Becomming Puerto Rican, Annie, Serrano Ham, Chicken Fricassee and Nicknames

The Nicetown neighborhood had no other Hispanics so it never dawned on me that I was of Puerto Rican heritage, because it really didn’t matter. All I wanted to do was play with my friends. I knew that when my uncles would come over for the weekends and play instruments that this was a Puerto Rican thing. I just didn't know that I was part of it.

My friends and I would go to Germantown Avenue to buy Earth Wind and Fire and The Commodores singles from the record store. We would hide in parent's basements and listen to Richard Pryor and Red Fox records, snickering at all of the curse words. I joke about it now, saying that I grew up Black. I watched Soul Train because American Bandstand was too bland. I went to the GQ shop on Germantown Ave to get stylish clothes. There was also on our block, the Reverend's family that sold fish and chicken dinners to raise funds for his church.  I would get the fish and grits.Truly, most of my socialization was with African American culture. The socialization process has been a such a part of me that to this day I am really comfortable with African Americans.

Even when I would go to Puerto Rico for the summer I always came back to North Philly. To this day being fair skinned usually gives others a perceived freedom to say what they think about people of color. Most people assume that I am full Italian, so their assumptions give them these freedoms.

I have been in situations that people talk around me about Hispanics and African Americans in derogatory terms and it always made me uncomfortable. Sometimes I would take offense and other times would keep quiet. African Americans always made me feel accepted, more than any other group. There were times that I was uncomfortable being around Philly Puerto Ricans because they didn't have the same experiences that I did.

There was the one summer when I was about ten that I went to Puerto Rico and stayed with my eldest sister Anne, She was born in New York and ended up in Puerto Rico, She has a very tan completion and lived a socialite's life. Her husband, Fernando, was a Spaniard who left the Catholic Seminary to marry my sister. She stole her husband from a life in the priesthood. He had several businesses. He imported products from Spain and other countries. He had a Garage and Tire Shop in Caguas Puerto Rico.  The Shop was above an egg hatchery where every morning I would be greeted by dozens of chirping chicks. My sister was and is beautiful, smart, and tall for a Puerto Rican women, about 5'9. She is considered the family matriarch. What she says goes, even to this day. Fernando was slightly shorter. He was bilingual speaking both Castilian Spanish with the lisp and English. My sister had two daughters. I was an uncle when I was just a year old. My sister would do something that I have never seen in other families. Whatever my sister was doing during the day didn't matter, about 4:00 every afternoon she would drop whatever she was doing and go to her room and get made up. She would put on makeup (and in the 60's and 70s it was no small thing). She put on a girdle, false eyelashes, make up, hairspray and a fresh  dress or an outfit. She would be ready before her husband came in the house. I believe that is something that he appreciated. She would serve him dinner (me and my nieces had already eaten by then), and they would have conversations over dinner and later he would watch the horse races. He was also a owner of a Thoroughbred. Later on Fernando would offer me some Iberico or Serrano ham. The Ham had its own stand or rack and he would cut thin slices and offer me some. It was a thinly slice of salty pork that would just melt in your mouth. The ham was totally cured so it could sit out at room temperature. Later when I went to Spain I saw for myself the fascination for the black footed iberico ham raised and fed acorns.

File Copy: Isla Verde Beach

File Copy : El Yunque Rain For

My sister and her husband had two condominiums, one in Luquillo and the other in Isla Verde near the International airport. Both condos overlooked the beautiful beaches. Since my brother-in -law was so successful; my sister had plenty of time to be a socialite. She met with social clubs, taught exercise classes before they called them aerobics and always had time to serve as tour guide to my mom and me. We saw many of the tourist sites from the EL Yunque rain Forest to the Castillo.

Most children that go to Puerto Rico do not have a good experience, greatly due to family members that don't have time to show young people around. These children stay in their relatives houses dying of boredom then when asked about Puerto Rico, they usually say that there was nothing there.

I came back that summer talking Spanish and with a great tan. I once was scolded by an older man for throwing a chewing gum wrapper on the ground. He shocked me into picking it up by saying Look ! in Spanish and “Pick it up!” It startled me into realizing that what I had been doing in North Philly was not to be done in Puerto Rico.

It wore off eventually and I got back to being from Nicetown eventually loosing my Spanish. But in the back on my head I always though that I was special because I would spend summers in such a beautiful place . Some of my neighbors didn’t go anywhere. There were other times that I stayed home for the summers. I never threw a piece f trash on the ground again.

