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Showing posts with label Venezuela. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Venezuela. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Incredible #Miami Artist @JMargulis

Meet J. Margulis of J.Margulis Visual Artist - Voyage MIA Magazine | Miami City Guide

Incredible art from Miami artist, the Venezuelan @JMargulis in @VoyageMIAmag 

Meet J. Margulis of J.Margulis Visual Artist



Today we'd like to introduce you to J. Margulis.
So, before we jump into specific questions about the business, why don't you give us some details about you and your story.
I began my career as an artist through photography while studying Management in my native Venezuela. I was working at the time in a family-run business exploring digital printing and later in life, I decided to apply my professional skills to art making, as I progressively became interested in sculpture. Today, my artwork is the result of an intrinsic connection between two and three -dimensional planes, working with sculpture in parallel with photography.
I began producing acrylic 3D sculptures and compositions made from different types of colorful plastic sheets, affixing them onto surfaces, other times as free-standing structures or traditional fixtures on a wall. As a direct consequence of these productions, I began photographing my pieces as a way of documenting them, thereby generating a significant volume of autonomous photographic work which created an intimate connection between the photograph and its related piece, developing a visual yet independent dialogue through language, photography, and sculpture.
At the same time I was supporting myself through custom work I did in my acrylic shop, furniture, displays and any job I could make using my skills and equipment. One day a friend of mine from childhood was in town, he used to be the director of an Art Museum in California and even though I had a long time without talking to him I send him a message and ask him to come over and take a look at my work. I was not even showing my work at that time, I just had this small collection of pieces created by me which I felt where good enough for me to dream of having an Artist career. (something I dream about all my life and honestly felt it was not going to happen in this lifetime of mine).
I needed an opinion from someone I respect and trust given the subjective nature of art critique. I already had a family with two children at that time and could not afford to play the artist, I had a big responsibility but the urge to create, the ability to express myself with a clear voice was so overwhelming that I only need one encouraging word that would unlock my vision to give me license to dream of truly becoming a professional artist. And so it happens that one afternoon my friend swing by and took one look at my small collection of pieces and he could not believe these were the first pieces I ever made…
He took me under his wing and prepare my first show which obviously took many people by surprise, a lot of people did not believe in me and look at me as if I was a bit crazy but the show was a great success and so my artist career began and I never look back. On the contrary, I just spring forward working like a madman, evolving, growing and developing this new sense of myself. It's been several years from that time and I still have this feeling of gratitude, this sense of purpose and obligation to become the very best version of myself. Very few people get to do what the love the most in life, the possibility of realization is not a given and when you are lucky enough to find it specially when you thought it was too late for it then you know you must honor it every day for the rest of your life.
Has it been a smooth road?
As a struggling artist many times you must take another paying job we all have hear this before but the truth is that not being able to work on your Art is one of the most miserable feeling you can have, it just feels like a great waste of time. When you are an artist you know that transcendence, redemption and the ability to deeply communicate with other human beings only can be realize through art.
To sell an art piece more than the money you get to spend is a promise that you can keep making art and maybe if you sell enough you will be able to do it all day and everyday of your life…. that is a dream worth taking risks, exposing yourself and revealing without fear your most intimate essence.
It's a road full of uncertainty and many discouraging moments, disappointments and self doubt. But when you know this is your mission in life, when you know there is anything else that can take you to developing your full potential then you become a survivor and find the way to push forward and have faith in yourself.
So let's switch gears a bit and go into the J.Margulis Visual artist story. Tell us more about the business.
I believe that courage, empathy, and kindness are all ingredients in a powerful and elusive formula, which arms us with a clean and ever-sharpening lens that catches fleeting glimpses of our true nature. Small fractions of divine understanding that reverberate in our essence with the power to shape our deepest beliefs and completely change our perspectives, and so, the way we act in the unfolding of our own existence.
My work is about the physical representation of this belief. I digitally design 3-D objects and compositions, and cut them in slices from different types of plastic sheet materials. These slices are then fixed to a rigid canvas, a pedestal or held together in space. Most of my work is done using acrylic sheets with different levels of translucency in a range of colors, graphic patterns, textures and photographic images directly printed on the sheets' surfaces. The bright and fully saturated color palettes to which I instinctively gravitate to, is heavily influenced by the traditional Mexican arts and crafts which made a great impact on me during the time that I lived there.
I treat my three-dimensional pieces as light traps or secret blueprints, in which by controlling the placement of its components, I'm able to create intriguing 3-D containers. Their designs are then fully revealed by applying or "pouring" light into them. In a sense, light becomes the ink that reveals the design by following a 3-D template. The light source may vary from natural to one or more fixtures, placed on precise locations in relationship to the subject, with specific power, color temperature, angle and proximity.
These exposed patterns and designs are not absolutes or unique because as the viewer changes his point of view, the work expresses a different narrative that is completely new in its own essence. It intrigues and fascinates me how the object mutates in front of me, with no other resource but a simple change of perspective. Going back and forth naturally, I try to synthesize and integrate different perceptions that coexist as different facets of an object.
Every time, I find myself trying to lock that seemingly unreal angle in which we are able to contemplate the amazing connections among complex layers of facts, prejudices, and beliefs; that "sometimes surreal" frame in which we discover how easily we could be absolutely wrong and misjudge everything that surrounds us, while tragicomically posing ourselves as proud holders of truth and owners of higher grounds.
How do you think the industry will change over the next decade?
I think that the future is already here. Social media and online gallery platforms has created this scenario where there is a personal and direct relationship between the artist and the audience.
Right now anyone can truly get to know an artist by following his or her development on a continuous basis through social media images and the artist expressed ideas and thoughts. There is this virtual conversation in which art gets infused into people's daily life. You can talk to the artist, you can tell them what you like, what you don't like, celebrate the success or critique the shortcomings there is this amazing relationship potential not only with the art but with the artist itself.
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Saturday, September 13, 2014

