I’ve written about the Red Hook Food Vendors before (click here) but it’s wasn’t until this past Saturday that I visited them on their home field for a tour led by Chef Aaron Sanchez, part of the Food is Art culinary program, a series of lectures, classes and special events curated by Zarela Martinez in conjunction with the Mexican Cultural Institute of New York. Continue reading ‘Food is Art’
Today I took my first steps in what I hope will end with the triumphant crossing New York City marathon finish line and not sleeping through the Staten Island start, crying on the 59th Street bridge, or passing out in Central Park’s closing stretch. Looking ahead the long Saturday training runs I have planned between now and November, I decided to play around with fresh fruit batidos (also known licuados or preparados depending on the accent). Continue reading ‘Shaking It Up’
A few weeks ago, a friend gave me a list of Puerto Rican classics to try that included asopao de pollo. As she described it, it’s a Puerto Rican risotto that’s not quite soup and not quite stew. My soups often go to gumbo by mistake so I was curious to know what would happen if I made it that way by design. At Jennifer’s suggestion, I checked my Puerto Rican Cookery book first. I realized after additional searches that there were thousands of recipes for asopao, a one-pot, comfort food solution for family dinners and leftovers. After reading them over, I finally circled back to Carmen Aboy Valldejuli. Continue reading ‘Asopao de Pollo’
In the two years since it opened, the Brooklyn Flea has gone from a neighborhood novelty to something that I look forward to each year. I knew it would be crowded but made a plan to meet a friend there when it re-opened its outdoor location in Fort Greene’s Bishop Laughlin Memorial High School this weekend. Slowly working our way through the aisles, I always go with the same hope, that the stands will be full of new (to market) retro kitchen gadgets and that the Red Hook Vendors will be there selling pupusas, tamales, grilled corn sprinkled with chile, and agua fresca. Continue reading ‘Rites of Spring’
A couple of weeks ago, I attended a talk at my Brooklyn’s Book Court between Thomas Keller and Peter Kaminsky. Though technically about Keller’s latest cookbook, Ad Hoc at Home, it wasn’t strictly about food and cooking. From process and baseball analogies, he got to ritual and repetition and I realized what I’d been missing. Trying to post regularly, I’d become sharkish, cooking in constant motion. I’ve gotten used to being just a few clicks away from French-Italian-Regional-Seasonal-Indian-Mexican-Caribbean. It’s tempting to jump from one to the other, trying everything once then moving on. Having set out to write about traditional food in a new medium, I forget that the best part can be going back, trying again, and making it a little better. I had ritual, but my repetition was lacking. Continue reading ‘Ritual and Repetition’
When I first found this recipe for a Brazo Gitano de Guayaba in Eating Cuban, I couldn’t wait to make it. Then strangely enough, I waited almost a year for the right occasion. I always associate brazo gitano (or jelly roll cakes) with my childhood, mostly because it was the object of a big sister-little sister showdown over a last bite that got us both in trouble (I’m sure I’ve been forgiven by now, though technically I may still be grounded). When my friend Aaron sent an invite for ORANGE, the opening of a tennis inspired playroom installation, I thought this orange-rum-guava rolled cake would be a good choice to bring. An avid tennis player, Aaron decided to create an indoor court in his Brooklyn apartment. Last night, the usual conversations-careers, politics, art- didn’t seem so adult when broken up by turns in a bright orange light-box court, smashing foam tennis balls around. A little summer, no waiting. The perfect tonic on a brutally cold day.
ORANGE from Aaron Cedolia on Vimeo.
Every year I go to Miami for few days in December and return to find that my favorite farmer’s markets have all but vanished. Like Brigadoon in Brooklyn, the courthouse square is almost barren and there’s no trace of the small but convenient, last-chance Sunday market at Carrol Gardens. Of course Union Square and Grand Army Plaza are still active, but it’s not the same. For the next few months my only choices are apples or really cold apples from the few hold out vendors left at Boro Hall. It’s one more reason to burrow away till Spring. Continue reading ‘Apples and Oranges’
I’d been looking for a way to use chirimoyas since I came across them a few months ago in a nearby market. Originally found in the Andean region between Peru and Ecuador, they’re also cultivated in small pockets throughout Chile, California, Spain, New Zealand, Australia, and Israel. Heart-shaped and scaly, they could be a dragon’s paw and are almost as rare in my Brooklyn neighborhood, so I was excited when I found them. Also known as custard apples, they’re like everything and like nothing else. The fruit can be likened to strawberry, banana, pineapple, papaya, avocados, mango, ripe pears, and commercial bubble gum while Mark Twain described it more simply as “deliciousness itself.” Continue reading ‘Merengues con Chirimoya’
Shopping in Brooklyn can be a unique experience, each store its own world staffed by the designer/owner/manager who’s set up shop. Going into the final week before Christmas, I decided to do a quick tour of my favorites looking for housewares and kitchen gadgets, preferably utilitarian but with something more. After all, if they’re pouring out the same 1/2 cup of milk, why shouldn’t measuring cups come shaped like matryoshka nesting dolls or salt and pepper shakers as penguins for that matter? Here’s what I found:
Decembers are a blur whether or not it’s snowing. With no plans to host, I’ve decided to spend the holiday party season as a kind of foreign exchange student. I’m just showing up when asked and however they’re celebrating, I’ll just go with it. Last Christmas was my family’s turn to have Noche Buena dinner and before that I had a party for friends before everyone went their separate ways, so it’s just not my year. Continue reading ‘December Daze’
ana@hungrysofia.com