Playing in the street didn’t take much. We all had great imagination. Chuck, Vincent, Maryann, Bryant, and Kim were all friends that lived on the block. Vincent was African American but was an albino. Somewhere he got the nickname, Cheesy, because he was like the color of white cheese. I never knew if he liked his nickname, but as in Puerto Rican children you don’t have a choice. At least it wasn’t as harsh as some Puerto Rican nicknames like sin zapato( without shoes) or Coco Duro, as in coconut head ( meaning that your thick sculled or hard headed). I always wanted a nickname but never got one. That is probably I am always nicknaming others.

When My father wasn't working, he would be fixing something electronic or cooking. I watched him cook because that was the only thing that I was really interested in ... Eating. 

He took me to the garage once to see if I would follow in his footsteps. I must have been a little disappointing because I didn't have the Grease-monkey gene. I would help my father by bringing him tools and then I would disappear. My father would scream out, "Where are you!?" and I would say  I'm in the bathroom washing my hands. That's when both me and my father knew that this wasn't for me. My father knew that I liked his other passion, cooking. He would call me into the kitchen to help cook, by peeling  potatoes or adding some ingredient to a stew.

My father would sometimes make a his Chicken Fricassee, which is another, break the rules, family recipe just like the Spaghetti with Garlic.

He would cut up chicken or sometimes goat pieces and fricassee, or slowly braise them, in Welch's Grape Juice instead of wine( the rule breaker). He would of course add the usually Puerto Rican Sofrito (See Daisy Martinez's Recipe for Sofrito, its close to mine). He would add raisins, a bay leaf, some cut up potatoes and braise the poultry or meat  in the juice until it was tender and serve it over white rice. If you want the quantity of ingredients just let me know.

I didn't know it then, but those summers gave me the back-story of my life, surrounding me with memories like a warm blanket in. I love Puerto Rico and go there every chance I get. I love taking groups of friends to the island as well. I give them the tours like my sister used to. It later inspired me to find out why my family left such a beautiful place, but I will save that story for another time .

File Copy : Serrano Ham

File Copy: El Moro, Old San Juan Puerto Rico

How to make Puerto Rican Coffee, and The Spanish American War

José Luis Hernández Castillo

Puerto Rican children are too often introduced to coffee at an early age. Coffee is very much a cultural tradition. During the Colonial period, Puerto Rico used to be a large coffee producer. Now Coffee is less produced but there are more gourmet versions of the famous Youco Coffee  that is really "mountain" grown. The mountainous climate make great conditions for coffee.
My father would tell stories of his Grandfather Nicolas, the Italian, who ended up in Puerto Rico and started the whole thing. He would tell me that my Great Grandfather Nicolas who arrived in Puerto Rico from Italy in 1890 and loved his ranch and horse so much that he wouldn't get off of his horse to drink his morning coffee. He would ride his horse into the house and his wife would hand him his coffee. Nicolas arrived in Puerto Rico just 8 years before the Spanish American War in 1898.

The result of this short war that Puerto Rico became a territory of the US along with the Philippines and Guam. Cuba had been promised and eventually gained their independence. Before the War, Cuba and Puerto Rico were known as two wings of the same bird, both seeking Independence from Spain. Puerto Rico was never to see Independance from either Spain or the US. Both of these islands have more in common that any other island or all of Latin American. The food is similar, The evolution of music, and customs and especially the coffee.

The US granted Cuba its Independence, but their influence on the island never wavered. Corruption and American greed influenced a young aspiring baseball player to create true independence for Cuba. In what some might say a double-cross; The US was expecting a new democratic republic, instead Castro gained power and instituted Cuba as a socialist country.

File Copy: Che and  Fidel

Whatever side you are on regarding the Cuban issue;  that fact is the long standing embargo and the fall of the USSR has negatively affected Cuba and elevated Puerto Rico's status as the main Caribbean destination for millions of American and International tourists each year. 

The Spanish American War made the US a world power. Spain eventually lost its empire. Who knows, perhaps if the War didn't happen, I might have been born in Italy. My genealogy research indicated that Nicolas was from Italy. My family tells me that they were from Sicily. Perhaps the 1910 Census didn't differentiate between Italians and Sicilians.

If a man would ride his horse indoors to get coffee it must have been some damn good coffee.

My Mother used to make Puerto Rican Coffee. She would use a Colador, which was a cloth coffee filter used after she boiled the coffee in water. She would wait until the boiling mixture would rise at least twice, both times removing from the fire and then returning it to the fire until the boiling mixture would rise.

