Caroline St. in Saratoga Springs, includes a tapas menu with its regular dinner menu on Thursday nights. Go to www.gaffneysrestaurant.com or call 587-7359.
The Wine Bar, at 417 Broadway in Saratoga Springs, offers a few light, tapas-style dishes like seared scallops, "pizzetta," and exotic cheese plates. The prices aren't as miniscule as the portions, but the classy atmosphere and generous glasses of good wine make up for it. Menu online at www.thewinebarofsaratoga.com or call 584-8777.
Vin Santo Tapas & Wine Bar, just off Northway Exit 6 in the Latham Farms shopping center, this restaurant opened to rave reviews last summer. According to the online menu, chef Chris Sisinni (formerly of Justin's restaurant on Lark Street) can whip up anything from a simmered octopus salad to a mound of house-cut french fries. Check it out at www.vinsantowinebar.com or call 786-TAPA.
Noche Lounge, 895 Broadway in north Albany's warehouse district, is another tapas bar worth the drive. The swanky, low-lit ambience seems just right for sipping a glass of wine and nibbling on menu items like a Manchego and goat cheese quesadilla. An odd but tasty touch: Strips of bacon served in a wine glass are complimentary. More info at www.nochealbany.com or 434-4540.
THE POST-STAR
The most essential element of the tapas dining experience isn't food, it's pronunciation -- there's a big difference between indulging in small portions of several dishes and ogling a shirtless waitress.
David Britton, executive chef of Springwater Bistro in Saratoga Springs, learned this the hard way when he changed his upscale restaurant's answering machine message to advertise every Monday as "tapas night."
"If you don't pronounce the 'pa' clearly, it sounds like topless," he said. "I remember an older woman of obvious sophistication calling, and her message was, 'Oh, no, that's not what I called for,' then...click. We don't leave it on the machine anymore."
He doesn't need to advertise, anyway. On Monday nights -- traditionally the slowest day in a restaurant's week -- his bistro is bustling, both the dining room and bar brimming with customers.
They're all there to eat tapas, which means sharing a lot of little dishes instead of ordering larger individual entrees. The term comes from a Spanish word meaning "cover," and the centuries-old tradition may have started as an attempt to keep flies out of wine and sherry by placing slices of bread, cheese or ham on top of the glass. These unintentional bar snacks caught on and became more elaborate with time.
These days, tapas can be almost anything. A bowl of mixed nuts or olives qualifies, as does something snazzier like a chunk of salmon in a balsamic glaze reduction. Any meal of sampling-sized portions could be called tapas, and the food doesn't even have to be Spanish -- the tapas menu at Springwater Bistro has Asian, Italian, French and American influences, for example.
Springwater Bistro started its Monday-night tapas tradition about five years ago, on a night when, because of a snowstorm, only a handful of customers were in the restaurant, Britton said.
"We said, instead of a long, drawn-out meal, why don't we cook for you the way we eat?" he said, referring to the way that chefs sample many dishes together before setting a menu. The customers loved it, and it allowed the chefs to use up all the ingredients left in the kitchen at the end of each week (the bistro is closed on Tuesdays).
"The nice thing about tapas is that people can be adventurous with less risk," Britton explained. "And it's become a phenomenon ... look around, it's wall-to-wall people."
Gaffney's Restaurant in Saratoga Springs introduced a Thursday-night tapas menu last year. The menu includes about 20 tapas items priced from three to six dollars, and most customers order three to four items each, said restaurant owner John Baker.
"We just wanted to do something different, keep things fresh," he said. "It's been very popular."
Deena Lavigne, a longtime waitress at Gaffney's, said she still gets asked "What's tapas?" by a lot of customers, but she said the trend is catching on.
"It's about being able to sit and chat and not devour your food all at once," she said.
The tapas experience is about socializing as much as eating, Britton said. "It creates camaraderie, all the sharing and passing," he said.
IF YOU GO
Springwater Bistro, 139 Union Ave. in Saratoga Springs, devotes every Monday night to tapas. Chef David Britton's innovative menu, which changes weekly, adds a gourmet touch to familiar foods -- ever tried pizza with barbecue calamari, sesame, and Gruyere cheese? How about goat cheese fritters with lemon fondue? Want some curry aioli with those onion rings? Menu online at www.springwaterbistro.com or call 584-6440.
