eating ethnic foods in the boroughs make sense.  i've been visiting my niece often and benny and i hit up jackson heights for colombian beef tongue and argentinian skirt steak.  indonesian food in elmhurst isn't too shabby due to lack of options.  and for that same reason sripraphai is also not bad considering NY THAI FOOD IS ABSOLUTE SHIT.   just my opinion...

but then there's this...ecuadorian roast pork served only on the weekend by street vendors lined along side the junction boulevard stop off the 7 line.  benny and i trekked out on saturday sans wife andk id....stuffing our face with chicaronnes and double fisting coconut milk and passion fruit drinks.  we loved it so much, i brought dad the next day.  the ladies speak zero english and we speak zero spanish.  i pointed.  and she nodded.  i said delicioso...and she said si!  and then we ate like amigo's in the car.  =)










http://www.vablonsky.com/ecuadorian-food-in-queens-2/

The most recognizable offering (for those familiar with other versions of it) might very well be the roast pig (called “hornado”)—not because of the presence of a snout or a trotter that necessarily gives it away but because the shiny, amber skin and succulent flesh underneath is very reminiscent of Filipino “lechon” or Cantonese roast pig (like the kind that hangs in Chinatown eateries).  Perhaps, the robust links (called “morcilla”)—looking universally like sausage of some kind—is the first item that people notice.
lower L to R: morcilla, fritada, hornado, sancocho, and chicharrónes
lower L to R: morcilla, fritada, hornado, sancocho, and chicharrónes
This cart, as with the other Ecuadorian carts nearby, serves so-called “Serrano food” (food of the mountain regions) in contrast to “Costeño food” (which originates from the coastal areas near the Pacific Ocean).  It is very meat-centric.  In fact, beyond the “hornado,” there is more pork.  Pork is stewed (in an item called “sancocho”)—which, in its tray, looks grayish as if rescued from a soup stock; and, pork also is braised and fried.  “Fritada de chancho” is a kind of braised pork that is cooked and browned in its own fat until the liquid has evaporated.  Typically, these browned lumps of pork are sold with “llapingacho” (a yellowish-orange, seared potato patty filled with cheese) and “mote con habas” (an heirloom hominy made with oversized white corn kernels).  Then, there are “chicharrónes,” which should not be confused with the snack food pork rinds that Americans may know by the same name.  These are unabashed chunks of meaty pork belly that are fried until they are golden brown and the attached skin has become ultra-crispy.  The chunks of pork belly are served on a bed of roasted corn kernels (larger than the North American variety) that resemble kernels of charred, unpopped popcorn.





when i say im a pro at weddings...it's not a joke.  you all should listen to my wisdom when it comes to weather, over cast photo lighting, which mini bar to attack, what hors d'oeurvres to fill up on, and do not order the overcooked chateaubriand.  wait till the end for the photo booth.  eat cake, drink, be merry....and well...i am the combination of wedding crashers, 27 dresses and most recently due to my sisters wedding....franz from father of the bride.

and so with an invite from the groom the thursday before the wedding, i found myself at crest hollow country club amidst a sea of 5 weddings all taking place there that night.  sitting in the lobby was confusing as my make shift suit and converse outfit could've made its way to any other wedding party...but i spotted the mermaid.  and assumed the role of 'jon koon' for the night.  i'd say it was a hybrid of koon and felix as ben's lamo food poisnoning excuse prevented him from making it out.  

lewis' first time as an officiant was undermined by a faulty mic.  rookie mistakes....that get trumped by rookie drinking tho that role was reserved for the other chang...for as we plowed through the macallan secretly stored underneath the bar for vips, and as we danced the night away to 90s prom music...we found a select few getting down on the dance floor, spilling their drink....and falling on the floor and cutting himself.  hahahha.

"take me to hotel long island"









i have good intentions...i really do, but i realize that i can come off quite rude to a bunch of my married friends as i whine and complain about attending baby showers chock full of kids and pregnant wives and mothers and fathers and iced tea and cupcakes and stale conversation.  that's life, that's their life and seriously, i'm happy for them.  that's not my life, and just being wary of my coachella-story-telling-womanizing-zero responsibility- big mouth, i'd like to let my mouth roam free without getting judged, or feeling overly sensitive about being judged...ergo...i should've avoided sundays baby shower and just gone up monday, cooked soup and spent a more intimate day in stamford with 4 kids, one dog, 2 grandparents, a pregnant lady with twins, lewis and myself....

i find solace in the process of making soup.  i like making the stock from scratch and just letting it slowly bowl away.  i like standing around the kitching periodically skimming the fat off the top....i like watching the color of the liquid turn from clear to umami opague....i like tasting the progression of soup....its such a simple process yet the flavours can be so complex.  so much depth from boiling water.  and while the soup was cooking, lewis and i plowed thru 2 bottles of whiskey.  dimitri had to cut us off at the end of the 2nd bottle by hiding the bottle, so i just found 2 beers to chug outside on the balcony.  that was fun.  hehehee.