El #Helicoide - Tropical Babel — Failed #Architecture

This is one of the best articles I have read recently on Venezuela. 

The Helicoide is known to most Caraqueños as the HQ of the infamous DISIP or the national state intelligence police (now SEBIN); a place of torture and sinister police officers. 

It's architectural history tells the story of venezuela in the last 60 years. 


Tropical Babel — Failed Architecture



By Celeste Olalquiaga

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The Tower of Babel exists, not in Babylon but in South America, in a country of endless oil towers and surgery-happy Miss Universes (seven so far, a world record): Venezuela, or Little Venice, as the conquistadors called this land where indigenous huts built on wooden stakes recalled the fabled city surrounded by its lagoon. Venezuela's architectural etymology seems to have anticipated its urban exuberance, a dynamism notable even for a continent in which architectural feats are hardly exceptional.
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Beached cruise ship, fallen flying saucer, futuristic ruin; sitting amid the slums of San Agustín, in south-central Caracas, El Helicoide de la Roca Tarpeya looks different from every angle. So too do the many stories that haunt this construction, all as convoluted as its magnificent, double-spiral coils. Like its Babylonian inspiration, El Helicoide too was an ambitious project stopped short, in its case by the less-than-divine designs of politics. Like its famous predecessor, this concrete building—constructed in 1960 as a drive-in mall, the only one of its kind, where drivers could spiral up and down, parking right in front of the business of their choice—was halted shortly before completion. It was then abandoned to a fate that included oblivion and decay; multiple failed governmental projects; occupation by squatters and intelligence police; and episodes of drugs, sex, and torture; all sources for an endless number of legends, each more fascinating than the last.
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In the 1950s, the combination of thirty years of oil revenues and a dictator, General Marcos Pérez Jiménez, bent on modernizing Caracas, made Venezuela into a haven for foreign architects. Some, like Graziano Gasparini or Federico Beckhoff, came looking for new opportunities and adopted the city as their permanent home. Others, including Gio Ponti and Oscar Niemeyer, visited briefly and were taken by the city's modern orientation. The former contributed the famous "Villa Planchart," kept intact as a 1950s icon to this day; the latter proposed a huge inverted triangle for the city's museum of modern art, a project that was never executed. A few collaborated with local counterparts to design one-of-a-kind buildings. This was the case with Marcel Breuer and Herbert Berckhard, who partnered with Ernesto Fuenmayor and Manuel Sayago on "El Recreo," a business and commercial complex that was also never realized, and with Dirk Bornhorst and Pedro Neuberger, two young German-born Venezuelan architects who were taken under the wing of Jorge ("Yoyo") Romero Gutiérrez to help build modern Caracas. "There is so much to do," Romero Gutiérrez would say. "Everything is possible."
And so they set to the task, joining the likes of Carlos Villanueva, whose Universidad Central de Venezuela, which boasts a modernist campus with fluid lines and integrated art (including works by Léger, Arp, Vasarely, and Calder), was declared a World Cultural Heritage site by UNESCO in 2000; the daring Fruto Vivas, whose splendid auditorium shell covering El Club Táchira is a prime example of organic architecture; or Tomás José Sanabria, designer of the cylindrical mountain hotel El Humboldt, named after the German explorer who witnessed a meteor shower on a visit to the country in 1799.
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In 1955, Romero Gutiérrez firm, Arquitectura y Urbanismo, landed a juicy deal. The owner of La Roca Tarpeya, a 328,000 square-foot hill, wanted to build a series of small apartment buildings accessible via a steep street. Romero Gutiérrez and his partners devised an alternative plan, changing the original idea from a residential to a more lucrative commercial development, and proposing a street that would spiral upwards, the roof of the premises below acting as a platform for the lanes above—a more economical and efficient use of the available space. The street eventually became a two-and-a-half-mile road, with alternating ascending and descending levels that comprise two interlocking spirals that resemble the genetic double helix. One thousand parking spaces, two for each business in the complex, would line the way.
A modern shopping mall, "El Helicoide: Centro Comercial y Exposición de Industrias," was designed to include large exhibition halls for the burgeoning national industries (oil, gas, iron, aluminum, agriculture); an automobile showroom; a gym and swimming pool; restaurants; nurseries; discotheques; a giant cinema; a first-rate hotel in which all the major airlines had offices; a heliport to fly passengers to and from the airport; and a full system of internal access with diagonal elevators and mechanical stairs. At its summit, under a dome designed by Buckminster Fuller, visitors could purchase souvenirs. The landscaping was to be designed by Roberto Burle Marx. El Helicoide was state-of-the-art, even by US standards.
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"The whole construction," as Bornhorst, its sole surviving architect, writes in his book El Helicoide, "was conceived as an artistic urban sculpture, an architectural pièce de résistance, smoothly adapted to the rhythm of the surrounding hills, itself forming another rise within the urban topography" in the valley of Caracas, whose hills made the architects dream of creating a tropical Acropolis. The budget for the 436,000-square-foot reinforced-concrete development was set at $10 million. By the time it was abandoned, costs had reached $24 million.
The model was inaugurated at the architects' headquarters, the Centro Profesional del Este, in September 1955 with Pérez Jiménez in attendance, a questionable alliance whose extent is yet to be determined but which would eventually cost the project its life. Soon after, the colossal effort to raise the coiling tower began, with a plan as extreme as its shape: La Roca Tarpeya was sculpted inch by inch in order to fit El Helicoide hand in glove. This strategy dramatically constrained the building, as El Helicoide is literally sandwiched between the hill and the building's enveloping road, providing no more than twenty-two to fifty feet of usable depth.
