Do you celebrate Easter?

Do you have a big Easter dinner every year?

We like to have family over but we have yet to establish a true tradition as far as what we serve.

Sometimes it’s ham. Sometimes it’s a prime rib (if we’re feeling fancy). And sometimes it’s a brisket.

Yeah, it’s not very Easter-y, but who cares?

What are you having?

And can I come over?

So when we were in NYC we took a jaunt down to Little Italy. We bounced around on the subway, got off at our stop, walked through Chinatown, turned a corner and — behold!

The sights and smells of Little Italy are almost overwhelming. You KNOW you’ve arrived. There is no question.

Our only “problem” was which place to venture into for the evening.

We checked out all the menus and decided on a great little place named Paesano’s. Perfect, right?

THIS is my husband’s beef ravioli. Fresh, handmade ravioli with tender beef tucked inside, topped with homemade sauce. Unbelievable.

It was so good they had to roll us out of there onto the street.

So I’ve had this discussion with many people and we can’t quite figure it out. What IS IT about the food in NYC that makes it so good?

Some people say it’s the water. There’s something in the water.

Others say it’s the cheeses and fresh, fresh food New Yorkers have access to that in many parts of the country we don’t have access to.

Some people just laugh like they know the answer but they’re not telling.

Whatever it is, the things they can do with beef are out of this world.

Next time I’d like to rent a place with a kitchen and try out some of my standards there to see if there is any difference.

Would my meatloaf suddenly taste like Wolfgang Puck made it?

Alas, I am not Donald Trump and judging by what they charge for a shoebox-size hotel room, that idea may be nothing but a pipe dream.

But it’s an interesting theory I just may put to the test.

I’ve got some wonderful friends in Fargo who have been working their tails off to fight back flood waters.

If you’ve been watching the news the last week, you’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of people volunteering their time to make sandbags and pile them up.

My friends have been among them.  And they are tired.

They own a restaurant in Moorhead, MN, and they live in Fargo, ND — two of the scariest places to be right now. We’ve been thinking about them a lot.

In my last phone call with them, my buddy told me he was dog tired from bending down and throwing. They finally drove out to where they took refuge (about 20 minutes away from town) after all of the preparations and plugging up of holes and hoping and praying were done.

All they could do then was wait.

So I asked him what they did as they waited to see what Mother Nature had in store for them.

Wanna know what he said?

They grilled steaks.

Steaks.

He said they were the best he’d ever had in his life.

I don’t know if there is anyone more deserving of a big, juicy steak than a guy who has spent the last week of his life out in sub-zero weather protecting the houses and livelihoods of people he doesn’t even know. 

And I was beginning to think that ALL the news these days was doom and gloom.

Nice work, people of Fargo. Nice work.

What? Doesn’t everything have SOMETHING to do with steak? It seems to in my world.