Dominican Republic
An End, but also a Beginning01.07.11
As a little girl, I looked forward to the Three Kings Day, traditionally celebrated on January 6th of every year. Another day to get presents? Sign me up. The present was always something small-un cariñito-but I knew that after Santa came and left I still had something to look forward to. Back at home in Santo Domingo, this day marked the official end of the holiday season. Mom would finally take down the tree, we would return to school and normal life would resume.
Yet those memories of the Día de los Reyes have stayed with me throughout the years. On the eve of January 6th, my sister and I would leave three small glasses of whiskey (or whatever liquor was at hand in the house) for the “three kings” and a fistful of grass to “feed the camels”. The next morning, we would run to front door and find not only our little gifts, but three empty glasses and, surprise, the grass that we had left for the camels was gone! It was like magic.
So this day, at least in my book, marks an end, but it also signifies a beginning. I wish you all a very sweet year ahead. May all of your dreams become reality and may you rediscover, as I did, a hint of the innocence and wonder that makes everything in life, seem possible.
Brandy Alexander, it goes down easy12.12.10
Serve your Brandy Alexander in a pretty glass with some cinammon
I was on a mission to find “Latinized” versions of holiday drinks, like the egg nog and mulled cider that now abound in outdoor market around the city. And I found them. In the December issue of the Food Network magazine, a handy guide perfect for adding to your off-line recipe collection featured how-to’s for Hot Dulce de Leche, Mexican Hot Chocolate and Coconut Nog, as well as festive concoctions perfect for warming us up from the inside out (ei. maple chai) and getting us into the spirit with a little bubbly (ei. kir royale).
But this week, as I read through Melissa Clark’s rediscovery of eggnog in the New York Times, I remembered the holiday traditions of my life back home. Along with an arduous fruit cake production that would tie up the kitchen for days, Mom would always be ready to prepare her own decadent interpretation of one of her favorite drinks, the Brandy Alexander. She whipped up this creamy elixir every time she was ready to entertain (which was almost daily). With exuberant gusto she combined condensed milk, evaporated milk, white rum and crème de cacao, blended it with ice and poured the frosty mixture into delicate rose-colored goblets, topping each glass with a sprinkle of cinnamon. The result was a dreamy, creamy drink that is (almost) worthy of replacing dessert. As Feist best puts it in her song, this drink definitely “goes down easy”.
This holiday I invite you to make a batch, bottle it up and give it away as homemade gifts. Or keep it, invite your favorite people over for a drink and celebrate how sweet life can be.
Cora’s Brandy Alexander
1 ½ cans of condensed milk
2 ½ cans of evaporated milk
1 can of white rum
1 can of crème de cacao (or your favorite chocolate liqueur)
powdered cinnamon and/or cinnamon stick
note: use one of the empty cans to measure the rum and liqueur
Whisk all the ingredients together in a large bowl. Blend with ice or mix in a cocktail shaker. You can also serve without the ice. Top with cinnamon. Enjoy!
Bottled Jewels10.31.10
Latin American soft drinks
Did you know that there are soft drinks produced all over Latin America, and that you can get a taste of a country’s local flavor just by flipping open one of these bottles? In the Dominican Republic, for example, two of the most popular drinks are Merengue and Refresco Rojo, and are available at Dominican restaurants and bodegas around NYC. In Peru, the local palate lusts for Inca Cola, Cola Real and Chicha Morada. I know, I know, when the temperature starts to drop, it’s more fitting to talk about chocolate caliente and atole? But even though the city seems to have changed from green to fall yellow overnight, my memories of summer are still alive.
I was walking to work one day when I stepped into my corner deli to pick up a bottle of water and some flowers for the week. As I paced through the store browsing the cold drinks stocking the fridge something surprised me. An entire shelf was stocked with a line of the quintessential Mexican soft drink Jarritos. Captivated by the bejeweled bottles, I stared at the luminous rainbow of flavors: tamarind, pineapple, jamaica, mandarin, grapefruit, lime.
