New York, as the City of Immigrants, is the City of Coincidental Comestible Revelations.  And I’m not just talking about the Ethiopian restaurants or the kimchi tacos. I’m talking about Hispanic fare, the cousins of the common taco and burrito that everyone in the country has experienced.  The Mango-on-a-Stick, in which the fruit is carved into a petaled flower shape and rubbed in lime juice, salt, and hot sauce, was an early discovery in my life here.  Recently, I have discovered Mexican drinkable oatmeal. Continue reading →