Pollos y Jarras

Downtown Miami has seen a resurgence in recent years; an influx of residents has enlivened the streets. As a result, more and more new businesses are popping-up. Although spotty, these new restaurants, pubs, and shops have led the way in reshaping Downtown. Chef Juan Chipoco was one of the pioneers with his widely hyped Cvi.Che 105, which started out small and expanded after gaining popularity. Next door, the also Peruvian inspired, Pollos y Jarras marks his second restaurant opening on the same block.

This time, Chipoco has rehabbed a small stand-alone, two-story building that had been an eye-sore and commercial disaster for years. The building now looks great, complemented by outdoor seating and the tucked away Wazzka Lounge (previously a loading area adjacent to the building); making for an active night time retreat in an otherwise dingy street. Inside the restaurant, the décor is casual, yet trendy: concrete, brick, and wood accentuate the lofty feel; while arte chincha posters cleverly drape the walls.  The ground floor features an order counter, wrap-around bar top with stools and full bar in the back. In concept, this is an appealing configuration for a downtown establishment; but in a city like Miami where casual bar top dining hasn’t caught on, the always empty space might give passersby a bad impression. After a short elevator ride with the hostess and a larger than life neon image of Chipoco, you arrive at the main dining space, which on this day, during the soft opening, was buzzing with waiters.

Despite the simplicity implied by its name, the menu is quite extensive; appetizers, sandwiches, soups and salads, grilled meats of all kind, sides, and desserts. The colorful names and adjective laden descriptions turn a tour through the menu into a tour of Peru; quirky, but sometimes cumbersome when deciphering your order. In our case, since the soft opening offered a limited menu, our waiter suggested a sampling for the table; and a sampling we got! It began with a courtesy Aguadito de Pollo, a light and flavorful chicken soup with finely chopped cilantro, chunks of vegetables, and chicken; a pleasant way to begin the meal. 

This was followed by a series of apps: Anticuchos de Res con Choclo (Grilled Beef Heart), Salchiyuca (Sausage and Fried Yuca Sticks), and Yuca Frita con salsa Huancaina (Fried Yuca Sticks). Unfortunately, the Anticuchos de Res were a disappointment; although well seasoned, they were tougher and gamier than customary. The Salchiyuca and Yuca Frita, on the other hand, were tasty and nicely presented in mini fry baskets. The yuca fries, however, were shaped from puree instead of the traditional yuca chunks.

The main course was led by the house specialty, Pollo a la Brasa (Rotisserie Chicken), the meat was juicy and tender, the skin nicely charred, but the seasoning seemed to overpower the pureness of the charcoal grill. This was followed by a savory Skirt Steak that would have been perfect had it been served medium instead of well done; but we were never asked. The entrees were complemented with Arroz Chaufa (Peruvian Fried Rice), which was good, but probably better without chicken bone fragments; a chef’s salad; Camote Frito (Sweet Potato Fries) sprinkled with sugar and absolutely delicious; and crunchy french fries.

While service was good there are definite kinks to work out in the food. The price of the meal was reasonable considering the portions, but having seen the prices on the menu, Pollos y Jarras is not exactly inexpensive, and instead seems to be building on the hype of its predecessor. In spite of this, we’re hoping Chipoco works out the kinks by the time the full menu kicks in.

It’s crawfish season! For many that means nothing. But, those who have had the privilege of being part of a boil know it signifies a long standing tradition; one that has deep roots in Louisiana — a culturally rich state with amazing food. Gathering around a newspaper-lined picnic table with family and friends, cold beer in hand, to savor these small succulent crustaceans is almost ceremonial. Luckily for us, our southern friends Kricket and Trent have transported this bayou tradition to their backyard in Miami. 

This is a no frills event; none are needed. A backyard, picnic table, newspaper, and a roll of paper towels should do it. It’s not about creating an environment; the environment is naturally infused by the smells of the food and laughter of those involved.

The boil is an all day event; a ritual that begins with the crawfish and gets perfected with every batch: where you buy them (in Miami, it means getting them shipped overnight), how you clean them, how you prepare them, and how you eat them. Anyone who enjoys a boil will tell you, the process of eating them is a ritual in its own right. You start by breaking the crawfish and sucking the head… no really, suck the head! All the spices, juices, and natural fats from the crawfish collect here, giving you a rush of flavor. Next, peel off the first segment of the shell around the tail, pinch the end, and pull with your teeth. If done correctly, the tail meat should pop right out — a technique (art form) that requires some practice.

