Negrete began tattooing professionally at Good Time Charlie’s in East Los Angeles in 1976. Before that, he tattooed in prison and out of his home. “When I started, I was the only Hispanic anywhere,” Negrete recalls.
For these five top chefs, making ceviche is an intensely serious, deeply personal affair, rooted in childhood memories of sea, sun and family. When they prepare a ceviche for their customers, they are making those memories fresh again.
That’s the first thing you notice at the market, all the guys have hooks. As in Captain Hook: big and sharp, with wooden butts. They use them like extensions of their arms, like second nature. “I’ve never once used it as a weapon,” says Ed Cruci, one of the first fish sellers we stop to talk with.
The chiringuito, the quintessential no-frills summer food destination, has been home to numerous gatherings over the years, triggering revelations and confessions around approachable, comfort food in Spain for almost a century. Come summer, its presence becomes ubiquitous all over the country, particularly at the beachfront, with many chiringuitos standing out for their simple yet well executed, produce-led, short-order cooking.
“Aren’t those the loveliest eggs you’ve ever seen? Plucked right out of a fairytale! If Humpty Dumpty had offspring, this is what they’d look like!” I exclaimed to my husband. After a year of living in his homeland I still gush over the novel discoveries I make, and he still chuckles at my enthusiasm.
Though, from the outside, Cáceres might seem like a small town with no special appeal, appearances are deceiving. Cáceres not only has a thriving history but also a superlative gastronomy.
So how does a plastic artist, house painter, entrepreneur and dog-walker decide to open a catering business in one of the most competitive cities in the world? Nothing stops Antonio from creating magic in the kitchen.
Two minutes and fifty-four seconds. That’s how long it takes the six bulls to run from their corral on the border of medieval Pamplona to the Plaza de Toros, the arena where they will fight to their death in the evening.
The reported closing in December 2012 of El Faro, New York's oldest Spanish restaurant, founded in 1927, marks the end of a story that stretches back more than a century, to the days when New York was just starting to become Nueva York.
Héctor Sanz arrived in New York knowing no one. In his mind, this was a six-month hiatus from a soon-to-be settled life as an engineer in small-town Spain. In reality, he was about to embark on a career in the restaurant business that began with him as a bus boy in a bolero jacket and brought him to head his own burgeoning restaurant group.
What sealed the deal for me was an invitation to see the actual grill, and the different cuts of meat rotating slowly in the heat while the master cook gave orders in the same way a conductor would lead a musical ensemble. Because cuisine is music: that mysterious form of time spent in the senses and in feeling.
Everyone needs to spend some time in Brazil at some point in their life in order to put themselves in touch with sheer joy of being alive. But for those of us in New York who are impatient and can’t quite manage to pack up and go tomorrow, there are at least some options for music, dance, and food that can keep us going until the opportunity arrives.
The boticas initially sold only drugs and elixirs. Over time, they began selling food and beverages, until they become a type of bar or restaurant, called boteco.
Santa Teresa, with its calm forest and clean water, was close enough to downtown to be the ideal place for those who could pay to live there and build huge and beautiful mansions. Many of those fabulous houses are still standing, recalling the times of Brazilian’s belle époque and making the walk through the historical streets a special treat
Perhaps it’s the caipirinhas or the Portuguese wine, but everyone is cheerful when it’s time to gather around the table for a feast that is sure to please both hearts and bellies. São Paolo might be thousands of miles away, but here, in this New York home, surrounded by the stories, the samba, the surf boards, and the tastiest cozido ever, you can’t really tell.
At Santander avenue, we are dropped off and taken to the Bastion of Santa Catalina. For the next hour or so people dance, sing, and drink under the stars. Partygoers from other chivas join in. The music brings everyone together.
Adela Fargas is in every day at 5 a.m. to cook the pernil, a gorgeous hunk of pork shoulder that is lovingly massaged and therefore bears the very special touch that brings hordes of adoring fans to Casa Adela seven days a week from near and very far.
"Caribbean: Crossroads of the World,” the result of years of painstaking work by curator Elvis Fuentes at the head of a team in three different museums in New York. The exhibit defies the assumptions of the visitor by showing unexpected connections, material, ideological, artistic, between the Caribbean and New York.
“Love, technique and talent,” says chef Miguel Trinidad. That’s what it takes to make great food. And it describes the trajectory of his own career, which he traces back to his mother . . . and Saturday morning cartoons.
If you want unparalleled Dominican food, go home. Home is where those recipes—the ones that have been passed from generation to generation—continue to live on. The place where all the magic happens has a table reserved only for the most privileged.