Twirlable Pasta (and other pastimes)

Running on Quenepa Fuel

On a recent vacation, the search for a first meal on a new island became a bigger ordeal than expected. A few friends and I had just landed in Puerto Rico, in the mood for some serious eating. After narrowly escaping the repercussions of an online car rental scam, we were car-less and found that a Denny’s fast food joint was the only eating option around. We were stuck on a highway, a good thirty-minute drive from our hostel in Old San Juan and definitely not a walking distance from any decent eatery. Getting past some collective indecisiveness, we finally agreed to call a cab to our hostel, in order to drop off our belongings before looking for a place to eat.

Upon our arrival in San Juan, we were hoping to sample some traditional fare immediately. It became apparent that this part of town, with its charming narrow streets, was home to some classy fusion restaurants, including Middle Eastern and sushi spots. But there was no “Puerto Rican” restaurant in sight. Searching for as long as our stomachs could handle, our first meal in Puerto Rico somehow ended up being at a South Indian restaurant.

Following a full afternoon exploring Viejo San Juan and right before catching some excellent live salsa at the Nuyorican Café, we finally encountered a restaurant boasting traditional Puerto Rican food. Feeling quite happy with ourselves, we snagged an outdoor table, and after confidently deciding on our preferred dishes, the waiter came over. Except he wasn’t asking for our order. He informed us that regretfully, their kitchen had just closed.

Our eating choices at this point were a pizza place and a Peruvian ceviche bar. We went for the latter because, well, at least they offered tostones on their menu.

Over the next several days we had increasing luck in sampling foods of a more local nature. I had mofongo—a traditional dish made of fried plantains mashed together—with shrimp. Thanks to kitchen access and the master culinary skills of one of our group, we ate several delicious meals of rice and beans, complemented nicely by the island’s variety of avocado.

The trip’s focus, however, became the island’s fruits. At breakfast we’d have papayas, pineapples, and mangoes. We kept guineos niños, little bananas, handy at all times. On the island of Culebra, a 1.5 hour ferry ride from the mainland, we ate guanábanas—a round pulpy green fruit with the consistency of a banana—and parchas, a kind of passion fruit. Coconut trees were plentiful, and one hot afternoon we had a coco frío each, drinking straight from the fruit with a straw. 

And at all times throughout the entire trip, we were graced with the companionship of quenepas. I can best describe a quenepa as a lychee with a large pit, whose pulp is both sweet and tangy. Eating it is almost like sucking on a candy. In short, there may not exist a more addictive fruit, given their small size and especially because there seemed to be no shortage wherever we went. 

We had quenepas as we lounged on the grass outside the colonial fort, El Morro, listening to the whistle-like call of the coquí (which, by the way, is not a bird). We had quenepas as we sat watching for shooting stars in the sky. Missing two ferry rides in a row to get to Culebra, we occupied ourselves with quenepa consumption in the otherwise-bland waiting room. As we walked along Culebra’s paradisiacal Flamenco Beach at night, there were quenepas to be had. We stopped for roadside quenepas on our drive to a beach at Cabo Rojo, at the southwest corner of Puerto Rico on the island’s Caribbean side. (Despite our earlier troubles, we had eventually been able to secure a car rental.) We discovered an underground produce market in our fierce campaign for a quenepa fix. We ate quenepas at the airport. I finished my stash of quenepas my first day back in New York. I’ve since had dreams about quenepas.

I’m not quite sure what I expected in my five days in Puerto Rico, but nothing happened quite exactly as anyone anticipated. My exposure to its gastronomy offered many surprises, including the fact that it wasn’t particularly dish-oriented. While there may be more to the cuisine that I didn’t discover in this trip, my experience couldn’t have been richer.

