Like Berlin, Hamburg doesn’t rate too highly when considering international gastronomic destinations. This is also a fair designation, but it’s worth noting that not only is it’s cuisine significantly different from that of the adjoining Prussian sphere, it’s situated in another milieu entirely. Unlike Berlin, which was the seat of an empire but never a vital trade crossroads, Hamburg is one of two (formerly three) independently governed German city-states, all of whom operated as dynamic medieval trade nodes, creating a far more cosmopolitan character overall. Along with Bremen (and their former partner Lübeck) they were anchors of the vaunted Hanseatic League, a continent-spanning guild that for centuries dominated international commerce throughout the North and Baltic Seas.
0 Comments
In April I made an expedition to two locations which, while notable destinations in their own right, are not particularly famous for their food. Yet far from providing a shortage of gustatory stimulation, I've learned that trips like this often allow for a finer focus, both on specific local pleasures, and less likely ones that have filtered in from abroad. The second stop (saved for the next post) was the Netherlands, whose national cuisine benefits from fresh produce and dairy (thanks to ultra-modern farming practices) but whose flavors seem wan next to that of its former colonial holdings. The first is Berlin, a banner city for the famously rich gastronomic quilt that is Germany, but also one that sits on its fringes, marked by the staid cold-weather fare of the former Prussian empire. The city’s biggest culinary champion is probably currywurst, the rare dish that somehow manages a decrease in the quality of the run-of-the-mill German sausage.
The city of San Francisco de Campeche, while blessed with a fairly mellifluous name in Spanish, disguises a less palatable one in its original Mayan, where “Campeche” translates to “Place of Snakes and Ticks.” Such nuisances are by now long gone, and while the place remains a bit off the beaten path in terms of American tourism, it’s still a popular destination for Mexican nationals and European backpackers. The city is the capital of the state of the same name, yet just as the local refining boom town Ciudad del Carmen represents the region’s modern industrial aspirations, Campeche reflects its sleepy, Baroque past. The food culture here, along with that stemming from the inland, colonial-era hub of Valladolid, is steeped in old-world flavors, with a particular emphasis on the fruits of the peak-period spice trade.
Moving inland, it quickly became apparent that we had reached the Yucatecan motherlode, the full flower of the cuisine only sporadically glimpsed from menus on the Riviera Maya. Our first immersion came via the humble glories of the local cantina, namely La Negrita, a 100-plus-year-old institution which provides a wondrous, boozy vantage on the snackier side of the food culture. From its saloon doors to its warren of rooms and cluttered chockablock aesthetic, complete with bandana-draped bull’s head, the place is still awash in personality, even after its transition from a men’s only social club (as all cantinas once were) to a public watering hole. Here we finally sampled the local spin on Kibbe (in tiny, teardrop-shaped Kibbito form), along with sheetlets of Chicharron de Harina and Palomitos con Salsa (new to me). This being a cantina, all these snacks come for free, plopped down on your table with each new beer.
The problem with beach towns, beyond the usual issues endemic to places with such a high volume of sandal-clad, towel-toting visitors, is that everyone goes home early. This is obviously not the case in larger maritime colonies, in which the nighttime population simply shifts, leaving behind ghost-town agglomerations near the shore but pockets of activity inland or wherever the hotels tend to be. In a place like Puerto Morelos, prized by visitors for its quiet, fishing-village vibe (in addition to some choice snorkeling opportunities) sunset signals an atmosphere of peaceful calm that, on certain quieter avenues, doubles as outright desolation. I did not come to Puerto Morelos to snorkel, restricted by an inherent distrust of seacraft and guided tour activities in general, although I did enjoy a few pleasant spots of offshore fish-spotting (including a ray the size of a medium-range coffee table). I did come to eat however, which creates a less-than-favorable situation upon attempting dinner at 8:30 and discovering everything is closed.
Croquetas + Croqueta Preparada: Croquettes are one of those foods which, despite their persistent presence in any number of cuisines, I tend to associate exclusively with the past, memories of both outmoded faux-French Continental cuisine and the ‘80s-excess-oriented buffet tables of my early youth. I remember finding a certain comfort in an item so closely resembling one of the few things I ate at the time: fish sticks. While the croquette usually has high-culture aspirations (despite, in my experience, being invariably filled with some goopy version of Chicken Cordon Bleu), the two things actually very similar in construction, with a whipped filling making up the soft center for a heavily breaded, log-shaped fritter. I stumbled upon a different iteration last year at an Indonesian restaurant, in a Dutch-derived form known as the Rissole, but didn’t think much of it.