In a separate pot she would boil the milk. She would filter the coffee through the coladora and then pour the concentrated coffee extract into the milk and then add sugar. She would use Bustelo or Pilon Coffee Just as in the Puerto Rican Rice pot, the cloth filter got better with time. The color of the filter would eventually turn a dark brown from the Coffee. My mother would have coffee with milk and sometimes fill the coffee cup with crackers or toasted bread and consume the coffee and bread mixture with the spoon. We often had coffee and bread this way. My Dad would have his coffee black with sugar. My dad had a peculiar way of sitting. He would sit in a kitchen chair with one foot on the seat. His elbow resting on his elevated knee where he would sip his coffee.  To this day he can drink black coffee day and night and even go to sleep afterwards. That's why I assumed that black coffee was for strong men like Clark Kent ,who wore glasses like my father.

My friend Donny's mom used to make us coffee as well. I met Donny in fifth grade. He had just come recently from Puerto Rico and had been in Mr. Fairchild's ESL (English as a Second language Class). I would hang out on his house on Percy street. His step father was a big hard working man like my father. He had a Great genuine smile and would show it every time he would enter his house. He seemed genuinely happy to be home. He was a burly man with curly greying hair. To me, he resembled Tito Puente.  Donny's mom was a sweet short women who also reminded my of my mom. She was short but fierce. There seems to be a correlation with Short Puerto Rican women and strong personalities. My Daughter would definitely be included in that club. Donny's mom when making coffee used the same Puerto Rican method my mom did, but used very little coffee and added lots of sugar. It was more like coffee flavored milk and sugar than coffee. I never complained. It was cultural taboo to complain to an adult that offered you food or drink . As a matter of fact it was considered impolite to accept the offer of food the first time and polite to say no thank you when offered food. Even if I was starving I would say no thank you. Most Puerto Rican Hosts would still serve you. This only became confusing when I would go to house of other culture. I would say no thank you and the adult would say "okay," and walk away, leaving me famished.

"Buen Provecho", is a custom that if often confusing to others . It is customary to say "Buen Provecho" upon entering an area where people are already eating, as to say Bon Apetito in Italian. I really never understood wishing someone well if they are already eating. Being from Philadelphia , people that don't know us would consider us rude. Philadelphia custom dictate that you shouldn't say anything as to disturb the person eating. This has caused me problems in the past. If you didn't say Buen Provecho" everyone's eyes would come off their food and towards you. 

My favorite coffee is Pilon.  Its a dark roast coffee with surprisingly nuttier than bitter taste. Its still espresso roasted. I get the whole bean coffee online direct.  I like to grind the coffee myself. I use a home Italian Coffee maker the water steams up the bottom reservoir and filters up through the coffee grounds. This makes  for better coffee since American Drip Coffee makers do not heat up to the right temperature due to regulations that are designed to prevent scalding and the lawsuits that can follow.  

Disclaimer if you try this method, beware, its very hot.

I have reduced my coffee consumption to one cup a day. That is enough to kick start my day. At the time of this entry since I was romanticizing Coffee , I had two cups while dreaming of visiting Cuba.

Becomming a Nerd, Ms Bertha, Geramantown Ave, Slices of Pizza, and Charlotte's Web

File Photo

I am a Youth Worker that have made a career working with Young people. I ran supporting programs for children and teens in schools and currently run after school enrichment for High School Students. I often struggle with delivering the outcomes of the programs and my desire for youth to learn the experience of discovery that I did as a child.

The Time was the early 70s. There were no real after school programs. There was the PAL centers for athletes and the Boys Clubs for the more needy kids. Me, I used to go to the Nicetown Library after school after obtaining my Library card. Once I learned I could take books out for free. I thought it was great .

I was a skimmer with books. I would never read them through. I used to skim the encyclopedia, that we had, that must have cost my parents a fortune, reading for hours but never read a full article.

Ms Bertha was the little grey haired sweet low voiced authoritative African American librarian, She was small, and moved in small purposeful gestures. She was most geisha like in her movement. Just reaching for a pencil seemed like a ballet. She could get us to quiet down without screaming of talking down to us. Only with a smile that seem both serious and sincere. A much different approach than the nuns at the elementary school.

Amongst the posters of the Apollo Astronauts, John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. she asked gently about my interest. She would recommend books. I would read through the 5 Chinese Brothers, Paul Bunyon and Dr Seusse.
She asked me to do the Read-athon where you had to read a number of books get rewards.

File Copy

I used to never read the books. I would just skim over them, answer a couple of questions and get stars towards my reading goal. I really though I was getting over. Ms Bertha continued giving me stars. She then recommended a book that I was interested in. I loved animals and had all kinds of pets at home like gerbils, frogs, dogs cats and white mice.

