Tuesday's snow

There will be more tomorrow. There is more, now. But Now is dark.

I went snow shopping, down Lenox Avenue. 

After negotiating the sawdust-sprinkled chute that leads into Fine Fare, I found in the produce section bunches of culantro - not cilantro - which is a new favourite herb. Eryngium foetidum. So whoever named it really didn't like it.

Some white chap.

And it is like pungent cilantro. Which many people loathe. 

Do you know that what North America calls cilantro (coriander - Coriandrum sativum - for the English and Commonwealth) is considered native to England (and southern Europe)? Yet it is associated almost exclusively with Latin American and Southeast Asian culinary traditions.

My culantro become a raw sauce, with cilantro, lime slices, sugar, a load of black pepper, garlic and lime juice, for chicken roasted on a bed of sweet potatoes.

Juggling shopping bags, umbrella for in-the-face snow, gloves for freezing hands and camera was tricky.

Maraschino trees. If only I liked Manhattans (I have decided that I do not).

More tomorrow. I have granted myself a snow day. Where should I go?

Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge?

Central Park's Ramble?
Inwood?

Somewhere else?