Madrid to New York: Churros Con Chocolate

I didn’t discover churros until my last week in Madrid. The summer I spent there for school was short, and instead of exploring the extent of Madrid’s eclectic foodie culture, I spent my class-free weekends bussing to other cities and regions I couldn’t have left the country without visiting. I had thus far indulged in copious amounts of paella, flan, turrón (a toasted almond confection), magdalenas (cupcakes), ice cream, fresh salads drenched in Andalusian olive oil, tapas, or pintxos as they are known in the Basque region, and cold gazpacho soup, a necessity in the sweltering summer. However, churros, fingers of wonderfully deep-fried batter, had not yet made an appearance on my list.

During July in Madrid, there are two talks of the town. One is the corrido de toros, the infamous running of the bulls that goes down in Pamplona. The other is the city’s massive gay pride parade, whose turnout easily beats those at both the San Francisco and New York parades. Gay Pride is in fact a week-long celebration for all madrileños, whose festivities mostly take place in the gay barrio of Chueca.

Nightlife in Madrid generally knows no boundaries, but this week this proves especially so: the streets were chock full of people until 5 or 6 in the morning, with live music and food stalls thriving. After experiencing a full night of festivities, our group decided to go to the Chocolatería San Ginés, the “it” place to get your churros con chocolate in the city since 1894. After taking a cab to the barrio Sol (the metro closes at 1AM), I was minutes away from the local phenomenon that I’d heard lots about but had yet to experience. 

San Ginés bustled with business at 5am, still producing fresh churros for people whose night wasn’t even necessarily winding down yet.  Churros came piled in a plate with the hot dark chocolate meant for dipping in a small mug on the side. And then the dunking began. It’s beyond me how I’d never touched that stuff earlier. There was a disproportionate amount of chocolate to the churros, and once the latter was gone, I gladly contributed to licking the mug clean (or perhaps there was a spoon; only the taste lingers in my memory). I made two more San Ginés trips in the two days I had left before leaving, fully exploiting my short-lived Spanish fling.

Back in New York, I went in a burst of nostalgia with a friend who had also studied in Madrid to Despaña, a great store that offers food products exclusively from Spain. The store had just opened then and thankfully served churros con chocolate. The store’s packaged goods vary from olive oils, to flavored sea salts (marcona is one such flavor), tortas de aceite, turrón, and packaged tapas. There was also a fresh tapas and dessert bar, and a counter offering meats and cheeses. There is an adjunct wine store selling an array of Spanish wines as well.

Making a trip to Despaña recently, I was disappointed to learn that they no longer offer churros. Luckily, there is a churro joint within walking distance that just opened up in January.

La Churrería is a small eatery where the staff is friendly and the décor is airy. There was no question as to what I’d order once there, and when it arrived at the table I was more than ready to dive in, releasing a few years’ worth of frustration as the warm chocolate-churro combination and I made serious contact. Just as at San Ginés, there was still chocolate left after the churros had all been dunked and devoured. Once again, I was ready to have every last drop of chocolate. Cleaning up a cup of this thick chocolate is very much like eating hot fudge out of a jar. It’s just as indulgent, but somehow it’s less heavy on your pallet, and you will have it all.

La Churrería offers sandwiches and drinks as well. On another occasion, I ordered one of their churros rellenos. I had, of course, the one stuffed with chocolate, and it had a satisfying effect similar to that of a filled éclair.

If you have to choose, though, go for the churros con chocolate. Winter is cold, but churros are warm, and the chocolate is even warmer, so you know what to do.

Pasta Past, Pasta Present

  Growing up, my ultimate comfort food was spaghetti and tomato sauce, nothing more, nothing less. I often enjoyed observing my parents in the kitchen, so it’s not surprising that among my earliest memories are those of standing by the stove, perhaps on a stool for viewing purposes, anxiously waiting for water to boil. I remember burning my hand in excitement on one such occasion, despite adult supervision, as I put pasta into the boiling water.

