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The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

NYC

Cantonese food at Shun Wang in Elmhurst

July 17, 2013 by Lesley Tellez

Shun Wang restaurant in Elmhurst. Photo by Yelp user PeterK.

Shun Wang restaurant in Elmhurst. Photo by Yelp user Peter K.

Every time I’d walk by Shun Wang, a Chinese restaurant near my house in Queens, my mouth opened a little. Caramel-brown, glistening ducks hung on a hook inside the kitchen, next to what looked like a chunk of pork belly. I’d want to stay and gawk, but usually some surly Chinese dude in a grease-splattered apron was hanging out outside, smoking a cigarette. So I’d look and hurry on, down into the subway, the laundromat, the hardware store.

Shun Wang was always crowded. But what did they serve? It wasn’t clear. Bright construction paper signs in the window showed Chinese characters only. The only other English item was its health sanitation rating, a piece of white paper taped to the window. It was a C.

“You have to try hard to get a C!” my friend said, when I told her about the place. “No really. You have to try HARD.”

I could overlook the sanitation thing. (I lived in Mexico.) The place was almost always crowded, so I went one day with my friend Jeff.

The duck looked beautiful, shining on its oval plate, already cut into pieces. The skin was crackling and crisp, but the meat was a little rubbery. Was this normal? It was also lukewarm. Tried not to think about bacteria multiplying.

The waitress had helpfully suggested a few dishes, since the menu had probably close to 100 items. (Note to self: research Cantonese food before trying the next Cantonese place. I had learned the place was Cantonese from Yelp, by the way, which had two separate listings for the place.) We tried the salt and pepper beef, which had oomph and spice, and gristle. Neither of us could tear into a piece with our chopsticks.

The rest of the food — fried fish, fried tofu, and pea shoots with garlic — was decent and satisfying. We refilled our tea kettle a few times and lingered.

On the way out, I saw a big plate of crullers. Like churros, sort of, but without the ridges. I asked a man smoking outside what they were, and he said they were donuts. I said, “Savory or sweet?” and he looked confused. I said, “How do you eat them?” He looked at us. “Eat?” I said. He cupped one of his hands, and mimicked the motion of dunking the donut in a bowl of soup.

Ahhhh.

Shun Wang opens at 7 a.m., so we are definitely coming back for breakfast. Since my visit, the sanitation grade has changed, too. Now it says “grade pending.”

If you know the best things to order at Cantonese restaurants, please let me know — I’m completely new to this type of cuisine and would love to learn more.

Filed Under: New York City Tagged With: Asian food, NYC, Queens

Five things I’ll miss about New York City

October 26, 2010 by Lesley Tellez

I’m finally back in Mexico City! We got in from New York late Sunday.

I meant to post some of these photos during my trip, but I was too distracted and busy. People kept asking me while I was in the city, “So what have you seen, where have you gone?” And I realized I hadn’t actually seen too much, besides that one time I went to MoMA for the Abstract Expressionist exhibition. I was eating most of the time. And relaxing.

Here are some of my favorite things I ate and saw while I was in NYC.

1. Fresh Maine Lobster Roll from Lobster Pound in Red Hook, Brooklyn

I took a bus to Red Hook by myself, just because I was really craving a lobster roll. It was 3 p.m. on a Saturday and the streets were practically empty, which felt kind of surreal. (No people in New York? Where am I?) I ate on a bench outside the restaurant, because I didn’t realize there were chairs next door. (I was actually prepared to eat standing up, until a bench seat opened up.) The lobster roll was just what I wanted it to be: chewy, messy and bursting with these thick, robust pieces of lobster. The only thing it needed was pickled jalapeños. Or Valentina sauce.

