It's early Saturday evening, day leaning into dusk. The barbershops and nail salons are full; patrons spill out onto the street drinking from plastic cups and preparing for whatever the night may bring. Mott Haven residents making the rounds always end up at El Atoradera, a well-stocked bodega by weekday, a carnitas outpost by weekend, the requisite stop to chat, gossip, and refuel. There are no tables and chairs, just a cauldron dragged into the center of the room, trays of moist corn masa, and the culinary expertise of... More >>>