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El Helicoide was an instant hit, its shape and scale attracting the attention of architects worldwide. Photos of the model appeared on the front page of foreign newspapers and occupied a prominent place at the Museum of Modern Art's 1961 "Roads" exhibition. (El Helicoide is also set to appear in the museum's spring 2015 retrospective on modern Latin American architecture). Back home in Venezuela, an advertising campaign to pre-sell the commercial spaces for the different businesses the building would house (an innovative form of raising capital at the time) produced drinking glasses, stickers, and key chains. Hoping El Helicoide would catalyze the urban development of southern Caracas, a boulevard connecting the building to the Botanical Gardens (next to Villanueva's recently inaugurated Universidad Central de Venezuela ) was planned. The Chilean poet Pablo Neruda wrote that El Helicoide was "one of the most exquisite creations ever to have sprung from the mind of an architect." Salvador Dalí offered to decorate it with his art.
And then it all came to a halt—a slow, gradual halt that took everybody by surprise and from which El Helicoide never recovered. In January 1958, Marcos Pérez Jiménez was overthrown. Contrary to popular belief, El Helicoide was still not under construction, since only the custom-carving of La Roca Tarpeya had taken place between 1957 and 1958. Construction actually began in October 1958, under the provisional military government of Wolfgang Larrazábal, which oversaw the transition to democracy and allowed the building to go forward as long as its developers hired a large number of unemployed workers, part of a national emergency plan. They did, and El Helicoide roared on with 1,500 men working in three shifts round the clock for the next year and a half.
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It was democracy that dealt El Helicoide its fatal blow. How exactly this happened is still unclear. Some blame the newly formed government of Rómulo Betancourt, which, unwilling to continue and thus legitimate the dictatorship's massive urban renewal of Caracas, put conditions on a line of credit that had previously been granted to El Helicoide. The company balked, embarking on a lengthy legal dispute that would end only in 1976 when the empty building became state property. Others, including Pedro Neuberger, state that following Pérez Jiménez's ousting, the main shareholders of El Helicoide (IVECA, a company owned by Roberto Capriles) fled the country, leaving the building financially adrift. In any event, contractors were not paid, and the business owners who had bought into the project sued the construction company, which went bankrupt. End of story for El Helicoide, the mall.
During the next twenty years, the construction that had made international headlines stood in almost total silence. Its architects despaired over their fantastic venture gone sour and turned to other projects. True to its modern temperament, always looking forward and never back, Caracas moved on, forgetting its magnificent spiral to consumer heaven. To their credit, local governments attempted to save the frozen giant. One after another, administration after administration proposed different commercial, cultural, and commercial-cultural plans, twenty-seven in total: automobile center, performance center, museum of art, tourism center, modern cemetery, center of radio and television, multi-cinema, national library, museum of anthropology, and environmental center, to name a few.
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Of these, only the last two actually got under way, giving some life to the building's empty halls—if we don't count the massive occupation by squatters from 1979 to 1982, that is. Spurred by the official relocation of five hundred landslide refugees in El Helicoide in 1979, small groups began to install themselves in the building. By 1982, the unfinished structure was home to some twelve thousand squatters, all living without basic services in an economically depressed part of town. The building became a zone for trafficking in drugs and sex, with attendant high crime rates. This situation was literally washed away with hydraulic force in 1982 to open the way for the Museum of Anthropology.
The Museum of Anthropology plan managed to finally place on the complex's roof the Buckminster Fuller dome, which had been stored for over twenty years at a local warehouse. It didn't get much further, despite having enlisted the collaboration of El Helicoide's main original architect, Romero Gutiérrez (who, refusing to set foot in it again, counseled from a distance). The four high-tech Austrian Wertheim elevators, for example—each capable of carrying thirty-two people and designed to move diagonally on a thirtysix degree incline along the hill's slope at a speed of 6.6 feet per second—were found at Venezuela's main port, La Guaira, languishing away incomplete. They had arrived with great fanfare two decades earlier, but by 1982, very few people even remembered what those enormous machines actually were.
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Soon after the museum plans were abandoned, another type of occupant began to install itself. Starting in 1984, the Venezuelan intelligence police (then DISIP, now SEBIN) gradually began to establish its headquarters in El Helicoide, the perfect panopticon with a 360-degree view of Caracas. A new kind of darkness set upon the building, this time arising from its conversion into a detention center. High-tech surveillance equipment was installed, officers delighted to be able to ride their cars to their offices à la James Bond. There were political prisoners, there was torture; SWAT teams would stop anyone taking a picture of the building from the surrounding highways.
Some believe the place is cursed. (The hill, after all, was named for Rome's Tarpeian Rock, from which the daughter of the Roman general Tarpeius was thrown after being killed for betraying the city to the Sabines.) In 1992, for example, Julio Coll and Jorge Castillo, architects of the most progressive of the projects imagined for El Helicoide—the Centro Ambiental de Venezuela, designed to house the ministry of the environment, a laudably early response in the region to an underrecognized global problem—sought to dispel the negative energy that they thought might have been blocking the building's progress. The duo took several measures to address its bad vibes, starting with a meditation under the Fuller dome during which they claimed to have heard voices informing them that an indigenous cemetery on La Roca Tarpeya had been disturbed during the construction of the building. Coll and Castillo's project was completed in 1993, a magnificent headquarters that included a library with marble niches on the building's top level. All to no avail—the Centro Ambiental was never inaugurated, and within a few months a new government had appropriated its glowing headquarters for the senior commanders of the DISIP. La Roca Tarpeya had struck again.