2. Jewish deli sandwiches

I would like to point out that the above photo only depicts half a sandwich. My dad ordered this for dinner one night, while we were staying at a hotel and decided to order in. It’s a pastrami, corned beef and tongue sandwich from Ben’s, a Jewish deli on W. 38th Street. I tried to be healthy and order a salad and hummus from another place, but I kept sneaking nibbles of my dad’s corned beef because it was absolutely fantastic. Paper-thin slices of tender, salty meat, taken up a notch when dipped in spicy mustard. My dad is still talking about this sandwich. I think there might be a future in corned beef or pastrami tortas.

3. Real American french fries. Real American potatoes.

You can’t get good potatoes in Mexico City, so when I saw “homemade french fries with curry mayo” on the menu at The Farm on Adderley, a Brooklyn restaurant where I went with my lovely new friend Gaby of Gabriela’s Kitchen, I absolutely had to order them. The french fries were good, but the main dishes were spectacular — I got roast chicken with buttery purple cabbage that was pretty much most succulent roast chicken I’ve eaten, ever. (Sorry no photo, it was too dark.) Everywhere I went, though, the french-fry craving followed me. Usually I just relied on Crayton to order them and then I’d steal off his plate. Thanks honey.

4. The view on the High Line

Multiple New Yorkers recommended that I check out the High Line, a new elevated park that traces an old railway route on Manhattan’s West Side. I wandered over by myself one weekday afternoon, and there were lots of tourists taking pictures, and people just sitting in chairs and zoning out. It’s a pretty place — you get to gaze out at New York from a perspective that’s two- to three-stories up. And there are interesting art installations to see along the trail. I highly recommend a stroll there if you’re ever in New York.

5. A wonderfully serene East Village apartment (thank you, Peter and Jonathan) and its equally serene kitchen:

I made an apple pie in this kitchen. And kale-and-corn tacos with homemade tomato salsa.

Other things that I’ll miss, that I didn’t get pictures of: Strictly Roots, a fantastic vegan soul food restaurant in Harlem (get the collard greens, and the stewed pumpkin); American cookies, which I ate with wild abandon (I especially missed anything with white-chocolate chips); and quiet, early-morning moments in the city. And of course my family and friends, who, I don’t care if I’m being hyperbolic, are just the best ever. Thanks, you guys.

It’s good to be back.

Filed Under: Reflections Tagged With: NYC

The ever-evolving Latina identity, and meeting other paisanos in New York

October 8, 2010 by Lesley Tellez


*Photo by artist Dulce Pinzon, taken from her new Superheroes series, which depicts Mexican immigrants in superhero costumes. Check out more on her website.

I’m staying in New York City with family for the next few weeks, and yesterday the building’s doorman stopped me as I was walking out. He was a young guy, maybe late twenties.

He introduced himself as Napoleón and asked for my name. I told him. He said, in English, “Are you of… Hispanic heritage?”

I said yes.

“From where?”

“Mexico. I’m Mexican-American.”

His eyes lit up.

“Me too!”

My eyes lit up.

I wasn’t always so happy to meet other Latinos on the East Coast. In Boston, when I was in college, people would occasionally come up to me and make small talk in Spanish. They’d ask where I was from, where my parents were from, where I was born.

These exchanges usually made me uncomfortable, because they highlighted how much of a fake I was. I couldn’t speak Spanish and didn’t know where my family was from in Mexico. Plus, dude — my parents and grandparents were born in California. Did great-grandparents being born in Mexico (and only half of them, the other side is from New Mexico) even count for anything?

Of course, now I know that it does, and living 1 1/2 years in Mexico makes a world of difference. Excited at meeting another Mexican in the Village in New York City, I smiled and spoke to Napoleón in Spanish.

“De dónde eres?”

“Soy de Puebla.”

“A poco!” I said, secretly proud of myself for using slang. (A slang phrase that, incidentally, I first heard from a Oaxacan man in Seattle.) “Vivo en México!”

“En serio? El DF?”

We chatted and he told me that he was born in New York, but he visits Puebla once a year. I told him I moved to Mexico City almost two years ago from Texas. I left feeling like I’d made a new friend, even though we only spoke for maybe five minutes.

