Actress Morena Baccarin Makes Brazilian Stew


“If I take these home to my kids and they don’t like them, I will kill them,” the actress said. Morena Baccarin said.

It’s been a soaking morning Rio Supermarket, a Brazilian grocery store in the Astoria neighborhood of Queens. An Emmy-nominated actress, Ms. Baccarin moved from Rio to New York at the age of 10. She still misses the foods of her childhood like coxinhas, chicken and potato croquettes that have turned into a golden-brown kiss. She ordered two quick Portuguese orders, one for herself, one for her children, and then she nibbled on a croquette, somehow keeping her lipstick from smearing.

“It’s not part of my diet but I can’t eat these,” she said. “Deep fried and heavenly.”

Ms. Baccarin, 42, came to Rio Market last Friday at the suggestion of two of her cousins, who gave her the flamingo-pink earrings she was wearing. Had an afternoon shoot “Game over” Thriller series that premiered on NBC. But she hoped to have enough time to shop for ingredients and then rush home to make moqueca, a Brazilian fish stew for her three children: an 8-year-old son she co-parents with her first husband, the producer. She has a 5-year-old daughter and an 11-month-old son with Austin Chick and her current husband. “Gotham” starring Ben McKenzie.

He took a basket and began filling it with frozen cheese bread, bay leaves, herbal tea, and a carton of brigadeiros, Brazilian sweets made from condensed milk, cocoa powder, and butter.

“If I bring him home, the kids will forgive me for working all day,” he said, stepping down the halls in a camel-hair coat. His demeanor was energetic, efficient, putting himself in the background. Her hair hung like a ball of silk, immune to moisture.

Miss Baccarin started acting early – her mother was an actress in Rio, her father was a journalist at Globo. “I like to hide in character,” she said. “I mean, of course it’s me, but I like to pretend it’s not. I tell myself I’ve created this brand new person.”

So even as she struggled to adjust to Manhattan life, she continued, honing her craft, first at Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School for Music and the Arts and Performing Arts, and then at the Juilliard School. He never felt like he fit in there.

“I wasn’t a favourite,” he said. “I had too many attitudes.” Juilliard taught technique, endurance, survival, but not how to embrace strengths or ethnicity. He thought he would do classical theater after graduation; Hollywood called instead. “I felt like I was disappointing everyone,” he said.

She debuted as a prostitute in Joss Whedon’s short-lived space Western “Firefly.” (She hasn’t been harassed by Mr. Whedon, but she doesn’t dispute what others may have.) She discovered that her training on set helped her handle high, stylized text and keep it looking natural, which probably explains why she found it. His path to many superhero projects like “Gotham”, “Deadpool” and “Justice League Unlimited”. His work on the Showtime thriller “Homeland” earned him an Emmy nomination.

Arms dealer and criminal mastermind Elena Federova’s character in “The Endgame” has no superpowers. It doesn’t need them. “The really fun thing about this character is that I can constantly mess with people and poke their weak spots,” Ms. Baccarin said. He also does stunts. heeled.

That day, she wore sensible ankle boots that hit the floor as she added palm oil to her basket, then hot sauce for her husband. He saw a 12-pack of soda flavored with Guaraná berries. “This is the best. It’s so cute,” she said. She upgraded her cart to a car.

After her nanny added coconut milk, herbal tea, hearts of palm, biscuits, juice, cheese, and a pair of Havaianas flip-flops, she paid for it and took it to a waiting SUV. Half an hour later he delivered it to the South Brooklyn kitchen in a brownstone basement.

Growing up, Miss Baccarin rarely cooked. “My mom swore I’d never cook for any man,” she said. But as a working actress she learned to cook for herself and her friends. “Sounds like the most caring and loving things you can do,” she said.

He learned some Brazilian dishes from his cousins ​​and some from cookbooks. Her husband taught her a few other things, even though she grew up in Texas.

After removing his coat, he laid out the ingredients and, while quickly chopping an onion, donned a pair of swimming goggles and slipped it into the bubbling palm oil. Then minced garlic, then sliced ​​bell pepper, then leeks, a last-minute substitute for lemongrass. “I do it a little differently,” she said.

She took a pack of fish from the refrigerator and another shrimp her husband had bought that morning. The shells were still on the shrimp. “Men never get it right, but she’s so cute I can’t complain,” she said. The shrimp, still unshelled, also came in, along with a bottle of coconut milk, a squeeze of lemon, coriander, and salt.

“And bay leaf,” he said. “I’m a rebel.”

He stirred the soup, blew it, tasted it. He added more salt and more coriander and tasted it again. Then he took a sip of his freshly chilled guarana soda.

“I am a total Brazilian right now,” he said.





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