The first meal I ordered in the US with cash I earned as a day laborer — hauling concrete in barrows down six flights in a freight elevator and out to a dump truck — was smothered in chile. This was in ’78. The job was in Downtown Denver, and on pay-day, a guy I hadn’t seen before stuffed a wad of crumpled notes into my hand.
It was a short walk back to my digs in Capitol Hill where I washed up and walked over to the Satire Lounge on Colfax Ave, for my first taste of Mexican food.
It was a classy dump. Dark inside with sticky tables. The little dining room had a stained, badly fitted wall to wall carpet and a low speckled black ceiling lit by tiny red bulbs. Continue reading “Red Chile”→
If you haven’t messed with miso you should really give it a go. Paired with a bowl of rice, it’s been breakfast in Japan since God knows when. I’ve never been a morning soup person, but if I was made in Japan I’m sure I’d slurp along.
Miso is a traditional Japanese seasoning paste made from fermented soybeans or grains such as rice, barley and more recently, chickpea and peanut. It varies in color and strength from light to dark. I suggest starting with a light one and digging in from there. Continue reading “Miso Noodle Bowl”→
I love simple, inexpensive, delicious food, and much of that comes from the resourceful kitchens of southern Italy. Ionah’s mother Euza, who’s from Brazil, but whose veins pulse with vibrant Italian blood, is an excellent cook and tango dancer extraordinaire. She has a talented weakness for all things Italian and one of those things is a simple family dish that we call spaghetti with broccoli.She used to make it for the family when they were kids growing up in Rhode Island. Ionah continues the tradition, and whenever the pasta pot comes rolling to a boil around here, it’s often spaghetti with broccoli that fills it up. Continue reading “Spaghetti with broccoli”→