TASTE AND LOVE IN THE LAND OF GRINGOS: ONE MAN'S SEARCH FOR A CUBAN SANDWICH IN NEW YORK

What is the best way to fuck something up?

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Michelle started sleeping over on the weekends. She is perpetually hungry. I met her at the park by a hot dog stand. She asked me if I could spare a quarter, said she needed one more for a hot dog. I told her I was heading home to grill on my rooftop. She stayed over that night and continues to do so occasionally.

When I woke up this morning she was fully dressed and ready to eat. She has a boyfriend but they've been seeing each other off and on and less and less. She's going on a date with him later tonight. She's asking me for advice. What kind of thing should she wear. Should she always let him pay for dinner. It has always sounded strange to me, in the way a pet loves its owner, but for humans.

Cafetería La Mejor

Anyone who's lived in Miami for a few years knows what the city looks like. Not just the buildings or the layout, but the aesthetic. Teal Turquoise. Hot Pink. Cafetería La Mejor seems to have this concept down. The owners are presumably from somewhere in South Florida. The place has a service window so you can stop by and grab a cafecito and chill for a bit. Know what I mean? More than the looks, it goes for the Miami style.

The wallpaper too (in the picture below). The seats. It's a little over the top tbh. There's a teal and pink boombox. But I get what they're doing. This is Bushwick, not Miami. This is catering.

I order two Cubans and Michelle asks me about my past girlfriends. I never lie when it comes to this subject. I find that being honest about your past is the best way to grow, to move on, to learn.

I ask Michelle to tell me a little bit about herself. She says she's had some bad experiences with guys. She dated a kind-of-first boyfriend for about four years, back when she lived in her hometown. An angry and jealous guy. She'd receive a text and he would look over her shoulder to see who it was from. He threw her dog off the bed with brute force and broke one of its legs. They went to prom. They dated through college.

She never drank until the split. Sitting next to us at La Mejor is a skinny man with curly dark-brown hair in round-rimmed glasses. He looks a bit like Bolaño. He's reading 2666. Michelle tells me about her college days. She once played king's cup at a Halloween party. It sounds like circle of death. The rules are almost the same (I'm convinced there are no set rules when it comes to these games) minus the cup part. At a certain point, you need to pour whatever liquor you have into this cup, and someone's gotta drink it at the end. Like circle of death, it's a recipe for love and disaster. She was drinking "jungle juice" that night, a concoction she describes as red and pure liquor. She also drank the king's cup. One of the guys at the party took her upstairs to his room. She was wearing a white scarf which she stained red with her vomit. Her friend tried looking for her pants but couldn't find them. She gave up and left her in his room. He was dressed like Leonardo from TMNT.

It happened again with a different set of guys with the same tactics. She cut snowflakes out of paper for the winter wonderland theme of the party.

One night she went to a bar named Lucky Joe's. She drank yummy vodka and walked over cracking peanut shells. She doesn't remember how many shots she took. She went into the bathroom and didn't come out. A guy who had told her he liked her held her head as she threw up. He took her home and took off her clothes. He threw her in the shower and told her she was gross. She threw up in his bed and he changed the sheets. His hard work paid off.

Another time she downed four shots of tattoo rum. I have seen Michelle get drunk off a glass of wine. She smoked weed and a group of guys tried taking advantage of her. She threw up and a friend took her back home. She left her sunglasses at the party. She never talked to those guys again. I ask Michelle about the r-word. She says "maybe."

She was approached by a man on her way out of trader joe's. The man handed her a business card and said he was a photographer. He'd like to do a photo shoot with her.

She says it happens to her a lot. Not specifically the photo shoot, but being approached by men on the street. Unsolicited.

A man who claimed to be a voice actor wanted to put her in a commercial. Another who owned a hair salon wanted to cut her hair. A retail employee asked her out on a skateboarding date. Get ice cream. Get Filipino food. See a play. Grab a drink. She takes a lot of numbers she doesn't call.

She feels like she has to be polite. She feels she is too polite. Often times men have kissed her, and it felt awful, but she felt she had to be polite and let it happen.

Free tango dancing lessons in Union Sq. A really good dancer, an older gentleman. He got her email, through which he got her facebook, through which he got her number and messaged her. She said OK when he became insistent, being polite. Went for one drink in the upperwest side. He invited her to his place. She was polite. He played guitar and sucked and she left.

Michelle thinks she was ugly when she was young. She says she wore lots of t-shirts, and I'm not sure why that would make anyone ugly. I think she was beautiful then as she is now, just less hidden by her makeup. I tell her she is beautiful with and without makeup. A big thing to her about her boyfriend is that he was the first person to tell her that she looks better without it. I don't know how I feel about that, about people looking "better" or "worse." I think she always looks great, no matter what her style. The sandwiches are served.

She says she was a nerd because she wore glasses. She was a tomboy, as in athletic, which equates to "not pretty." Her insecurities blossomed in high school, turned into bad habits. She wants to let them go. She's having a hard time. She dyes her hair and paints her nails to get boys to like her. She wants to eliminate everything.