Gaffney's Restaurant, 16 Caroline St. in Saratoga Springs, includes a tapas menu with its regular dinner menu on Thursday nights. Go to www.gaffneysrestaurant.com or call 587-7359.
The Wine Bar, at 417 Broadway in Saratoga Springs, offers a few light, tapas-style dishes like seared scallops, "pizzetta," and exotic cheese plates. The prices aren't as miniscule as the portions, but the classy atmosphere and generous glasses of good wine make up for it. Menu online at www.thewinebarofsaratoga.com or call 584-8777.
Vin Santo Tapas & Wine Bar, just off Northway Exit 6 in the Latham Farms shopping center, this restaurant opened to rave reviews last summer. According to the online menu, chef Chris Sisinni (formerly of Justin's restaurant on Lark Street) can whip up anything from a simmered octopus salad to a mound of house-cut french fries. Check it out at www.vinsantowinebar.com or call 786-TAPA.
Noche Lounge, 895 Broadway in north Albany's warehouse district, is another tapas bar worth the drive. The swanky, low-lit ambience seems just right for sipping a glass of wine and nibbling on menu items like a Manchego and goat cheese quesadilla. An odd but tasty touch: Strips of bacon served in a wine glass are complimentary. More info at www.nochealbany.com or 434-4540.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Remembering a jazz legend
Published on 1/21/2007
THE POST-STAR
Jazz performer Richard Wetmore grew up during the Great Depression, but lived a life of great joy. Friends and family remember him as a man rich with humor and compassion, who saw himself as an instrument to entertain and encourage others. When he died on Jan. 4, a few days short of his 80th birthday, the personal legacy he left was as impressive as his place in jazz history.
"Dick was such a youthful spirit, and we just had a heck of a lot of fun, which is really what music is all about -- or can be, if given a chance," said Tom Tracy, a Cape Cod-based musician who was Wetmore's performing partner during much of the 1980s and '90s.
"I have seen him get up and play and other musicians would just quit playing, their jaws hanging open," remembered Mary Lu Wetmore, who is married to the late violinist's nephew, French.
Wetmore was born and raised in Glens Falls, the youngest child of Louis, an architect, and Laura (Bemis), the daughter of a prominent local doctor. His mother, an amateur musician, had high hopes that one of her children would become a professional classical performer, and Wetmore seemed to be on his way for awhile. He started playing music at 6 -- on a toy violin from the local Woolworth's -- and studied with regionally renowned violinist Virginia DeBlasiis throughout his childhood.
He was drafted into the Army in 1945, at age 17, marking the end of his time in Glens Falls and the beginning of his jazz career. Since the Army band had no violins, he taught himself to play the cornet (a type of horn), and got a part in the Hattiesburg, Miss.-based 391 ASF Band.
"That's really where he learned to improvise; learned jazz and Dixieland and bebop," said his great-nephew, Jameson Wetmore, who has studied his uncle's career and collected all his recordings. "From there, it just took off."
His mother wasn't thrilled, but the public was, according to family members. The violin was an unusual vehicle for jazz at the time, and Wetmore's knack for improvisation and unique style of playing -- he sometimes plucked the strings like a guitar -- quickly earned him a measure of fame.
After his year of service, Wetmore started playing in the Boston area, where his parents had moved during his absence. He played back-up gigs for the likes of Peggy Lee, Mel Torme and Rosemary Clooney, formed his own quartet, and eventually enrolled at the New England Conservatory of Music. At the conservatory, he met composer Bob Zieff, who wrote the music for Wetmore's self-titled album released in 1955.
Wetmore's career continued to blossom over the next few years. He became a frequent guest on radio and television programs, including The Tonight Show. He was featured on several more recordings as part of a string jazz quartet led by Vinnie Burke, and played gigs all over New York City with jazz legends like Billie Holliday, Sarah Vaughn, Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie.
But as Wetmore's professional successes piled up, so did his personal problems. He drank so much that he did not even remember some of the gigs he played, and later told his family that "the only reason he was alive was because he was scared of needles" at a time when heroin use was common among jazz musicians, his great-nephew said.
