Pandemic Dining: The First Two Years

When the pandemic began, my employer started a program that let employees expense $50 per week on meals at local restaurants. This gesture lasted for several weeks and I valued every meal and my employer's bold gesture at the time of crisis and uncertainty.

And after that? My partner Naomi and I kept right on going with what we call our “Friday feast.” We liked the culinary treat and the chance to help out the area’s economy. Indoor dining was out, but we quickly set up a circuit of pickups from local joints.

  

We hit all the hot spots of Katonah, NY: Pizza Station with its tasty artichoke and spinach pies; La Familia for the pasta experience; Sinapi’s for the $19.99 family special (complete with finger-lickin'-good garlic knots); Muscoot Tavern for a summer splurge under an outdoor tent; Tengda, our favorite for Asian fusion food. I can attest from first-hand knowledge that Tengda made diners work for the grub. Its early-pandemic system required customers to stand outside after getting a text that our orders were ready—followed by a 20-minute wait to get in to pick up and pay. The long Friday lines on drizzly winter nights showed that Tengda has very loyal customers.

Then there’s the hip Mt. Kisco foodie scene. I pick up Indian street food at Little Kabob Station, then race home with the paneer tikka, lasoni gobi and saag paneer. Once we ate outside with a friend across the street at Little Drunken Chef (part of the same operation), huddled as close as possible to the tall outdoor heating pillars. On the same block is one of our favorites, the Georgian restaurant, Badageoni (as in Georgia the country not Georgia the national collegiate football champion). We first went crazy over Georgian food at a hole in the wall place we discovered in Jerusalem. The best dish: Adjaruli Khachapuri. It’s been described as a “homemade bread canoe [where you] scoop up gobs of bubbly filling, a mix of creamy mozzarella, sharp feta and just-barely-set egg.” (And don't forget the massive gobs of butter.) Cardiologists may not recommend adjaruli but, hey, YOLO—you only live once.

Speaking of Jerusalem, pandemic dining even took on religious aspects. I tracked the pandemic’s spasms of restriction and relaxation at my synagogue, Chabad of Bedford. I always enjoyed the kiddushes, or meals we shared after services: typical foods were challah rolls, whitefish, egg salad, tuna salad, cholent stew, lox and rugelach. The kiddushes ended when in-person services stopped in March 2020. Outdoor services and soon kiddushes returned that summer, Services moved inside and kiddushes returned in that short golden window in 2021 where vaccines created a whisper of normality. But as new variants hit, the masks returned and the kiddushes ended. That's where things stand now. In response, every two weeks I swing by the Mt. Kisco Smokehouse to pick up a container of lox trimmings, so we can enjoy kiddush-style bagels and cream cheese at home.

 

Lately, Naomi and I had a unique experience in our culinary journey: we gave a place a second try after a ho-hum first tasting. A small shop serving Vietnamese pho opened in Bedford Hills. Its lack of vegetarian options for Naomi limited its appeal. About a month ago we saw the place had a new name, Dinh Dinh. "Hey, let’s see if it’s changed," I suggested. We checked it out and wow! The place had plenty on the menu for vegetarians and it’s now a regular haunt. Naomi even had a holiday lunch there with friends—inside.

Eating inside during the pandemic? Yeah, we’ve done that a few times; we can count the number on our fingers. Most recently we were at Taco Project in Pleasantville after seeing West Side Story on New Year’s Eve. When we'll venture inside again is anybody's guess. We especially look forward to indoor dining right  in Sleepy Hollow, NY—where I now do monthly open mics at the Hudson Valley Writers Center via Zoom—at the tiny and delicious Chuchok Thai. That had been a pre-pandemic ritual, the Friday combo of Thai food and in-person open mics. Until the day arrives for minimal-anxiety indoor dating, I'll keep bringing home the symbolic bacon in takeout containers and boxes. 

For now, our big decision is where to order for the endless horizon of Friday Feast. If reading about our pandemic dining adventures is making your mouth water as much as mine is as I write this, then this is a successful essay.