By Marco Shalma

Every week I walk this city like it’s my personal tasting room. I eat what real New Yorkers eat. I slip into family kitchens, neighborhood counters, and the kind of spots you only find by listening to the soundtrack of a working stove. Some plates warm you. Some plates hurt you. And some places… well, they remind you that New York is a place where hype can rob you blind. My job is simple: taste it all, filter it, and hand you the truth so you know where to spend and where to save your patience.

Let’s start with the good stuff. When I need comfort—real comfort—I go to Dona Maty in East Harlem. This is a family-run spot, extra authentic, zero pretense. You walk in, and you know instantly you’re in the hands of people who cook from the gut, not from a branding deck. I always grab a bag of the Japanese peanuts and a pineapple Jarritos before my order hits the counter. Trust me, it completes the experience. Their chorizo-papa quesadilla? The chorizo is homemade, the potatoes are soft without being mush, and the tortilla has that perfect griddled snap. The kind of flavor that sits you down for a second and says, “Relax, you’re home.” Do yourself a favor: try both salsas. Don’t pick a side. They work together.

Then I had a different kind of hit, one that wasn’t a plate but still fed the soul. I took my daughter to Kitchen Arts & Letters to get her a copy of Kitchen Confidential. If you’ve never been, it’s one of the last true culinary bookstores left in this city. A place that still believes in knowledge, obsession, and curiosity. Watching a kid pick up Bourdain for the first time feels like handing over a map you wish you had at her age. This store is a New York institution, whether you cook or not.