 Lesson : never have a cat and mice in the same house at the same time. 

After a while my conscience started to bother me. She handed me Charlotte's Web and I read the first page. I just kept reading page after page. I identified with "Fern" in the story because I was always trying to save animals.
The book showed me that I could read a chapter book cover to cover. I still struggled through books still skimming first. I did get the courage to read them after all.

The children's Libray sometimes had events arranged by Ms Bertha. Sometimes she would show a film, I mean with a film projector. I saw movies like the original King Kong and Bugs Bunny. This was a time before VCRs and DVDs. After spending time at the library and before going home I would go to Germantown Ave for some Pizza. 

Pizza Quality has really suffered more than any other food. A lot of entrepreneurs think they can turn the combination of simple cheap ingredients: flour, sauce and cheese into a cash cow. They are right! Pizza chops are all over and do great business. There are only a few that do it well.
I would sometimes head out to the King of Pizza parlor on Germantown ave .

This is where I came to love Pizza. It's owned by two brothers that have been and are still there to this day. They are known as one of the treasure spots in that area, They outlived Moma Rosa's Souls food restaurant , Medow Lanes Rotisserie chicken( currently not the original owners ) , Head off and Split fish shop, Vincent's barber shop where my dad and I  used to go and most of the shops on the Ave.

File Photo

King of Pizza's approach is simple. Just 3 varieties of pizza, plain, peperoni and beef sausage and fountain drinks. They never made Cheesesteakes(Philadelphia Cheesesteaks for you outsiders, we just call them Cheesesteaks),  or other sandwiches or delivered and closed when the avenue closed.
The exception was that their three simple choices was done better than anyone else could.
I cant help wondering how many of their children they put through college with this simple approach.
They are still there today

I didn't know what a nerd was until I watched Happy Days. I wanted to be the Fonz. I was always more like Richie , shy, smart, awkward and hesitant to take risks . I was a nerd! So I became a Jr. library aid.

Martin Luther King Jr. Girard College and cousin Chino

Before moving to Nicetown, we lived in a third floor apartment overlooking Girard College at 22nd and West college.

Girard College was and still is an independent boarding school for orphaned or fatherless children. It used to be only for white male children.

It has evolved, since then to include all children, both boys and girls, and children of all colors. It wasn't always so.

During the Civil Rights movement Girard College was at the center of Philadelphia's struggles for social justice. My parents were directly involved in one of the city's historical events.

 File Photo:Trolley Car

 The apartment that we lived in was a third floor apartment that overlooked the Stone walls that surround the college (see photo below). I remember looking over the wall as a child but was always  more interested with watching for and listening to the PTC Trolley(before Septa it was the Philadelphia Transportation Company), that would screech as it hit the curve right outside my door. I was told that my parents were asked by several news teams if they could take film and photographs from the apartment, since the apartment had the vantage point that they wanted. They agreed of course.

Cecil B Moore was leading the local N.A.A.C.P. and along with A. Phillip Randolf who both were holding civil rights demonstrations at the school.  MLK also visited the twice, the first time was in 1965 when I was just over a year old.

Historical Excerpts below are from
http://northerncity.library.temple.edu/content/timeline

1965: 
February 6: Cecil B. Moore is re-elected President of local NAACP.  Moore sees his re-election as a mandate to make the desegregation of Girard College a top policy priority.

May 1: Led Cecil B. Moore, the NAACP begins picketing at Girard College.

August 3: On a visit to Philadelphia, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., addresses demonstrators at Girard College.

December 16: A suit challenging Girard College’s admissions policy is filed in U.S. District Court by city and state officials, as well as the mothers of seven African-American boys seeking admission to the school.  The next day, picketing ends at Girard College after seven months of protests.

Temple U archive Photo

September 2 1966:  U.S. District Court Judge Joseph S. Lord rules that, under Pennsylvania law, African-Americans cannot be excluded from Girard College on the basis of race.  In October, picketing resumes at Girard College after the trustees vote to appeal Judge Lord’s decision to the school.  The next day, picketing ends at Girard College after seven months of protests.




It wasn't until 1968 that the whole situation was resolved. I never knew that these things ever happened. I learned about these events while I was studying at Temple U. I asked my parents and they told me the reporters story.

File Copy MLK Speech in PR. Feb,1962

I remember reading about MLK's visit to Puerto Rico. and I am paraphrasing, but I remember him mentioning that Puerto Rico was better at race relations than the US.  He was referring to Puerto Ricans calling themselves Puerto Ricans first, not black Puerto Ricans, white Puerto Ricans or Indian Puerto Ricans, just Puerto Ricans . I think that if he had stood longer than four days, he would have seen some of the racial struggles on the island.
If you compared Puerto Rico with the US at the time, you would also say that they were ahead of the curve.

