I have a vivid memory of walking through the East Village during the 80s. I was walking down a particular block...maybe around St. Mark's Place...and every few feet, someone would lean forward and whisper loudly, 'Weed?" "Coke?" "Smack?" "Shrooms?" It was like running an illegal but openly visible gauntlet. I remember thinking to myself, "Where is this well-funded War on Drugs I keep hearing about?" When I reached the end of the block, the guy who seemed to be the coordinator of the whole operation yelled out to me, "HEY, MAN!!!" I turned around, bracing myself for a physical confrontation. The belligerent "salesman" looked at me, exasperated, and said, "What you want?" "Nothing," i replied, and walked on. I left him looking bewildered; it was inconceivable to him that someone my age, looking like I did, dressed like I was, would enter the block, looking for "nothing."
In some ways, the new Godfather of Lunch where I work is like that. Instead of drugs, we're dealing now with the "addicition" to food. You can live without shrooms, or heroin, but how do you live without food? He knows I'm trying to diet. It's a hard struggle. Invariably, though, the occasion will arise where he says, sotto voce, "You want to order?" If I'm strong, I'll shake my head no, mutter, "I have cottage cheese and lean chicken slices waiting at home. With a rice cake." Sometimes, though, he'll sense weakness, like a predatory shark sensing blood in the water, and continue on with his insidious pitch: "What do you want? Margarita pizza? Mr. Wraps? 50 Burgers? How about Marty's? Or Popeye's?" "POPEYE'S!?! Are you nuts?" Then I remembered when we had considered ordering Cuban food some weeks before, and he had mentioned a "wheat milkshake." He's not Cuban, but I guess they have a version of the "wheat milkshake" throughout South and Central America. That had stuck in my mind. He hadn't mentioned Cuban food on this occasion, but I succumbed finally to the temptation, and said, "How about that Cuban place we talked about?" (The old Godfather of Lunch was MIA that day; he's dieting too, although sometimes his idea of dieting means ordering from the kid's menu, topped off with a healthy dose of black seed oil.)
So, we ended up ordering Cuban food to be delivered from La Isla. I'm not always overly enthused by delivery food, even when it's objectively good. Maybe the "sit-down" experience is part of the whole restaurant-eating equation, and when I have to eat my meal out of a glorified pie-tin with a plastic fork in the office, I guess I feel cheated. On this occasion, I ordered from the "Saturday Special" part of the menu. Lechon Asado-- roasted pork. With a plentiful side of rice and beans, and sweet plantains. I exercised enough internal discipline to not order the Tres Leches Cake. But I ultimately couldn't resist the temptation of the Batido...the Cuban Milkshake. Puffed wheat batido. Look, I'm human. I haven't had a drink or a pill or something up the nose in years. But I couldn't resist the compelling allure of that...puffed wheat batido.
I don't remember what the (new) Godfather of Lunch ordered, but I had eyes only for what had been set down in front of me.
They packed a lot of food into that "glorified pie tin." The roasted pork was melt-in-your-mouth tender, garnished with onion slices. The rice and beans would have presented a heaping mound of deliciousness had I sat down in the restaurant itself and consumed it on a proper plate. And the sweet plantains were a nice, savory touch of additional flavor. It was a fulsome amount of food! Delicious, hearty, soul-satisfying food.
And then there was the wheat shake! I can't say it will replace the love I have for the vanilla milkshake in my soul's gluttonous inner core, but it was...unforgettable. I can still taste that shake now, days later.
Nothing here is cheap, but...considering the amount of food you get, and the quality of it...it's worth it, even to a penny-pinching, near-indigent wage-slave like me.
Highly recommended, if you have a taste for Cuban cuisine.
I can still taste that puffed-wheat batido in my dreams! It may not replace my love for the vanilla milkshake, but...well...who knows?
Time will tell. read more