The past three or four times I’ve visited the States, it’s been me who’s been in Napoleón’s position, seeking out other paisanos and asking where they’re from. I purposely eat at American Mexican restaurants (the ones that purport to be authentic) and shop at Mexican markets, because I can speak Spanish with other people and find familiar food products.

Yesterday I walked by a few guys who looked like Mexican immigrants and my eyes lingered for a few seconds, just because they just looked so normal, like people I’d find in my neighborhood in Roma. I know it sounds ridiculous, but part of me really wanted one of them to glance over and make eye contact with me, so they would know that hey, they’ve got another paisana in the Village. They ignored me.

Napoleón called me “Chicanita” upon learning that I was born in L.A., which was funny, because I haven’t heard the diminutive version of Chicana before. (And I still feel kind of weird describing myself that way, for the same Chicana Falsa reasons I stated above.) Still, yesterday I found myself telling him, “Sí, sí,” because hell… it was true, wasn’t it?

Lately more than ever, I really do feel both Mexican and American, with the former occupying a large place in my soul. I’m happy and grateful to be a part of two cultures. And I accept the fact that my identity might someday change again. (A fact that never occurred to me in college — I thought you were who you thought you were, forever.)

As a side note, I loved hearing the Spanish pronunciation of Broadway. The “d” kind of dissolves, leaving this sexy-sounding “bro-way,” with the emphasis on the second syllable. “Vivo en la Catorce y Bro-way.”

Filed Under: Reflections Tagged With: Chicano identity, NYC

Quintessentially American goodies from New York

June 28, 2010 by Lesley Tellez

I’m not proud of this behavior, but Crayton and I have become addicted to Combos. They’re these absolutely fake, cheese-filled pretzel or cracker nuggets that happen to taste really good with beer. We bought some at the airport yesterday and spent our first evening back in Mexico City throwing back Combos and watching old movies.

On a more healthier, more substantive note — well, not exactly healthier, but definitely substantive — I wanted to share some pictures of a few more only-in-America goodies I ate in New York last week.

First up was a soft serve cone from Captain Softee, which was my saving grace on those long, humid walks back to the subway. (And surprisingly, it’s not the same thing as Mister Softee — they’re two competing companies.)

This turkey burger game from David Burke, the cafe inside Bloomingdale’s.

Do you see the decadence? Do you see?

…

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Filed Under: Expat Life Tagged With: NYC

Hot pot, tea eggs and other Chinese delicacies in Flushing, Queens

June 25, 2010 by Lesley Tellez

I’m visiting New York this week, and more specifically, Queens, which is the land of fabulous ethnic food. A few days ago, my friend Joy and her friends Dora and Gene took me out for Chinese hot pot. (I’d been begging for anything Asian.) We went to Flushing.

You know how people visit large ethnic neighborhoods, and they can’t believe how many signs are in a different language, and they say, “It’s like little [insert country here]”? I never really identified with those sayings, because obviously the neighborhood wasn’t really like China/Mexico/whatever, it was built in America. No matter what the area has an inherent Americanness, because this is what America is all about — different languages and cultures, mishmashed together with our own.

That said, my mind felt totally blown in Flushing. The closest I’ve come to Asian culture in Mexico was the time I walked those two blocks near Parque Alameda that are lined with Chinese food restaurants. And then there was one time we had Chinese food for Alice’s birthday.

But this…

this….

Wow.

I did feel like I was in China. Like, seriously transported.

…

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Filed Under: New York City Tagged With: Asian food, NYC

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Who is Mija?


Mija is Lesley Téllez, a writer, mom, and culinary entrepreneur in New York City. I lived in Mexico City for four years, which cemented my deep love for Mexican food and culture. I'm currently the owner/operator of the top-rated tourism company Eat Mexico. I also wrote the cookbook Eat Mexico: Recipes from Mexico City's Streets, Markets & Fondas.

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