Do you know mangu? Please let me tell you about the wonder that is mangu. The pictures posted are of this tasty little devil. One is a picture of an abandoned, lonely and unloved mangu that I spotted on a step inside a building on 158th st in washington heights yesterday. This is the mangu that started it all for me. The other is of a very loved and cherished mangu in my lap that is about to be eaten CON GUSTO this morning!
Yesterday I was running down a flight of stairs in a crappy tenement building where I was working and lo and behold there was a take out container with a full meal and a fork sticking out of it right there in front of me. If I was a naive, stupid person I would have just sat down right there and eaten it. It appeared to have been left by someone who had to make a very quick exit. This did not surprise me because the building I was in is infamous for drug deals. Every time I go into this building there are a few shady guys hanging out in the lobby and it reeks of the strongest weed on earth.
So being the hungry fat chick that I normally am, I took a picture of this meal to show my interpreter Miguel. He was waiting for me outside the building. I showed it to him and I asked him what it was. "Oh, that? That's mangu." Mangu? What is thing "mangu" thing you speak of? It turns out it is a favorite Dominican breakfast of champions. It involves mashed green plantains that are cooked with some olive oil or butter and red onions. Some people add garlic, some do not, some add milk and they come out tasting like lumpy mashed potatoes. On top of the mangu you can have eggs (fried or scrambled), a solid piece of fried cheese, red onions fried and tossed in a bit of vinegar and thick slices of fried Spanish salami.
By the time I discovered the abandoned mangu, the breakfast hour was over in most places and mangu was not to be had anywhere. I had to have mangu. I was aching for some mangu like the heroine of a Danielle Steele novel yearns for the touch of her lovah. Miguel calmed my craving by telling me that he would stop by the legendary "Malecon" in Washington Heights (I work in this neighborhood as well as Harlem and Morningside Heights) and pick me up some mangu for my breakfast the next day.
I woke up this morning like a kid on Christmas day. My stomach was yearning for my promised mangu. I sent Miguel a text to remind him. We met and there it was. MY MANGU! I was trembling like a virgin on her wedding night as I popped open that take out container. I opened the container and the smell was intoxicating. The onion, the cheese, the garlicky salami, the eggs and plantain...it was like one of those pictures they have on the news with a very overweight person digging into it and the caption "OBESITY EPIDEMIC IN AMERICA"underneath it. I did not care. I wanted to become one with my mangu. And I did. To be honest, I could only eat less than half of it. It was so filling, I cannot imagine eating the entire plate.
I don't know what else to say about this except that I am very happy to have discovered this delicious gem and my wish is for all of you to experience the greatness that is mangu for yourselves someday if you havn't already!
Yesterday I was running down a flight of stairs in a crappy tenement building where I was working and lo and behold there was a take out container with a full meal and a fork sticking out of it right there in front of me. If I was a naive, stupid person I would have just sat down right there and eaten it. It appeared to have been left by someone who had to make a very quick exit. This did not surprise me because the building I was in is infamous for drug deals. Every time I go into this building there are a few shady guys hanging out in the lobby and it reeks of the strongest weed on earth.
So being the hungry fat chick that I normally am, I took a picture of this meal to show my interpreter Miguel. He was waiting for me outside the building. I showed it to him and I asked him what it was. "Oh, that? That's mangu." Mangu? What is thing "mangu" thing you speak of? It turns out it is a favorite Dominican breakfast of champions. It involves mashed green plantains that are cooked with some olive oil or butter and red onions. Some people add garlic, some do not, some add milk and they come out tasting like lumpy mashed potatoes. On top of the mangu you can have eggs (fried or scrambled), a solid piece of fried cheese, red onions fried and tossed in a bit of vinegar and thick slices of fried Spanish salami.
By the time I discovered the abandoned mangu, the breakfast hour was over in most places and mangu was not to be had anywhere. I had to have mangu. I was aching for some mangu like the heroine of a Danielle Steele novel yearns for the touch of her lovah. Miguel calmed my craving by telling me that he would stop by the legendary "Malecon" in Washington Heights (I work in this neighborhood as well as Harlem and Morningside Heights) and pick me up some mangu for my breakfast the next day.
I woke up this morning like a kid on Christmas day. My stomach was yearning for my promised mangu. I sent Miguel a text to remind him. We met and there it was. MY MANGU! I was trembling like a virgin on her wedding night as I popped open that take out container. I opened the container and the smell was intoxicating. The onion, the cheese, the garlicky salami, the eggs and plantain...it was like one of those pictures they have on the news with a very overweight person digging into it and the caption "OBESITY EPIDEMIC IN AMERICA"underneath it. I did not care. I wanted to become one with my mangu. And I did. To be honest, I could only eat less than half of it. It was so filling, I cannot imagine eating the entire plate.
I don't know what else to say about this except that I am very happy to have discovered this delicious gem and my wish is for all of you to experience the greatness that is mangu for yourselves someday if you havn't already!
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