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A few years later, the DISIP was joined by training schools for the police and the military, namely the Universidad Nacional Experimental de la Seguridad (UNES) and the Universidad Nacional Experimental de las Fuerzas Armadas (UNEFA). So proud of El Helicoide that it featured the building in a 2007 philatelic commemoration, DISIP was rebuked in June 2012 by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, which determined that its detention center was in breach of international prison conventions on hygiene. A serious bacterial outbreak a year later finally led to the transfer of prisoners to other facilities, but the center still houses short-term detainees. The irony is staggering: a place that was meant to be a highway to consumer heaven became instead a stairway to hell, as if the spiral had spun downward instead of upward, opening the way for El Helicoide's particular twist on its sacred referent, the Babylonian ziggurat. After all, the ziggurat is meant to connect the earth not only with the heavens above but also with the ground beneath. El Helicoide: a tropical ziggurat gone astray.
Rumors have it that El Helicoide has subterranean tunnels reaching out to different parts of the city. Like a rhizomatic helix whose coils spread waste and disillusionment, the slums around it have multiplied, as has the security apparatus that emerges from its entrails. The former grow so close to the building that they morph topographically with its curves; the latter use the building as a launch pad for their operations. A surreal platform, El Helicoide is as unexpected, unpredictable, and unique as Caracas's ever-changing physiognomy.
For most caraqueños, El Helicoide is simply a part of the landscape, one of the many unfinished or abandoned buildings that add to the city's irregular topography and unwieldy urbanism. For others, it is a reminder of the 1950s and 1960s, when Caracas underwent its modern boom, expanding in all senses. It was a utopian time that some remember with deep-felt nostalgia, whether for the dictatorial regime that gave the city its modern infrastructure or for the burgeoning democracy that immediately took its place after decades of quasi-consecutive dictators, each one stamping his own distinctive character on the fertile valley that once housed coffee and tobacco haciendas.
In the four decades after the discovery of oil in 1918, Caracas went from a quiet, semi-rural town of 140,000 inhabitants to an effervescent capital of the Americas with a population of more than 1.2 million and filled with highways, skyscrapers, and also schools for the families of employees of foreign oil companies (Shell, Mobil, Exxon) that were busily pumping Venezuelan oil. Like that oil, democracy gushed into existence, young and full of projects, eager to embrace a modernity for which Venezuela finally seemed ripe, ready to catch up with a world it had long admired. However, as with many other nations, Venezuela built its democratic dream on the back of a vast majority that it rarely saw, and acknowledged even less. The "fabulous party," as Venezuelans themselves call the period from the 1940s through the 1970s, came to its final end in 1999 with the rise of the Bolivarian Revolution headed by Hugo Chávez. But the party had finished long before, and if anything, El Helicoide is the best testament to the extremes that have led Venezuela by the nose, swinging from despair to excitement and back again.
Modernity is a tricky condition, especially in countries like Venezuela, whose oil-driven emergence from a semi-feudal economy was nothing short of radical, and where catching up was not the same as growing up or becoming independent as a nation. On the contrary, catching up meant becoming if not equal, at least comparable, to its complicated northern neighbor, the United States. It meant being able to emulate the North American model, understood as the model of the future, of progress based on the paradigms of capital investment and mechanical efficiency. It meant, in a typically Venezuelan manner, beating the "gringos" at their own game: for example, building a supermall that would leave them stunned.
And so it did. In their essay for MoMA's "Roads" catalogue, Bernard Rudofsky and Arthur Drexler make the point that El Helicoide's "adventurous enterprise has been undertaken in Latin America and not in the United States, where both highways and shopping centers are among our most ambitious efforts." Nelson Rockefeller tried to buy El Helicoide, but even he couldn't overcome the legal quagmire that paralyzed the building until the state intervened and took it over. El Helicoide was a feat of the imagination and of technology, yes, but in a context where such things are secondary, where continuity is non-existent and maintenance considered a waste of time, and where purpose falls prey to a proprietary politics that binds the country to its leaders in a perverse filiation.
In the end, El Helicoide stands for exactly the opposite of what it was built to be. Instead of a dynamic center of exchange that might have revitalized the area and its surroundings, the building grew melancholically inward, fated, like an obsessive thought, to repeat its failure over and over again. Rather than expansive, it became sinister, a threatening fortress of "law and order" in a country that endemically ignores both. The building that could have become a symbol of modernity's progressive thrust became instead an emblem of its failures—of the price paid for wishing to change everything at all costs, for imposing a vision unilaterally, for dreaming for others what they may not want to dream at all. As such, many think that in its ruined condition, El Helicoide offers the most appropriate portrait of a dystopic Caracas.
For the last thirty years, El Helicoide has been like a black sun, radiating inconspicuous state control, detention, and surveillance. For some, this fate might seem better than its lying in derelict abandon, yet it is far, very far, from the grandiose aspirations that fueled its original construction. And farther away still from the sacred geometry underlying pyramids and temples, the spiral dance at the origin of life and of these unique structures. Like them, El Helicoide, literally carved in stone, will outlast centuries of human history, even nuclear blasts. It will remain an icon of a future that never quite made it to the present.
This article has been published in issue #52 of Cabinet and was written by Celeste Olalquiaga. She is the director of Proyecto Helicoide, an 'independent initiative which aims to culturally evaluate El Helicoide de la Roca Tarpeya, its structure, history and memory, through a series of exhibitions, publications and educational activities'.