Not long ago, lime soda became my summer drink of choice. Along with boogie boarding Saturdays. G and I would wake up, pack PBJ’s and rush out of the house to squeeze every moment of our long warm days, returning time and time again to our favorite spot on the Jersey Shore. After an invigorating day of playing with the waves, we would drive home when the last hint of light covered the sky, picking up burritos at our favorite tex-mex joint in Hell’s Kitchen. With salt on my skin and leftover sand between my toes, I would order a bottle of the lime green, psychedelic-looking soda, straight out of the pages of Dr. Seuss.
Capizzi Pizzeria brings la Nonna’s Sicily to Hell’s Kitchen10.22.10
Pizza at Capizzi with San Marzano tomatoes
When I was a little girl, my parents would take us out to eat pizza, usually after school functions, to celebrate birthdays or early Sunday nights. We would go to Pizzarelli, the quintessential Dominican pizzeria, or Pala Pizza, another chain run by Italian family friends. All the pies were wonderful, sweet and tangy, perked up with enough extra local oregano and albahaca needed to satisfy the Dominican palate. The taste and smell of these Dominican pizzas has been forever embedded in my senses, yet it was the way they were created that gave me the most pleasure. I would watch the pizza maker pull and stretch the dough until it was pliable enough to toss in the air, and wouldn’t take my eyes off the flying disk. For a 7-year-old, the process was hypnotic and as cool as the most dazzling magic trick.
I give you this background because walking home today, my memories of pizza pie were stirred up like the particles inside a snow globe. I discovered a new pizza joint in my neighborhood. Even though there is tough competition–a few blocks away pizza is sold by the slice for 99 cents–this place is unique. Capizzi Pizzeria is warm and inviting, with wooden tables, a vintage fridge, and assorted knickknacks on the walls. The restaurant specializes in Sicilian-style pies and features four kinds on the menu plus a list of toppings that includes caramelized onions, sausage, roasted peppers and garlic. Joe, the owner, is a friendly guy, and according to one of the servers, opened the restaurant in honor of his Grandmother. I wanted to stay, but in my haste to finally make it home after a long, strange week, I waited for my pie at one of the tables while I sipped some water. I looked at the chef preparing my pie, happily flinging the dough high into the air and dressing it with the San Marzano tomatoes and parmeggiano before sticking it into the brick oven. Even though I couldn’t hear him, I could swear that he was whistling.
I raced home, hugging the pizza box, in order to keep the pie warm on this nippy night. I bolted through the door and laid the box on the kitchen table. After settling in, I picked up a slice and carried it with me to the couch. With the first bite vibrant red tomatoes popped on my tongue. The cheese was sparse, yet full of flavor. The dough was light and fluffy. As I polished 1, 2, 3, 4 slices, the flavors reminded me of a bowl of spaguetti. It tasted like something Grandma would have made–it was sweet, bright and made with love.
an ode to color09.14.10
I promised many things this summer: paletas, cookbook reviews, culinary finds in the city, and even though I haven’t written about them, it doesn’t mean they haven’t been on my mind. The past three months proved to be exhilarating and exhausting. I worked on my thesis for graduate school, which, by the way, ended up being a story about a Dominican restaurant in my neighborhood. It’s called Lali and they serve a mean rice and beans and chicken stew, just like back home. They also have awesome empanadas, tropical juices like chinola and morir soñando, and funny characters (like a sword-swallowing belly-dancer, a Hawaiian performing artist, “Grandpa”). The owners, Lali and Les, were very gracious with letting me hang out in the restaurant all the time, talking to their customers, eating there, taking photos. They made me feel at home.
Now that my project is finished, I miss those hectic days that wouldn’t end until midnight. I would get home full of stories to share, inspired by the strong people that inhabit this city. More than ever, I feel humbled and proud to make NYC home. It’s a generous city that continues to amaze me every single day.
So friends, in honor of home and to kick start the new season (hopefully it will be an especially fruitful one), here are some images capturing the last days of summer.
