Mango Chicken Leg Stew Done My Way

             Towards the beginning of the month I was at the meat department in a Key Food store in search of a new challenge to cook. Key Food maintains the widest varieties of meats at the lowest prices compared to other supermarkets. There was a package of chicken legs under three dollars which was too cheap to pass up. Plus, since I never cooked chicken legs on my own without adult supervision, this was the exact type of mountain I was looking to climb. I didn't have an actual plan of attack; I simply bought the package and tossed it in my freezer once I got home from the supermarket. A couple of weeks later I defrosted the chicken legs and left them in the refrigerator. For a various number of reasons I wasn't able to do any of the cooking I was hoping to accomplish. Unsure if I was going to use these legs in the near future or not, I contemplated placing them back into the freezer, but I really didn't like the idea of freezing and unfreezing them yet again. I looked around my kitchen and brainstormed what I could do with these legs, then I saw my answer laying in a fruit basket. I had also bought two mangoes that day at the Key Food - which were finally ripe. The first mango was consumed in the morning and I had the taste for more. That's when it struck a chord in my mind that I should incorporate the last mango with these chicken legs.

             My weapon of choice was going to be a crock pot, so I could cook the legs in a hot broth and have the flavor from the mango (as well as other ingredients) soak into the soft meat of the chicken. I skinned and diced the mango into little cube pieces. It's very tempting to consume all the mango pieces on the plate, so you have to limit yourself to stealing just one piece only. Another important item that needs to be skinned, sliced, and diced, is an onion. The bitterness of the onion serves as the perfect contrast to the sweetness of the mango. Once the crock pot is ready, pour in a can of chicken broth, one cup of water, and half a cup and water. Place the drumsticks into the pot and then begin adding the other flavors: two strands of thyme, with sprinklings of oregano, herbs de provence, garlic salt, and regular salt. Lastly, dump in the cubed pieces of mango and sliced onions. Make sure the fire is barely above a whisper and its preferred to use a wooden grandma spoon to initially mix the legs in the broth with the flavors inside. Afterwards, you can place the lid on top to cover the pot. It needs to cook long and methodical, so the fire must remain very low. The cooking time takes about an hour and fifteen minutes in total. While it cooks its never a bad idea to check on it every ten minutes and use the wooden spoon to stir gently for a few seconds. If an hour passes by and there's steam shooting from any possible crevasse in the crock pot, that's usually the telltale sign the legs are ready.

             The mango cubes should still be visible once the drumsticks are ready, but at this point the pieces have been stewing in the broth so long that the sweet taste of the mango will be gone. On the flip side, the sweetness from the mango juice would make its way into the soft meat of the chicken, its a fair trade. If cooked correctly, the meat will be so soft that it should easily slip off the bone once you begin handling the drumstick. The natural side dish in this situation would be rice, but instead I had leftover broccoli from a Chinese take-out place the night before that I wanted to use before they went bad. I heated them up in the microwave and set them on the plate when I knew the legs were just about ready. I took my first bite and was surprised the meat cooked to near-perfection. It's was certainly beginners luck with these chicken legs as usually they don't even come out as soft when you order them from a restaurant. With my flag sticking out from the top of this mountain, I'll need to return to Key Food in search of the next meat to conquer.

             I'm going to need to look somewhere else other than the fruit basket for assistance....

Grand Theft Tacos

             With my eye on the schedule for book signings at Barnes & Noble locations in the Tri-State area, I circled my calender for New York Giants head coach Tom Coughlin's appearance in midtown Manhattan. He's currently making the rounds at several area Barnes & Noble stores to promote his new book entitled "Earn The Right To Win". Being a big Giants fan and the fact Coughlin has been the head coach for two Superbowl championships during his tenure; seeing him in person and getting an autograph was a no-brainer. The schedule time for the autograph session to begin was 12:30 pm, but knowing there will likely be a line forming hours before that, I needed to get down to the city sooner so I could get a good spot and not have to wait forever to see Coughlin. I put on my Giants gear, in the form of a sweatshirt and woolen hat (the same items I wore last year in cold Green Bay when I traveled to watch Giants advance in the playoffs), and made for the subway.

             The train ride was quick and I arrived at the store location on the corner of 5th and East 46th street about 10:30am. I had about two hours of waiting time before me. There were about fifteen people on the line already when I got there, so I rushed inside to buy a copy of the book and then came back out to claim my place. The way the signings work at Barnes & Noble is naturally you have to buy a copy of the book there that the author is going to sign. The autograph is of the author's name only; no personalization or custom messages. You're not allowed to bring anything else to be autographed and there's no posing for pictures with the author. You can't even hand the author the actual book for them to sign, an employee has to hand it to the author and then back to you. So although its still a fun experience to meet someone of notoriety and watch them sign an item for you, the system Barnes & Noble has in place keeps you sectioned off as much as possible as if you're contaminated with the black plague or something. Plus there's a machine process of 'get your autograph and get out', there doesn't seem to be much opportunity for a question or comment to share with the author. Since I've only experienced book signings for Barnes & Noble locations in the city, perhaps that has alot to do with the strictness whereas the outer boroughs and Jersey might be more relaxed, but I have a feeling they all follow the same protocol.