After the pasta had been cooking for a while, whichever parent was on duty would give me a noodle to sample so that I could determine whether or not the pasta was ready for eating. This was part of a routine in which I would then provide an estimated remainder time of cooking, whether it was two minutes or 20 seconds. I was somehow pretty good at this guessing game, and thereby developed an early standard for al dente pasta: I didn’t like just any spaghetti with tomato sauce, it was perfect spaghetti with tomato sauce. Once the pasta was ready, it would be served in my favorite red plastic bowl. I would then take out a few spoonfuls of tomato sauce straight from the bottle —always Prego’s Traditional— and lather it onto my pasta.

While this may not rank among the classiest dinners I’ve ever had, it surely was a favorite meal. With my fork, I would dive into the bowl with victorious speed, mixing the spaghetti and sauce, my hunger growing rapidly with this action. Then, I would begin twirling. Not much later, I’d begin stuffing. I was notorious for smearing the sauce all over my face, which made me susceptible to painful rashes if I didn’t take care of the mess immediately. Therefore, without fail, the meal would be provided with a damp paper towel on the side. Nevertheless, I was not discouraged from habitually eating the enriched macaroni product that was cooked to my liking. After finishing my spaghetti, I’d be happy, full, and ready for bed.

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This spaghetti and tomato sauce ritual still makes its way into my current life. What’s more noteworthy is that I’m just as particular about the tenderness of my pasta as I was then, if not more so. 
My automatic craving when I eat out at restaurants is also -surprise- pasta. Whether the restaurant is Italian, pseudo-Italian, or neither, if it has a dish containing pasta on the menu, I inevitably want it.

However, I have become increasingly picky at NY restaurants after having had the privilege to experience pasta heaven in Rome and Florence a couple of years ago. I indulged in pasta once, sometimes twice, a day for a week. (I also ate gelato on a daily basis; what’s vacation for if not to indulge your inner glutton?) Pasta there was a divine art: it was always fresh, al dente, and delicious. Each dish, no matter where I ate, was made with pride and utmost quality. My childhood fantasy of perfectly-cooked pasta was surpassed in those seven days. Upon my return to the States, my pasta encounters at restaurants were one disappointment after another. I’d also become hesitant to spend a good amount of money on dishes that I could make to my own specifications at home.

Luckily, there exists a restaurant that has rarely let me down. I’ve been singing its praises for many years because it is easy on the wallet and is easily one of the most underrated dining experiences in the city. Tre Giovani is located at 548 La Guardia Place, not far from Washington Square Park. Every time I eat there, the pasta always does it for me, largely due to how perfectly tender it is. Tre Giovani’s pasta is cooked exquisitely al dente, and served with mouthwatering sauces that you’ll want to lick off your plate. Therefore, it’s very rare for me not to make my way here every week or two. I seldom deviate from three of their pasta dishes, and the waitresses there know me well enough to assume that I’ll be choosing from one of them:

#1- Spaghetti Gamberetti.

This dish is served with an incredible tomato sauce, both slightly chunky and smooth, that is featured in several of Tre Giovani’s dishes. There is also red pepper in the sauce, giving it a little bite. The spaghetti satisfies my primal urge to twirl, and the shrimp somehow always complements this twirling phenomenon, resulting in the first favorite dish on my list.

#2- Ravioli al Funghetto.

This dish is truly one of a kind because of its sauce, which is creamy and consists of finely chopped pieces of mushrooms. The ravioli is filled with spinach and cheese. Again, it’s the sauce that makes this dish a huge success, leaving you stuffed yet yearning for more.

#3- Rigatoni Melanzana.

Although this is a common dish at other Italian restaurants, I first discovered it here and was immediately sold by the combination of the pasta and eggplant. It features the same delicious tomato sauce from the Spaghetti Gamberetti. It also has sun-dried tomatoes, and is further perfected with a scoop of ricotta cheese, creamy yet light, and incredibly worth whipping into the sauce with your fork. No matter what I am craving before I delve into this dish, it always hits the spot. Did I mention that the pasta is perfectly al dente?