She used to dress like a hot person.

h o t p e r s o n = in high school or college, high heels, short shorts, lip gloss, tight shirts, underwear (thongs, boy shorts)

She only wore thongs, "but then someone told me that boy shorts are really hot."

She met John in college. It was her second time taking the same economics course. She got a C in business law because she never went to class. A C in news writing because she never did the assignments. A C in physics because it was just too hard. She failed her economic development course because she failed to write any papers.

"Just didn't feel like doing the work. I read the book. I didn't feel like writing about it."

She received a D for her first attempt at economics. The second time around she joined a study group. John was in the group. She was telling everyone what she could remember. John thought she was smart. All her roommates in freshman year dropped out of college.

John told her she was smart. She realized she was smart. What changed? She didn't feel cool anymore. She was over it.

i know what it's like

i'm tired of it

i don't need it anymore

all the attention

attention from guys

had enough bad experiences

not entirely their fault

let myself become an object

when john told me

I realized I don't have to dress a certain way

John made her realize she doesn't have to get married. She can leave her hometown. She can move to New York if that's what she wants. She started dating a thirty year old. He fell in love with her.

He told her he loved her. She never said it back. She felt he was a good person to date. He was successful in life. He was in real estate. He looked like a Ken doll, which isn't her type. He was fake. She's not gonna say superficial, but she will say image conscious. It wasn't a real relationship and she dated other guys.

She was bratty. She used to cry a lot.

C R Y I N G   T   O   P   I   C   S

or alternatively

REASONS TO CRY OVER THINGS

friends are mean. friends ignore you. friends criticize you. friends are jealous of you because you're a daddy's girl. they think you are a bad person for cheating.

you don't feel pretty. you cry.

"All the Hispanics hung out in the same hallway and a lot of the girls were in the pregnancy program."

Michelle wasn't born "white," but she did as best she could to fit the bill. She dyed her hair blonde, shaved her arms, french-tipped her nails, joined the varsity cheerleading squad, tanned incessantly, at times fake-tanned, joined a sorority ∆∆∆

I ask Michelle how she feels about polyamory. She says she's looking for a guy that's real. A ♥ Real Guy ♥ is a guy who isn't superficial. He's vulnerable. He listens. He's open-minded, confident.

She looks at me in a longing, seductive way but I know she will leave after this sandwich. She will go to make her man happy. It makes her happy. I'd rather she stay, but it makes me happy that she's happy. That's what love is.

THE SANDWICH

BREAD: 8/10

MEAT: 8/10

CHEESE: 6/0

PICKLES: 5/10

MUSTARD: 2/0

LOCATION: 9/10



FINAL SCORE: 6/10

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I feel like saying a few more things about Michelle but I don't know where to start or where to pick up. I met up a friend of mine and we headed to Brooklyn Fireproof where I tried my first Cuban sandwich for this column. And what a delightful surprise, the sandwich has changed, and it is still NOT a Cuban sandwich.

THE SANDWICH

BREAD: 0/10

MEAT: 8/10

CHEESE: 4/0

PICKLES: 3/10

MUSTARD: 4/0

LOCATION: 9/10

FINAL SCORE: 4/10 

TASTE AND LOVE IN THE LAND OF GRINGOS: ONE MAN'S SEARCH FOR A CUBAN SANDWICH IN NEW YORK

What goes in a sandwich? You may think whatever you please, and sure, you should have it your way, but some sandwiches are standard classics. Take the Reuben for example: a corned beef Swiss cheese thousand island dressing sauerkraut delicacy. The Philly Cheesesteak: cheese on steak on a long bread. Pretty hard to fuck these up, amirite? Depends on where you are. Sandwich idealism is shaky in the modern age, particularly in a place like New York, where boasts of "traditional" and "classic"  dishes are mere adjectives to imply "delicious" and "worth the high price." Everything is fusion: Brazilian-Cuban, Japanese-Italian, Mexican-Chinese. What you end up with is a large and white square plate with a very, very small piece of square or rounded-off meat in the middle. The dish is either extremely sugary or doused in mayonnaise fat. This is not a bad thing. Things don't have to be traditional to taste good. Change is good etc. There's also a particular attitude which has become typical to New York. There are bartenders who expect you to tell them how to make a drink. I can't even tell you how many times I've ordered a Martini and the bartender asked me "What kind?" What do you mean what kind? A Martini is Gin and Vermouth (five to one) stirred in a mixer with ice cubes, then poured into a chilled cocktail glass. Then you add an olive, or in some cases a lemon peel. Bartenders expect me to run down this whole process for them. I wish they asked me to explain to them how to make a sandwich. I ordered a grilled cheese the other day and it came with jelly. Fine! Mix things up. Sometimes you don't need a recipe to make a good meal or drink. Sometimes it is better to innovate. But some things are great because of what their original recipe calls for.