             The price for the book in the US lists for twenty-five dollars, but due to the event promotion it came out to only twenty-two dollars. The cashier didn't ask if I was a Barnes & Noble member (which I am)  nor did I think of being proactive about it, but I could've possibly have gotten an additional two dollars off with my membership card. With my baggy Giants sweatshirt on the cashier knew which book I wanted almost immediately. My place on the line was near the street corner, a shaded block with no sun and a slight chill in the air. Depending on which Barnes & Noble it is, some have the line outside and some have it indoors. People passing by on their way to work would see most of us dressed in Giants gear and make wisecracks such as, "where's the tailgate party?" Others would ask who was signing inside, and when some tourists asked and were told it was Coughlin, from the look on their faces it seemed they had no clue who he was. I brought a book with me from home to help pass the time, but standing up reading in the cold with no gloves wasn't very appetizing, so I needed to find another form of amusement.A Brinks armored car stopped at the corner and a guard exited the vehicle with a large black bag. He went into the Barnes & Noble, I believe, and came back about five minutes later with the bag likely filled with cash. I contemplated grabbing the bag as a way to help pass the time, but I realized I might end up losing my spot on the line if I did that.

              After the armored truck left a Dunkin Donuts representative stood at the corner and held a sign pointing to a store location in the middle of the block on E. 46th. Holding the sign up for a half-hour might've been another possible way to kill the clock, but it looked very boring to him so I was probably just better off leaning against the wall. That's when a guy behind me about my age on the line asked if I was a Yankee fan, in which I replied yes. He then handed me a small 2013 season schedule booklet, and once I accepted it, I would be in for an earful the rest of the way. At first we shared some general sports stories and spoke about other autographs opportunities we had gotten in the past. Eventually the conversation turned to pro wrestling and that's when he went off like he had a case of Energizer batteries in his head. I have some extensive professional wrestling knowledge in my head as well, but this guy was really into it and still watches it religiously to this day whereas I tailed off finally around 2004. Since we were the only two people really speaking to each other on the line, basically everyone would be hearing our conversation. He seemed so passionate about it that I noticed his voice went a few chords higher than when we first started talking and I could tell others on the line were likely sick and tired of hearing about wrestling. I didn't want to be rude, so I kept conversing with him, but my replies were growing shorter in hopes the conversation would settle down to a moderate level. I have to admit though talking to him let the time fly by quicker and it was almost 12:30pm before I knew it.

             An employee brought us inside finally and to the upstairs level where the autograph session would take place. Security guards and other workers were stationed all over the place to make sure everyone stayed in line and followed the Barnes & Noble regulations. My new friend next to me kept going off on wrestling issues and now that we were indoors, it only seemed the more louder. I could feel the eyes from others on the line burning a hole through my thick Giants sweatshirt. The line then started moving to the final destination of Tom Coughlin and I couldn't be anymore happier. As we approached the side of the table he was signing from, people were allowed to take pictures, but once we got to the front of the table, then no more pictures were allowed (I managed to sneak in one). Even though we were seconds away from the autograph, the guy behind me kept going and going and going about wrestling. I saw people were able to shake Coughlin's hand and none of the security guards made a fuss about it, but I figured I would just give him a 'thank you' and leave it at that. A different gentleman in front of me on the line tried to pull a fast one; he first had Coughlin sign the book cover, then he boldly approached the table on his own and had tried to get a second autograph of the inside cover. The Barnes & Noble gestapo were all over that guy in two seconds and took the book away from the table. They told him to go downstairs and buy another book if he wanted a second autograph. Next it was my turn and all eyes were on me to make sure I too didn't do anything crazy. I put the whole handshake idea out of my mind and just said "thanks, coach" after he carefully signed my book. Then Coughlin looked upon my Giants sweatshirt and hat and remarked, "that's a nice outfit you got on". I gave him another 'thanks' and was on my way. Overall he was very friendly and allowed people to engage with him a little.

             As I was leaving the area with my signed book I could hear the wrestling fan's voice behind me thanking Coughlin and wishing all sorts of praise. I'm not sure how that was going to turn out or what the Barnes & Noble gestapo had in store for him if he went overboard with his praises, all I wanted to do is get out of that store as soon as possible. It wasn't even 1pm yet when I got out and I had the option of either going home or staying in the city to get lunch. In the back of my mind I had been also planning to drop by a taco shop on the corner of Kenmare St. and Cleveland Place down in the village, which also had a cheesecake place across the street, sometime soon, and since it was getting warmer outside, I figured why not just go there today and tackle those goals as well. I had no cash on me so I stopped off at a nearby bank to pull a twenty out of an ATM. As I was walking in, a blonde well-to-do lady was walking out. I put my card in the machine and began the ATM process, meanwhile a gentleman inside the bank lobby said the blonde lady had left her card in the machine. I gave the best description I vaguely remembered of her in that one second of seeing her and said she went rightward. The guy ran out after her with the card, and when I left the bank with my twenty dollar bill, it seemed like he wasn't able to locate her on the busy Manhattan sidewalk. I didn't stay and watch, but I don't think he went back inside the bank to drop off the card. He might've taken it with him instead to wherever he was going. Perhaps he wanted an excuse to meet her in person and try and get a date or something.

