Maybe you’ve noticed but I’m a decent Devils fan. I’d never say hardcore since I know some that devote a good chunk of their time to all things Devils. My only claim to Devils fandom maybe is that I once went to a whole season. That’s 41 games or around that.

My path to being a Devils fan may be similar to yours whether it’s this team or another: when I was a kid they were winners. I’m a 90s kid and remember going to games with my best friend. If anything we also enjoyed the fact that you could fight other kids at the arena. Then you got some hotdogs and watched more fights on the ice. As a Passaic kid one was pure testosterone.

With the GOAT.

Everyone knew the name Brodeur. Maybe you knew Stevens, Neidermayer, or Danyeko, but Brodeur was a saint. He carried the Jersey name like it was a cross and then threw it down a hill. In my passive watching of hockey I just assumed a goalie was everything. I mean they kind of are. Look at the Rangers right now, they’d be shit without their goalie.

Today’s hockey is different from when I was in my teenage years. Well, the whole world was different. Sometimes the nostalgia settles in and I wish things were still the same. Scott Stevens was crushing people, Layne Staley was still alive, and America was unquestionably the most powerful country on Earth. But none of that is reality. And it is my firm belief that one of the most true of Jersey values is to have the deep desire to be a winner. It doesn’t matter how you win, just that you win.

It is different today, but the bones are the same. We just need to approach it with a different style. And after years suffering with a stagnant team I am starting to see where we are headed. I don’t know if it’s a clear path to winning at the highest level, but something is there. And there’s one particular player that is slowly symbolizing it for me, Dawson Mercer. It is his rookie year and he’s only a few games in, but man just watch him. I know he’s Canadian, but he plays just like how a true Jersey kid would play. We aren’t the biggest, the fastest, nor the most skilled but we go at it with such aggressive abandon. Did you see the Columbus game Sunday? Their goalie even punched him in the face. Everyone hates this kid, and he’s not even trying to be a jerk. He’s just going at it as hard as he can and sometimes it just happens that way. He seems like a nice kid, but when it’s time to go, that’s it. That’s the type of playing that gets me excited because it’s a mentality like that you can’t break. People with a lot of skill are always prone to getting hot and cold, or they get depressed. The Devils in general as of late have been a team that is just like that. They need to develop a mentality that loves the nasty grind. They have to love breaking down other people, and especially so since they have only 2-3 highly skilled players. I could be wrong about all this of course, but I hope players like Jack Hughes, Dawson Mercer, and Dougie Hamilton help turn the team around.

APEM isn’t a sport, but we operate similar to it. We have a season that is a long grind. And everyday is the same. Throughout the season we also have many injuries. This is why both Jenny and I spend a lot of time doing maintenance on our bodies. There’s part of me that wishes we could be open longer portions of the year, but the winter break is definitely needed. It’s when my brain gets to mostly shut down, because during the season it’s almost going at an anxious pace with the whole covid vibe plus keeping things interesting. I can’t wait to find some people who can really help us kick it into high gear. I really hold myself up as a high standard of ice cream/gelato place for Jersey. Sometimes I’m like a caged animal just looking across the river at those punks in Manhattan making their shitty ice cream and waiting for someone to let me loose.

Nicest Devil ever: Travis Zajac.

I love this fucking state. Some other states are prettier or bigger, but they aren’t Jersey. One day this state is gonna drown into the ocean, but for now it’s an amazing place full of people that make America great. I’m not saying it’s perfect and there aren’t problems. I mean Camden? But there’s something in the air that makes us so good. I think of the food, the people, the towns, the parkway, the lakes, and the Shore where all kinds of shit happen. The Devils are the only team left that represent that potential. And I feel the tide turning in our favor not just for the team, but for the state and our business. After these last few years how much lower can you go? Plus success is infectious. This is why we must strive for it constantly, especially when things are in a rut. You bite down harder and keep going while bringing everyone else along with you. It is the only option.

So go buy a Dawson Mercer jersey.

*I dictated this blog post without any drugs or painkillers except Advil. And this was before I got X-rays done and found out I have scoliosis of the lower back.