Martin's speech in Puerto Rico. Feb 1962

Growing up in a mixed neighborhood where my friends were from all backgrounds and colors I never had and other perspective than it was all beautiful.  I could eat Turkish, Irish-American, Soul food and my Puerto Rican food at home. I was more concerned with playing with my friends, not where they came from.

More than that was the fact that there are members of my own family are of different colors. Puerto Ricans have a shared history with African Americans, Europeans and Native Americans. 

My cousin Raymond, we called him "Chino" because he had more Native American or Asian features. He had high cheekbones, jet black hair and shinny olive skin.  He was also almost six feet tall and had a strong lean look. He was one of the first Puerto Rican men to go through the Philadelphia Police academy in the 60s. I remember him visiting my family in his tan academy uniform and tossing me up in the air as an older cousin would. He later became a detective in the 25th district at Front and Venango streets in the 70s and  80s. Very little is documented about my cousin. The memories of him along with my other cousin Alberto(the city's pioneering Puerto Rican DJ), have faded. I want to bring light into our family's pride in remembering them.

I am also grateful for having grown up with both parents. Now knowing first hand from both of my cousins too early deaths featured in the blog. Loosing them both too early has affected our family, especially their children.

I would honor them to make sure that their memories survive.

Puerto Ricans, Blueberries,Tito Puente and Spaghetti with Garlic

I was born on 19th and Green Streets in Philadelphia. The Spring Garden neighborhood was the original center of the Puerto Rican enclave in the city. My parents came from New York. My mother was raised there and attended school with Tito Puente. He was an upper classman in her high school. She was an only child who was abandoned by her father and thus never knew him. Her mother died of cancer while my mother was still young woman. My father arrived in New York in 1951 at the age of 20 after my grandfather arrived to start a new living. My father spent some time in New York. My parents met in Brooklyn and got married. My sister was born there in 1956. Some time later my parents moved to Philadelphia. I was born in 1964.

Archive Photo

Before arriving to the states my grandfather was a man of some prominence in Ponce Puerto Rico. He owned an auto repair business and at a time where you were considered well off if you had a car. He had two cars. My Grandfather worked on Ford Model T’s and was first generation Puerto Rican and half Italian. He had a strong personality, from what I am told. I never met my grandfather; he passed before I was a year old.


My Padrino(Godfather), Uncle Robert before he passed this year (sadly from cancer), he told me a story about my father and uncle Angelo selling rice and "tosino" (fatback) during the Great Depression. My grandfather had stored the Puerto Rican staples, like rice and fatback in his repair shop. My dad and uncle were hustling the food to the townspeople unbeknownst to my Grandfather until a customer came into his shop asking for his sons, because he was out of rice. Once finding out my father and uncle had to hide out in in the cemetery that grandfather’s house overlooked. My grandmother would hand them food and blankets until grandfather cooled off which was about three days. My father always told me that he slept in a cementary when he was young ,but he always edited the part of selling his fathers stored supplies.


My grandmother was one of these short in stature, but fierce in nature Puerto Rican women. She had to be fierce. She had more than seven children. She was also a relation of the transformational governor of Puerto Rico, Luis Munoz Marin, responsible for the Commonwealth status of the island. My Grandfather and Granduncle Colin lived through the Ponce Massacre against the Nationalist’s peaceful procession inspired by Puerto Rico’s Independence leader, Don Pedro Albizu Campos. Granduncle Colin, father of the pioneering Puerto Rican Radio Disc Jokey, in the city Alberto, told me a few years back that he hid as a boy under a house where some people were killed in front of him.

Archive Ponce Massacre photo

Archive Photo of Don Pedro

Other Puerto Ricans came to Philly to obtain seasonal work in the 50s, 60s and early 70s. By the 70s Puerto Ricans avoided the exploitative sometimes-brutal work conditions and sought there fortunes elsewhere. Farms looked to new people to work, undocumented Mexican workers. Due to the new anti-immigration laws preventing farms to hire illegals, they are looking at poor island Puerto Ricans again. There used to be school busloads that would come into the neighborhood and transport many Puerto Ricans to the blueberry farms in Jersey. I couldn’t understand at the time why they called these busses the “Pepa buses”(blueberry buses) if the were all yellow school buses.  They later had multiple colors. Philly is right over the bridge to Jersey. Puerto Ricans mostly males would gather at pick up points at 3 am to work the fields, they would earn money by the barrel.