Tre Giovani also offers delectable antipasti, such as the Bruschetta and the Mozzarella with Grilled Mushrooms. Pizza is also their forte. However, they could look into expanding their dessert menu: they currently only offer a Black Forest Cake. In short, this restaurant is worth your visit. It is currently undergoing major renovations that should create more space as well as a more rustic ambience, as I learned on my most recent visit. As long as the food maintains its quality and flavor, and as long as the pasta remains ever al dente, I welcome any changes that may be coming and look forward to many more dining experiences here.

Cupcakes: The Making Of and a Chinatown Experience

Everybody has their own way of eating a cupcake. Some of us slurp up the frosting first, some go straight for the cake, saving the frosting for last, and others are meticulous about having a proportionate amount of cupcake and frosting for each bite.

Cupcakes are a huge favorite in my apartment, and and there’s often at least a couple of them lying around the kitchen, either bakery-bought or homemade. My roommate is not just a cupcake lover but a cupcake decorator extraordinaire:

Between her sweet tooth and mine, a lot of our dialogue inevitably involves the topic of dessert and, more often than not, cupcakes. Recently, for instance:

Me: There aren’t enough hours in the day.
My roommate: You say that as you look at pictures of cupcakes. Let’s be honest- what you really mean is, there aren’t enough hours in the day to eat cupcakes, get hungry, and eat more cupcakes.
Me: Yeah…my exact thought was, “Why don’t I spend more time thinking of baked goods?”

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We recently attended a cupcake-making class at one of our favorite cupcake places in the city, Butter Lane. Butter Lane features three cupcake flavors —banana, chocolate, and vanilla— and a variety of frostings. At the class, our baking team was assigned to make the banana cupcake. We were provided with a banana mix pre-made in the interest of time, which didn’t allow us to make the cupcakes entirely from scratch. However, there was enough mixing required of us and enough other ingredients to prepare, and working with sugar and butter somewhat subdued any disappointment I was experiencing.

We also made some frosting. The frosting is a major contributing factor to Butter Lane cupcakes’ excellence. I learned that one of the ingredients used in most of the frostings is cream cheese. It is used in the cinnamon frosting, ready to be whisked together here:

By the time all the teams were done creating our frostings, our cupcakes were ready to be taken out of the oven. We pooled all three varieties of cupcakes and prepared to frost them. Applying the frosting to the cupcakes is an art in itself and harder to master than you’d think. You may therefore be able to guess who, between my roommate and me, was the more successful froster and whose cakes are displayed below:

The buttercream frosting flavors included, among others, cinnamon, vanilla, chocolate, and chocolate peanut butter. The combination I found most satisfying was a simple one: chocolate on banana.

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My latest discovery in the realm of cupcakes happened in Chinatown. I am nowhere near having a photographic memory of Chinatown. Streets that I think I know relatively well show up unexpectedly at turns that I could’ve sworn were supposed to bring me somewhere else. I also seem to discover a new block-long street I never knew existed each time I’m there. Mosco Street is an example of one of these little streets that appears out of nowhere and that you can’t possibly walk on for too long. It is also the home of the bakery, Everything Frosted. The bakery’s address is 105 1/2 Mosco Street: the 1/2 indicates that it takes up the second floor of the building. The shop carries all sorts of desserts, but the cupcakes are definitely kings here. While cupcakes frostings are what make a cupcake particularly awesome, this place’s actual cakes are to die for.

Everything Frosted has unique offerings, many of which are infused with Asian flavors. From top left going clockwise, here’s what I got to sample: vanilla frosting, cookies n’ cream cake; chocolate frosting, pink champagne cake; strawberry frosting, jasmine tea cupcake; green tea frosting and cake; vanilla frosting, black sesame cake; and lychee frosting and cake.

The cookies n’ cream and lychee cupcakes were my top picks. Tasting the cookie pieces in the cookies n’ cream cake is an experience everyone should go through at least once.

Some of us find that a cupcake constitutes a single mouthful, while some find we must cut a cupcake into quarters and consume them over a period of time. However you might eat your cupcake, embrace it as part of your present, not just a distant memory of elementary school birthday parties. They are a delicacy no matter how old you are, so enjoy.

