Mike Diago

2 weeks ago | punchdrink.com | Mike Diago

A few blocks from the mouth of the Río Ozama, at Parque Colón in Santo Domingo’s Zona Colonial, children play under the canopies of sprawling oak trees, and parents chatter at small tables outside the bordering restaurants and cafés. From lunchtime through sunset and well into the night, waitstaff replenish their tables with buckets of ice, liters of 7UP and bottles of Brugal Añejo rum, the makings of the Santo Libre.

2 months ago | saveur.com | Mike Diago

By Mike DiagoPublished on March 21, 2025The village of Haverstraw sits on the western shore of Haverstraw Bay, the widest part of the Hudson River, about 35 miles north of New York City.

2 months ago | ny.eater.com | Mike Diago

On Tonnelle Avenue in Jersey City, four lanes of traffic lurch under power lines, screeching and growling day and night, past a shuttered auto body shop covered in faded graffiti, a cargo truck repair facility, and a liquor store. It’s all cinder block structures until the corner of Manhattan Avenue, named Mario Costa Plaza. There, a white-paneled, circular building with a dotted red crown looks like it could light up and lift off into outer space — White Mana Diner.

2 months ago | bittmanproject.com | Mike Diago

A few winters ago, I went rabbit hunting in Westerlo, NY, with my friend Paul, who I’ve known since seventh grade. It’s not like deer hunting, where, as I understand it, you sit still and wait. To hunt rabbits, you pace through bramble and open woods with your rifle in shooting position until you spot one. We spent hours doing this over frost and ice. It was tedious. Eventually, Paul, a lifelong hunter (and, as I learned that day, prolific gun collector), shot three.

Jan 31, 2025 | sentientmedia.org | Mike Diago

This article was originally published at The Bittman Project. The first time Kelton O’Connor approached the gates of a prison, he saw the glinting barbed wire and the surveillance tower gunmen against the blue California sky, and his heart pounded in anticipation. Just a toddler, he hadn’t seen his mother for a year—not since she was taken at gunpoint from their apartment by federal agents—and now, peering through his grandmother’s car window, he could finally see where she’d been living.