My Bánh mì

I was in Prospect Heights last Friday night and had this sandwich at a bar after a visit to the Brooklyn Museum to see the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibit - so this Sunday decided to make my own: roasted extra firm organic tofu and sweet carrots, and cool cucumbers. I had the Napoli bread already (and tons of Vermont cream butter spread over after toasting it), and balsamic vinegar and olive oil and chile flakes in place of rice wine, fish sauce and sugar in the original. I think there's a semblance of flavor profiles to the savoriness achieved: after roasting the veggies in oil, balsamic and said spices, straight from the oven with their drippings, I mixed the tofu and carrots with the cold cucumber in a large bowl and added more fresh cracked pepper and more salt because the more salt you add to the balsamic the sweeter it gets, very akin to the Vietnamese sauce but minus the fishiness, but you'd think is there because of the tofu, but then it's not. Anyway, this sandwich is the sandwich I had hoped to achieve it would be - and good enough it did. And I ate two.

My advice if doing at home:  Please, no chips. This is not a "club." This is street food. But don't get fooled.

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Past Food

BERLIN.


It was after Hydra, Greece that I came here to meet up with an old friend. 

I was to take her here: 

Landwehr Canal and the Turkish Market in the neighborhood of Kreuzkölln - one of my planned stops to get some food, then take a stroll among the swans.

Romantic. Yes. Therefore I will pretend she actually made it, that she had showed up at our exact appointed time, and that before coming here I was waiting outside her train from Hamburg, and as soon as the door opened she did come out, finally, and I embraced her, tightly, but soft as a scarf; that I didn't eat alone under these tents, and though it had rained that morning, that the collard stew in chickpea soup and rice cooked in orange water warmed our hearts; and that we bought cardamom tea afterwards and actually took that walk... and that cup felt, it did, like holding her hands.

Fast forward five months later. Now. 

As I'm writing this blog, my dear cousin from Paris texted me a quote from the poet Elizabeth Alexander. The timing couldn't be anymore perfect to assuage my pain.

"Art replaces the light that is lost when the day fades, the moment passes. Art tries to capture that which we know leaves us, as we move in and out of each other's lives. Art knows this shadow - but work always against this dying light." 

For love.

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Working Class Food - Still 3 Stars ✨

I had written about Sabor Latino in S. Williamsburg, Brooklyn a few years back. But since I moved to Manhattan, although the train ride here isn't that bad - L to Lorimer - I hadn't been back as often as I should. When I was living in Bushwick, Sabor was my go-to comfort (Ecuadorian) food - and not because I knew personally La Abuela who ran the kitchen; it's just downright delicious home food.

Whenever I'm here, the ethos is like: "The day laborers are hungry - we had better feed them love."

And they do.

I always order the same food, ever since: Pescado Frito con lenteles y arroz (deep crisp fried fresh white fish with buttery lentils stew smothered over rice and topped with shredded red cabbage lemon salad). Mind you the price is 8 bucks - lunch special, with yucca cream soup and an exotic fruit juice that froths because it's just squeezed or blended with the spirit of the Amazon) - but the experience is viscerally priceless.

Just imagine the work day laborers do, and imagine the sustenance they need to do the grind again. This food is respect for them. This food is patriarchal honor. This food is a reminder of home. And I'm joining them, like a guest.

Remember: it's not what I said. It's really about the food here. Everything is in my belly - yet I feel so loved and appreciated; and our burden so light.

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Morning Run

The plan was just to get some plain bagels.

But on the way in my head: it can't be just bagels. So I detoured to Trader's to make some slaw - and not just slaw - but an edamame and cilantro inflected slaw, with organic cherry tomatoes. Now that that's out of the way, what to put on top of "the" bagel?

Since my trip to Taiwan and Greece last fall, I haven't had my all-time favorite Russ and Daughter's inspired topping of chives cream cheese, wild salmon belly, hard cooked eggs and capers - and that's exactly what I did.      

In the city, the Nordic cuisine is hot; in fact at Grand Central, in the Vanderbilt Hall, the whole space is dedicated to "the great" northern food - home of the open-faced rye bread with herring and pickles sandwich. This is the inspiration to my plate - en masse.

The fruit and cheese plate here has nothing to do with this morning's run. In fact, this was breakfast a couple of days ago when I was out of bread - save fruits, aged edam, dried cranberries and half of the chocolate cannoli from Frankie's on 1st I had the night before. I always mention grapefruit on my blogs - and here she is, in case there's any doubt.

It's not quite as spring yet in New York, but everyone's ready for a new season. The grey city needs color. The painter David Salle said that a color is revealed its beauty against another. It's about time.

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