Coffee Break, New Jersey Style

If you should ever find yourself in northern New Jersey, in the County of Morris, in the Borough of Lincoln Park . . . head for Main Street. Straight for A&A Fine Foods.

We raised our girls in this small town, which for its size has remarkably good eateries and take-out and food markets, and I take every opportunity to go back and shop. But shopping barely describes the experience of A&A -- it's a whole body immersion in Italian and other delights.


Cheeses, breads, bakery, butcher, prepared foods, imported everything -- if they bottled the aroma in that store and sold it as cologne, I'd wear it and be the most seductive woman on the planet.

Not that I'm not already . . . .

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This is a long 'way round to my Friday post,
linking to Michael's Foodie Friday blog party at her Designs by Gollum blog.

Go visit for all sorts of food stories!

It's been a long, long couple of weeks. My father was seriously ill and in the hospital, but began to improve last weekend, and now has been transferred to a rehab facility to regain his strength, and hopefully be weaned off the constant need for oxygen.

I know he's getting stronger, as yesterday he began complaining.

Today, a cloudy day with spits of drizzle now and then, and just a few small patches of snow clinging to shady spots,
is a good day to sit down at the old oak table in the conservatory
with a big cup of hot coffee, and some cookies from A&A.

The stomach-eye view of the scene:

Black Colombian coffee, strong, to balance the sweet.
I am too lazy to fuss with espresso.

The cookies are on a small Italian hand painted plate.

If you have never had a hand-made, hand-rolled crisp cannoli shell, filled with chocolate-studded pastry cream -- filled fresh while you wait -- by a charming Italian gentleman who puts your order in a big pink bakery box, and then in a green cloth shopping bag . . .

. . . then you need to come to Jersey, sister.

You could join me for cookies and coffee here at That Old House today.
There's enough to go around.

But don't take that cookie, that one's mine.
Also, that one.
And the one over there . . .
Hey, get your hands off my cannoli!

Poor Mr. Dion DiPoochy. All those cookies . . . so near, yet so far.

And did you ever see such a dingy doggy? Look at his feet. Ugh.
It's March Mudness here at That Old House!
Dion's heading for the bath tub on the first dry day. Please don't tip him off. -- Cass