Humberto Carrillo first discovered the Red Hook Ball Fields through another vendor, his good friend, Marcos Lainez, owner of El Olomega Truck. “I introduced my mother to them, and they asked, ‘why you don’t come here, find something to sell?’” Humberto says. “So my mother started selling those fried tacos. That’s how she started here. That was like, maybe eighteen years ago.” Humberto’s mother, Maria Estella Carrillo, soon branched out to other traditional items popular in Guatemala’s mercados or open markets—dishes like tamales filled with meat or sweet corn, rellenitos (fried sweet plantains filled with refried beans or pastry cream and atol de elote, a popular) hot sweet corn drink. The cart’s name embodies their menu—antojitos means snacks, and chapines is an informal term Guatemalans use to describe themselves. There are very few Guatemalan restaurants in New York, and expats longing for a taste of home know to come here get their fix.
Time and age began to take their toll on Maria Estella. The long hours of standing in the hot weather were becoming too much for her. Eventually the family convinced her to retire. “She still want to go, but she can’t,” Humberto says. For the past few years, the stand has been operated by Humberto and his wife, Reina. Preparing to sell is a week-long process. “We start Monday doing the shopping, then start cooking during the week. This is just the end,” says Humberto. So much of their business depends on the weather, which is always hard to predict during the week. “We can’t predict. We always prepare.… It’s not like you know, put it in the freezer and take it out or just go to the store and buy it in the store.” In the tight confines of their cart, Humberto and Reina stick to their duties. “She prepares the food, and I fry it. Once it’s done, I serve. … She make everything. I’m the helper.”
Tamales are especially popular and one of Humberto’s favorites. Guatemalan tamales are larger than their Mexican counterparts, and the masa, or cornmeal filling, has a wetter, creamier texture. Back in Guatemala, tamales are sold from people’s homes on Fridays or Saturdays. “When they sell them, they got a little red light on the house,” Humberto says. “You see a little red light there, it’s because they sell the tamales.” Another one of the more unique items on their menu is the pacaya, the flower of a palm tree native to Guatemala. The flower itself has a tentacle-like appearance. Reina batters and deep fries it, then serves it taco-style over corn tortillas, topped with a tomato sauce and garnished with onions and cilantro. It’s an acquired taste, slightly sour, slightly bitter, and Humberto admits that it wasn’t his favorite as a child. “At my house with my mother, she always cooked it, but I never ate it.” These days Humberto eats it with lots of lemon.
“This is native-style, from-Guatemala—cooking. It’s not stuff you can buy in the stores. I wish! It would be easier, but you can’t.”
Over the years Red Hook has changed considerably. “We used to have a lot of Guatemalan customers here. But everything changed. Before it was the Spanish people at the park. A lot. But it changed. Where did they go? Who knows. Just a few, they keep coming. Everything changed.” While the Pan-American soccer league once was the big draw to the park, the soccer teams have changed, too. “Now on Saturdays it’s a Guatemalan league. They lost a lot of teams because they don’t give out good premios [prizes] at the end of the season. So they moved someplace else. I think they moved to Prospect Park.” The loss of the better teams also meant the loss of their fans, who would buy food from the vendors to enjoy while they took in the game. In years past, Saturday was the bigger day for sales, but not anymore. “On Sundays, it’s better; the Mexican league is better. It used to be on Saturdays; now it’s on Sundays.”
While the Latino customers may be dwindling, the reputation of the Red Hook vendors has spread to the foodie community. Posts about the food at the ball fields began cropping up on Chowhound.com as early as 1999, and as the food blogosphere exploded, word of the Red Hook Ball Fields spread to adventurous food lovers around the city. Humberto remembers when the foodies first came: “They start buying one order; they split it with five or whatever. There was no money for us. They like it now, so now it’s like they buy one order for each one. Before they used to buy one order and taste it. Now it’s better.”
Even with the foodie crowds, the business is not what it used to be, and many of the vendors are still trying to recover their investments on the carts and trucks that the city required them to purchase to comply with the Department of Health code. Upgrading from a bunch of folding tables with grills to a food truck cost some vendors upward of $30,000. The Carillos were fortunate that Humberto works in a junkyard that used to buy repossessed carts from the city by the lot. Around the time of the changes, there were two carts that came into the yard. “One was nice; you have nothing to do with it, just to clean it. So I talk to my boss; I want that one.” When the day came to purchase the cart, they had already sold it. “Then they got this other one, but this was all beat up. So I redo that one. I pay $7,000 to redo it.” Unlike some of the other vendors, the cart isn’t the Carrillos’s sole source of income. “I work. I don’t live on this … this is extra money, and actually I always tell her, ‘That’s your money; it’s not my money.’”
Working in close quarters in the summer sun is a challenge. “I don’t even know if we are gonna continue doing this.… Sometimes we feel like cats inside there fighting. You know the summer heat is hot! The people, you get nervous, you get stressed there. Sometimes I feel like I just want to go and leave. She got patience. I can’t.” All of the Red Hook vendors have known each other for years. Some are friends. Some are relatives. But in the end they’re all independent businesses. With the increased regulations imposed by the city—from the various permits to the cost of parking at the commissary throughout the year and the rising costs of everything from ingredients to gasoline—it’s hard to say what the future will bring. “We got ten vendors here. Everyone want to do some things; some people don’t want to do things. It’s very hard. We are together, but we are not together.… some of us agree, some of us disagree, but we’ll see.”
Adapted from Reina Carillo’s recipe
During the early spring and fall, the shoulder months of the Red Hook vendors’ selling season, the Carrillos serve Atol de Elote, a popular, sweetened, hot corn-and-milk beverage from their native Guatemala. This cinnamon-flecked beverage instantly warms you up and is ideal for taking the chill off on those mornings you’d much rather stay in bed.
2 cups of sweet corn kernels (about 4 ears)
2 cups whole milk
½ cup granulated sugar
1 cinnamon stick
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cinnamon, for serving
Cut corn off cob and add kernels to a blender or food processor with 1 cup water. Purée mixture until smooth, about 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer mixture to a large saucepan and add milk, sugar, cinnamon stick, vanilla, and an additional cup of water. Stir to dissolve sugar, then bring the mixture to boil over medium-high, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally for 20 minutes, until mixture has slightly thickened. Remove from heat, discard cinnamon stick. Pour into 4 mugs for serving and sprinkle with cinnamon, if desired. Serve immediately.
