Food of the land, Land of food. Foodography , or the study of who eats what - where.
First off I am a neighborhood guy. I love neighborhoods. Mostly small enclaves in cities where people live, work and eat. These neighborhoods allow small business to prosper. I hear there is a "walkability " factor for young couples searching for places to live of late. Or better put, how much of what we need can we get without ever starting the car. What a great concept. It is truly old school. I also love the culture and history of food and the stories of how the people settled where they landed and made the most of what they had available locally. From these stories and this history grew the great Pizza Shops, and Delicatessens, Taverns, Coffee Shops, Diners, Restaurants, Markets and Butchers of our Grandparent's day. I love a neighborhood place. It seems that as we evolve these sweat equity businesses get fewer and further between. Pizza Uno, Fridays, Olive Garden and Starbucks and the like have crushed the small business. Where did the local guy go ? They are still out there toiling and putting out great food, some of them for many years. Time tested recipes and methods handed down for generations. A meat sauce cooked low and slow with caramelized beef neck bones simmered right in the sauce. A German Potato Salad made old style with ALL the drippings from the bacon for the dressing. Fresh mozzarella and house made marinara sauce seasoned with no salt because the fat guy making the sauce sweated so much that the perspiration seasoned the sauce with enough salt from his brow.
THAT’S WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT !
My neighborhood in Cypress Hills - East New York was chock full of these neighborhood places. The neighborhood was sliced into sections by the El ( elevated subway) that was the J. The J train that tore through the streets like a screaming, sparking dragon suspended on steel and concrete columns. This neighborhood was chock full of characters, stories, crimes, passion and good eats. I recall as a kid being sent for a haircut with $3.00. I chose to try the three local pizza shops in a one hour period to see which one had the best slice of Sicilian. I then went to my friend Gaspar's house and borrowed a pair of scissors and proceeded to butcher my bowl cut to cover my crime. A food critic was born. Rita was not happy.
First off I am a neighborhood guy. I love neighborhoods. Mostly small enclaves in cities where people live, work and eat. These neighborhoods allow small business to prosper. I hear there is a "walkability " factor for young couples searching for places to live of late. Or better put, how much of what we need can we get without ever starting the car. What a great concept. It is truly old school. I also love the culture and history of food and the stories of how the people settled where they landed and made the most of what they had available locally. From these stories and this history grew the great Pizza Shops, and Delicatessens, Taverns, Coffee Shops, Diners, Restaurants, Markets and Butchers of our Grandparent's day. I love a neighborhood place. It seems that as we evolve these sweat equity businesses get fewer and further between. Pizza Uno, Fridays, Olive Garden and Starbucks and the like have crushed the small business. Where did the local guy go ? They are still out there toiling and putting out great food, some of them for many years. Time tested recipes and methods handed down for generations. A meat sauce cooked low and slow with caramelized beef neck bones simmered right in the sauce. A German Potato Salad made old style with ALL the drippings from the bacon for the dressing. Fresh mozzarella and house made marinara sauce seasoned with no salt because the fat guy making the sauce sweated so much that the perspiration seasoned the sauce with enough salt from his brow.
THAT’S WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT !
My neighborhood in Cypress Hills - East New York was chock full of these neighborhood places. The neighborhood was sliced into sections by the El ( elevated subway) that was the J. The J train that tore through the streets like a screaming, sparking dragon suspended on steel and concrete columns. This neighborhood was chock full of characters, stories, crimes, passion and good eats. I recall as a kid being sent for a haircut with $3.00. I chose to try the three local pizza shops in a one hour period to see which one had the best slice of Sicilian. I then went to my friend Gaspar's house and borrowed a pair of scissors and proceeded to butcher my bowl cut to cover my crime. A food critic was born. Rita was not happy.
The London Squire- Fulton St. seafood place with the first lobster tank I had ever seen in my life. They had a counter where you could get fried shrimp with real tartar sauce.
Getzlemans Deli - Fulton St. on Fulton street between Crescent and where nothing came in five gallon buckets and the salads were made by folks elbow deep in mayo and vinegar. My brother-in -law Richard got me my second job there stocking shelves at 13.
Longs Ice Cream Parlor - a full counter - and booths in the back- killer Jukebox-owned by the Long family who were local politicians and whose kids I went to school with. A great burger - good fries and a milk shake where they left the stainless mixing glass at the table.
Jacques Pizza- where you could get 2 slices and a small coke for $1.00 and get 20 cents change to land some zeppole for dessert. ( 1977-1978 )
Joe's You Got It All- on Jamaica Ave next to Cypress Pool had the wooden summer doors that opened out onto the Avenue and a full L shaped counter. The real deal. Grab a cup of coffee and a buttered hard roll before you catch the J train. Or get a grilled cheese at the counter with a cup of real tomato soup.
Bruno's - Italian joint on Jamaica Ave toward Richmond Hill. My mother ( God rest her soul) must have went 100 times and always got the Veal Parmigianino. House rolled pasta and fresh baked bread.
There was a German Butcher on Nichols Ave and Etna St. I vividly remember the huge man behind the counter with the blood stained apron. He would ask as he sliced the cold cuts " sonny vould you like a piece for your hand ? "
I always said yes.
So maybe this blog has morphed into MY neighborhood places, which is OK because they are worth the mention .
I bid you all a farewell and be well.
Next up the perfect Corned Beef and Cabbage Dinner.
TheFoodNomad
I bid you all a farewell and be well.
Next up the perfect Corned Beef and Cabbage Dinner.
TheFoodNomad
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