Sunday, April 17, 2011

The best Cocoa is From Venezuela!!

The Criollo Cocoa bean from Chuao is the best!!

Venezuelan village claims best cocoa

By Lissy De Abreu (AFP) – 3 days ago

CHUAO, Venezuela — As the sun beats down to dry cherished criollo beans in the main square in Chuao, residents of the village in mountainous northern Venezuela simply say: behold the world's best cocoa.

Of course, people in other countries, with chocolate on their happy faces, may beg to differ.

'If you are born in Chuao, your life is tied up with cacao,' Alcides Herrera told AFP, referring to the cacao tree which yields the cocoa bean from which chocolate is made.

Since 1976, Herrera's company, Empresa Campesina Chuao, has produced Venezuela's only cocoa beans with a coveted appellation certifying their origin.

'As a kid, for example, when I was passing through the square, and you could feel a rainstorm closing in, you would stop to help gather up the beans,' Herrera continued.

'Ours are the world's best cocoa beans. That has been certified, and experts from many countries agree,' he said. 'We process by hand with techniques that have been passed down for 400 years.'

More than 80 percent of the world's cocoa comes from the forastero cacao tree and less than one fifth from Chuao's criollo.

Many experts believe the criollo around here has a singular, tastier bean and they are top-of-the-list ingredients for many of the world's top chocolate-makers.

Beans from Chuao total about 18-20 tons a year; it's a tiny figure compared to the 20,000 tons Venezuela produces each year.

Recently, looking to boost output if possible, the government deemed cocoa beans a strategic crop. Now 35 percent of the annual take goes to a German firm; 35 percent goes to a new state Venezuelan Cocoa Bean Company; and the remaining 30 percent to local producers.

'We have our eyes on the sky to see if any clouds pop up,' explained Maryoli Chavez, 32, one of more than 1,200 workers at the cooperative.

'I like to work on the farm. We all do a bit of everything and make the same money. Some weeks I am on drying duty, other times I am out picking pods or breaking out the seeds.'

On this afternoon, three of Maryoli's kids were playing at her feet.

The cocoa industry has traditionally been women's work in Venezuela. Men tend to work in construction or the coastal region's fishing industry.

On cutting duty, the women wield machetes with skill, lopping off the violet or yellow pods in seconds; a few men trailing behind pick up and transport the pods for processing.

The area is just 100 kilometers (60 miles) west of Caracas, but feels a world away as one has to travel in by sea as the town is wedged between a mountain and the Caribbean coast.

Edis Liendo, a local star among cocoa bean processors, hes been at it most of her life and is now 60.

'I think the cocoa bean is something from the heavens. It was what the gods used to prepare as a special drink,' Liendo says, hawking candies, liquor and desserts at the door of her home.

Copyright © 2011 AFP. All rights reserved.