             At Grand Central I hopped on the 6 train and it took a short ride to Spring Street, which is only two blocks away from the corner that contains the taco and cheesecake places. I did try La Esquina (Spanish for "The Corner") last year and was very satisfied with their authentic tacos, I couldn't understand why it had taken me so long to return. It was still in the middle of lunchtime, so when I entered the narrow eatery it was packed like a can of sardines with long line. There is a long counter with about eight seats for those who want to eat there, but when I arrived they were all full, so I needed to take my order to go. I went with the bistec and lengua (tongue) tacos with a bottle of lime soda. When you order, they ask your name and call it when the food is ready. After I ordered about three seats opened up, plus the many inside had left with their food for take-out, so now I had the chance to dine in as long as my food was ready in time before other people took the seats. The cashier called "James", and at first I was a little perplexed why was my food ready so fast. Others on the line before me seemed to have been waiting for longer periods of time. Plus, although she did have the bistec taco on top, both tacos were plated to eat in when I told her I wanted it to go. I still wasn't 100% if this was my food, but as I approached the counter she handed me a green bottle (which I assumed to be lime soda) so I figured this had to be mine. I took the food and hurried to an open stool at the counter. The second taco I had didn't really look like tongue, and it didn't fit the description that was on the menu. I peeked over at my green bottle and instead of lime, it said pineapple. Now I was having doubts that I had the correct food.

              A few stools over I was able to hear a couple grumbling about how long they were waiting for their order to be ready. Seeing I likely might've taken their food, I scoffed down the two tacos as fast as possible in hopes of getting out of there quick before anyone was the wiser. With my Giants hat and sweatshirt on, I would be very easy for the cashier to track down if she had any sort of reasonable memory. The guy went up to the cashier and finally returned with food, but it seemed as if he had to order a second time. I heard him mention to the girl that, "someone took my order", and when the girl called him "James", I realized what happened. The cashier called "James" for him, but me "James" thought it was for me. Two tacos and a green bottle - it was almost identical orders. Many times restaurants will give out order numbers to avoid this type of confusion. In this case my first name caused me to steal someone else's tacos. Just as I was about done with my second taco I heard the cashier calling for "James", that was for my real order. Obviously I couldn't go get it because she'll probably recall I took food already minutes earlier. She kept calling for me and naming the tacos, "bistec" and "lengua", and from the corner of my eye I saw the tacos were packed to go, as I requested. My only choice was to remain in my seat and act like nothing was wrong. I caught a lucky break that another waive of customers filed in and started to line up in front of the cashier. She called out my name a couple more times, but now that she was busy with new customers, I was able to use that distraction to slip out the door like a thief in the night (early afternoon actually). With the two stolen tacos and the armored truck job from earlier in the day, the smart move would be to leave the city before the authorities had a chance to close in on my position, but there was still the cheesecake affair to tend to.

             About a ten second walk from La Esquina in a cozy location is Eileen's Special Cheesecake. The store itself is rather small, but there's a large blue awning out front that can't be missed. Originally opened in 1975 to service restaurants and businesses in Manhattan with their baked goods, they were successful enough to open a second location in Queens which is still in operation today. Of course they also accept walk-in customers who wish to sit down for a treat or take something home. The inside is decorated wall to wall with signed photos from all sorts of celebrities who have enjoyed their cakes and cookies over the years. Recently I've been putting cheesecake dealers to the taste test and so far I rank Lindy's as my favorite to date. Eileen's has been around for over thirty-five years, so I knew going in they certainly had a contender on their hands. Instead of selling them by the slice, what Eileen's does different is sell them in little round-shaped discs, like hockey pucks. The good part is that they're all priced at $3.50 no matter if you want plain or a flavored one, such as blueberry, strawberry, etc. The size of them is fair value for the price and it also feels like your not packing on too many calories in which your typical slice of cheesecake makes you have to go to the gym for a week straight. I couldn't decide between getting plain or strawberry, so I took both. On the taste aspect they were certainly up to par with other high-quality cheesecakes I've tasted in the past. I probably wouldn't give them to nod over Lindy's, but I could see them being better than the fluffy texture of the Brooklyn Diner. What might've hurt is that I forgot to eat it with a cup of coffee, so maybe I'll need to go back to Eileen's to try it again with coffee. As for La Esquina, I probably shouldn't show my face around there for a while.

              All for the sake of getting a book signed.....