Another trip to Florida means, as is the case with a trip to anywhere further than the local corner store, another round of exhaustive investigation and cataloguing of everything stupid thing I stuffed into my bottomless maw. That said, let’s cut to the chase, in the first of a pair of posts dedicated to this voyage to America’s southernmost corners, this one dedicated to the pleasures of traditional old-Florida eating.
Chukku Kappi - It’s hard to find fresh coffee in India, even though bean production is a booming local industry in the south. More commonly served is what’s known as Filter Coffee (discussed more below), a decoction of (theoretically) freshly ground coffee powder which has its charms, but is often surreptitiously replaced by a lesser instant version, whose non-freshness is then masked with heaps of sugar. Thankfully there are other options in the field of hot caffeinated beverages. Filter Coffee is also known as “Kappi,” a corruption of the original English word, and its cousin Chukku Kappi (“Ginger Coffee”) is a brew of coffee powder supplemented with ginger. An iced cup was handed given to me upon entering a hotel on a hot day, and as with many so many Indian beverages, provided the dual pleasure of cooling refreshment with a nice spicy kick.
Chutney - Derived from the Hindi word for “lick,” chutney in India has a function similar to salsa in Mexico, describing any flavorful suspension of mashed, crushed or pulverized vegetables or fruits, often bolstered by the addition of hot or pickled peppers. Really, it denotes any type of sauce, with the essential focus that such sauces are either used for dipping or combining with a main dish, rice-based or otherwise. They generally fall into one of two different categories - sweet or pickled - although many straddle the line between the two. I wasn’t able to identify any discernible pattern in styles during my trip, although I did notice that this thin coconut version seemed to be the most common. It's worth noting that Indian Chutney is substantially different from the British iteration, which is actually just the adaptation of Indian pickling methods onto traditional English canning, and thus generally involves the use of native produce like the damson, the apple or the onion. I recently spent a little over two weeks in India. During this time I consumed untold quantities of rice and coconut milk, figured out how to passably eat curry with my hands (the right one, specifically), and learned the appropriate method of finishing off a banana leaf feast (the leaf should be folded toward you, not away, which is a sign of disrespect). Yet while the exact proportions of the ingredients consumed were not quantified, just about everything else was, as I obsessively documented everything I ate (and some things I didn’t) in order to create a rough food index for the parts of this country that I managed to visit. “Parts” is another key word, since India seems to only grow in complexity the more closely you examine it. Even minute sub-areas within one state vary wildly in terms of history and cuisine. This index is obviously wildly incomplete and rudimentary, an outsider’s perspective that hopefully contains a few insights nonetheless.
That said, the entries which will follow here involve a particular focus on Kerala, where I spent nearly two weeks, with a smaller pair of posts dedicated to Mumbai, where I only had 3.5 days, and thus got nowhere close to decoding its labyrinthine culinary system. It’s worth noting that each of these dishes/items/snacks could easily merit its own post. Befitting the hectic, vivid craziness of India, and in the interest of preserving my own sanity, I’m smashing them all together as one. I grew up on Long Island, and notwithstanding the general shift in lifestyle that comes with moving from Nassau County to “the City,” have spent my entire life on this ridiculous fish-shaped stretch of sand. Yet while I’m more inclined to exploring than most, I still haven’t gotten close to covering any significant amount of the state parks, wildlife refuges and weird wide open spaces that litter the western half of the island, many of them hidden among the myriad necks and inlets of the rugged North Shore. This weekend I managed to make a tiny bit of headway, on a jaunt to Fort Totten that semi-accidentally devolved into a bit of trespassing around some poorly-preserved military ruins. In the shadow of the Throgs Neck bridge, the once-busy, since-decommissioned fort now houses a cluster of semi-active mini-bases (Army, Coast Guard and NYPD), with former officer’s quarters downgraded into makeshift storage facilities, piles of boxes now pressing up against the windows of once-charming screened-in porches. Things seem to get even weirder on the other side of the park.
|
The coded language of snacks, sandwiches and seasonings, in NYC and beyond.
Archives
February 2022
Categories
All
|