How the Bearded Hipster Butchers and Baristas Forever Changed Williamsburg
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Food

How the Bearded Hipster Butchers and Baristas Forever Changed Williamsburg

"If wearing flannel gets you off and makes you feel good about yourself, then have a go at it."

For the maiden voyage of our new show MOLTISSIMO, Mario Batali threw down in the MUNCHIES Test Kitchen and prepared some tailor-made dishes for VICE's Ben Anderson and the inimitable Rosie Perez.

Batali gave a little nod to Perez's Puerto Rican heritage in his Italian-inspired dish, Steak Milanese,which wasaggressively seasoned with adobo. Over lunch—and lots of Sicilian white wine—Perez recounted stories of living and eating in poverty in Williamsburg as a kid. Her anecdotes were honest and hilarious, and right after lunch, she sat down with us to discuss how the culinary "bearded hipster movement" forever changed Williamsburg.

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MUNCHIES: So how would you describe the adobo you know compared to Batali's? Rosie Perez: You can use adobo for almost everything in Puerto Rican cuisine. I'm dead serious. Ask any other Latin-Caribbean person. Put it on steak, chicken, your rice, beans; you can put it on almost anything. It's a mixture of some special seasonings, but of course, the main seasoning is salt. There's garlic powder in there, and pepper if you like, but it all depends. Instead of opening up a few dry seasonings, you throw it all in one spice blend. When Mario made it for me on MOLTISSIMO, I was surprised. It wasn't a true adobo like I grew up with, but it was good.

As a kid, what did food options look like in Williamsburg? There were only one or two major grocery stores. Nowadays, there aren't a lot of mom and pop specialty stores. We used to go to the Polish area to get our sausages. As a kid, it was disgusting to me: you'd ask for whatever you wanted inside your sausage, and they'd stuff it right there for you. It wasn't anything artisanal and there certainly wasn't anyone with a beard behind the counter. These were all family-run shops, and of course we'd have to say hello for at least five or ten minutes and ask, "How's the family?" and then order the meat. It was the same thing with the fish store, and unfortunately the same thing with the poultry store. We'd go in there and get a live chicken and they'd cut the neck. I'd watch it and be like, "Oh my god!"

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My aunt raised me; she was like my mother, and I was like her daughter. Together, we would say hello and talk shit to all the food shop owners, which was really great. When I got older, sometimes she would send me out on my own and I would talk just as much as she did. I used to find it annoying, and then I turned into her as I grew older.

Certain housewives turned their kitchens into businesses. They'd sell home-cooked meals to people who lived on the block. You'd go into their apartments after work and pick up dinner for your entire family. You don't have that around here anymore.

Did you go out to eat around the neighborhood? Since my aunt was a working woman, we eventually moved to Bushwick, where certain housewives turned their kitchens into businesses. They'd sell home-cooked meals to people who lived on the block or to people that knew them. You'd go into their apartments after work and pick up dinner for your entire family. It was awesome. You don't have that around here anymore. We used to go to this Italian lady's place and she wouldn't let us into her apartment because we were Puerto Rican [laughs]. We had to wait outside in the hallway [laughs]. We would order and then she'd bring it out. And the pie lady! Oh my god! All she made was pie and banana pudding with Nilla Wafers!

From chocolate makers to coffee roasters and butchers, it feels like there's a lot of bearded culinary artisans in Williamsburg these days. What's your take on all of it? On the one hand, the bearded hipster movement in Williamsburg is really weird to me, but on the other hand, I get it. I grew up in the era when hip-hop was created. I was a part of it. People used to look at us kids and say, "Oh my god, look at all those hip hoppers! Those kids are wearing tight-leg jeans and chains," and all that. What's weird about the beards is that they try to act as if it's like, "Oh, I wanted to grow this beard because I'm earthy and I'm crunchy granola." No, you're part of a fad, but whatever creams your Twinkie. If wearing flannel gets you off and makes you feel good about yourself, then have a go at it. I just find hipsters weird because when we were into the hip-hop movement, we were teenagers.

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"If wearing flannel gets you off and makes you feel good about yourself… whatever creams your Twinkie."

Once you passed the age of 25 and still dressed like that, people looked at you funny. It's weird to me that a fad has taken hold of adults who are trying to deny that it's a fad. I was recently in Maine and I went into a grocery store and saw a bunch of bearded men and said, "Look at all these hipsters!" They got so angry at me and were like, "Honey, we created the look, alright? This is how we've looked for years." This guy was like "Look at my father!" (His dad was a 60-year-old who looked like a hipster). I couldn't stop laughing. That's all I have to say about the crunchy granola BS.

I've heard you're a big cook. How often are you cooking at home? Practically every day.

So what's your average dinner? Last night, I made chicken that I seared both sides. I took it out of the pan and made a mushroom gravy with garlic slices, and then I put it back in the oven to let it finish cooking. I made white rice with cabbage on the side for my husband, and finished the chicken in the sauce because he loves gravy. The night before, I made pasta with a marinara sauce, but I put kalamata olives in the sauce. I know it sounds weird, but it's actually really good. Then I made a secret recipe that Mario Batali would kill for: baked, fried chicken thighs. They get so crispy, it's disgusting it's so good. Tonight before I go out, I'm gonna fry some crab cakes for my husband and make white rice and beans on the side. I like to mix and match with my cooking unless I have company over.

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Times have changed for grocery shopping these days. It's fairly convenient, from ordering groceries online to farmers markets and stores that contain a diversity of products. How do you get shopping done now? I do my big shopping at the grocery store, but with things like fish, I'm still gonna do it the day of. If it's steak—which I don't really eat, but my husband does—I'll buy it fresh. But when it comes to things like chicken, pre-packed food, rice, pasta, and a whole bunch of salads, I'll buy it at the grocery store because I know I'm gonna eat 'em the whole week. It's not as pleasurable for me to go to a shop these days. For seafood, I have to go all the way to Prospect Heights at Mermaid's Fish Market, or all the way to Cobble Hill for good meat at Staubitz Market. Or I might go all the way to Williamsburg for the good meatballs at Lorimer Market, but with all the traffic and people now, it's such a pain in the fucking ass.

Are there any old-school restaurants in the neighborhood that are still around from your childhood? When I was little, I used to go stand in front of Bamonte's—which has been around Williamsburg for forever—because it was rumored that it was a mobbed up spot. We wanted to see the gangsters go in there and look at their cars and peek in to see the furniture inside, and stuff like that. They'd say, "Get outta here, you little Puerto Rican!" [laughs] It was such a thrill to go over there, and when I became an adult, I finally got to go there. I went with Quentin Tarantino, and he loved the place.

What did you order? I ordered sauteed lemon sole with a side of penne a la vodka. It had peas in it, because I asked for it like that. And a lot of red wine.

Places like Bamonte's are definitely keeping old Williamsburg alive. They're still fighting off the beards. Is there anything else you miss about the old neighborhood? Outside of the delicious food—because nothing beats homemade mom and pop style cooking—I miss the Commodore Theater that was on Broadway. I also miss the fact that people used to say hello to you. I miss that a lot.

Where do you think that neighborly vibe went? Inside those fuckin' beards.