Shit, I threw out my back again. Hmm. Well maybe I haven’t mentioned it before but occasionally my back goes out. Sometimes I just sneeze or I just bend down to pick up a sock. I go to Equilibrium Montclair for Pilates and that helps me a lot. My back goes out less frequently, but sometimes it just does it’s thing.

We rented a house with a pond somewhere in the Catskills. I used to come up here a lot as a kid. My mom worked for this WASP that had a cattle farm up here and they also used to take me to a Buddhist temple. My parents aren’t Buddhists, they’re Catholics, but they obliged my interests. One of my favorite walks is up here at Minnewaska. I usually walk to the one pond and take a swim then circle back. It’s nice this time of the year although I feel like NY State is more run down than usual. Last spring I took Jenny to visit my family’s old land in Long Island and we drove out to Montauk. The LIE is a shit road. There’s just something about NY State that seems run down. Like parts of the Jersey Shore or places like Passaic are rundown but it’s got heart and grit. People push their way through life. But up here I see so many abandoned homes and even still many of the homes are half falling apart. It reminds me of parts of Connecticut where you’d swear there was no real middle class and you see 4 or 5 towns with the same kind of vibe and economy.

As a child I was enamored with the idea of the Soviet Union. Not because I cared about Communism, but I met a lot of Russians growing up and their perspective on life just seemed so real to me. My hometown was pretty rough, but none of us really had that Soviet mindset. We were cautious but not paranoid. We thought the system was against us, but if you hustled there was a chance. The Russians I knew gave off the vibe that there was nothing. Just be glad you are alive. The New York City is a great area to grow up in terms of encountering a lot of people from all over the world. It’s hard to be the ignorant American around here unless you’re that dumb. But it’s also kind of depressing.

At least it’s deliciously quiet up here. I can listen to the Brook slowly emptying into the pond, acorns falling, and chipmunks calling. I love to watch animals and insects do their thing. The deer browse, the salamanders swim the shallows, and the wood pecker does whatever. As I dictate this, a deer and I have been staring at each other for roughly 10 minutes now. I asked it if it wants a beer as a joke. To be honest it seems more curious by me than me of it. She does her left shimmy then wags her tail. She signals to her little ones and they take off like a mini stampede. Actually she circled back while the little ones go up hill. She squares herself to me and wags her tail again. It’s almost like she’s waiting for me to either get the hell away or maybe follow her. I should follow her but my back is garbage. In California I used to track quail. I’ve had a few run ins with lame park rangers because I’d cut through the thick woods. I have encountered a lot of animals: coyote, bobcats, skunks, snakes, etc… I’m talking up close and personal. Never been sprayed though. Well, almost.

She’s making loud songs with her nose and stomping the ground. She just darted back and forth. There’s not really much I can do except watch. I can barely stand for more than 10 minutes.

She’s gone.

This reminds me of my organic random encounters of friendliness I’ve had throughout my life. You know, like when you are walking down the street and you help an old lady cross. Or someone is trying to setup a table outside their store and you just randomly help and walk off. Except this time it’s with an animal.

She’s back. More huffing and puffing. I have a stalker. This also reminds me of bodyboarding in Newport Beach and having a seal just hang in the waves with me and others. Encounters like these are fundamental to being alive. Humans are humans. We are animals that inhabit a whole world with others. We don’t always understand each other, but unless there’s hunger involved they are always ready to hang.

I finally get up and start following the deer. I find a stick to help me walk. As I get closer, the deer would move further up the hill. This is going on for about 15 minutes until I just find a stump to sit on. My back is killing me.

After a while I notice that it is starting to get dark, so I waved to the deer in that awkward kind of way when you are trying to be cool but aren’t. I stumble back to the cabin and check for ticks.

In my California past, I would have assumed this was leading to something profound in the new age sense. But as I’ve gotten older and experienced more random things I come to understand life amongst nature as being mostly unknowable to someone from a culture that is constantly trying to reduce every thing to numbers and logic. I feel weak and lost, but at the same time it shows me glimpses of a reality that is undeniably true unlike ours today.

Maybe you aren’t following, but we had a playlist contest to see who could come up with the best selection of flavors. The first week was Scott’s Playlist which was a celebration of summer. The second week revolved around the Sopranos. Take a peek at our social media to look back on those flavors. I had a lot of fun making them.

