Yucca and fistfights in the West Village
Elizabeth Eapen -
Monday, August 31, 2009 11:27 AM
Once the charms of Bed Bath & Beyond
had waned (it held good for a couple of hours, I must admit, while I pondered,
among other weighty matters, the relative merits of a bamboo chopping board and a silicone cake tin), my friend Anita and I
made our way a couple of nights ago to Havana Alma de Cuba, on 194,
Christopher St, in the funky West Village in Manhattan.
Fortified by a couple of mojitos and some (short-lived) live music, this is what we ate.
Tostones Rellenos (green plantains with shrimp fricasse): We are no strangers to the green plantain – it’s a Malayali staple. We chop them into cubes and fry them like potatoes, use them in avial,
pressure cook and mash them into a porridge-like concoction which is
then treated with coconut and tempered, they can even be diced small
and made into a thoran with grated coconut. The
Tostones Rellenos were delicious. Not spicy, but the vastly different
flavours of shrimp and green plantain melded beautifully.
Maiz a la parrilla (grilled corn with chili mayo and Cotija cheese): This looks like your normal grilled corn, but tastes a whole lot better – fresh and faintly sweet and salty-cheesy.
Churrasco (skirt steak, we asked for "well done", with boiled yucca {cassava, again a Malayali staple, kappa in the lingo} and chimichurri): The steak was succulent, the combination with yucca unbeatable.
Past the shops on Bleecker St., we peeked in at the Magnolia Bakery (of Sex and the City fame, the cafe with the cupcakes) on the corner of Bleecker and West 10th, which was brimming with customers even close to midnight. Just around the corner, though, was something quite unexpected.
A voluble-slowly-turning-a-bit-bloody
fistfight between young men was puncturing the night, a small crowd
had gathered and before we knew it, there were the cops, blue and red
lights flashing on their cars, batons and handcuffs being put to
effective, noisy use. We paused too, on the onlookers' fringe. I’m not
sure how many offenders there were, but there were at least 10 cops,
all armed in the impressive NYPD way (how do they manage to carry all
that weight around their waists –-- gun, handcuffs, notebook, torch,
baton…all in holsters), and more vehicles arrived, sirens blazing. It
was all impressive and efficient, but I’m not sure the incident merited
all that attention. Rather different from how the “With you, for you,
always” Delhi police would’ve reacted...and as the wise man would remark,
“Much can be said on both sides."
By this
time, we were in need of further fortification, so we headed for
Mamoun’s Falafel on MacDougal St., where you can still get what looks
like a pretty big sandwich for $2.50. Their famous ‘hot tea’, however,
is unremarkable, and has to be sweetened by the ubiquitous sugar sachets, which
is I believe quite a comedown from the way it used to be served: “It's
not what it used to be," remarked a customer outside the shop, who
seemed like a ‘regular’.
Signs of
the times, I guess. And as we sat sipping it on a park bench in
Washington Square, it was well past midnight and there was the scent
and touch of rain in the air.