The Angel of Barrow Street
How a neighbor in New York City spreads love through food
The doorbell rang, startling us. At any other time, it would not have. But we were on lockdown in New York City and certainly weren’t expecting any guests. We hadn’t ordered food delivery — a luxury now as our income abruptly disappeared. We were not expecting any packages — we were barely even getting mail due to sick postal carriers in the neighborhood.
I asked who was there. No response. The bell ringer swiftly disappeared before I had a chance to open the door. At the threshold, I was surprised to see a giant white box with a note scrawled on it: “Hi there! Sharing some vegetables from Jeffrey’s Grocery. XO”
The box contained a giant bundle of deep-green, magenta-stemmed Swiss chard; a frilly head of kale; crisp, sturdy snow peas; fat pods of fava beans; a tub of feta cheese; and a giant container of walnuts. It was a godsend — no, wait — an angel-send, especially on that day.
It was Saturday, one of the few days that I venture out into the complicated, strange, ghostly-yet-still-chaotic streets of the West Village to go to the farmers market in Abingdon Square. It was a rare sunny day, and the streets were filled with people, stressing me out. Sweaty, maskless joggers panted past. Young and careless (also maskless)…