AFP: Venezuelan village claims best cocoa

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Saturday, December 11, 2010

Venezuela in London: Mi cocina es tuya


Venezuela in London: Mi cocina es tuya – Café Latino, Crystal Palace


Between the pubs and print shops of Westow Street in Crystal Palace is a fantastic little restaurant serving authentic Venezuelan cuisine. Mi cocina es tuya (My kitchen is yours) bills itself as London’s only Venezuelan restaurant – perfect for our World in London series.. If you know better, let us know in the comments below!
I went to meet husband-and-wife team Alexis and Mary yesterday to sample their coffee, and find out about their unique eatery. What started as an events catering business with a stall in Camden Market now has a more stable base in this Crystal Palace restaurant. During the past three years, Alexis and Mary have served their traditional Venezuelan cuisine all over London, from the Carnaval del Pueblo to the Venezuelan Embassy. For the last seven months, they’ve been concentrating on developing Mi cocina es tuya.
The menu offers delicious-sounding empanadas (patties), asado criollo (grilled beef and rice) and arepas (corn bread with beef, chicken or cheese). The most popular dish, Alexis tells me, is the Pabellón de carne: beef, black beans, rice and fried plantains.
“At first, finding the right ingredients was difficult. For example, this hallaca is a traditional Christmas dish, but it’s wrapped in banana leaves.” He shows me an intricately bound parcel of dark green leaves. “But, you can’t just buy banana leaves in Asda! Now, we’ve found out about the right vendors in Brixton, at the market, and we can make hallaca. Similarly, you can’t get the chilli beef for Pabellon de carne in a normal supermarket. Now, we go to a Columbian butcher in Brixton. It tastes just as good as the meat in Venezuela.”
As well as the traditional food, Mary and Alexis are proud to show me their Venezuelan drinks. Mi cocina es tuya is one of the few places in London you can enjoy typical Latin drinks like Malta, Sugarcane with lemon, and Cocada, which, I’m told, is like coconut milkshake, but much nicer.
“People are often surprised that our food is like food from Trinidad and Tobago, or Caribbean food. But really, we’re from the same part of the world. Chilean, Peruvian, Columbian, all Latin American people that come here will see and recognise the products we sell.”


Indeed, as well as being a lovely place for a traditional Venezuelan breakfast of Perico (scrambled eggs with chopped tomatoes, onions and coriander, black beans, cheese and arepa, or corn bread – much healthier, I’m assured than the Traditional English they also serve), Mi cocina es tuya is also something of a Latin American deli. You can by the white or yellow “PAN” cornflour, as well as Malta drinks and other typical delicacies.
With guitars and maracas hanging from the walls, as well as plenty of gorgeous pictures of Venezuela itself, I think Mi cocina es tuya is a fantastic representation of Venezuelan London. And the wonderful hospitality of Alexis and Mary means I’ll be back for more. That, and the promise of trying some Dulce de tres leche next time!
Visit Mi cocina es tuya – Café Latino at 61 Westow Street Crystal Palace, London, SE19 3RW. If you know any other examples of Venezuelan culture in London, let us know in the comments below.
Venezuela in London: Mi cocina es tuya – Café Latino, Crystal Palace – Visit London Blog

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Monday, December 6, 2010

The Dark Art of Beef - NYTimes.com

Asado Negro in the NY Times!!!