The Return06.04.10
Hello! I am back my friends, Latinfoodie is back. I know, I know, I have been away for a while, but I’m happy to admit I’ve made some pretty cool discoveries during the past few months. I took a trip to some remote corners of the Baltics (Belgrade), found a Berlin band I love that epitomizes nerdy-cool (The Whitest Boy Alive) and have a new-found obsession with oysters.
Which reminds me how much I love the taste of food by the ocean. When I was a little kid, I would spend summers sitting with my Dad on the hot sand, starving from hours of diving and swimming with my cousins in the warm waters of the tropical sea. We would pull oysters out of a large bucket, slice them open, squirt them with lime and slurp them down under the blazing Dominican sun.
But back to reality. After months of darkness, NYC is alive and back in full Summer swing. Sundresses and flip flops abound, and people are giddy with the heat. I guess we really are creatures of nature: nothing like a little sunshine and warm breeze to make us all feel a bit more relaxed and ready for surprises of the city during this exhilarating time of the year.
I’ve stumbled across some local discoveries that I can’t wait to share with you: from Mexican paletas to smoothies infused with latin flavors, it’s all coming to you this season.
keep your life delicious,
Latinfoodie
Alexia’s Pastelón11.29.09
This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.
Throughout the past 5 days, I’ve gotten many requests for this recipe. Although we are now in the December holiday territory, I urge you to make this sweet potato casserole, or pastelón in Dominican. I got the recipe from my cousin Alexia whom I love with all my heart.(gracias alexia!) Now, it is in your hands my friends. All I can say is that once you make this, prepare to be loved, your holidays will never be quite the same again.
Alexia’s Thanksgiving Pastelón
3 cups mashed sweet potatoes
1 cup sugar
½ cup butter
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla*
½ can of evaporated milk
Ground cinnamon*
Pancake syrup*
Peal the sweet potatoes, cut in quarters and boil in salted water for approx 30 minutes or until soft. Drain and mash slowly with a fork. Add the butter, sugar, evaporated milk, vanilla, cinnamon, maple syrup and the egg yolks.
Beat the egg whites and fold in the mixture. Place in baking dish.
Cover with the topping below.
Topping:
½ cup brown sugar
¼ cup all purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons butter (hard)
½ cup chopped walnuts
Ground cinnamon
Bake at 350F for approx. 30 minutes.
* Means: “al ojo” or approximate measurements
Marshmallow woman
When you think of Thanksgiving, what is the first thing that comes to mind? For me it’s a can of jellied cranberry, which I thought was the best cranberry sauce in the world. It is when I moved to the northeastern U.S. that I suddenly started thinking twice about it, and eventually got more snobby with my cranberry sauce, choosing more natural interpretations that could be traced back to the actual fruit. What I finally realized was that what I had been serving with turkey all those years, was a far cry from the deep burgundy sauce prepared in kitchens all over the country with sugar, water, spices and of course cranberries.
In the Dominican Republic, unless you’re somehow linked to the U.S.(have family here, have studied here, have an American spouse, etc), Thanksgiving is not a popular holiday. In my home though, the celebration was welcome every year. Mom instituted the tradition after celebrating it herself with her own family. Although the stories were always nebulous, I gathered that her father, my grandfather, had lived in Puerto Rico and had himself adopted the tradition.
Decades later, my kitchen in Santo Domingo buzzed whenever Turkey day would come along. My aunt Tiita took over one of the counters, mixing her secret “Russian” potato salad adding a little of this and a little of that until it was just perfect. Mom pulled out the glistening golden turkey for one last baste. Plantain pasteles filled with shredded chicken boiled in a huge pot. Piping hot rice with kidney beans (moro) was scooped into a huge bowl, sweet potato casserole with marshmallows toasted in the oven.
