My (Accidentally Cool) NYC Foodie Tour

 Warning: Lots of fabulous food photos and details of my Foodie trip to NYC. Proceed at your own risk.

My plan was to arrive in New York, get to my hotel and maybe explore a little bit of the Tribeca area where I was staying before my Cooking Pastelitos for 100 gig on Sunday. I was traveling alone, which doesn't bother me. It was just the getting-from-one-place-to-another that I had to figure out.

The best direct flight was into Newark (which didn't look that far from my hotel on the map), but then that left me having to find my way into the city from New Jersey.

I put the word out on Facebook, hoping that maybe some of my local New York FB friends would tell me the best way to navigate their world.

Here I am in Tribeca having a quintessential New York Minute.

Enter my amazing and generous MBFCF readers...

Arriving in the City

"We would love to meet you and pick you up from the airport."

So it was that I arrived in Newark and was greeted by sweet Christy, her husband Koe, and their beautiful daughter, Sunny. I got to spend the first leg of my trip chatting with these lovely people and bonding over our Cuban similarities in spite of living on opposite coasts.

The ride from Newark to Soho.

Our route took us through the famous Holland Tunnel, which apparently is 10 times more crowded at any other time, but that's not important right now.

We arrived at the hotel where the Rodriguez's dropped off a very tired and very, very grateful Marta. (Also, isn't that the über-cutest child you've ever, ever seen?)

The NY Foodie Tour

I'd just arrived in New York City and frankly, I was hungry. I know enough about New York that answering the "where to eat?" question was not a simple thing, unless, of course, I was willing to get corner-store pizza (I was definitely not willing). New York has every kind of food in every kind of neighborhood, some more accessible than others.

Enter MBFCF readers Mario and Michele. He is Cuban and knows how much I love Cuban food, but I also mentioned that I'd be having Cuban food all day at CCC of NY event.

"We'll pick you up and we have a great plan for the evening to make sure you get to enjoy the best NYC food experience possible."

Obviously, I was in a beggars-can't-be-choosy position here. Also, I had seen enough of their photos on Instagram to know I was in good culinary hands. Plus, they totally understood that I was all about documenting the magic at all times which, gratefully, Mario subscribes to also. So I didn't feel too weird about taking pictures of my food and uploading them to my Instagram account.

(Parenthetically, if you're not following my adventures on Instagram, you totally should. I'm Smrtqbn.)

NYC Foodie Tour Stop #1: Nom Wah Tea Parlor. Chinatown.

Nom Wah Tea Parlor • 13 Doyers Street, New York, NY 10013 • (212) 962-6047

The oldest Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. It opened in 1920. Click here for a fascinating history of Nom Wah.

It was just around the corner down a narrow and slightly scary old New York Chinatown street, just sitting there awesomely in all its slightly dive-y glory.

We started at Nom Wah with appetizers, or Dim Sum in Chinese, consisting of a variety of egg rolls, dumplings and buns. I'd never had, but fell totally in love with the Steamed Shrimp Sui Mai (top left with the green pea in the center), Roast Pork Buns (bottom left) and fried Sesame Balls.

Let me be perfectly clear (lest it appears by the photographic documentation that we had completely thrown caution to the wind and were decadently indulging our inner gluttons): We didn't eat every, single thing. We mostly just sampled so that we got a taste of everything, and also so we could have room to enjoy the rest of the food on the tour. The night, after all, was young.

NYC Foodie Tour Stop #2: Katz's Delicatessen. Lower East Side.

Katz's Delicatessen • 205 E Houston St.,  New York, NY 10002 • (212) 254-2246

The central highlight of the New York Food Experience - good, old-fashioned, New York deli food.

Katz is where the infamous "I'll have what she's having" scene from When Harry Met Sally was filmed.

Also, they give you an interesting ticket with numbers that are part of some kind of elaborate deli code when you first arrive. And heaven help you if you lose this Very Important Ticket. There's a $50 fine for losing it. Don't ask me why. The ticket is then turned in when you go to pay. If you have the actual back story as to why this is a thing, please share.

So, what to order? Everything on the menu looked so tempting.

We started off with a plate of Pickled Things. Sweet, salty, and oh-so-lip-puckery. I'd never tasted pickled green tomatoes. (I guess it's an acquired taste.)

Then we ordered Katz's Deli Seltzer and Dr. Brown's Celery Soda. (Because regular soda is for sissys.)

For the main meal, we decided that the hand-cut (!) pastrami on rye was mandatory, or better yet, real kosher hot dogs with mustard and sauerkraut. Or both!