The Cheat: Dark Arts

This week’s recipe is a raggedy Christmas number out of Venezuela called asado negro. It requires a fat roast of beef that is simmered for a long time in dark caramel, its sweetness tempered by vinegar. The result is sticky and unctuous beneath a cloak of peppers, onions and leeks. It looks mysterious and bold on the plate and at the start of a New York winter can conjure some degree of Latin American humidity and joy.
Asado negro has its primary home in Caracas, where it is often served during the holidays, alongside fried sweet plantains and white rice, with perhaps a tart green salad for contrast. The meat is napped in blackness that comes not from fire or smoke but from the absorption of all colors into one, a color as deep as space itself.
It is beef the color of a velvet dinner jacket seen across a dark lawn at midnight. It makes mockery of pot roast. And, as we shall see, it is exceedingly simple to make.
Hold on: blackened beef? I first had the dish at a restaurant called Mohedano, a flash place in Chacao, the relatively prosperous part of Caracas that is a stronghold of opposition to Venezuela’s president, Hugo Chávez. The neighborhood supports restaurants and shopping centers and has plenty of gated parking lots guarded by men with guns. It recalls Miami crossed with the Upper East Side of Manhattan, with a few blocks of London and Mexico City thrown in for good measure.
Mohedano’s chef, Edgar Leal, runs the restaurant with his wife, Mariana Montero de Castro, with whom he has also had a restaurant in the United States. They served asado negro as part of a tasting menu designed to highlight the traditional flavors of cosmopolitan Venezuela.
Leal is an irrepressible figure in his restaurant, a ham who cooks with grace and precision, a character out of Stoppard, the gourmand existing within the privation of a repressive state. “It looks burned,” he said of his asado negro, laughing as he often does, as he placed the plate on a table. “But you see what you think.” Then he put on a stage whisper: “It’s not burned at all!”
The beef was cut thin, against the grain, and it glistened with moisture. The sauce cloaking it was dark and deep in flavor — with a strong, nutty sweetness, yes, but a bracing sort, far from cloying and leading only to the desire for more.
Leal cooks his asado negro with papelón, the solid block of unrefined cane sugar that is known by various names across Latin America (boiled sugar-cane pulp, essentially, formed into small blocks that can be broken into shards or grated into drinks or sauce). Papelón makes for excellent asado negro, and if you can find some at your local market — where you’ll most likely discover it listed as panela or piloncillo — go ahead and use it for your own.
But you can also cheat, which, as Chávez might say, is the way of our nation. Norman Van Aken, the Miami chef and restaurateur who has done much to bring the flavors of the Caribbean and South America to the United States, and who included a recipe for asado negro in his excellent 2003 cookbook, “New World Kitchen,” said in a telephone interview that the home cook could replicate some of the complexity of papelón by making a dark caramel out of plain white sugar and water, then adding a few teaspoons of brown sugar at the end.
“Asado negro is not a dish that’s centuries old,” Van Aken said. “As near as we could figure it in our research for the book, it goes back to the 1960s or ’70s. You can definitely mess around with it a little and make it your own.”
And so we begin with caramel, a chemistry-class lesson for the home. Sugar is dissolved in water and heated until the water evaporates and the sugar molecules break down, turning heavy and dark. Add to this sticky pool some vinegar and dry red wine, which impart savory, acidic notes to what will amount to a braising liquid, as well as some brown sugar for rustic depth. Pour the liquids carefully, for the caramel will spatter and hiss. Then allow the sauce to become whole again, stirring occasionally.
Now we sear the beef, creating a crust on the bottom of the pan that will add heft to our meal, a beefy intensity to counter the sugars and acids. Removing the meat from the pot for a moment, we sauté a great deal of garlic and onion, celery and leeks, then combine these with the seared beef and the caramel sauce under a swirl of sliced bell peppers, and push the covered whole into the oven for a few hours. Some crazy magic happens in there.
Plain white rice dressed only with a pat of butter is the best starch with which to pair this meal. You might try to locate some ripe plantains as well, to slice into coins and fry gently in oil until they turn the same golden brown as the caramel you started with. (In a pinch, you can use bananas, though they are a great deal more fragile and sweet than a ripe plantain, and require close attention in the pan, lest they turn to mush.)
Leal adds a rustic Venezuelan salad to the plate, with fresh hearts of palm, avocado and diced tomato. You might do the same, but at this time of the year, you would most likely disappoint yourself: December tomatoes in the United States are generally a grim affair, to say nothing of our canned hearts of palm and rock-hard avocados. Better to find some hothouse lettuces — Van Aken suggests something peppery in the area of watercress or arugula — and to dress these in a lime vinaigrette.
There’s a new Paul Simon song out, “Getting Ready for Christmas Day.” It’s all strummy guitar and thumping Delta blues, Simon’s muted trumpet of a voice singing about money and war, the pain of family and the release that comes to all of us somehow, religious or not, on Christmas Day. This would make a fine final accompaniment to the dinner itself, along with some dark beer or a strong zinfandel, slightly chilled.

The Dark Art of Beef - NYTimes.com

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Sunday, July 25, 2010

Saturday, July 17, 2010

just another walk in the park......

just another walk in the park...... 
Ed Stafford is first man to walk length of the Amazon




Walking the Amazon
'Loony idea' ... Ed Stafford walked the entire length of Amazon river
'Loony idea' ... Ed Stafford walked the entire length of Amazon river