The table was set. The feast was underway. I had the task of slicing the cranberry “sauce”. I loved the feel of my knife going through the shiny jelly shaped like its can. I loved how each ring was equal to the next and I took pride in lining them up, each one resting on the next. Then families and friends who had gathered on the terrace enjoying the (hopefully) cooler breezes of November and laughing and drinking would gather round the table. My Mom would give thanks, her spirit as bright as her blond bob. We would dig into the spread of American and Dominican dishes, and forget that these moments existed only for that day.
In our minds, they would always come again, they would last forever.
Habichuelas Dulce04.08.09
As a native from the Dominican Republic, I’ve always been familiar with the spirit of survival that lies deep in the heart of every fellow Dominican, especially those who have chosen to leave the motherland and buscársela in the U.S., in search of a better life. But it wasn’t until recently that I discovered that Dominicans are so much more than fun-loving merengue-dancing people; their hard-working entrepreneurial spirit is confirmed on the sidewalks of uptown Manhattan, in Washington Heights.
It is Saturday afternoon and the Dominican Mecca of Washington Heights is buzzing with commercial activity and dizzying sounds of frantic merengue music.
Caridad Gonzalez, 51, a street food vendor has tapped into her entrepreneurial spirit to make a life for herself and her 16-year old daughter. She doesn’t sell the ubiquitous briny hotdog and limp pretzel you find throughout Manhattan, but a selection of Dominican desserts that can seduce the most conventional of palates.
Stationed between an ice-cone cart and a table piled high with plastic jewelry on 181st street and St. Nicholas Avenue, Mrs. Gonzalez stands behind two water coolers filled with sweet, creamy treasures from her kitchen: habichuelas con dulce or sweet creamed beans is a Dominican dessert traditionally prepared during Easter season, which she sells throughout the entire year. Chaca, a thick corn drink known in other parts of Latin America as atole and mazamorra, is the other best seller.
As she ladles the rich warm concoctions into paper cups that she sells for $1, she recounts how she first started preparing these recipes for another vendor up the street from her called Nena La Rubia. She went on her own in 2003.
“I learned to make habichuelas with my mom back home and finished learning all I needed to know with Nena,” she says in Spanish.
For the past five years, she’s risen at 5 a.m. and prepares her dishes until 10 a.m. in her home kitchen five blocks away. In describing the cooking process, she tries to use only the best ingredients she can find. “I use Carnation milk,” she says proudly, pointing to an empty can of evaporated milk in a plastic bag behind her. She says it’s the Carnation milk that makes everything taste so good and that people like her desserts because it gives them energy. Other ingredients in her habichuelas include whole milk, red beans, cinnamon, nutmeg, sweet potato, and round milk cookies of the Dominican Guarina brand.
Every day she sets up her cart and has Cecilia Ureña, her 50-something friend, help her out until 2 p.m. She then returns to her cart and works until 8 p.m. “I work hard, real hard,” she says. “My parents taught me to work from when I was little.”
Caridad Gonzalez arrived in New York 18 years ago from the Dominican Republic. Little did she know she would end up cooking for her life. With seven kids back in the Dominican Republic, she tries to visit them whenever she can. “One is a college graduate,” she says, beaming. ”None of them has ever given me any trouble.”
She also has a teenage daughter named Karina who will soon graduate from high school.
According to Mrs. Gonzalez, the neighborhood has changed significantly throughout the past five years. “There are a lot more people, a lot more vendors,” she says. Most of her earnings come from her habichuelas, which are her most popular item. Aside from the $1 cups, she also sells small containers of habichuelas and majarete, a soft corn pudding she makes from scratch, for $2 and large containers for $5.
Although her spirit has been bent but not broken, and her stern face softens only when she speaks of her daughter, her desserts, especially her habichuelas are one of the best in the neighborhood.
She says that aside from all of the Dominicans who live in the area, there’s a large Jewish community in the neighborhood. “They pass by here but they never buy anything.”
Feeling bold in the kitchen? Find the recipe at:
http://www.nydailynews.com/latino/2008/03/19/2008-03-19_spilling_the_beans_on_a_dominican_treasu.html
Food For Thought