A Latin America Thread

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CRHeel94 said:
That's a very good point, particularly when you're abroad.

Best Mexican food in the US is in San Diego and LA, though surprisingly Chicago has some really good stuff. Have never had great tacos on the eastern seaboard.

Cuban food in Miami rocks...better than in Cuba. Miami also has great Peruvian, Argentinan and Nicaraguan spots...as well as Venezuelan arepas and Colombian spots.
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Yeah, Miami is the best food city in the US in my opinion, and it's not even remotely close.
 
lawtig02 said:
Yeah, Miami is the best food city in the US in my opinion, and it's not even remotely close.
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???? Not remotely close? How many times you been to New York City? I've not been to Miami and I'm sure its Latin food is quite good, but how about its Indian, Chinese, Vietnamese, and fusion that are prominent in NYC. Is it better or just a different emphasis because of different demographics.
 
superrific said:
???? Not remotely close? How many times you been to New York City? I've not been to Miami and I'm sure its Latin food is quite good, but how about its Indian, Chinese, Vietnamese, and fusion that are prominent in NYC. Is it better or just a different emphasis because of different demographics.
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I stand by my statement, and I love New York.
 
I love Miami. Aside from a very mediocre Mexican offering (which has dramatically improved over the last decade), it has the best Latin American food in the US. Great Cuban, Peruvian and Argentinian which are world class cuisines. Plenty of Nicaraguan fritangas (informal mom and pop street food places). Arepas are booming. Colombian bakeries. Couple of good Brazilian places. Also has some good Haitian and Jamaican places.

The other cuisines can be mixed bag. Plenty of decent Italian places. Have never come across any good Indian places. Lots of overpriced Asian fusion places. Good Chinese is hard to find. Some good sushi spots (fresh fish helps). Hardly an Thai or other Asian (looks like the Korean boom never made it to Miami). Middle Eastern is also largely absent. I'd like to see more BBQ spots (grew up on Shorty's). Local "Florida" cuisine features seafood.

I've always thought it was an underrated scene...not sure I'd put it top 5 in the US.
 
I’d expect the outstanding Latin American fare makes Miami stand out for many.

What non-New Yorkers don’t see is the plethora of local, neighborhood restaurants that make no travel blogs or TikToks, or YouTubes.
 
In Guatemala today (January 15) is a huge holiday -- “the feast of the Black Christ of Esquipulas.” Commissioned in 1595 by the indians of said city to a sculptor named Quirio Cataño, at a price of 400 reales. His devotion spread rapidly and to this day it's fervent and the miracles attributed numerous.” (Quote from a now defunct twitter account)

“Douglass Sullivan-González's ‘The Black Christ of Esquipulas: Religion and Identity in Guatemala’ seeks to demonstrate how the turbulent political history of Guatemala found itself reflected in perceptions of this constantly darkening Catholic shrine. Over time, “devotional faith and candle smoke transformed the figure from a light-toned Jesus to a blackened Christ,” a material metamorphosis that “highlighted how ethnic tensions fueled political conflict and controversy” (pp. 2, 9). However, rather than a study of popular devotion, the book focuses on how political power brokers attempted to formulate popular understandings of the figure throughout Guatemala's history and how they treated its coloration based on the political and ideological concerns of the moment.

