A long time ago in a galaxy not so far away, there supposedly lived a dude named Noah. According to folklore, he was a real stand-up guy — so morally upright, in fact, that the big man in the sky decided to let him live through a floodpocalypse.
Thing is, Noah had to build a boat to survive the deluge, but he had to make it big — like Kardashian badonkadonk big — so he could stick two of every known animal on the ship. That way, all the creatures could continue living after the storm, or something.
Noah did as told, and if you believe in a biblical recounting of history (as opposed to a real one), the parable both explains biodiversity and extreme self-control. After all, haven’t you ever wondered: If you were in close quarters with all the exotic animals in the world — and they could not run — wouldn’t you try eating as many of them as possible?
Of course, most of us will never have the opportunity to eat rhinoceros or ocelot or orc or unicorn, so we have to make do with more quotidian meats.
Thankfully, some dishes offer such a broad smorgasbord of the animal kingdom that they feel like little helpings of the holy vessel — such as the maracucha at Cachapas y Mas (107 Dyckman Street).
At this Washington Heights arepas counter, the menu’s featured hamburger has the honor of being one of the few sandwiches that could make even the most “righteous in his generation” cringe.
A beef patty loaded with ham, sopressata, bacon, lettuce, tomato, cilantro mayo, fried potato shards, and mozzarella and American cheeses, the Venezuelan approach to the American staple affordably busts your gut. (Sometimes, you can find shredded beef and pulled pork on there, too.)
The $6.50 pick feels hearty and rich, but the plentiful vegetal components make it
lighter than your average McWhatever.
Greasy and filling, the hot heaps of high-quality — though super fatty — ingredients combine to create a meta-snack of sorts: You’d dream up this burger if you were stuck on a desert island, craving a cornucopia of moist meat.