"He was lucky in a number of ways, but the alcohol certainly did stunt his career. He couldn't quite jump up to the next big level, although he did put out some very great albums," Jameson said.
Wetmore's life changed when a friend convinced him to join an Alcoholics Anonymous support group. He stopped drinking in 1972 and stayed sober for the rest of his life, using his experience to mentor others through addiction problems.
Joyce Getty of Salem, Wetmore's niece, said her uncle seemed to have "found himself" in his later years.
"He told me that he was an instrument -- that he had a purpose, and that was to make music, guided by a higher power," she said.
He moved to Cape Cod and stayed away from the music scene for several years because it was so connected to the bar scene. One summer night in 1978, he went to a Brewster bar called The Woodshed to hear the popular local jazz duo of Tom Tracy and Pete Buscemi.
Tracy was skeptical when Wetmore, who was 20 years his senior, approached the duo after the show and suggested playing together. But when they gave him a chance, both men were "blown away" by Wetmore's skill and creativity.
"He was the real deal," Tracy said. "My only relationship with the violin before that was hearing it played classically, so that was a real eye-opener." The next night, Wetmore joined the duo at the Wood Shed, and "he just knocked the socks off the crowd," Tracy said.
By 1980, Tracy and Wetmore had forged a musical partnership called "Where's Harry," playing off their first names -- Tom and Dick. They played all over the Cape for most of the next 14 years.
Wetmore moved to Florida in 1996, but their friendship remained strong, Tracy said. "One of the things he used to say was, 'Just keep showing up.' That was his motto in the world -- just be there, 100 percent," Tracy remembered. "He always did that as a player, and as a human being, and brought a lot of love to people. I'm going to miss him a great deal."
In the early 1990s, Wetmore joined his nephew French's family in Indiana for Thanksgiving. Marjorie Bach, French's mother-in-law, impulsively switched the placecards at the table so she could sit next to Wetmore, "since we were the only two single people there," she said. They hit it off, sparking a long-distance romance, and married a few years later.
"I just thought Dick was a pretty neat guy to spend the rest of my life with," Marjorie said. "I feel very privileged, especially now that so many people are showing how much they adored this man. I had one over them -- I adored him, and I had him."
Some of her favorite moments were simple day-to-day routines, like drinking coffee together in bed each morning. In recent years, as Dick's emphysema sapped his strength, that ritual could last several hours before he felt able to get up, she said. They passed the time with jokes and songs, competing to see who could remember the most words to old tunes.
"I tried my darndest not to let him get sad," Marjorie said. "We found that we could entertain ourselves, and survive the trauma that we were going through."
The couple moved from Florida to Indiana last May to be closer to family members.
"It was going to be an adventure," Marjorie said. "Of course, we didn't know it would be such a short one."
The hardest part of everything, she said, was the day she realized her husband would never again play the violin.
"He could make that violin talk. I don't really think there's anyone else that has been that versatile and marvelous," she said.
And if Wetmore's mother had lived to see it, she might have been proud that her son did eventually perform with a professional orchestra. In 1996, the Cape Cod Symphony Orchestra featured Wetmore as a jazz violin soloist, improvising on the tunes of George Gershwin and Jerome Kern.
--Monday, January 08, 2007
The spirit of Shabat
Published on 1/7/2007 in THE POST-STAR
GLENS FALLS -- Peter Shabat doesn't look like a rich and powerful businessman. He looks more like the Maytag repairman, with a Jewish twist -- blue work pants and sneakers, a Carhartt vest embroidered with the words "Northway Service," and a faded black yarmulke that nearly blends into his dark hair.
His office is in a former feed store on South Street, near several bars and a tattoo parlor. Grimy fingerprints cover the cash register and photocopier, and a trickle of chicken feed occasionally lands on his desk from the ceiling.
He doesn't need to be there. He has enough money to retire. But while the Maytag man is known for having nothing to do, Shabat works at least 60 hours a week. He spends his days darting among his office, his pickup truck, and businesses around the region, checking up on malfunctioning bagel ovens and malfeasant tenants.
In his office, he is nearly always on the phone, though most of his conversations go like this: "Seeyouattwothankyoubye."
The only day he takes off is Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath -- "Shabbat" in Hebrew.
