Jovo is a fantastic person who lives in Washington Heights. He learns, he cooks Thanksgiving roasts, he arranges parties, he is friendly with everyone, has entertaining date stories and is overall an excellent individual. Last Thursday night, upon seeing that I had changed my Gmail Chat status to read "Going uptown again..." the following conversation ensued.
me: yo! how are you?!
jovo: uptown again?
me: I literally live there
jovo: isn't it kinda late to shlep uptonw?
me: hahaha. I'm sleeping over by my friend so that tomorrow I can get up nice and early
me: and walk over and then get into the NCSY car and have a party
jovo: do i know them? i'd love to drop off some choc chip cookies
me: are you kidding me?! I want chocolate chip cookies!!!!
Jovo is a very giving person. He happily lets people crash his apartment, invites them over to parties or meals, is thrilled when they drink his orange juice and now, in the latest development, goes to all the trouble of not only making chocolate chip cookies but actually delivering them around the Heights! Beyond excited, I told him I would love to have chocolate chip cookies and he made up to come over to the apartment I'd be staying at and bring cookies for me and my friend.
Unfortunately, however, we had made up to meet at 11 and at that point in time I had just gotten off the shuttle and was buying some edible items at the YU Cafstore (hence was nowhere near the apartment where I'd be staying.) Jovo was nice enough to tell me that I should just stop by his apartment and he'd be happy to give me cookies. In a very good mood, I walked over to his apartment, carefully managing my packages and bags, rang his doorbell and came upstairs. I'm on the phone with Hitman, who is quite upset with my decision to eat chocolate chip cookies this late at night and adamantly forbids it. Jovo comes to the door with a plastic Ziplock bag filled with chocolate chip cookies, then says the following:
"These are still warm, but if you wait (he looks at his watch) four minutes you'll get fresh ones straight out of the oven."
Who can resist the idea of chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven, steam rising from them as they glow in their brown freshness? Certainly not me. I quietly entered the apartment (worried that I would wake his roommates) and handed Hitman to him (Hitman was quite indignant that he had been unceremoniously passed to Jovo.) Jovo later clarified that nobody was there so I could talk normally, which was lovely.
"Do you always do this?" I asked, surprised. "Do you just bake chocolate chip cookies for all your roommates? Because that makes you an amazing roommate!" He explained that he hasn't done it all that frequently lately but he's planning to make it more of a regular thing. His cookies are known all around the Heights and even requested at parties; he's nice enough to run around everywhere delivering them and all enjoy them.
We were joined by Zippy, a lovely person with a beautiful British accent, and then Jovo took the cookies out of the oven. He put them on a nice platter and then we ate them off the platter. There's nothing that compares to fresh cookies straight out of the oven. Their gooey chocolate melts in your mouth and you eat them, the heat stinging your fingers and leaving a faint trace of oil, which you wipe off on your other hand while enjoying the delectable taste. What makes everything better is the fact that Jovo's cookies are parve. They are parve, soft, delicious and crumble easily when you take them, dissolving in your mouth; therefore they should be served at all parties.
Zippy and I hung out for a while, but then I put several of the fresh cookies in my plastic baggie to give to my friend and decided to head over for her apartment. Suddenly, I noticed that Jovo was getting up and putting a coat on. What was that about? "Where are you going?" I asked, sincerely surprised. He explained that he planned on walking us back to our respective apartments. I was floored. "You really don't need to," I hastened to explain, "I'm really close by and I'm fine walking by myself." Didn't matter to him and Zippy explained that Jovo feels the need to escort those of the opposite sex around Washington Heights once the night threatens. I thought that was rather gallant and quite chivalrous. It was also quite in contrast to his roommates. "Muffins would let me die before walking me anywhere," was my contention (and no, I'm not bitter at all) and Jovo shrugged and said "Muffins likes his couch" because that explains everything. Of course I don't mean it, though; Muffins would certainly help out if there were actually enough danger to warrant it, Jovo just goes beyond the call of duty. Which makes Jovo nice in addition to domesticated, as Zippy had called him.
And so Jovo walked me to the entrance of the apartment building, then took Zippy back to her apartment and probably returned to his own to find more people with whom he could freely share his cookies. Because he's great like that.
A Washington Heights sensation, not to be missed: Jovo's Cookies! Hope you get to taste one soon!