Oxford University: A Foodie Syllabus

English food is generally nothing to write home about. However, when I recently found myself across the Atlantic in the British Isles, my time spent there was far from a gastronomic failure. After eating a variety of different food items in London, from Spanish tapas to Cornish ice cream, I took a bus to Oxford for a couple days to visit a cousin studying there for her Masters degree, and where eating would turn out to be our utmost priority.

Being in Oxford really takes the American understanding of “college town” to another level. Oxford University is the oldest university in the English-speaking world, and eating student fare around thirteenth-century buildings is inspiring at the very least.

Here are some highlights from my snack-packed 36 hours on the town:

England has tea and scones to happily claim as its own, a delicious sampling of which can be enjoyed at the Vaults & Garden Cafe, with outdoor seating that faces the Radcliffe Camera. It’s served with jam and the tongue-tantalizing, artery-clogging substance that is clotted cream. Embrace it; love it; know that it may be your end one day.

Next— Kebles College’s Dining Hall, where the location rather than the meal is worth noting, brought a whole new meaning to the dining experience. Its most recent claim to fame was that it was NOT chosen to be filmed for the Harry Potter movies (Christ Church College’s dining hall was the winner in that department). Food was magically brought in by the Hall’s waiting staff. And yes: we all wore black robes.

Tea the next morning was accompanied by delicious chocolate pancakes at Combibos, a coffee shop located in Gloucester Green Square.

For lunch, I sampled the other British celebrity couple aside from tea and scones: fish and chips from The Turf Tavern, a university hot spot.

We made our final stop at Maison Blanc a landmark Oxford patisserie before I got back onto the bus to London. Unfortunately the store was low in stock on that particular day, and the chocolate mousse pastry I purchased didn’t survive the bus ride in a respectable manner. I was forced to consume it without claiming a photo ID. Suffice it to say, it provided a sweet ending to my bus trip.

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Before I headed back to New York, I witnessed firsthand the British establishment of afternoon tea, featuring more glorious clotted-cream-accompanied scones, as well as sandwiches and pastries.

Of course the tea, served in china, played no small part in this presentation of delicacies. As the food kept coming, I pushed aside the worry of not having room for a potential supper, or perhaps for even more tea.

Chocolate and FiDi: A Love Story on the Clock

In my ideal world, I am able to have whatever food I want whenever I want it.  Sometimes I call this ideal world New York, although this ideal world’s fine print guarantees a lighter wallet.

You may then wonder why, of all of NYC’s gastronomically-appealing neighborhoods, I live in the one that by no means brings to mind mouth-watering cuisine or dessert. The Financial District, if you must know, is not the greatest place for good eats. The food is either bad or expensive, and usually both. Additionally, many places down here operate during Wall St. office hours, which basically means nothing is open past 5PM or on the weekends.

However, if you’re around during these limited hours, there exist a couple of havens carrying chocolates imported from Belgium and France respectively, and more importantly, hot chocolate made from these chocolates. I do not presume to be a chocolate connoisseur (and by chocolate here I refer only to the gourmet bite-sized delicacies, as otherwise I’m an all-things-chocolate maniac), but I deem myself qualified enough to say that the offerings at the following shops are quite stellar.     ____________________________________________________________________________

Manon Cafe, which has three branches in FiDi is a café and chocolaterie carrying Leonidas Belgian Chocolate, straight from Brussels.