This is what Shabat, 55, calls "slowing down" after open-heart surgery several years ago.
He grew up in Israel, as his accent still reveals after 35 years here. He had little money when he arrived, but a wealth of motivation. He started an appliance repair business, which eventually grew to include restaurant equipment sales and service from three locations in Albany, Schenectady and Glens Falls.
By the 1990s, Shabat owned three hotels in Lake George and what he estimates was 80 percent of South Street's commercial real estate. He has sold many of his properties and downsized his repair business in recent years, but still owns four South Street buildings and handles most repair calls personally.
"When you're poor, you work hard and save...Now that I have the money, I can't stop working," he said. "What am I going to do, sit home? I have to use my hands; my mind."
His most notorious investment is the Madden Hotel, a boarding house with a reputation that matches its battered exterior. The tenants are mostly people with troubled histories, struggling with things like mental illness, substance abuse, debt and disability. As a result, Shabat admits, the Madden has a troubled history of its own.
"There's a lot of people coming in there who are just coming out of jail, having nothing...some have problems with drugs. I can't say there is no drugs there now, but it is a lot better than what it used to be," Shabat said.
Long-term tenants say they do their best to improve conditions by reporting those who damage the property or commit crimes. Those who end up on Shabat's list of "troublemakers" are banned.
"A place like that, it's what you make it," said Brian Black, who has lived at the Madden since 2001. "A lot of transients come through and say, 'It looks like he (Shabat) doesn't care about it, why should we?' But there are those of us who do...we used to have fights in there constantly, and drugs in and out of the place, but we've pretty much cleared that out now."
Black stepped into the lobby of the Madden a few minutes later, taking a reporter on a brief tour.
"Ah, shoot. Someone stole that lightbulb again," he said, glancing up.
Shabat said he keeps the building up to code, but it can be a challenge. When he first bought the Madden about 20 years ago, he renovated the place "from the ground up," he said.
"We made it nicer to begin with, but it didn't do any good. They break it, we fix it. They break it, we fix it. It gets expensive," he said. "Some people keep their rooms nice, but others are like animals, punching holes in the sheetrock and breaking doors."
The property is for sale, but Shabat said he won't sell it unless the buyer agrees to provide housing for the current Madden tenants. He hopes to work out a deal with the city.
"I could close that hotel, and it's never going to affect me financially, believe me. But there's a lot of people who, either mentally or physically, have no place to go," he said. "What would happen to them?"
Black, who is disabled by vision loss, said he, for one, doesn't know what he would do.
"If the Madden closed, I haven't a clue where I'd go. It would be a serious inconvenience, because right now I've got everything a stone's throw away," he said.
Shabat said he's "not desperate to sell," although there are days when the property is more trouble than its worth. Evicted tenants have retaliated with everything from swastikas to baseball bats, and the tires of his truck have been slashed several times.
"I don't think anybody else is going to take as much abuse as me," he said with a wry smile. "But you can't throw out the whole bunch because of a few bad apples. You can't give up."
He also insists that any potential buyer agree to keep renting space to the adjacent soup kitchen, called The Open Door.
Last year, a portion of the Madden's brick facade crumbled and fell through the roof of The Open Door, nearly landing on Rev. Bruce Hersey, the Open Door's director. But the falling wall didn't damage Hersey's opinion of Shabat.
"I've watched him over the years, and quietly, he has been very generous and kind," Hersey said, explaining that Shabat was the only South Street landlord to welcome the soup kitchen when Hersey started it from the back of a van about 15 years ago.
"He has come by numerous times to fix equipment for free," Hersey said. "And on Christmas day, he and his Jewish friends took care of feeding people so we could have a day off."
Shabat is an Orthodox Jew, the youngest of nine children born to North African immigrants in the Israeli village of Beit Shemesh, near Jerusalem. "I started working when I was 9 years old in a little market, and picked vegetables in the summer," he said. "I paid for my own bar mitzvah. My parents were very poor."
Shabat joined the Israeli Air Force at 15, and was still a teenager when he fought in the Six-Day War of 1967. When the Air Force sent him to Pensacola, Fla. for a training exercise a few years later, he fell in love with a girl named Lynne who vacationing there from Glens Falls with her family.