The Christ arrived in Esquipulas at the end of the sixteenth century, but Sullivan-González's analysis begins in earnest two centuries later. He briefly discusses the appearance of the shrine's first origin story in the seventeenth century and highlights the fact that devotion to the image crossed ethnic boundaries, including indigenous, Spaniards, and ladinos, by the end of that same century. The appearance of the first devotional material about the figure in the eighteenth century lauded its miraculous healing abilities and considered its darkened color as a reminder to the faithful of their own sinfulness. Moving hastily through the colonial period to Guatemala's first years of independence, Sullivan-González turns his attention to the parish priest of Esquipulas, Miguel Muñoz, who strove to defend the shrine in the face of the Liberal offensive. He courted the devotion of elite whites, among whom the shrine's popularity was waning, by proffering a more rational understanding of the shrine, especially regarding its origins and miracle-working capabilities. This “theological marketing,” argues Sullivan-González, inadvertently expressed concern about the apparent correlation between the darkening color of the image and the darkening color of its devotees (p. 77). Augmenting the anxiety of traditional elites was the ascendancy of Conservative Rafael Carrera, thanks to a coalition of ladinos and Amerindians. The color of the Crucified Christ of Esquipulas, while largely unproblematic in the eighteenth century, had by the nineteenth taken on new meaning as its devotees proved themselves a political force.

By the end of the nineteenth century, with the return of Liberals to power and their encouragement of Protestantism in Guatemala, the Christ of Esquipulas was forced to compete in a radically changed religious market. In response, the parish priest Juan Paz Solórzano initiated a “dramatic housecleaning and defense of the shrine” (p. 118). His efforts ultimately returned the figure to national prominence, in part, by institutionalizing its miraculous nature, which had been previously sidelined. However, it was the recently arrived Protestants who sought to denigrate the image by using “a negative association of blackness with what was purported to be holy” (p. 124). Following the 1944 revolution, the archbishop Mariano Rossell y Arellano attempted to deploy the Christ as a symbol of anti-Communism in the face of the revolutionary platforms of Juan José Arévalo and, later, Jacobo Arbenz. Discussion related to the coloration of the Christ was unnecessary for this purpose and was therefore minimized or excised. Finally, by the last half of the twentieth century the moniker Black Christ of Esquipulas was accepted by lay and ecclesiastical authorities alike. What had originated in the late nineteenth century as a Protestant condemnation of the figure, namely, its blackened color, was transformed into the language of Catholic adoration by the twentieth century.” Excerpted from Jessica J. Fowler’s ‘Hispanic American Historical Review’ ‘take’ on ‘The Black Christ of Esquipulas: Religion and Identity in Guatemala.’

 
A story my friend Billy tells:

In the early 2000’s, [the bar] Monoloco was in its heyday. There were a ton of Mike’s, and a ton of Matt’s hanging around at happy hour most afternoons, so it got a little bit confusing. Nicknames were necessary. We had Dog Matt, Bike Matt (both still live in Antigua), and then we had Swedish Mike, Kung Fu Mike, Tattoo Mike, and a couple of others.

At some point, an older gentleman started coming to happy hour afternoon for a couple of Mozas, Gallo’s darker, sweeter cousin. He would sip them slowly, and listen to us youngsters swap stories, make plans for the evening, or bemoan the latest Red Sox free agency missteps. His name was Mike.

We had no choice but to nickname him Old Mike. Old Mike told us one afternoon, that he was heading to Copan, Honduras for a visit. A few weeks later, he returned to Antigua, to his usual seat at the Monoloco bar, with a glint in his eye. He told us he had met a señorita in Copan, and that they had fallen in love.

A few weeks later, Old Mike let us know that he was moving to Copan, and that he planned to live out his days there with his new love. She would cook for him, take good care of him, and he would want for nothing ever again.

That week, 70 or 80 prisoners escaped from Guatemala’s most notorious prison. Dangerous gang members. The country was on edge. The president declared martial law, so the army took to the streets to give the false impression that everything was under control.

Old Mike bid us farewell one afternoon that week. In addition to his two Mozas, he also had a couple of gin and tonics that day, to celebrate his new love, and his new adventure.

The following morning, Old Mike boarded a chicken bus to copan. A couple hours outside of Guatemala City, the army stopped the bus, and boarded with their machine guns, making a show of strength. They asked the passengers for identification, as they cowered in fear.

The Guatemalan army with their rusty machine guns, scared Old Mike. As he reached for his passport, he had a massive heart attack, and became Dead Mike. Perhaps the most well-earned nickname of all time.

RIP.
 
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