The Cuban sandwich is a perfect sandwich. Here is what a Cuban sandwich calls for:

- a buttered loaf of cuban bread

- slow-roast pork

- ham

- Swiss cheese

- dill pickles

You can find this classic Cuban sandwich in most restaurants in Miami that serve Latin cuisine. Some places serve it better than others, but even a crappy Cuban sandwich is a good Cuban sandwich. It has become typical for your Cuban sandwich to be served to you with mustard, though some places still ask you. Certainly not a necessity to the sandwich, but delicious none-the-less.


Here is what a Cuban sandwich looks like:

- - - - - -

I stopped skateboarding when I was fourteen. I sold my skateboard for eight dollars when I was twenty-two. I'm longboarding with Emma Lee Mai in the warehouse area of Bushwick near the Morgan stop on the L. We turn left down Porter avenue and then left again onto Ingraham street. I see two white people come out of a hole in between warehouses. Café?

- - - - - -

brooklyn fire proof


Vicari wakes up hungover on a Sunday morning and invites me out to brunch. She asks me where I want to go. Let's go to the place I saw when I was out longboarding not too long ago.


 Vicari's been after a monogamous man.

The man claims to be a polygamist. They went out the night before. Vicari tells me the man seemed flirtatious. He told her that his girlfriend wants to be exclusive, but that he wants to experiment with other people. We get to the restaurant.

 This is my first time here. Seems cozy enough. I see they have different daily cocktails. They have a beer and shot special. Not bad for $5. You get a free drink during happy hour. This is my kind of place, relatively empty. Get the feeling most people aren't aware of its existence. The bartender is playing Suicide. Could this be real? We're handed two brunch menus. And a big no no.

Cuban Sandwich

The classic with Asiago cheese.

See what I mean by the word "classic" being meaningless in New York? Perhaps they are going to make me a classic cuban sandwich with added Asiago cheese. Does that mean it will come with Asiago cheese and Swiss cheese? Either way, already a bad sign when Vicari points at the item and laughs.

The man Vicari is after told her about a woman he cheated on his girlfriend with. He saw her recently and she was very aggressive with him. Then he took Vicari's hands and showed her how she rubbed his crotch. He recreated the crotch grabbing. He groped a grope. Then Vicari pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of the bracelet the man was wearing.

I feel sleepy and comfortable in a melting way. Vicari is waiting on eggs Benedict sipping on a mimosa and I'm well into two shots and beers. The atmosphere is pleasant. Light comes in through the windows but you don't feel exposed or naked, the bar being a few steps below ground-level. In the back there's a large space with art hanging on the walls.

THE SANDWICH arrives

THE SANDWICH


BREAD: 0/10

MEAT: 6/10

CHEESE: 0/0

PICKLES: 5/10

MUSTARD: 4/0


LOCATION: 9/10





FINAL SCORE: 4/10



COMMENTS: I WANT TO MAKE IT VERY CLEAR THAT I DIDN'T GIVE THIS SANDWICH A ZERO BECAUSE OF THE LOCATION. I WOULD HAVE PROBABLY GIVEN IT A SEVEN IF IT WAS CALLED SOMETHING ELSE, BUT AS FAR AS A CUBAN SANDWICH GOES THIS IS DISAPPOINTING TO SAY THE LEAST. SCALLIONS? GIVE ME A BREAK BRO!

Look, it might be difficult to find Cuban bread in New York. This isn't South Florida. But then why try serving a Cuban sandwich? Why not make a Manhattan fusion sandwich, perhaps a fish fillet? If you want to use roast pork, ham, Asiago cheese, pickles, mustard, scallions and flat bread, why not call it:

THE BROOKLYN FIRE PROOF SANDWICH

"CLASSIC"

It's not a bad sandwich. In fact, I was more than satisfied with it. The Asiago cheese is delicious melted on top of the meat. I love this cheese! The flat bread was warm and soft, blended real well with the roast pork. And I have to admit that the scallions were a nice touch. I myself often include them in sandwiches I make at home. I'd say it's one of the best brunch sandwiches I've ever had. Not too heavy, like brunch should be, but definitely more filling than a waffle.

The flat bread is so soft and the cheese discrete in its cheesiness and melted to the point where it feels like a cloud or blanket on my tongue. I toss the pieces from cheek to cheek and bite tenderly and slowly. I could eat this thing forever. I'm in the mood.

But as far as Cuban sandwiches go, this is one of the worst offenders. Imagine you order a Margherita pizza and you get four cheeses on a deep dish pie. You order a hamburger and get a ham sandwich. It just doesn't cut it. I would like to stress once more that this is a wonderful restaurant and that I bet on their other items being delicious as well. You can't fix what ain't broke though.

Vicari interpreted the man's actions a bit differently than I did. I do agree with her that the man wants her. Wants to have sex on top of her. But does it necessarily have to be her?

She used to work with this man. It made things more complicated. The man is still with his girlfriend. If it's free love, which I think Vicari is into, it's not that risky. But the way she pines for him suggests there might be emotions involved. It's not desperate love, but there's definitely feelings involved.