Get Onto The "Flor"!

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ONE OF THE GREATEST ADVANTAGES of growing up in New York City (and still living here) is being able to get the very best of uniquely Gotham-centric culinary fare. You can't get anything close to a decent bagel or slice of pizza anywhere else in the world. And by now, the rest of the world knows that.

But there are a few indigenous dining trends that most people who didn't grow up here have never known about. (Even transplants who've been here a decade have claimed ignorance to many of them.)

One of them is Chino-Latino cuisine. The term is a slight misnomer—it doesn't some much "fuse" the two cuisines as it just welcomingly serves them both with fervently proud parity and skill.

I grew up with one directly downstairs from my apartment in the projects of Morningside Heights. My mother would come home with dinner from the place: oxtail stew, rice and beans, chicken chow mein, egg rolls. They'd all get served on the same plate and my mom, sister, and I devoured it happily. It wasn't even until I was 10 or so that I realized that it was two different cuisines. (I started to notice how half the food items weren't listed on the menus of other Chinese restaurants.)

It was also around the same time that I started attending the Collegiate School, then on 77th Street between Broadway and West End Avenue. Later in years, around 8th/9th grade, I started venturing into a little spot on 78th called La Caridad. Only my second Chino-Latino place—both on the same black of where I spent 90% of my time. I had no reason to think that there were spots like this all over Manhattan. It wasn't until I in my 20s and starting what would be a long residential run on the Upper East Side that I would realize and regret the city-wide paucity of this eclectically unique dining experience.

So for over a decade, I've had to forlornly tell stories to fellow "epicurians"—I still refuse to use the term foodies—about the joys of being able to enjoy Chinese-style spareribs with a side of fried plantain from the same place. And in that same time, I've had friends on the Upper West Side tell I could happily sate my longing by trying Flor de Mayo on Amsterdam between 83rd & 84th Streets.

Finally on an dual-purposed photostroll through Central Park, I found myself on Amsterdam, across the street from Flor de Mayo's very humble-looking storefront.

Walking in—and only finding decent enough light right at the bar/counter—I quickly ordered the surprisingly low-priced half portion pollo a la brasa (also known as Peruvian chicken) that comes with a "special" fried rice that includes chicken, ham, and shrimp, all for $9.80. What is not mentioned is that it also comes with a cup of chicken noodle soup, toasted bread, and butter.

A tasty little cup of broth, juicy dark chicken meat, carrots, nicely al dente noodles, all boosted by the bright floral notes and slight bitterness of freshly chopped cilantro.

I wasn't even halfway through dunking my warm buttered beard into the soup when my dinner-sized plate of lunch arrived, pollo a la brasa, fried rice, chopped lettuce, tomato, and a small ramekin of a scallion vinegar sauce.

Pollo a la Brasa

Spicy Scallion Vinegar Sauce

So good I tried desperately to eat it all, so much of it that I couldn't. A hefty half chicken, deftly spiced and boasting crispy (enough) skin, with juicy flavorful dark meat in the drum, thigh and wing, while deftly keeping the white breast meat from drying out. The special fried rice, also not overly seasoned, wasn't oily like many fried rice dishes elsewhere, and let the individual tastes of the sweet and salty pork and not overcooked shrimp come through.

This Peruvian-style chicken often comes with a beautiful spicy and bright green sauce, but the sweet bite of the scallion and acidity of the vinegar nicely complimented the taste of the chicken without overwhelming, as well as cut through the rich fattiness of the skin.

Most importantly, it was completely evocative of the Chino-Latino meals of my youth. I left happy of tongue, tummy, and soul. The place in Morningside Heights is no more, but La Caridad still stands. And with the promise of the good food I had at Flor de Mayo, I can't imagine a future visit to the Upper West Side without sopping for a quick bite at either place.

Bun Apple Tea!

KACnyc

Kerry Alaric Cheeseboro