Our day started with the sound of a propane burner and wrapped up with the stroke of a guitar; the perfect end to another boil… And the anticipation for next season’s boil begins.

 

Ingredients

40 to 50 pounds live crawfish, rinsed and washed

4 (1 pound) bags seafood boil

2 (3 ounce) bags crab boil

Salt to taste (you will need a lot more than you think)

2 pounds of small red potatoes, cleaned but not peeled

6-8 onions, peeled and halved

15-20 ears of corn, frozen

8-10 large lemons, halved

5 pounds sausage (cut into 3 inch pieces)

water

Equipment

A 10-gallon pot with basket

Propane jet burner

Kitchen gloves or towel

1 large ice cooler

Instructions

Place the cooking pot with its basket on the propane burner and fill halfway with water. Add 1-1/2 bags of Seafood Boil, 1 bag of crab boil, salt, 3 halved onions, and 3 lemons halved and juiced. Cover and bring to a boil. After 10 to 15 minutes, taste the stock and adjust the salt and spice to desired levels.

The amount of crawfish you do per batch depends on the size of your pot (in our case, about 7 lbs per batch). To rinse the crawfish, pour into a large cooler, fill with water and allow to drain. Continue until the water runs clear and discard any dead crawfish. Some believe that the use of salt assists in the rinsing, but salt can kill the crawfish in the process, so we just let the water do its thing.

Once the stock is ready, add 6 to 8 potatoes and 1 pound of sausage and allow to cook for about 10 minutes.  Add 5 to 6 halved ears of corn and cook for another 5 minutes. Once the vegetables are cooked, pour the crawfish into the pot and return the stock to a boil, about 5 minutes.  Turn the heat off and allow the crawfish to soak for an additional 10-15 minutes with the lid off. This is when they absorb most of the flavor.  Occasionally pull out a crawfish and taste it, you want to make sure the head is juicy and the meat has absorbed the right amount of spice. Depending on the desired taste, the amount of time the crawfish is allowed to soak can be adjusted as you go.

Remove the basket from the pot, allow to strain.  Dump the mouth-watering contents on a newspaper-lined picnic table, crack open an ice cold beer and enjoy.

Repeat.

PIZZA BAR, downtown miami

Everyone has their idea of what a perfect slice of pizza should be.  If you grew up in the northeast like I did, it’s simple; a thin slice of cheese is all you need.  Memories of the gritty pizza shop—strangely they play out in Technicolor—the checkered laminate floor, faded red Formica countertops, bright fluorescent lighting… A place never quite as clean as you’d like it to be, but as a kid dirt is really never an issue.  The sounds of Pac-Man, Frogger, and Street Fighter fill the air.  Behind the counter the dough is being tossed, stretched thin, and formed to the right size by what seems to be an always-annoyed Italian-American covered in flour.  A ladle of a semi-sweet sauce with a hint of spice is meticulously spread around the dough, a hand full of cheese tops it off, and into the oven it goes.  Two dollars later, I have my large slice of cheese and drink; needing only garlic powder and crushed red pepper to finish it off.  Nothing but a greasy, almost transparent paper plate remains, unhealthy I know, but oh so good.  The perfect slice.

The New York style pizza—or in my case the Jersey style pizza—at its core: a simple, unpretentious thin slice of cheese; no magical ingredients, no fancy toppings and yet, so difficult to duplicate outside of the northeast. Flash forward 20 years and travel 1,300 miles south to Pizza Bar in Downtown Miami [228 SE 1ST Street].  Here, you won’t find the gritty pizza shop of your youth.  There are no arcade games playing in the background or faded Formica; instead, you are treated with the familiar sounds of the movie Goodfellas (so cliché and yet, so fitting).  Hanging guitar light fixtures replace the fluorescent bulbs, and stainless steel countertops, exposed brick, and flat screens round-out the modern and purposely gritty décor.  Pizza Bar brings out what you would expect in a typical New York pizza joint: a simple menu, freshly made pies displayed on the storefront and of course, the owner: an Italian from the City.  Like any good pizza joint, a few hot Italian subs and wings round out the menu.  If you’d rather have a salad, they have those too, but really, why would you go to a pizza joint for a salad?  If you’re looking for a good BIG cheese slice, fountain drink, and garlic knot for under $6 then this is your place.  No magical ingredients or fancy toppings, just a good slice.  It’s not quite New York or Jersey, but with the cool vibe and hearty slice, it’s pretty close.

The quest for the perfect slice continues…