Again, let me reiterate that we split all of this deliciousness. (We were hungry. We did not have a death wish.) And although the hand-cut pastrami was fantastic, I could barely finish my 4th of the sandwich. (Plus there was one more food stop after this and we had to pace ourselves.)

This particular sauerkraut was wonderful. It had just enough tang to add lots of flavor but not overpower the hot dog. Being a novice at this, I don't know if all sauerkraut is the same everywhere. I've never really enjoyed it before this, so I'm guessing Katz's features the Cadillac of All Sauerkraut.

I just have to interject here that Michele, who was driving (in New York, people!) was the Goddess of the Perfect Parking Job. She could not only find, but she managed to squeeze her mafia-sized car into any spot that any New York City street accidentally offered up. Minstrels should sing songs about her ability to maneuver a car in between two others the way she did all over the city. (You, Michele, are my hero.)

NYC Foodie Tour Stop #3: Brooklyn Farmacy & Soda Fountain. Brooklyn.

Brooklyn Farmacy & Soda Fountain • 513 Henry St.,  Brooklyn, NY 11231 • (718) 522-6260

Home of the Famous Traditional Brooklyn Egg Cream. (Which, interestingly, has neither egg nor cream in it.)

The Brooklyn Farmacy & Soda Fountain is a beautifully restored old-school 1920's soda fountain in the very gentrified Carroll Gardens neighborhood of Brooklyn.

The atmosphere was 1920's-soda-jerk cool. The service was wonderful. The egg cream truly delicious. (Milk, soda water, and some truly amazing chocolate that doesn't exist on my coast.) That's the egg cream in the next photo, on the right.)

We also stumbled upon something called a Mr. Potato Head on the menu which involved vanilla ice cream, real peanut butter, caramel sauce and potato chips. Did you catch that? Potato chips! And caramel sauce! Over ice cream! (I guess you just had to be there...)

Okay, so I had a taste and I didn't love it. But then I don't particularly love peanut butter. And I'm not a huge fan of ice cream, either. But I really loved the idea of it. Ice cream and potato chips - together at last! Genius.

This is where our tour ended for the night. I felt like I got a fantastic sampling of all the gastronomical wonders that New York City holds. Bonus: I got to spend a really fun evening with the greatest people you will ever meet.

My blog has allowed me to have some really amazing opportunities. At the top of the list of Reasons I Love Blogging would be: Spending time with the most generous and thoughtful people on the planet. That would be my Cuban Cubiches.

Thank you, Koe, Christy, Mario, and Michele. You are the reason I *heart* New York.

 Also, next time we will find that cronut. 

Cuando Sali de Cuba - Carmen's Story

Marta here: Carmen tells a beautiful story about her family's many and painful losses after the Cuban Revolution and about their personal triumphs here in America. (Get tissues.)

by Carmen McPherson

I was born on July 23, 1960 in Santiago, on the beautiful island of Cuba.  My parents were born and raised in Cuba. My father had attended university in America and was employed as a research chemist at an American company in Cuba.

Carmen's parents on their wedding day - February 8, 1959.

My memories of my early childhood are happy and vivid. We visited my grandparents' homes often and my  younger brother and I enjoyed having my cousins as playmates during those soon to be very difficult political years.

Carmen, at her favorite place to be as a child: the beach in Cuba. This was taken shortly before her family came to the United States.

1966 was a turning point in my life. People we knew started to disappear, seemingly overnight. There were hushed tones by adults and the new  ever-present presence of military police.

My father lost his job because we were now declared to be “gusanos" - worms - because we wanted to leave the country.

I loved socializing and my world revolved around my school friends. Even though the school was not a Catholic one, we all wore uniforms. One day the military police came in the middle of the day and we were told that we now had to wear red bandanas in alliance and respect for Castro and the Revolution. That would be my last day attending school. From that point on, I would be home schooled by my father.

Around this same time, my mom told me that we would not be able to attend Mass anymore at our beautiful Catholic Church. Cuba was now under Castro's regime , an atheist country. The priests and nuns were quickly run out of the country.
 
My father using his  chemistry skills was now making everything from soap to shampoo and even ketchup  to sell for pesos on the black market. The entire country was now on food stamp rationing.

Castro's militia would conduct surprise inspections of our home and would take inventory of all of our belongings. I remember wondering “why does anyone care how many dolls or dresses I have in my closet?"

Summer 1967. I am at my maternal grandmother’s home when my father suddenly and excitedly appears in the courtyard. He is happy. My mother is crying. I am confused. I hear, "nos vamos." We are leaving. Our lottery visa number had come up!