ED Stafford had a "loony idea" to do something no one had ever done - and walk the entire 4,000-mile length of the Amazon.
He reckoned the epic journey would take him 12 months... but he was a bit out.
Now, two and a quarter YEARS after setting out, the 34-year-old former Army captain is still walking - but is finally within days of his goal.
On the way Ed has been pursued by machete-wielding tribesmen and detained for murder, as well as outwitting jaguars, pit vipers and a fly that set up home in his head.
Long hard trek ... Ed Stafford wades through the Amazon
Long hard trek ... Ed Stafford wades through the Amazon
Keith Ducatel
He has lived off piranhas and struck fear into local tribes who mistook him for a monster that traded in babies' body parts.
Ed told The Sun from the Brazilian jungle: "I have a week until I arrive at a network of roads around Belem and then ten days on roads.
"It's unavoidable - unfortunately I'm not slipping out of the jungle on to the beach, although there is a little road that looks out on to the Atlantic.
"It will be wonderful. I can't tell you how long it seems to have taken. I was expecting it to be a year, but it seems like a lifetime."
Ed left Britain in March 2008, starting the journey at Camana in Peru with pal Luke Collyer, though they fell out just months into the trip.
Luke came home and Ed found another hiking partner, Peruvian guide Gadiel Rivera, known as "Cho".
Their achievement of walking from the river's source to its mouth has already attracted support from legendary explorer Sir Ranulph Fiennes, and Ed says: "I fully acknowledge it's a loony thing to do. But no one has ever done it on foot."
The pair used inflatable pack rafts to cross and recross the river and its flooded banks and used sat nav to pinpoint their route.
Perserverance ... Ed, here in Peruvian jungle, kept trekking despite unpleasent experiences
Perserverance ... Ed, here in Peruvian jungle, kept trekking despite unpleasent experiences
Keith Ducatel
Ed adds: "It's great to be so near the end. I'm not whingeing and struggling but physically I'm starting to fall apart. My joints feel funny, my elbow is ridiculously inflamed, my rucksack has been broken for two months and I've had a fly living in my head."
The gruesome insect, called a botfly, lays its eggs on mosquitos which then bite humans, depositing the eggs under the skin, where they start to grow.
In Ed's case it took superglue and a nasty-looking needle to get it out. But he reveals the most dangerous part of the trip was in Peru, where he and Cho crossed drug-trafficking territory.
Ed says: "The native people were telling me, 'You will die' every day. It can get to you after a while.
Whatever floats his boat ... Ed used inflatable rafts to cross the river
Whatever floats his boat ... Ed used inflatable rafts to cross the river
Keith Ducatel
"We were in an area that for a long time had been controlled by terrorists from the Shining Path communist group and they are very wary of outsiders.
"We were using high-frequency radios to tell the villages ahead we were coming. But one told us, 'If you come through you will die.'
"We came up with a back-up plan to cross over to an island that was a long sandbank instead.
"But as we were getting back to the shore we saw behind us five canoes with Indians with bows and arrows, shotguns and machetes.
Meeting the locals ... with Ashaninka Indians in Peru
Meeting the locals ... with Ashaninka Indians in Peru
Keith Ducatel
"They were furious and ready to kill us, but we were as persuasive as we could be. We were finally able to calm them down but it took over three hours."
Even so, Ed - who left the Army in 2002 after serving in Afghanistan - reckons the sheer duration of the trip has been the hardest part.
Crossing a continent ... Ed Stafford's amazing adventure
Crossing a continent ... Ed Stafford's amazing adventure
He says: "It's the mosquitos, the humidity, the biting ants, day after day. Things that weren't bothering me at first became a frustration, but I've stuck it out for nearly two and a half years."
At one point he was also detained under suspicion of murder near Contamana, in north-east Peru.
He recalls: "A person had gone missing, and as passing foreigners, people thought we may have done it. The villagers decided we couldn't go anywhere, until eventually the local authorities let us go."
Along the way there have also been dramatic encounters with wildlife and Ed says: "Electric eels were something I hadn't heard about beforehand.
"But as I now know they are dangerous and aggressive and can knock you out and even cause you to drown in the water.
"Luckily we've been through so many swamps and rivers and I think they are far more scared of us than we are of them.
"I've also seen lots of jaguar prints. The locals always say they are manhunters, but they've never been too close.
"Snakes are a real threat but only if you step on one.
Threat ... electric eel
Threat ... electric eel
"Cho had a snake fall on his shoulders but it wasn't venomous. We carry 48 hours' worth of anti-venom.
"There are loads of pit vipers, which are probably our main worry.
"Without anti-venom you would bleed from all parts of your body, including your eyes, and would be dead within three hours.
"You are more likely to see them coiled up beneath a stone. If we got bitten it would probably be a defensive strike." Ed says he can sometimes "completely switch off" during the walk but with the finish in sight he has increasingly been dreaming of home.
The food has often been extremely simple, with the pair mostly surviving on rice and beans, and while locals are usually friendly, their attitude to the pair has varied.

Anxiety

Ed says: "In Brazil people are more educated and more accepting, but in Peru they have had 30 years of terrorist activity and they have issues because they live in such high anxiety.
Danger ... pit viper
Danger ... pit viper
"They believe in something called a Pelacala - a gringo, or white man, who steals babies and babies' organs.
"All they have is word of mouth and lots of communities were just terrified to see me.
"I was walking with Cho and some Ama Indians who had to explain our presence, and their fear was very real.
"Maybe there have been body-parts traffickers in there in the past - it was hard to know.
"We tended to make ourselves available to communities, because otherwise they wonder why you are avoiding them.
"But I often had men standing around my hammock with guns all night to make sure I didn't steal their children."
The state of the Amazon rainforest on the trip has varied - in Peru the logging was difficult to detect but in the Para region of Brazil there are huge cattle ranches and vast areas that are now clear of trees.
Hazard ... jaguar
Hazard ... jaguar
Ed, from Mowsley, Leicestershire, says: "You do see that the younger generation here are growing up knowing they need to protect it.
"We should all keep the pressure on, although I think over the next ten years the amount of deforestation will decline rapidly.
"We seem to be at the beginning of a more conscientious era."
Ed says his trip has led to personal sacrifices - "like not having a girlfriend and being poor."
It has cost nearly £70,000 and was only made possible after his mum and a friend launched a flurry of fundraising and sponsorship half-way through.
Unwanted guest ... botfly
Unwanted guest ... botfly
Ed also admits he only decided on the epic journey after being dumped by a previous girlfriend in 2007. He adds: "It puts a pause on your love life - there just isn't any."
And he describes his ideal day once he is back in England.
He says: "My perfect day would be to wake up and have breakfast with my family and then play rugby at my club, Stoneygate.
"After that I would go out on the town and have a few beers. I can't wait."
I ask him what he feels he has learned on the trip and he says: "I thought I was one man and his rucksack against the Amazon.
"Instead I found I needed a great team around me.
"I couldn't have done it without Cho, my family or my friends."
For more information go to walkingtheamazon.com.




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