Manon’s hot chocolate is made from  coin-sized packets of Leonidas chocolate. While it’s $4.50 for a very small-sized Small, the drink is soft with a uniquely rich taste that brings to mind the comfort level of my long-lost Moxa favorite, but BE CAREFUL: without fail, no matter which of the three shops you go to, the importance of “hot” practically dwarfs the importance of “chocolate”….this beverage is out to scorch your tongue if you don’t wait a few minutes to drink it. Every beverage comes with a complimentary chocolate, your choice of dark, milk, or white. Also, the Manon Café at 74 Trinity Place has two floors of comfortable café seating. Sitting on the top floor allows for ideal people-watching…observe as families of tourists juggle with cameras, maps, and hot beverages as they plan for a seat on the second floor as well.  _______________________________________________________________________________

Located at 63 Wall Street (there are also two uptown shops), La Maison du Chocolat is a chocolaterie with exceptionally friendly and well-informed staff. Upon entering, a woman behind the counter greeted us warmly and offered my friend and me some chocolate samplings. From all that we learned from her, probably most interesting was the fact that everything at the shop —not just the chocolates, but the eclairs, macarons, and cakes— is shipped from France. Why? The cream and butter there is obviously far superior to anything available here, she said. All the confections are made with créme flourette, something similar to créme fraiche but apparently not readily available in this country.

The shop was undergoing some media attention at the time of our visit, video cameras, lighting contraptions, and all. We were therefore faced with a statement that was meant to be a head-hanging apology but instead probably made my week:

“We’re sorry about the inconvenience but we won’t be able to seat you at this time. Please come again….here’s a voucher for FREE HOT CHOCOLATE when you return.”

An hour later, we were back at La Maison sitting and enjoying what I’d so desired in the first place at no cost. La Maison has two hot chocolates: the Guayaquil and the Caracas, with cocoa beans from those locations respectively, both of which would have been $8 a piece. I tried the Caracas, which was supposed to be a little fuller and darker.

Now, this hot chocolate itself has a wonderful flavor that was more delicate than I was used to, although heavy in its darkness. Also, that it was all free no doubt increased my level of enjoyment. But what blew this hot chocolate session off the charts was the cream that came with it. It was fresh and flavorful (and French! apparently shipped over not too long before I consumed it…) and it was nothing I was expecting. If there were a Best Cream Ever Award, I’d whole-heartedly bestow it to what you see below. 

And then, hot chocolate and cream were one. 

Additionally, I added to the mix a chocolate eclair that was made, of course, on the other side of the pond. It had the same delicate yet flavorful element present in both the cream and the drink. All the stuff went down and I ascended. Each constituent contributed to an experience I can’t say I’ve ever had before. Oh, it was divine.

So in case you were wondering why heaven’s hard to get to, the thing is, it’s got restricted hours and a higher admission price. Now you know.

Macarons: A Belated Discovery

This past Sunday, as many free-food stalkers and fellow dessert hunters know, was Macaron Day NYC, an annual tradition started by chef Francois Payard that coincides with a tradition in Paris with the same objective: participating bakeries across the city give out free macarons.

Macaron Day provided me with my first macaron ever. It also brought to my attention that macarons are not macaROONS, the soft coconut-y cookies with which we are familiar in this country. Therefore, yesterday might as well have been known as Macaron Awareness Day.

French macarons —pronounced with that intrinsically breathy “r” sound that I can never properly articulate (although, to the dismay of some friends, I said “macaron” out loud enough times in hopes that I finally could)— come in a variety of flavors and subsequently, a variety of colors. They have a creamy inside and a crunchy outside, resulting in a harmonious combination of texture. Macarons are made with ground almonds, sugar, and egg whites. They also resemble, as my roommate observed, miniature hamburgers. Here’s a truffle oil and chestnut macaron that she tried:

In an effort to macaron-hop, I was only able to make it to two bakeries, Francois Payard Bakery and COURS La REINE.

At FPB, I tried their chocolate macaron, simple and not food-colored like its compatriots, yet delicious-looking enough that its consumption preceded any chance for a snapshot. And, needless to say, it is a new favorite chocolate confection of mine, receiving high marks for texture and flavor. At COURS, I tried a pomegranate and dark chocolate macaron, an interesting combination that balanced the sweetness of the fruit and the bitterness of the chocolate very well.

If you missed Macaron Day, no worries. You’ll have to spend a little, but macarons are here to stay, have been here for a while (somehow unbeknownst to me), and are probably at a bakery near you.