"I thought when I came here, it was only going to be for a year or so, but things change," he said.
He moved to Glens Falls, married Lynne and had two sons, but they divorced a few years later. He remarried and had a daughter, then lost his second wife to cancer. His children are grown now, have jobs in law and health care, and live in other states.
"I don't really want to talk about all of that," Shabat said, a weary look in his eyes.
Light returns to his eyes at the mention of another woman -- Ornit Reindorp, his longtime girlfriend. She also grew up in Israel, and served a year in the Army there before moving to her mother's hometown of Glens Falls about 15 years ago.
Shabat heard of her arrival from other members of the local Jewish community, and welcomed her to the neighborhood with what Reindorp considered a precious gift.
"He came over with an Israeli newspaper!" she remembered, her hazel eyes glowing.
When Reindorp stopped by the soup kitchen during a recent weekday lunch, many of the regulars greeted her affectionately. She said many of them have asked Shabat for help in the past, and they usually receive it, under certain conditions.
"If you come up to him and ask him for five bucks, he'll give it to you...but you have to show that you are willing to work for it. I mean, when he came to Glens Falls, he had holes in his shoes, he was so poor. But he was willing to work," she said.
Elvis Whorf, 25, said Shabat has "always been a motivator" for him to get his life on the right track.
"I can remember many times when I've been without a place to stay, and Peter's said, 'Hey, I've got a room.' He worked with me on rent when I couldn't pay it all at once," said Whorf. "I think he's got a heart of gold."
Reindorp looked thoughtful. "He has a unique personality," she said. "I never met a person with so much patience."
That patience does have its limits, however, as Shabat noted.
"I really don't have any conflicts with people, unless they don't pay their rent or bills," he said. "Then, I take them to court."
---
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
What local officials want from Spitzer
Published on 1/1/2007 in THE POST-STAR (Local News)
Santa's not the only one who's been swamped with wish lists lately.
In the weeks between Gov. Eliot Spitzer's election and his inauguration, legislators and local political leaders have written, called and met with his transition team to express their various wishes for the incoming administration's priorities -- and they're eager to unwrap his first speech for hints of good things to come.
"You always get a flavor in the State of the State for what the budget is going to be like, so I'm hoping I hear about government reform, about a balance between environmental and economic issues, and a commitment to many things that include the North Country's economy," said state Assemblywoman Teresa Sayward, R-Willsboro. "And certainly, property tax relief is my top priority."
Like the fabled guy in the red suit, Spitzer has so far managed to gain the public's affection without revealing many details. He campaigned on vague, widely appealing principles like government reform and accountablity, and has promised "change on day one."
While no one knows exactly what form that change will take, one things seems clear -- no one is eager to land on the "naughty" list of such a powerful and popular figure. Local Republican legislators all spoke positively about Spitzer and said they wish him well, despite the differences in their political parties.
"Certainly, whenever there's change, there's hope. So I look forward to this coming year. I'm sure it will be interesting, to say the least," Sayward said.
Sayward said she has written two letters to Spitzer so far, each with a budgetary suggestion. She would like the new budget to include more municipal aid for revenue-starved communities, as well as funds to help counties cope with a recent 26 percent hike in fees charged by the Office of Child and Family Services.
State Sen. Elizabeth Little, R-Queensbury, said she is "encouraged and optimistic" about the new administration, and hopes Spitzer will use bipartisanship to follow through on his campaign promises.
"I've already written to the governor-elect and talked to him about reducing property taxes," Little said. "I said I would like to be involved, and I'm happy to see that's a priority of his as well."
State Assemblyman Roy McDonald, R-Saratoga, wants the Spitzer administration to pay attention to rural upstate communities, which he believes are often the victim of "geographic discrimination" by Albany's power brokers.
"I think it was unintentional, but New York state government has become urbanized, and programs and services are geared to urban areas," McDonald said. "I think it's a concern of his, and I look forward to working with him to turn that around."
Even brighter visions dance in the heads of leaders from Spitzer's own party.
"We're hoping to see that he has some grand plans for fixing the economy, especially upstate ... for creating jobs, and actually accomplishing some of things Pataki's been talking about for the last 12 years," said Larry Bulman, chairman of the Saratoga County Democratic Committee. "He (Spitzer) wants to take us to the next level. ... I'm very excited about it."
