Just 10 years ago, few Haitian males who thought it was acceptable for a man to cook. Most went from being fed by their mothers to being fed by their wives. But for some, moving to the US shook up the traditional structure.
The inaugural Great GoogaMooga food and music festival last weekend is a reminder that greatness is neither self-bestowed nor assumed. You have to earn it.
From the looks of things during the event in Prospect Park and the critiques dribbling in on Twitter and Facebook (internet and cell phone service was abysmal on Saturday, when I went), GoogaMooga has a way to go before it can be called "great."
The 99% may not have been able to set up camp in the empty lot bordered by Canal Street, Varick Street and Sixth Avenue, but now they can buy tamarind duck sliders and other food cart goodies there.
Starting this week, Tuesday thru Thursday, from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., the lot will open its chain link fence and hosts a changing roster of food trucks. There's a little stage, too, for bands to serenade hungry workers on their lunch breaks.
There's a strong DIY wind blowing through Brooklyn, as a recent New York Magazine article about the borough's artisanal food makers noted. It blew through my kitchen window the other night.
Note to self: invite 66SquareFeet blogger Marie Viljoen to the station more often. The writer, cook, gardener and forager brought a little picnic of goodies made from knotweed for this Friday's Last Chance Foods.
I'm supposed to hyperventilate when I see ramps at my local green market. They're wild! They're the first green veggie of the season! But they're so expensive. The price tag is what gets me breathing heavily: $4 a bunch, $15 a pound. Really? For an onion?
In three months, it feels like Speedy Romeo, on the border of Clinton Hill and Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn, has galloped from start up to neighborhood fixture. I've been there two times, and it's been packed.
I did a double-take when walking past a fruit stand on the corner of Canal and Mulberry in Chinatown this past weekend. I saw a pile of small hot pink hand grenades with soft, leathery plumes of lime green. Very preppy. Very weird.
Feeling adventurous, I ordered a fancy-pants coffee at Starbucks. A "lite" caramel macchiato, tall, extra foam. I could taste the artificial sweeteners in the sugar-free, vanilla syrup, but otherwise, it was pretty tasty.