eat and greet: the cuban

Friday, May 8, 2009

the cuban

So yesterday I'll be the first to admit I was nursing a massive hangover. In every way possible. GO 24! That said, I ate the worst things possible all day long. So what did I run downstairs and treat myself to? The Cuban from Ruthy's. And this time, I snapped a pic for you.

Thinly sliced ham, melted american cheese, mojo sauce (garlic, olive oil), pickles, and pickled jalapenos on a soft baguette. Please don't hate me. Just make the trek on over to Chelsea Market and get your own. Because as far as sandwiches go, this thing is epic.

Happy Friday!

Ruthy's Bakery

75 Ninth Ave. (b/w 15th and 16th St.)

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who i am

When faced with the question of what food means to me, conversation inevitably shifts to my Mor-Mor (Swedish for Grandmother): A phenomenal cook who refused help in the kitchen and didn't believe in recipes. The real deal, if you will.

Mor-Mor had a seriously strong hand with garlic (surprisingly for a Swede) and an innate knack for making anything taste implausibly delicious. There was always a jar of homemade garlic oil in her fridge which found its way drizzled on top of almost everything. Like one of her breakfast treats: homemade bread slathered with garlic oil, a few slices of granny smith apple, and topped with extra sharp cheddar. Into her beloved toaster oven they'd go until the cheese had just melted, lovingly, over the apples. The salty-sweet combination could make your head spin—a beautiful cohesion of flavors and textures from such an unexpected pairing.

And then there were her meatballs. With her homemade tomato sauce made from tomatoes grown in her garden, picked when perfectly plump and warm from the summer sun, a ladle of garlic oil, and tons of parsley (Mor-Mor may or may not have been secretly Italian), they sent eyeballs rolling to the backs of people’s heads. The thought alone of her in that kitchen makes my heart long, once again, for her cooking. For her.

Now when I'm cooking, I finally understand her insistence on navigating the kitchen alone. There's something about getting in there and winding down and having your own personal space to create that’s beyond therapeutic—it’s wholly fulfilling and soul-satisfying.

Friday, May 8, 2009

the cuban

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