My sister and I went to St Francis Xavier Catholic elementary school in Fairmount. I was in First and she was in eighth Grade. Catholic school was way more affordable than it is today. It was still a sacrifice for my mechanic father.  It wasn’t too far Moving from Fairmount section to NiceTown. After getting of the first grade jitters I had to move to a new neighborhood and a new school.  

 File Photo: St. Stephens Church

I finished first Grade at St Stephen’s Catholic school located at Broad a Butler. I remember being disappointed on the first day because it was picture-receiving day. All of my classmates had taken their pictures before I arrived and were being handed their portraits. They were taking them out and showing to each other. I remember feeling so isolated and alone as a new student with no pictures.

I did make some friends. There was Baron, Todd, Donovan, Jimmy Michael, Brian, Holly, Ava and especially Francisco. It was a mixed school with White, Brown and a few Latino students. I remember going to see Mr. Fairchild since that’s where all the Hispanic children went since he was the second language specialist. Since I spoke English clearly and was reasonably intelligent, he returned me to regular classes.

Frankie, as we called him, too was a bright kind friend. We became friends almost immediately. I would go to his house to hang out. My father would often worry, erroneously, because I was fair skinned and had to walk past a Nation of Islam school on Butler St. and Germantown ave in order to go to Frankie’s house. I never had any problem with NOI men, as a matter of fact they gave me bean-pies all of the time.

Frankie’s mother would always make us sandwiches after playing. I didn’t meet his father until I got older. He was a chef at a hotel and then at an Italian restaurant where I got my first cooking job. I later became friends with his brother, Angel as well. Frankie had caught the shingles and was left back due to to many absences. Sadly Frankie passed when he was just a young man.  I had already become closer friends with Angel at the time of his death. My later girlfriend and future ex wife though that Frankie was the handsome one of his family. I always felt a little guilty that I didn’t spend more time with him before he died. When you loose someone in such a way, I guess there are always "what ifs...".

My father worked hard all week, but on rare occasions would invite me to cook with him. Sometimes waking me up in the middle of the night. We would make Spaghetti and Garlic. It’s a family recipe from my Italian heritage. My father would make spaghetti and cook the garlic in Olive Oil. He broke all the rules when it came to Olive oil and Garlic. His recipe calls for frying the garlic until its black and bitter to taste and the oil is smoking up the kitchen. He would then pour the garlic infused oil over the spaghetti sizzling the pasta in the process. He would add a little salt and Voilà! This is the family recipe for spaghetti and garlic.  I will hopefully show my grandson how to make when he is old enough.

File Photo

Chinatown, La Preciosa and the GAF Viewmaster

  

Who cooks for real any more? Families today go out so regularly to restaurants and dine every weekend that it hardly seems special any more. In my family it was a special event.

Sadly most American families don’t cook food anymore. Spaghetti sauce from a jar, Hamburger Helper, dehydrated mashed potatoes is considered cooking. I grew up eating at home.  I later learned to cook from family, friends and restaurants that I worked for. 

My mother cooked every night. In good times we had steak, in lean times we had rice and eggs or rice and Vienna sausage. I never noticed the difference. The food was good. At that time I believe home cooked food was cheaper than fast food. I never had fast food until we moved to Nicetown and the utilities hadn’t been turned on so my family ate at Gino's hamburgers on Broad St the Roosevelt Boulevard. Ginos was an area favorite. They had the Gino Giant.  McDonalds actually modeled their Big Mac after that sandwich. 

Gino's File Photo

The next time I had fast food was a few years later when my childhood friend, Maryann's mother took us to see Barbara Streisand in "What’s up Doc" and we went to a Burger King. I do love a good burger. Later a McDonalds showed up and change everything. I also remember those burger king and McDonalds commercials that were mini- stories with Ronald, the Hamburgler and my favorite was The Grimace, who originally had two sets of arms. I remember that the commercials were part of my Saturday morning ritual. I never realized that they were marketing crappy food to me until I got considerably older. I am grateful that my parents, either through economic or practical reasons limited my access to this Crap. 

I never saw Disney films as a child. I got all my Disney’s images from Maryann’s GAF Viewmaster. You know, it was the slide show viewer that you would click to see the next slide (Tip, Never walk while looking through a GAF Viewmaster). Her brother Michael always tried to get me to play baseball or stick ball but since I was never any good at it. I would just hag out more with Maryann.  Until I reached pre-adolescence when her mom limited her availability. I remember in second grade carrying her books when she came to my school as a first grader. That's what gentlemen do.

