Posts from the ‘General’ Category

Jun 14

Chili Days Ahead

Just past perfect city views and standbys like Grimaldi’s Pizzeria, Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, and The River Café, there’s a short stretch of DUMBO’s Water Street that’s been in a state high design disreapair for years. Covered with blueprints for future city parks, it’s easy to ignore the scaffolding and power generators on either side the street and think about the coming soon instead. Jane’s Carousel, also on Water Street, has behind glass all winter, so I loved seeing it’s doors open this afternoon. Next door to the new Jacques Torres ice cream stand, it’s the perfect spot to enjoy a scoop of Wicked, the ancho and chipotle spiced, Mayan inspired hot chocolate that’s become my favorite ice cream flavor. I love the hot and cold creaminess and now that the Brooklyn Flea has reopened in an empty lot down the street, I’ll be going again and again this summer. To take a break from the heat outside to finish my cone, I can always read how the carousel will eventually move to it’s permanent home in Brooklyn Bridge Park, some time in the “near future.” Read more

Jun 8

2 Comments

Thank Peru

In Lima: The Next Great Food City from Bon Appétit, Daniel Duane questions whether Lima could become the next great food destination. There is obviously no debate for Arturo Rubio, owner of the Restaurant Huaca Pucllana and former president of the Committee for the Promotion of Peruvian Cuisine, whom he quotes saying:

“JUST TRY TO IMAGINE ITALIAN FOOD WITHOUT TOMATOES, Mr. Duane. Or spanish cooking without chiles. Really, face it, my friend, the Inca domesticated fowl, so there would be no foie gras in France without the food of Peru.” Arturo Rubio’s voice begins to rise now, and he swings his soft hands around to illustrate his point—that every great culinary tradition on earth owes a debt to Peru. “No chocolate in Switzerland,” he cries, laughing at himself now. “No potatoes in Ireland.” Pausing to gulp a Peruvian beer, he nearly spits his next line with glee: “The Irish would’ve starved. New York would have no cops. My God, it was Portuguese traders who brought South American chiles to the Asian subcontinent; there would be no curry in India. No spices in Thailand!”

Jun 4

1 Comment

The Best Frijoles Negros I Never Had

I did not grow up eating arroz y frijoles negros/black beans and rice. This would not be extraordinary except that I’m a Cuban raised in Miami. It would be easier for me to list the things that we don’t serve with black beans and rice, and they’re mostly desserts. On weekends, we would go to my grandparent’s apartment where they would spend all morning preparing a large, traditional meal for us that would of course include frijoles negros. I would sit on the yellow shag carpet in their living room watching reruns of I Love Lucy (I thought it was a documentary) and old Tarzan movies, while they cooked. I knew lunch was almost ready when I heard my grandfather frying the egg that would go on my white rice in place of the beans everyone else would be having. There was never a tantrum, I had just decided I didn’t like them and they were never forced. We’d all sit down to it, and I’d hear my parents and sister rave about the incredible frijoles they were having without feeling the slightest inclination. Abuelo Peláez was my favorite and I was his. Secretly, I think I loved the exception he made for me. Plus, he made the most incredible fried eggs I’ve ever tasted. The tops were a translucent white and the yolks were the perfect kind of runny.

May 14

5 Comments

Fear of Frying

When I decided to write a food blog about Latin food, I knew this day would come. I can’t blame the blog. I’d been looking for an excuse to buy a deep fat fryer since I came across this best of list in Food & Wine last year. When a top appliance pick is also the most economical, my mind goes blank and I don’t come to until I’m punching in the three digit security code on the back of my credit card.

I’d avoided it this long because I believed my deep fear of frying was the only thing keeping me safe from the sleeping Cuban monster inside me. The monster that will fry anything that can’t fry it first. Apart from small batches of plantains or potatoes, I mostly avoid deep frying. I’m never quite sure of the temperature, so everything comes out uneven and random pops from the pan sends me scurrying. But now churros, empanadas, and croquetas aren’t just temptations to be indulged in moderation, they’re research. So today, after 3-5 business days, the Amazon stork delivered my deep fat fryer, and it’s an entirely different kind of monster.

