No water on the shelves, just water on the floor.

This is a bit of an off-topic post, as it doesn’t have any recipes, or many appetizing photos. I’m in a strange place, somewhat literally, as I’ve been stranded in New Jersey this week. I had to miss a post last week, mostly because I was in the midst of bridesmaid duties, which is what brought me back to NY/NJ. This time, I’ve missed my posting deadline for a different reason, one that is a bit colder and sadder.

After my best friend’s beautiful and fantastically fun wedding, I came back to my childhood home with expectations of flying from Newark to London on Monday. My bag was packed to grab and go, filled with American candy to share with the Londoners… But instead I ended up watching my favorite neighborhoods being torn apart by a hurricane.

Hurricane Sandy hit like a force. It was hard to image just how bad it would be, and even harder to fathom everything that had happened as a result.

We made it out pretty well, all things considered. Just no power or heat, some fixes and clean-up  to be done, and some not-very-exciting food to eat from the fridge before it went off. (I am so tired of scrambled eggs.) At worst, it’s been a matter of camping out somewhere else, with power and heating – two very blissful things right now.

In the dark.

There’s a lot to be grateful for, but also a lot to be sad about. So much has changed here, and it’s hard to know now if any of it will ever be the same.

In a few days I’ll be back on my way to London, where my kitchen counter awaits some exciting new culinary experiments. But right now, it’s hard to imagine being there, when friends and family here today are still trying to leave their homes for the first time all week, or no longer have homes at all.

I’ve been eagerly waiting to bring my gentleman to visit, to see my favorite places in my old neighborhood in Jersey City. I wanted to take him down the shore, where I’ve spent many summer weekends, and to lower Manhattan, where I spent the previously mentioned Thursday, out to dinner with the bride-to-be, and the home of my favorite cocktail bar, cafe and wanderable streets. While it will all be worth visiting again, it probably won’t be the same. It will give me the chance to build memories, and hold the other ones untarnished, but it will be just as new for me as it will be for him.

For now, the last thing on my mind is recipes or cooking, and while I’ll be back in my second home next week, away from the floods, the downed power lines and the ruined houses, my spirit will still be here, where I’ve come from.

The least of the trouble compared to the street lined with cracked and fallen lamp posts.