Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Tamalehawk can confidently say that he would, if practical to request of his loved ones, have his coffin filled with cannoli cream. He would sign any necessary waivers, serve as the liaison between the baker and morgue, even pay extra for handling. It would be unusual, but all attendees would have thoughts of Italian pastries perforating their mournful laments.
Tamalehawk readily admits to a near-crippling affliction for all Italian confections. It haunts him yet makes him whole, holds him back yet helps him soar. No man-made smell comes close to that of a New York bakery; Tamalehawk spend an entire childhood smearing the glass display cases with frantic wingprints, pointing and contemplating, gesturing and pleading. Having that white box tied with red and white string sitting on the kitchen counter was often the only thing that would get a tiny 'Hawk through dinner. Today, he relies on the generosity of a fine Ladyhawk to hit an out of the way Italian deli and bakery and rescue him from his endless quest.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Tamalehawk has to thank the fine people at Goya for constructing all the parts of this strange improvised version of arroz con pollo. Goya labored over every element that was delicious in this steaming creation...the yellow rice, the sofrito, the culantro and achiote seasoning packet. The hawk-handling time was mercifully minimized. It's like Goya just wants you to be happy, and you just let them, because they are so good at it.
You brown chicken or pork in a big pot, then take it out. Then get some chicken broth going in the same pot and dump your rice in. Then add sofrito and the magic packet, cook it for a while until the rice is almost done, and add the chicken back. Also some chopped olives. When the rice and chicken are done, you're done. Hang up your apron, eat it too quickly and burn your face off, wait impatiently, continue, realize the rice is the best part and don't even need meat, eat the meat anyway but in a begrudging manner, repeat.