When my father decided that it was time to go out we would go out to eat, it was an event. We would get dresses up and drive or take the Trolley to a few of my parent’s favorite places.  When my parents did go out they would go to 2 places that I remember, La Preciosa and Chinatown

La Preciousa was a Puerto Rican chef owned restaurant. His restaurant was where Latinos went when they wanted something special. It was located down the street from the Teatro Puerto Rico where Latinos in the city would go to watch movies in Spanish. They were mostly Mexican movies at Germantown between Susquehanna and diamond streets. It was the dinner and movie spot for Philadelphia Latinos.

There is a lot of pride in cooking for Puerto Ricans. Every family knows who makes the best Pasteles.( Puerto Rican version of a tamale)  Endless arguments would be debated on whose grandmother makes the best food. No one would dispute that La Preciosa had great food. 

It was a humble place with simple table and chairs. It had clear plastic table covers covering the red tablecloths underneath. There would be salsa and Puerto Rican music coming from the jukebox that would continue playing during dinner. 

On Saturdays it was Sancocho day. Sancocho is a thick gelatinous soup with tripe and root vegetables made with pork stock that is on my list as an automatic sleep inducer similar to Thanksgiving dinner.  The Sancocho was a meal in itself. I would sometimes order a steak with onions, which was different from the one my mother used to make. My mother used to make Bistec ecebollado . Puerto Rican cube steak sautéed and slow cooked in onions and vinegar. Cube steak is a cheap cut of meat that is cubed or perforated to cut the connective tissue of the meat to make it tenderer. 

 At La Preciosa, Chef's steak was a better cut, usually a strip or porterhouse steak perfectly grilled with the same slowly simmered onions in vinegar.

I was saddened to learn that after the Chef died, the place went down hill. Becoming a first a go-go bar then nuisance bar and finally closing in the late 70s. In my opinion there are no matches for Puerto Rican food in the city since. 

Sorry Freddy and Tony’s and Porky’s Point. 

The other place would be Chinatown. Of course I remembered the tea and fortune cookies. My dad’s and my favorite dish was always Egg Foo Young. A scrambled egg omelet with crunchy bean sprouts, green onions and sometimes shrimp or chicken topped off with thick brown gravy and served over white rice.  I couldn’t get my Coke there. There was a time that Chinatown didn't serve soft drinks, just tea. 

On their rare occasion in Fairmount my father would take us to Beatos pizza for spaghetti and meatballs. It was a local restaurant that was near the Museums that my sister would take me to when she wanted to talk to boys.  Remember, I was her tattletale and she would take me to the Franklin Institute, The Philadelphia Library or the Art Museum. She tried to placate me into not telling mom. I didn't care. Whether meaning to or not she sparked my curiosity in science, art and stories. The museums were free for children and it didn't matter if it was just for a little while.  I was both scared and enthralled with the giant heart that you could and still walk through. Beatos was usually a weekday treat. If my mother didn’t cook which meant that she was usually not feeling well, we would go to Batos. I usually had my father favorite Spaghetti and meatballs. The meal was simple and good with lots of Parmesan cheese. I try to cook at home most of the time. When I go out its more to socialize with friends, coworkers and sometime with my students that I work with. 

Below are some of the places I visit and recommend.

Italian food I go to either Ralph’s or the Bistro Romano (where I used to perform in their mystery dinner theater) 

Ralph's Italian Restaurant

Bistro Romano

San Kee Duck House

To-Kai Japanese Hibachi

Terakawa Ramen House 

Kresge's, Hoagies, Sofrito, MLK and Mr Spock

Before we moved to Nicetown, we lived in Fairmount. My Mom was a homemaker and was my caretaker most of the time. Sometimes she would leave me with Mrs. Marie when my sister was in school and she was visiting my father during his bout with Tuberculosis. He spent a lot of time there. They used to quarantine TB patients for a long while. Marie's apartment was downstairs from ours where she lived with her husband. Mrs. Marie was the one that introduced me to Apple butter on Wonder bread (they advertised as the more nutritious vitamin enriched bread). She reminded me of a traditional granny with a bird, oval living room rug, rocking chair, crotchet needles and an old fashioned Ice Box for which she had ice delivered twice a week. Ice was placed in the top of the box and so the cold would travel downward and would cool the box so that you could keep milk cold. You had to drain the drip pan daily otherwise you would have puddles in the kitchen.

To this day when I eat apple butter on whole grain bread, I still think of her.

My mom was a incredible. She would never let anything stop her. She was a real homemaker. She would keep her humble house clean as a whistle. She would rearrange furniture by herself. I remember once her moving the refrigerator to get the dust bunnies that would collect beneath and on the compressor grill on the back.  I would be dragged with her to do all of the shopping. Before there were shopping malls near Philly you had to go shopping on the avenue or go to Market Street in center city.