This week’s playlist is special to me because it represents why I wake up at 5:30am with a smirk. I love to travel, and arguably love it more than making gelato. What is especially great about traveling is bringing home ideas to share. This week’s playlist is like a mini vacation that has a fun mixture from places I’ve lived, hung out, or plan to go to in the near future. The playlist is also about the winner’s unique family. And as you know in Jersey, family is everything. The flavors individually are good, and they represent something about their culture and land. As a list the flavors may seem disconnected until you sit back and soak in that it is their family story and that it fits like a glove. It also is a good representation of New Jersey where you can be from anywhere in the world and strive to be yourself amongst the chaos. The things that bind us together as a society in New Jersey are different than other places. There are shitheads here, but generally life is about good manners, hard work, being true to yourself, and minding your own god damn business. Most states can’t claim this legacy.

You’ll see flavors from Turkey, Oregon, the San Francisco Bay Area, and the United Kingdom. There will be blackberry custard reminding me of the time I lived in the Bay Area and would ride a floating raft along the Russian River picking wild blackberries. There will be hazelnut & ganache and pear representing the rugged beauty of Oregon. Flavors like mastic and Turkish delight will celebrate the beauty of Turkish culture and one of the culinary gems of the world. And for fun you’ll see some Malt candy from their time in the UK. Of course there will be a few more, but I’m writing this on a Monday and I don’t plan that far ahead. The momentum of the week will dictate the end result.

We’ve made this flavor called Philly Shell a few times already and the last time something clicked in my head. It reminded me of Cool Whip and immediately of spending time at my grandparent’s old farmhouse in Manorville, Long Island. Almost every night my grandmother served strawberries with Cool Whip or whipped cream.

My grandmother was a unique person in my eyes especially in hindsight. As a kid I loved her even though I had a strange relationship with her. She was unique not because she was some great cook or a warm person like most people say about their own. My grandmother, Mary, was definitely not a good savory cook. And I believe that’s partially because she had a serious sweet tooth. A dessert before dinner and a dessert after dinner type of sweet tooth. Pies, ice cream, muffins… you name it and she ate it. For a kid like me that was awesome. There was nothing better than wandering around the woods and coming back to some blueberry pie made from the massive blueberry bush along the barn.

I like to think I inherit a lot of different things from my grandparents. From my American grandfather a partial Stoicism, from my Filipino grandfather a strong will, from my Filipino grandmother a sense of Aristocracy, and from grandma in Long Island a fondness for the Celtic and a sense of “fuck it.” All these traits don’t necessarily fit in with each other, but that is fine. Life is messy and I enjoy that. I like feeling that part of them is in me even if in a chaotic way. I love all my grandparents and carrying a piece of them around with me is priceless.

Grandma in Long Island, Mary Saneski

Grandma in Long Island was of the Donovans and Dittmeiers and supposedly of some long lost Dutch ancestors. So we are of Irish Protestant and Bavarian Catholic stock. Perhaps that makes for a good mix since my time spent with her was always enjoyable. We didn’t talk much, but there was an understanding. Or rather she understood the kind of person I was. She wasn’t an unhinged person, but she said what she thought. We would take walks along the country road to the hot dog truck off the Sunrise Highway. You have no idea how great it is to walk in the warm summer sun to get a hotdog and ice cream bar. She was one of the first persons to let me do whatever I wanted. As a child I was considered aloof. Society didn’t appeal to me even at 8 years old. Really I just wanted to either hang out with friends or wander the woods picking up rocks and watching animals. The woods were alive to me. Society was controlled and unnatural.

Towards the end of her life I got to see more sides of her that I hadn’t seen as a little kid. And as I’ve gotten older I appreciate her personality more and more especially considering society today. She lived during a time when women couldn’t do much. She didn’t even have her own bank account. But she was her own spirit, and people couldn’t understand that because they follow the path of society. Some people succumb to the pressure and lose themselves. My grandmother in my eyes was always struggling. And so she was considered “mad.” To me society is the one that is mad. It crushes creativity into something sellable, it sucks the life out of nature to make dead things, and it pushes us until we are domesticated like farm animals. She’s the core inside me that struggles even to the point of appearing weird.