At first our visas have us leaving and spending some time in Spain, then all of a sudden we get the news that we are going directly to America on a Freedom Flight sponsored by Catholic Charities. I would be turning 7  in July. 

August 1967 we spend the night in my mother’s childhood home and the next  morning, my aunts give us Spam sandwiches to take with us. We say goodbye and vow to see each other soon. My father gives the last of his pesos to the cab driver and we are at the airport for a very long time.

Our bags are checked and re-checked. Each child is allowed one toy and one bag. I have chosen a doll that is dressed like a bride, my grandmother had used part of my mother’s wedding gown to dress the doll. My brother is holding a red truck.

We sleep on the benches. We are stripped of our gold religious medals. My father has hidden family pictures  and sown them in different compartments in his suitcase. My mom's wedding band is allowed to remain on her finger. The bearded soldier has declared it to be "basura" - junk - not worth anything. My brilliant father had purposely tarnished it, hoping that the communists would think exactly that.

I sleep through the plane ride to America. We arrive in Miami and are “processed” at the refugee detention center. My father is handed a square box with a Red Cross on it. It contains toiletries and some American money.  Imagine the start of a whole new life... in a box.

We spend a few days there, in rooms with bunk beds and huge cafeteria style open rooms where I watch Bewitched and That Girl with other Cuban kids. None of us understand what s going  on.

We are served cold cereal to be eaten in small boxes. How odd is this America? We are served “hot dogs.” After months of eating a diet that consisted mostly of  bread and olive oil and  spam, the abundance of food is startling. I am shocked that food is thrown in the garbage.

Our paperwork is cleared and we are soon on the way to New York City. We arrive at Kennedy Airport and are met by my uncle, my mother's eldest brother and his family. We will live with them until my father gets on his feet. In the cab ride to Brooklyn, I am wondering why it is not cold or snowing  as I have been warned by my aunts in Cuba.  It is August 31, 1967.

The next few weeks would be a dizzying ride: new food, hand me down clothes, something called "Vietnam" is making my 18 year old cousin cry because her boyfriend is there. I am hoping we won't have to go there next.

September 1967. My brother and I are walked to a huge public school where we line up in endless lines and are lead into the huge building. My father has pinned this note on us: "I do not speak English." along with our names. Eventually we are put into a bilingual classroom.

Carmen, on the day of her First Holy Communion with her mom, dad, and brother, Rick. Montclair, New Jersey.

By Christmas, I am reading in English. Reading has opened new doors for me and a place to escape.

My father  found work as a research chemist thanks to his American degree and by Summer of 1969, he found a new home for our family in Montclair, New Jersey. Eventually, we would settle in West Orange, New Jersey, where I reside to this day.

I hope and pray that someday my family and I will be able to travel back to a free and Democratic Cuba. I value Education and never take the privilege of voting in a government election or practicing my faith for granted. I am grateful to America for the many opportunities it has offered my family.

Carmen and her husband, Ken.

Carmen's five kids (l to r): Russell, Robert, Camille, Coryne and Ken.

I have been happily married to my husband, Ken for 21 years and still think of my late fathers words everytime one of his  grandchildren receives a diploma. 

He would say, "M'ija, Fidel Castro took everything away from me, except what is in here." - and then he would tap his head.

9/11 - Remembering

Eleven years ago today, the 11th of September, I remember awakening to the news that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center Towers. So odd and random. It was before 6 am here in Southern California and had to take my son, Adam to school. By the time I returned home, a second plane had crashed into the second tower and the real horror of what was happening on the East Coast was just starting to unfold.

Without tv, I was riveted to my computer screen. I'll never forget where I was or how I felt on that day.

I've written about 9/11 and the ensuing weeks here.

My daughter, Amy shares her thoughts and a video from our visit to NYC two weeks after the attacks here.

My dad used to say that what made America great was "De todo un poco." I share a little about coming to America and my recipe for Arroz Imperial in Remembrance.

I remember the day we visited the site of the attacks in May of 2009 and we finally told Jonathan and Lucy what had happened on that day in American history. I'll certainly never forget that moment.

On September 11, 2001, a beautiful young lady named Adele Sessa died in the terrorist attacks. Here is her story.

September 11, 2011, the day brings back images that will forever be burned in our collective American conscience. Ten years have passed.  That story here.

Every year on this date, I revisit the images, the feelings, the helplessness, the pain. No, I will never, ever forget.

God Bless the USA.