This past Sunday, the Heritage of India Festival came to Kensico Dam Plaza in Valhalla, New York, and being huge fans of both the central Asian influenced Northern Indian cuisine and its more vegetable-laden Southern counterpart, Karen and I could not resist the temptation to spend a gorgeous Sunday afternoon partaking in some spicy Asian goodness.

    Approximately a half hour drive from northern New Jersey, the festival was held in the shadow of the Kensico Dam in Valhalla, New York at the northernmost tip of the Bronx River Parkway.

    As I drifted through the crowd, I was immediately taken with a young man of Indian descent who was at a open-air griddle (tava) making what is called, Dosa. Dosa is a fermented crepe made from rice batter and black lentils and is a staple dish in Southern India, as well as other countries such as Sri Lanka and Nepal. It was obvious the gentleman took great pride in his work and the manner in which he nimbly created these circular masterpieces upon his tava was spectacular.

    I stood before him and watched him create several of his delicious crepes, and noticing my camera slung over my shoulder, he smiled widely knowing he had an admiring audience. As he finished his seventh or eighth crepe, I stood before him and held up two fingers and said, "I'll take two."

    With nary an unnecessary movement, he ladled some ghee (clarified butter) on his tava and started the entire process again. When finished, he folded each one into what looked to be a compartment-less egg carton and carefully spooned coconut chutney on one end and a very zippy - okay, spicy - masala on the other. He smiled, handed them to me. Gleefully, I peeled off twelve bucks and raced to our table.

    Medhu Vadai, for lack of a better description, is basically a fried lentil doughnut. It is a popular snack or breakfast dish that is usually served with coconut chutney. Originating mainly from Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, it is often traditionally prepared during festivals and weddings.

    What I found most surprising in regards to this dish, was its unexpected savoriness. The vadai's firm, light texture was far less dry than I anticipated it would be and the coconut chutney it was served beside, was pretty much the perfect accompaniment.

    Idli is another traditional breakfast item popular throughout India, as well as Sri Lanka. It is a savory cake that is usually two to three inches in diameter that is made by steaming a batter made from fermented black lentils and rice. I found the idli somewhat bland in the sense that it drew most of its flavor from the Sambar (lentil-based vegetable stew or chowder based on a broth made with tamarind) it was served beside.

    As we sat and enjoyed our ethnic goodies, the temperature was steadily creeping toward the 90º mark and the sun had taken its place almost directly overheard. Although the low humidity made it a pleasant enough afternoon despite the heat, it was time to cool down with a couple of libations before moving on to indulge ourselves in the cuisine of Northern India,

    It wasn't the first time we'd partaken in Taj Mahal Lager, and with each tasting we seem to like it more and more. It's slightly more malty in comparison to the Kingfisher, but it's light body made it the perfect elixir to cool down on this steamy afternoon.

    After our "beer" break, there was a particular item that kept drawing my attention - something labeled Gobi 45. By all outward appearances, it looked to be a fiery, spicy version of fried cauliflower, and being a fan of spicy and cauliflower, it was something I just had to try. In doing so, I found it was a tad salty and not quite fiery enough for my tastes.

Today, my "Odd Eats" quest takes me to Chinatown in New York City.

Most major US cities have their version of Chinatown, but by far, New York City's Chinatown is the largest of them all. In fact, its two square miles holds the largest concentration of Chinese in the country, and perhaps, the hemisphere.

Although Chinese emigration to the United States began as a mainly transient population of migrant workers who were lured to California in the 1840's by the promise of gold,

What this did in essence was preserve a lifestyle that we of other enthnicities have lost over the course of time. And this is most often reflected in their foods.

Today, although Chinatown has changed dramatically, and much of the neighborhood has now become home to Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, Burmese, Vietnamese and Filipinos, much of the Old World can still be found in the markets, fruit stands and specialty shops.

And that's exactly where our Odd Eats journey begins...

One of the more plentiful fruits you'll find displayed by the throngs of curbside venders is called the Rambutan.

It is by far one of the more unusual looking varieties of fruit you'll find here, as well as one of the more colorful.

The rambutan is native to Indonesia and Malaysia, and can be found growing in Thailand, Burma, Sri Lanka, India, Vietnam and the Philippines. It is closely related to several other types of tropical fruits such as the lychee and longan, both of which we'll touch upon later.

The most distinctive feature of this red, golf ball-sized fruit are the yellowish-green follicles that protrude from fruit's skin and give it an almost "hairy" appearance. In fact, the very translation of it's name means "hair". However, rest assured that its odd, and perhaps even distasteful, appearance belies the wonderfully delicious flesh held within.