And so that’s what I try to do. I’m reaching to do something fun and free. We make gelato to do something for ourselves and for the people we care about which is you all. If our gelato seems good it’s because of you and not just our efforts. It’s a dance and we are in it together. Luckily, through her I inherit a sense of abandon to do these things. And I inherit a crazy sweet tooth. I’m not just trained to make gelato but it’s in my blood to have an edge. So this week keep an eye out for Mary Saneski’s Summer Dessert: Philly Shell with candied strawberries. She would eat a whole batch if she were still around today.

Alex

"Camden was originally an accident, but I shall never be sorry I was left over in Camden. It has brought me blessed returns."
-Walt Whitman

What makes America great isn’t the land. It’s the stories. And there are but a handful of places that offer stories with such potency. New Jersey is one such place. It offers stories through song, acting, science, literature, poetry, and physical will. New Jersey punches beyond its size to show the limitless potential and constant renewal of America.

It’s an odd thing when you move elsewhere and come back to the state. Some other places I’ve lived have been ideological places. Let’s call it living under the golden curtain. The only ones who live free there are those who are either extremely rich or complete vagabonds. Other places can’t get over something that happened over a hundred years ago. In Jersey, there are a lot of normies but because people are used to not agreeing with everyone and still getting along we are free to be ourselves. It’s not remotely perfect here, but it’s outright Borgish elsewhere. I guess if you live through your smartphone it doesn't matter where you live, but I’m a street kid. I hang on the stoop and talk shit. You learn how to maintain your individuality within the herd.

I think of the athletes like Marvin Hagler, Jordan Burroughs, and Mike Trout. There’s musicians like Lauryn Hill, Whitney Houston, or Glenn Danzig. Where would we be without Allen Ginsberg, Joyce Kilmer, or Walt Whitman? There are so many actors like: Joe Pesci, Anne Hathaway, Danny DeVito, etc. As a kid I grew up watching the first Iraq War. Setting all the politics aside I remember watching Stormin Norman Schwartzkopf on tv. As far as I can remember he was the last hero general and while at Boys State in Trenton I got to shake his hand. The list is endless. I even made one but its too long. So for now I’ll just name off a few.

Musicians:
-Frank Sinatra
-Nancy Sinatra
-Jon Bon Jovi
-Queen Latifah
-Glenn Danzig
-That one guy… what’s his name again? Bryce?
-Frank Iero
-Redman
-Dionne Warwick
-Akon

Film:
-Michael Douglas
-Anne Hathaway
-James Gandolfini: Yo Tone!
-Jason Alexander: Can’t stand ya!
-Paul Rudd: Passaic baby!
-Zoe Saldana: Passaic baby!
-Zach Braff: the nurse guy
-Jason Biggs: the pie guy
-James Mewes
-Kevin Smith
-Daisy Fuentes
-Christopher Reeve: Superman son! Princeton raised.
-Jon Stewart
-Xander Berkeley
-Brooke Shields
-Tom Cruise
-Tate Donovan
-Bruce Willis
-Bill Bellamy
-Ed Harris
-Vera Farmiga
-Dulé Hill
-Nathan Lane
-Ray Liota
-George R R Martin
-Kelly Ripa
-Roy Scheider
-Michael B Jordan: grew up in Newark. Played one of the best “villains”

Sports:
-Shaq
-Johnny Gaudreau
-Frankie Edgar
-Bam Bam Bigelow
-James Van Riemsdyk
-Kyle Palmieri

Others:
-Steve Forbes
-Fran Lebowitz
-Aaron Burr
-Anthony Bourdain
-Chris Christie
-Dana Bash: lol
-David Copperfield
-The Jonas Brothers
-Jared Kushner
-Mark and Scott Kelly
-Buzz Aldrin
-John Brennan: former director of the CIA
-William Carlos Williams
-Dick Vitale: Passaic WHAT?!
-Abner Zwillman
-Bill Maher

Damn, it really is too many. Just go on wikipedia and read up: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_from_New_Jersey

At the end of the day there are so many good places in this country, but without all these people from New Jersey throughout the years what would America be? It would still be a great place, but it wouldn’t have that punch. New Jersey is the size of a toothpick but it punches like a heavyweight. Where you at America?

