Manolo’s Food Blog

Finding himself at Zabar’s late in the afternoon, his arms already laden with foodstuffs, with no time or energy left to forage further afield, Mr. Henry to his horror realized he was out of coffee. Since Mrs. Henry never touches the stuff and consequently has no appreciation of what a conundrum he was in, a cell-phone call for wifely assistance was not in order.

In his urban peregrinations, Mr. Henry regularly attempts to locate an Oren’s Daily Roast which, he maintains, has the best beans in town for an infusion method (french press) cup of coffee. Failing that, he buys wherever he finds something that looks reasonably roasted.

However, he never ever buys coffee at Zabar’s. You see – and it pains him to criticize a store so conveniently located and offering such good breads, cheeses, and smoked fish – Zabar’s burns the beans. They over-roast them until the coffee, no matter which variety, uniformly lacks the subtler aromas, becoming bitter ash. In this regard, Zabar’s resembles Starbucks and a host of other celebrated purveyors of coffee.

But then Starbucks is essentially a franchise for steamed milk. The coffee is secondary. If proof were needed for this, when coffee prices suddenly doubled some years ago, Starbuck’s did not raise their prices one whit. The cost of the coffee in a single espresso is eleven cents – and that is the cost after the roaster has imposed a quintuple mark-up.

Truth be told, Zabar’s has always been an establishment more concerned with price than with quality. This not meant to be a derogatory statement. They understand their market. As many failed restauranteurs have learned, Upper West Siders won’t pay.

At that very moment beside the coffee bags appeared a willowy blue-eyed Mexican boy straight out of “Y Tu Mama Tambien” who offered me a free sample of Jalima brand coffee from Mexico.

In a whisper I complained to him that I never buy coffee here because it is over-roasted. He nodded in conspiratorial assent and suggested I try Jalima H & A Gourmet bean grown in Veracruz. Medium ground and vacuum packed, the Gourmet is a marvelously rich brew with hints of citrus and chocolate, delicate and refined, perfect for the french press.

Manolo says, Guacamole!

As one would imagine the Manolo he is not immune to the tropical charms of the finely-crafted guacamole. Indeed, it can be among the greatest of the appetizers, if done well.

Avocados, lime juice, the finely-diced red onion, chopped cilantro, the salt and the pepper, and perhaps as the Manolo has done here above, the little chopped tomato. So simple.

Of the course, the secret it is entirely in the quality of the avocados. Bad avocados, bad guacamole. Good avocados, good guacamole.

The Manolo, he is happy to report that the avacodos for this particular guacamole they were fine. Yes, fine, but not superior. For that one must be close to the source, perhaps in the charming town of the Carpinteria, where the living it is easy, and the heavily-laden trees offer up fruit to whomsoever can reach up from the sidewalk and pluck them from the branchs.

Oddly for the Manolo, however, the single best guacamole he has ever consumed it was in most unlikely of places: downtown Tucamcari, in the New Mexico, at the tiny, unassuming mom-and-the-pop restaurant called the El Toro Cafe. The dish it was the “guacamole salad”, presumably because it came with the chopped iceberg lettuce. It was and remains perfectly memorable, with the sort of vegetable-fatty richness and flavor that the Manolo has never again experienced.

The Manolo says, if you are perhaps stranded in the Tucumcari (and who has not, at some point, been stranded in the Tucumcari?) then you must visit the El Toro. He suspects that the guacamole could never again possibly be as good as it was that one time (nothing is ever as good the second time), but the traditional New Mexican food was good enough to justify the visit to this unprepossessing place.