Soft to the touch, the outer skin is easily removed and reveals an egg-shaped, luminescent flesh that appears to glow. It is extremely juicy and has a taste that is sweetly sour, and perhaps even vaguely tart; almost grape-like both in flavor and texture, but a tad gummier.

Within the flesh is an almond sized pit that an overzealous eater (such as myself) would have to take care not to swallow.

Another fruit that can be found at almost every sidewalk stand and is closely related to the rambutan is called, the Lychee.

Native to China, Taiwan and Southeast Asia, the lychee is smaller than the rambutan (about the size of a large grape), but has a similar flesh once the pinkish-red, roughly textured outer skin is peeled away.

The translucent white flesh revealed within has a floral scent and a fragrantly sweet flavor; far sweeter than the rambutan. Not only is it delicious, but it's one of the stickiest fruits I've ever eaten. Bring napkins... and lots of water.

Very similar to the preceding two fruit varieties is the Longan. Although it bears striking similarities in terms of easily-peeled skin and a translucent flesh, there are some distinct differences which make this my favorite of the rambutan-lychee-longan family.

For one, it is not quite as juicy and messy as the lychee and thankfully, not as sticky.
Whereas the rambutan and the lychee both have a sweetly-sour flavor profile, the longan definitely encompasses a drier, more pure sweetness. This difference is exemplified by the fact that longan are often canned with syrup whereas the other two are not. 
The smallest of the three, the longan has a pit concealed inside the flesh like the others.

Moving along, there was another fruit that seemed to pop up on nearly every stand and intrigued me to no end ~ the Jackfruit.

Sold by these curbside vendors, you can take your jackfruit home in a number of ways including; whole, sectioned, or by the container (pieces).

Believed to have originated in the south- western rain forests of India, today, the Jackfruit grows throughout Southern and Southeast Asia.

Ripened jackfruit is naturally sweet with a subtle flavoring that is not overwhelming on any level. In fact, I was amazed at how closely it resembled a cross between a banana and pineapple in flavor profile.
It's texture is soft and fibrous, and when eaten, is said to quickly replenish one's energy and bring on a heightened sense of euphoria (though I'm sure this has everything to do with its high sugar content and nothing mystical).

When ripe, it is a delicious eaten raw, but can also be used to make a variety of dishes including custards and cakes.

The fruit contains a seed that looks remarkably similar to a clove of garlic. I didn't chew on it, but learned they are edible and have a milky, sweet taste. These seeds are often boiled, baked or roasted, and when cooked by the latter method, they're said to taste comparable to chestnuts.

The unripened jackfruit also has it's culinary uses.
The flesh of an unripe jackfruit is said to have a meat-like flavor and texture, and because of that quality, is most often used as the basis of a spicy curry.

I'll be perfectly blunt here; I had all intentions on trying the durian, and was even looking forward to the opportunity. But I did not.

Here's the reason: at $4.99 a pound, the smallest one I could find was about 2 pounds and even that one was not quite ripe. I don't mind taking one for the team, but there was no way I was going to shove an unripened fruit with this awful a reputation down my gullet simply to do so. Nor did I have room in my backpack for one larger. This is at the top of my to-do list next trip in.

There was one particular storefront far more intriguing than all the others.
There were neat rows of whole ducks, ducklings, chickens, octopus, fish, pigeons, a whole pig, bellies, ears, snouts, wings, organs and more than a few things I couldn't make it.
Some may have run in horror.

Me? I was in roast critter paradise.
Entering, I found it to be half store and half restaurant which seemed to do a brisk take-out business.

If the questions weren't bad enough, he really seemed to get pissed off when he realized I was snapping pictures between questions, and he quickly admonished me with a loud, abrupt, "No picture!"

Normally, my take-no-crap-from-anybody attitude would've led me to snap a picture of him followed by an answer of "too late!" But I hesitated for two reasons:
One, I was hungry and didn't want to chance getting tossed. And secondly, he was wielding a meat cleaver.
I wisely put my camera away until I put some distance between us and began to order.

He hacked the pork up into bit-size pieces with the cleaver (probably pretending it was me), placed it in a tin container and silently glared at me. I looked away from his glare and ordered. Pork intestines; specifically, what was termed, Crispy Intestines.

I thought he was going to become completely unhinged when he picked up a nest of intestines that looked like limp sausages (I think they were boiled) and I corrected him, "No, the other ones."

He slammed them down and began to scoop the crispy variety I wanted into a container.

As he chopped the intestines, I guess he began to detect my own alpha male surfacing, and his body language shifted ever so slightly from defiant anger to ambivalence. He stood there looking out the front window rolling his eyes and waited for the next order.

I asked him about a certain type of fried fish that I knew damn well were smelts, but he referred to them smugly as, "yellow fish."
I noticed they were sold by the pound and ordered a pound to keep the peace.

