I shared lunch with some of my favorite ladies.
Our original plan was to check out Azima, a Kenyan restaurant Dara Mozkowitz enthusiastically reviewed in mid-June.
Jill was the first to arrive at Azima. She sent word that the restaurant appeared to be closed and the front door was adorned with what looked like an eviction notice from the city.
Since the inception of my “Farewell Twin Cities” bucket list, I had looked forward to securing a concrete reason for methodically dining at restaurants from my wish list. Azima had rested near the top. I am always looking for an excuse to eat African food, none of which has ever been bad, ever, and was sold on Dara’s descriptions of a feast featuring roasted goat, greens, hot sauce, beans, and rice. A huge bummer and reminder for self to always call ahead.
My next choice was Hamdi, a Somali restaurant adjacent to Midtown Global Market. Despite some wariness, my friends were up for a new adventure and we caravaned towards Lake Street. Unfortunately, the parking situation seemed to be limited to meters and none of us had wads of quarters, so we moved the party to Midtown Global Market.
The group consensus rested at Los Ocampos where we happily placed our orders.
Since I was still riding the Andale Taqueria Torta high, ordered another torta filled with breaded steak and horchata, one of my favorite beverages in the entire world.
As with Andale, I received a freshly griddled, face-sized sandwich stuffed with crispy breaded steak, beans, tomato, iceburg lettuce, jalapenos, onion, cheese, avocado, and mayonnaise. I requested a cup of their hottest salsa and received some spicy green sauce.
I expected to eat the entire sandwich and was thoroughly full by the end of the first half.
The bread was chewable, yet structured enough to support all of the sandwich components without crumbling or becoming soggy.
Los Ocampos included multiple thinly breaded steaks, which tasted crisp and salty. The vegetables were fresh, and though the jalapenos were pickled, their uneven shapes and lack of that identifiable canned smell suggested in-house pickling. I enjoyed the thickly-cut rings of white onion and Paula Dean-sanctioned mayonnaise smear.
Similar to the torta at Andale, the cheese was thickly cut and non-melted leading me to guess this treatment of cheese is typical for tortas. In contrast to Andale’s, this version was more thickly stuffed and heavy with rich toppings. I could have potentially eaten Andale’s entire torta, while I felt like I ingested a gut bomb at Los Ocampos (a tasty gut-bomb, none-the-less).
West Broadway Farmers Market
Earlier this morning, I had a few minutes to stop by the West Broadway Farmers Market, a few blocks west of Broadway and Penn. My friend’s housemate is working to organize a farmers market in this area generally devoid of affordable, healthy resources and both have encouraged me to check out the market (this is the extent of my affiliation with this market and the following vendor). North Minneapolis’s lack of accessibility is a reality, having both lived and worked in North Minneapolis where I once facilitated cooking classes with youth. Unfortunately I arrived too early, when only a couple vendors were available. I curiously noticed a chef prepping food at a station equipped with a hot plate.
I stopped by the Knoxberry Foods, which appeared to be a family-run stand, and bought a small loaf of zucchini bread for $3.
Because of the empty farmers market and my general wariness of sweet products, I had average expectations regarding this bread.
However, I was pleasantly surprised. The top ridges of the bread were crispy and the interior was moist. Although this is a sweetbread, it tasted ethereally light, and for lack of better words . . . not too sweet. The market runs through October, so I may attempt stop by closer to noon.
An adventure at Cub West Broadway
As a side note, my oddest grocery shopping experience occurred at Cub West Broadway last year.
“Why would you do that?”
To avoid making a scene, I mention it’s fine. Though, I am annoyed because the other woman is right. I really do need that ginger.
I turn down the cashier’s offer for me to run across the store and re-pick out my own ginger a second time so I pay and hightail it out of Cub. Away from the hollering woman, past the perpetually parked police car seemingly devoid of an actual police officer, towards home.