Did you know Alice Waters, the pioneer restauranteur in Berkeley, CA, is a Jersey girl? I mean it should be obvious. Send someone from Jersey to the corners of the Earth and it’s instantly more interesting.

I know, I know. I’m prone to promoting Jersey. Even if she wasn’t from here, she’s still awesome. I’ve never really met her directly. I’ve listened to her speak and stood 3 feet away from her, but she doesn’t know me and I don’t know her personally. She’s my biggest culinary influence in terms of ideology. (My biggest influence in practice is Kurt Gutenbrenner.) I went to culinary school during the whole Ferran Adria El Bulli era, but aside from looking cool it never appealed to me. Don’t get me wrong, I ate a lot of molecular gastronomy and Ferran Adria is amazing. It’s just not my thing. I don’t really think it’s important to be creative in food. I’m more of the stand back and enjoy nature kind of guy. In my deepest dreams I’d rather be some hunter-gatherer wandering the land, experiencing new flowers, herbs, and dangers. So Alice Waters’ cooking and style is my middle ground between idealism and reality. It’s both cultured and raw. There’s something about the seasonality and simplicity that feels right. Obviously there’s a lot of influence from Europe but it’s thoroughly American.

When I lived in the Bay Area I used to hang in Berkeley a lot. My favorite used bookstore is there, and the parks are awesome. I used to walk by her restaurant, Chez Panisse, and see her going over each table before opening. That shouldn’t be dismissed. She’s an older woman now and is successful to the point where others wouldn’t even be bothered to do that.

Ideologically within food she is my hero, although I wouldn’t say our stuff follows it. And partially it’s because of my own conditioning. Alice Waters is from Chatham. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there but it’s a rather nice town. When I was a kid in elementary school at St Anthony’s in Passaic, we visited another school in Chatham for the day. My friends and I were in shock. The school had their own falcon. They had a nice patch of grass to picnic and have lunch. At our school we played football in the parking lot, and the only patch of grass was more glass than grass. I didn’t even know towns like that existed. I thought Montclair was nice. So I’ve partly maintained this immigrant/urban/lower class perspective along with all my other influences. I love seasonality, but I’m also fine with eating a bowl of rice and beans everyday for months. When I was growing up it seemed rather fancy to some of my friends that I ate canned tuna for lunch. So the food at Chez Panisse and the style of Californian food Alice Waters nurtured is cuisine to me where one can stop and be satisfying on multiple levels. It’s still in a place that loves the natural while still being sophisticated and cultured. It’s not so much as a restaurant but rather just hanging in her kitchen. And that’s where true culture is: in the home and in the kitchen. Sometimes we forget that and go to these trendy restaurants that are flashy and fancy but are at the end of the day mediocre and empty. They’re rooted in nothing.

I miss her food although I don’t really miss the Bay Area. Alice Waters is a hero. No, she’s a saint. A Jersey saint.

This weekend will have an array of Filipino flavors. Usually around this time of the year was a celebration at the park in Passaic for Philippine Independence Day from Spain. There would be folk dancing, a ton of food, and a bunch of unintentionally hilarious speeches. I can’t tell you how many times I heard a speech from some overly serious old person that was incorrect or someone sang a song against religion during an actual church service. I’d always be that guy in the back waiting to laugh out loud while everyone else had no reaction.

I’m “half Filipino” as they’d say in America. I grew up in a fairly tight knit Filipino American family which means there was always drama, and some of us are just fucking crazy. My family is from an island in the central part of what they call the Philippines. When I was a kid flying into the island, the airport was just a field with goats roaming around. Now it’s a fancy glass building although there are still goats around. As I’ve gotten older I tend to identify more with the island rather than with the whole country partially because I hate Manila. The traffic and crowding are too much, and they’re rather elitist much like Manhattanites are to the rest of America. Plus on the home island of Panay you can cruise around without much hassle. You can ride up to the hills or to the beaches to enjoy the day.

My cousin Randy and I getting ready to do some folk dance.