May 8

Mariachi Stew

Photo by by buckaroo kid

Mariachis at a special family party are what Santa Claus is to kids on Christmas Eve, no less thrilling for being completely expected. When the appetizers have been passed, food served, and toasts made they seemingly fall from the sky. In a moment, everyone is joining in a loud, emotional chorus of Cielito Lindo or El Rey. Then just as quickly they move on to the next quince or wedding anniversary as the evening winds down. The highpoint of any gathering yet they never stay long, and never eat. So naturally I was fascinated by this Jonathan Kendall article from Saveur:

While their usual schedule is from dusk to midnight, they’re often called out of bed on short notice to sing amends beneath the balconies of peeved wives and girlfriends at dawn.

Like most mariachis, Barrón and Trujillo neither eat nor drink during work hours—but they agree that their favorite food is birria. No two versions of birria are alike—even the basic form may vary, from shredded meat to be eaten with a soupy sauce to a thick soupy stew with meat and sauce combined—and if a chef gains a reputation for his birria, his recipe will remain a closely guarded secret.

It makes sense that they would keep superhero hours, but it was the description of the off duty mariachis that I found riveting.

May 7

3 Comments

Home!

So after 4 sad calls to technical support, 3 customer satisfaction surverys (I grade on a curve) and several emails to my new best friend (St.) Anthony of WordPress.com Automattic, I’m up and running. If you’re reading this, you had no problem finding me. I’m still decorating, but please let me know what you think of the new place…

Apr 22

Tweet Treats

I’ve had a twitter account for a few weeks but would still rather be a “friend” than a “follower”. I have to admit, I was equally suspicious of facebook once upon a time, before I discovered the scrabulous app and addiction took over. This article from today’s New York Times may be my first good bad reason to finally give in to Twitter.

Jan 22

Republican Ginger Snaps and Democratic Cupcakes

Like a few million others, I made my pilgrimage to Washington, DC this week to witness firsthand the presidential inauguration. In the days after the election, a lot of my friends talked of making the trip also, but once the excitement died down, most of them decided to stay home. Any other year or for any other president, I would have been one of them. The reason I didn’t is because of a conversation I had with an aunt who was fighting cancer. A lifelong republican and active McCain supporter, she knew I had volunteered for the campaign and was the first to call and congratulate me when Obama won. When I confessed that I had planned on attending but now wasn’t sure, she told me I simply HAD to go. Her HADTO made up my mind.

It took three hours through chaotic DC streets and an endless traffic tunnel to work our way to a spot where we could watch the ceremony on the JumboTrons posted along the Mall. It was during the next two hours of standing and waiting that the cold worked its way up through my legs and froze every cell in my body. Luckily, the day before I had visited my great aunt and uncle who live in DC. He’s a retired professor in his eighties and they’re both diehard conservatives. Over a gracious lunch, they questioned all of my political beliefs and most of my life choices then gave my sister and me a tin of ginger snaps and sent us on our way. When the cold set in the next day, I ripped into those ginger snaps like a starved wolverine. I’d be embarrassed about this, but I did share with my new inauguration friends and it really was so cold. Read more

Dec 13

3 Comments

I Want to Eat My Christmas Tree

I’m not actually going to do it although my dog has already tried. I debated the practicality of putting up a tree I can only enjoy for a couple of weeks before I return to Miami for Christmas. I decided to be sensible and forgo it until the sweet Vermont hippie who sells trees at the end of my block offered me a little Charlie Browner as fat as it was tall. It just had to come home with me.

It was few years before it occurred to me that I could put up my own tree. Growing up, I’d always thought home would be my mother’s house in Miami until I started my own family. Eventually I sent myself to school in New York and stayed there. Still, the original concept I had as a child lingered, like an idea that only has its own word in a dead language. With every passing year in my Cobble Hill apartment, it felt less temporary and more like home. I stopped saving Christmas for a few days in Miami.

I only let myself buy ornaments after December 26th each year so I have a mix of overlooked but still very pretty decorations, like orphans from central casting. The tree itself is so chubby that I had to bury a lot of the figures just inside the branches so they peek out. I love everything about this tree. I love the floating mandarin in the mushroom hat, I love the mouse in snow boots, I love the polish black and white glass balls, I love the dancer en pointe, I love the peacock…

My tree is sweet just to the point before it becomes saccharine. So naturally, I now want to eat it. But since that would hurt, I’m having people over to enjoy it with me instead. Before everyone goes there separate ways for Christmas, I decided to have a few friends over for a buche de noel. I’ve been dying to make one and it is the traditional time for it. Not being french, it’s not my rule to break.