Bulman said he's already had two meetings with members of Spitzer's transition team, and plans to continue pressing for change in areas like health care, economic development, property tax relief and renewable energy.
Glens Falls Mayor Roy Akins, whom Spitzer endorsed in person during the 2006 mayoral campaign, said he doesn't have any specific requests for the governor at this point, but "wherever the state can help the city, I'll certainly reach out and ask for it."
Queensbury Town Supervisor Dan Stec said if he wrote a wish list to the Spitzer administration, his top request would be to stop "unfunded mandates" from the state to counties and municipalities, and to reform the Medicaid system. He said he also hopes the state will pass laws requiring the civil confinement of sex offenders and restricting where child sex offenders may live.
"If they want to start making some changes, these are just a few of the most achievable ones," he said. "But I'm not going to hold my breath. I don't have a lot of faith in Albany."
---
Santa's not the only one who's been swamped with wish lists lately.
In the weeks between Gov. Eliot Spitzer's election and his inauguration, legislators and local political leaders have written, called and met with his transition team to express their various wishes for the incoming administration's priorities -- and they're eager to unwrap his first speech for hints of good things to come.
"You always get a flavor in the State of the State for what the budget is going to be like, so I'm hoping I hear about government reform, about a balance between environmental and economic issues, and a commitment to many things that include the North Country's economy," said state Assemblywoman Teresa Sayward, R-Willsboro. "And certainly, property tax relief is my top priority."
Like the fabled guy in the red suit, Spitzer has so far managed to gain the public's affection without revealing many details. He campaigned on vague, widely appealing principles like government reform and accountablity, and has promised "change on day one."
While no one knows exactly what form that change will take, one things seems clear -- no one is eager to land on the "naughty" list of such a powerful and popular figure. Local Republican legislators all spoke positively about Spitzer and said they wish him well, despite the differences in their political parties.
"Certainly, whenever there's change, there's hope. So I look forward to this coming year. I'm sure it will be interesting, to say the least," Sayward said.
Sayward said she has written two letters to Spitzer so far, each with a budgetary suggestion. She would like the new budget to include more municipal aid for revenue-starved communities, as well as funds to help counties cope with a recent 26 percent hike in fees charged by the Office of Child and Family Services.
State Sen. Elizabeth Little, R-Queensbury, said she is "encouraged and optimistic" about the new administration, and hopes Spitzer will use bipartisanship to follow through on his campaign promises.
"I've already written to the governor-elect and talked to him about reducing property taxes," Little said. "I said I would like to be involved, and I'm happy to see that's a priority of his as well."
State Assemblyman Roy McDonald, R-Saratoga, wants the Spitzer administration to pay attention to rural upstate communities, which he believes are often the victim of "geographic discrimination" by Albany's power brokers.
"I think it was unintentional, but New York state government has become urbanized, and programs and services are geared to urban areas," McDonald said. "I think it's a concern of his, and I look forward to working with him to turn that around."
Even brighter visions dance in the heads of leaders from Spitzer's own party.
"We're hoping to see that he has some grand plans for fixing the economy, especially upstate ... for creating jobs, and actually accomplishing some of things Pataki's been talking about for the last 12 years," said Larry Bulman, chairman of the Saratoga County Democratic Committee. "He (Spitzer) wants to take us to the next level. ... I'm very excited about it."
Bulman said he's already had two meetings with members of Spitzer's transition team, and plans to continue pressing for change in areas like health care, economic development, property tax relief and renewable energy.
Glens Falls Mayor Roy Akins, whom Spitzer endorsed in person during the 2006 mayoral campaign, said he doesn't have any specific requests for the governor at this point, but "wherever the state can help the city, I'll certainly reach out and ask for it."
Queensbury Town Supervisor Dan Stec said if he wrote a wish list to the Spitzer administration, his top request would be to stop "unfunded mandates" from the state to counties and municipalities, and to reform the Medicaid system. He said he also hopes the state will pass laws requiring the civil confinement of sex offenders and restricting where child sex offenders may live.
"If they want to start making some changes, these are just a few of the most achievable ones," he said. "But I'm not going to hold my breath. I don't have a lot of faith in Albany."
---
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