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Filipino culture is weird: there’s this strong matriarchal streak and yet it’s also machismo as hell. They never managed to resolve the pre-Spanish with the Latin. My grandparents (pictured below in the gallery) were symbolic of that to me. My grandmother was like royalty. She could roll her own cigar and still look like the Queen of England in my eyes. Her authority was her presence. She died when I was very young. But she left a mark on me and that ounce of aristocratic attitude comes from her. My grandfather on the other hand was a hard ass. For most of the time I knew him he was paralyzed from the neck down. But he was the patriarch despite all that. With his personality and will, and if he had the opportunity to be well educated, he would have been a billionaire. This is going to sound bizarre but the way he lived for all those years- laying in a bed, unable to do anything- the way he could command a room amazed me. It was as if he was proof that you can overcome most things in life and still crack jokes with 90% your body function being taken away from you. An iron fucking will. Whenever I feel down and pathetic I think of them. I remember you need to have heart first and everything else is just added options. I believe that generally speaking that’s the Filipino way.

Uncle “Buddy”

But the quintessential Filipino American experience to me is my uncle “Buddy”. And I dedicate this weekend especially to him. He more than anyone imbued into me a personality where you work like a madman but maintain a great sense of humor. And no matter what you try to be a nice guy. You can be surrounded by shit but still maintain yourself at the end of the day. He worked on fields in California picking asparagus and on a fishing boat filleting endless fish. I visited him in LA as a kid and will never forget hearing the automatic gunfire; and I thought my hometown was bad, lol. So when I go to the Philippines he’s someone I seek out right away. We cruise around the home island in his Jeep Wrangler and watch UFC fights in front of the electric fan. He once told me a story where he went to work for my grandfather on the farm. In his prime, my grandfather was terrifying. He didn’t care how big or tough you were. Anyone could be broken and rebuilt. And he made my uncle do things to where he would cry and could barely stand up. But it meant later on in life he could put up with all kinds of shit. I’ve never experienced anything like that. But I grew up around people who did. And that’s that immigrant power not just Filipinos can have but anyone whether from the Dominican Republic, Cameroon, or Russia. Jersey is blessed to always have a steady flow of immigrants. It keeps life real, and sometimes the Filipino dream or the Brazilian dream is a ticket to America. In turn it reinvigorates those of us lucky to be born here.

If I didn’t have good music to listen to I’d probably lose my fucking mind. I basically got through my shit hole high school by listening to Tool, Foo Fighters, and massive amounts of techno. In college I was with the Strokes, Blur, Rage Against the Machine, Alice In Chains, and more heavy doses of techno. And in California it was everything and anything but especially Thee Oh Sees and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Always more techno. I love dissolving into the music.

I can’t wrap my head around today’s music so I just listen to older stuff or whatever I used to. It is important that I have a good playlist while I’m banging out the gelato. I need high energy up to the point where I’m nearly high. I need to feel like I’m in front of crowd of people and just waiting until it’s so hot and crazy that I dive into the mass and disappear. So while I’m alone at the store from 6:45-1:30 there’s Agent Orange, Deftones, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and Thee Oh Sees blasting. And of course more techno.

I don’t necessarily get to interact with many people these days especially with covid around, but I think I’m a pretty cool guy to be around. I mean I don’t give a shit who you are. If you are cool you are cool. Here in Jersey who cares about all that bullshit category of this or that. All I try to see is the persona, the character, and especially the eyes. This blog is sort of my way to put myself out there for people to see. I want everyone to know that I fucking love this shit. It makes me go crazy and the busier we are the crazier I am.

You can’t pay attention to society today. It will suck the life out of you. It’s like that one guy you know that isn’t even really a friend but somehow you know him. He’s always asking you to help move something and he’s like “I’ll buy you a slice.” But somehow you don’t even get that slice and you end up with a pulled back. That’s what society is today, always taking much more than you get out of it. Fuck that.

Music is free, sort of. It’s liberating unlike so many things in our civilization. So do me a favor, go find that awesome song you can’t help but go crazy for and blast it. Blast it so your parents or roommates can hear it. Blast it so your neighbors can hear it. Lol blast it so your kid looks up for once and away from the phone. Blast is as you drive by our store. Go wild. Go crazy. Lose yourself. Feel unstoppable and drunk on your own passion.