I took the order from Mr. Personality, grabbed a couple of cans of Sapporo beer from the cooler and paid for the items.

The roasted pork was phenomenal and not just because I was hungry.

The outer layer of skin was crispy and crunchy and amazing. Beneath the skin was a layer of fat; not blubbery fat, but fat which seemed just shy of the point of rendering. I tasted a bit and it was flavorful to be sure, but after a mere taste I elected to peel most of it away from the skin for obvious dietary concerns.

And beneath that layer of fat was the most juicy and delectable pork you could imagine. The color of fresh ham, the juices simply burst forth from the meat and exploded in your mouth.

Now if there was one thing I was glad didn't burst forth and explode in my mouth, it was the crispy intestines. Not crispy by any stretch of the imagination, they weren't quite as unsettling as I presumed them to be. In fact, they weren't half bad, especially if one used the dipping sauce it came with.

I won't lie, the texture is the hardest part to get beyond. This is by no means an entry-level odd eat, many pieces being more chewy than others and some downright inedible. I will say however, I was pleasantly surprised by the "lack of" barnyard if you get my drift.

Next up was the fried smelts. Normally, I'd down a bushel of these little gems. Heck, they were a staple on my family's holiday dinner table. But these were not my Aunt Anna's smelts.

They were room temperature, overcooked, stiff, fishy smelling and mostly tasteless. I ate a few, but in truth, really had to wash it down with a Sapporo. It wasn't bad; just not good. That's okay. I had to save room anyway. This was only lunch and it was going to be a long day ahead with lots of munching to be done.

You see, back in 1493 while on his second voyage to the New World, Christopher Columbus discovered the island of St. Thomas and was apparently, less than impressed.
So underwhelmed was the famed explorer, he decided to forego an extended visit, and instead, sailed on to Puerto Rico.

The wandering Mr. C never fully appreciated the many wonderful safe harbors afforded by the island, and due to his oversight, were left unguarded by the Spanish.

Truthfully, anything on the menu is terrific and if you use her homemade hot sauce, it raises the taste exponentially, at least in my world of spicy disregard.

To be frank, the last thing (besides rice pudding) I'd ever order off of any menu is chicken. I'm just not a fan of the bird at all these days. I'll eat it, but somewhat reluctantly.
But quite out of character, when the waitress took my order, Curried Chicken just rolled off my tongue. Rather than change my initial order, I decided to roll with it. That's how I roll... uh, do things.

So two hours after my Caribarita and Burrito, I'm again walking the alleys which lead to Gladys'.

I arrive, take a seat, drink some cool water and look over the menu. For me, the greatest things on this menu is Curried Goat and Kallaloo, but I get those each visit. I've also had the Stewed Oxtails once before and they are absolutely terrific. But I wanted something different this time.

I also enjoyed the Curried Chicken immensely, and of particular note were the delectable plantains served with the meal. The kitchen outdid themselves once again.

Set in the Leeward Islands, it is actually the main island of the country of Antigua and Barbuda.

The island was originally referred to as "Wadadli" by its native inhabitants (Arawak, then later, Carib Indians), but that changed in1493 when upon his second voyage, Christopher Columbus arrived and dubbed the larger of the two islands, Santa Maria de la Antigua.

In spite of Columbus's arrival, strong Carib defenses prevented attempts by Europeans to colonize the island
for the next 140 or so years.

The next stand I stumbled upon was run by an animated, friendly Antiguan gent who sold Coconut Water. He made it fresh right there in front of you - proof being the skid of coconuts he had beside his workspace.
Again, the greatest joy of these stands are the freshness of the product as well as the characters you happen upon.

This fellow yapped nonstop; not in a bad sort of way, but more with an indistinguishable musical cadence. I gulped the sweetly refreshing beverage, thanked him and moved along.

There’s been nary a plate put before me beneath the Caribbean sun to which I haven’t indulged in with the fervor of an inmate’s last meal – octopus, squid, whelk, shark, goat, eel, alligator, conch, iguana, turtle, fowl, crustaceans of all sorts – and whether they’re baked, fried, sautéed, boiled, blanched, raw or still crawling, matters little to me. As long as I can wash it back with a cold Corona, Carib, Red Stripe, or Medalla, I’m all in. I am entirely in my element here.

Sadly, as is usually the case when two drastically different cultures collide, those Tainos who were not forced into slavery by the Spaniards, were eventually wiped out by infectious diseases brought over from Europe.

Today, the food of Puerto Rico draws heavily upon its native Caribbean past, as well as Spanish and African influences. It's called, “comida criolla”, and although it is similar to Latin American cooking, it is mostly based on seafood, native seasonings and tropical fruits.