Although Woolworth's was the king of the 5 & Dime. There was also Wannamaker’s, Lit Brothers, Gimbels and my favorite, Kiddie City. My mother would often go to Kresge's five and dime department store (the company eventually became K-Mart) where I remembered tasting my first Hoagie. My mom and I went to the lunch counter. I remember biting into that mix of deli meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes, onions and the kicker was the oregano and oil. I was hooked. That and a fountain Coke I drank from one of those curvy coke glasses with a straw and the world was right.

I didn't know about Vietnam or Politics in general. I would see images of Martin Luther King Jr and Bobby Kennedy and wonder who they were. There was a picture of JFK on our wall. I later learned that is was a portrait that was a special edition insert  from the newspaper.

Other times we went to Horn and Hardart's. I would almost always have the egg custard or rice pudding. No one makes egg custard any more, Why!  There are other outdated foods like Creamed Chipped beef or Chicken a la King. I just can't figure why custard had to fade away. Horn and Hardart's egg custard was so creamy and good. I would just melt in your mouth. The creamy goodness would go down and leave you with a taste of vanilla and a hint of nutmeg. It was however different that the flan and rice pudding we had at home. My father would make rice pudding with cream of coconut cloves and lots of cinnamon and raisins. It was thicker in consistency than regular rice pudding, much like Thai sticky rice. My dad never made flan at home.

After a long day of shopping with mom I would play with my toys . I had a red  fire engine with pedals and light. The car was made out of metal. I used to crash into the refrigerator so much that it had a dent. My mom was the weekly cook. My dad did all the festival foods. Mom would be to sing in the kitchen while she cooked. As soon as the peppers, onions, cilantro, and garlicky mixture called Sofrito was starting to sauté, my mouth would water. It always took more time than I wanted to have dinner ready. My mother would sing the Spanish songs on one of the few Spanish radio stations in the city. My fathers cousin was a pioneering Disc Jockey in the city at the time. Singing and Sofrito was a great combination. We would have dinner and them mom would put leftovers in a Fiambrera,(stack-able metal lunch tins, probably of Asian origin) that many Puerto Rican Workers used to have when working the sugar cane fields in Puerto Rico. My father could take the fianbrera to work the next day.

I used to wonder what my dad's coworkers would think when they pulled out their ham sandwiches and my father pulled out rice and chickpeas with salted cod fish out of the containers.

Dad circa 1973

My father was old fashioned; he believed his primary responsibility was making ends meet. He rarely missed work. He was blue collar all the way.  He would leave early in the morning in blue work uniform. He shaved and would put on Brute or High Karate aftershave, put on his eye glasses, always, a hat, his Salem's(cigarettes),and go off to work. Working on cars all day he would come home still smelling like a garage. His hands were rough from work and he had perpetual black fingernails from the dirt and oil that he tried to no avail to keep clean. He had changed before coming home in his mechanic blue uniform with the oval name label  of Charles or Chas across his right side where a shirt pocket would be and navy blue work pants in what looked like a dry cleaning bag and hanger from the cleaning service. A clean uniform.

File Copy: Mr Spock

He spent evenings repairing TVs that others discarded. So I had a TV since I was 3 years old. I remember watching Mr. Spock with those Vulcan ears on my black and white 13 inch salvaged TV. I have been a Star Trek fan ever since. He was quite good at fixing things, after all he was a mechanic. He was always willing to help neighbors that needed something fixed. He never mentioned it, but I get the sense that he felt people would take advantage of his generosity.  He tried to go back to school later for electronics, but he wasn't able to finish. My father also played AAA baseball in Puerto Rico. He was a self-admitted good pitcher until the threw his arm out. He had a knuckle ball. To this day he is a still a hardcore Phillies fan.

My father was a smart man with a third grade education. He taught himself to read the newspapers in both English and Spanish and was always aware of current events. He is still is a daily newspaper reader. One Sunday, while I was asking for the comic section of the Sunday edition of the Philadelphia Bulletin.  I asked in the spring of 68 while looking at an editorial cartoon  " Why is the Statue of Liberty crying?”, he simply said that the statue was crying for DR. Martin Luther King Jr. who had just died.

I used to think that if he just didn't drink he would have done better for us. I now look at my own imperfections and realize that he did so much better that I did with my own children.

I wanted to add that Dad hasn't had a drop in 25 years. Cold turkey both Bacardi and beer, and his Salem's cigarettes.