cont'd

so to understand the reason for this little pilgrimage, you have to know that the mother was born and spent most of her childhood in guyana, and has frequent bouts of nostalgia for her time there, and particularly for the food. and if you've spent any significant amount of time away from home (or, if you want to avoid that loaded word, from your country of origin), you'll know how powerful the craving for familiar food can be, and also how contagious that craving can be. 21 years of hearing about guyanese food has had quite an impact.

Queens, NY

after making (d~)(a~) promise that she would do a philly trip one of these days, i hopped on the 'a' train and sat among the crazies for 45 minutes while we trundled towards liberty avenue. got off right at the end of the line, at lefferts boulevard, or 118th, and there i was, in little guyana, which is, well, "da place in NYC where all of da people from guyana n trinidad are livin".

the area spans about 20 city blocks of liberty avenue, maybe more, but by the time i got to 132nd it looked like i was heading into the ghettoes so i turned back. as soon as i got off the train, what immediately caught my attention was how people were speaking, which is: exactly as the maternal grandmother used to (and the mother still can. kind of. this is the "tentacular" voice, tm cp, and the reason why once upon a time he asked her to read zora neale hurston. but that's a different story. don't die, cp.)

so, chattering west indians, general atmosphere of commerce and gaiety, and, as hoped for, plenty of food. a lot of it, unfortunately, was produce, and i didn't think that bringing slabs of uncooked fish with me back on the chinatown bus would make me particularly popular. so, as per instruction, i bought:

* tennis rolls - which look just like ordinary bread rolls, but are sweet and coconutty and full.
* cheese rolls - which are what you would expect
* lamb black pudding. it's criminal, by the way, how the british fry black pudding. that's just...no. this example was quite good, although it somewhat strangely had rice grains in it.
* casareep - made from cassava extract, and used for cooking lots of things that i can't make.
* potato balls - which are also what you expect, and something that fitzie should strongly consider for his b'day celebration. recipe: potatoes, mash, batter, fry.

finally, i grabbed this:



a somewhat unremarkable roti and curry, despite the mother's insistence that it's the best thing since sliced bread. the bottled coconut water that you see in the corner, though, was special, and also frighteningly expensive. oh well. it good fe yu dawta.

---

the bus ride back was awful. don't travel by apex, ever. it was like riding down the highway in a giant toilet, and i swear to you that the russian couple behind me were making love in the back seat.

anyway, this is the first step to shaking off the intertia of the past two years: i'm willing to move my ass further away from my apartment than koch's deli in an attempt to find food and culture. it's a good sign. a few more months, and i'll be calvin trillin, or something, just you wait.