Glow in the Dark Tuna

Sausage and hard-boiled eggs was suddenly a gourmet meal and a smart one as well. I was able to use the heated water from the eggs to bathe myself.

Edited by Teo J. Babini -

Photo ©

No matter your general appetite, everyone’s gotta eat (even if you throw it up later), and during a hurricane, this can become quite a challenge. I heard stories from romantic candlelit dinners between lovers to tagliatelle with flashlights. Here’s a few first hand accounts from the CBK staff on how they got Sand(y) in their sandwiches:

Photo ©

Movin’ on Down

“Last weekend, I got a chance to explore the culinary delights of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. From Friday to Sunday, I sampled everything from clam & bacon pizza to freshly made crepes to Spanish-fusion tapas. The weekend’s meals were as decadent and gourmet as I’ve experienced. Not to mention pricey. My friends and I laughed and drank pitchers of sangria while overlooking the harbor on Saturday night before heading north Sunday morning before the so-called “superstorm” Sandy was rumored to hit… … And then it hit…

Foodie-Driven Lighting Photo ©Arthur Shihkman

… And we were trapped in Central Jersey, forced to trade our foodie-driven, first class cuisine of the weekend for what was left to eat in the darkened house: a large bucket of bite-size Halloween chocolates and two packs of Taylor Ham (Yes, I’m from New Jersey). Eating off the top-shelf was short-lived, but nice while it lasted. I sat in the dark and unwrapped another Reese’s. Being classy is overrated anyway.” – Matt Heidkamp.

Photo ©

Powerless Pot Luck

“What kind of moron buys salad before a hurricane? Me. Power went out so I made a huge Sandy salad and drove over to my best gay friend’s who had a genny. A rag tag bunch of power outage survivors pot luck feasting on an even more eclectic menu all gathered in a Victorian dining room surrounded by long shadows on blood red walls and flickering candlelight. Three soups, split pea, bourbon potato leek, and herb butternut squash followed by Chicken, salad, cashew pesto pasta, peanut butter cups, blackberry Cabernet sorbet, creme brûlée ice cream and wine… lots and lots of red wine…” – Lora Wiley.

Photo ©

Hard-Boiled Bathtub

“I lay there, forcing myself to sleep an unnatural amount of hours. Dreams became better than the reality I lived in; I was stripped of the luxuries of everyday New York life. The smell of sausage from the kitchen drew me out of my bed as I thought, “Could it be food that didn’t come out of a can!?”. Campbell’s soup and Chef Boyardee grew old quick. Sausage and hard-boiled eggs was suddenly a gourmet meal and a smart one as well. I was able to use the heated water from the eggs to bathe myself. Maybe I’ll go back to sleep and dream of a shower.” – Andrew Rodriguez.

Taglaitelle in the Dark Photo ©Greta Pininfarina

Gone Fishin’

“It was so bloody dark that I could not find the open tuna fish can in the warm fridge, but I could smell it. I finally stuck my finger in it. Where the hell did I leave my high-tech-extreme-speleologist-led-headlight? In the bathroom while trying to pee in the black hole that used to be my toilet? Or maybe under the three layers of blankets where I lay earlier trying to get news from my almost useless and clueless iPhone? Did my dog Blu chew on it thinking it was one of his plastic toys? Was that him glowing in the dark under the couch? And what was that flushing noise? Has my building begun to float away towards the East River? Or is it the guy upstairs using the last of the water to flush the last dump? Ok. Back to tuna, one oily pinch at a time slicing my fingers on the jagged edges. This is like the great fish revenge. Shall I just crunch on some dry Garofalo pasta out of the box? That is, if I can find the box. Now the dog wants to pee, he just doesn’t get that if we go out, he’s gonna fly to somewhere upstate. So I had Fusilli with Tuna for dinner. And it was kind of romantic except I smell like a drunk Alaskan fisherman. A blind one, that is.” – Icarus Blake.

To hear my own personal adventures during the hurricane, culinary and otherwise, check out: “Hell Hath No Fury… Like a Bitch Named Sandy”.

Photo ©

Comments are closed.