Post 15.1: Did We Really Eat Diaphragm? (Bay Area: Milpitas)

I ate diaphragm.  Or at least that's what the menu read.

While in the Bay Area for a quick 20 hours, Vickee took me around her hood for a quick bite at Milpitas Square before my return flight to LA.  Of all the different Asian restaurants in Milpitas Square, we stopped at Taiwan Noodle House (台灣排骨大王), a small mom and pop shop that serves Taiwanese snacks and a variety of Taiwanese-style noodles.  Of course, the literal translation of the restaurant's name from Han characters means Taiwan Pork Chop King... but hopefully the off-translation just meant that the food was authentic.

And authentic it was.  The menu listed 'diaphragm' as a specialty! Can you get any more authentic than that? Since it was so different from anything on the menu (trust me, everything else on the menu is pretty standard), I had to try it.  Plus, when I had asked the owner what she recommended, the she immediately responded, "Would you like to try diaphragm?"

Silently, Vickee shot me the are-you-serious-you're-gonna-order-diaphragm-I-hope-it's-not-really-diaphragm look. 

Me: "Yes, please."

So adding onto our soup noodles with deep-fried pork chops, we ordered a diabolical diaphragm as an appetizer.  How did it taste?

The first reaction was that it was firm yet tender.  A bit elastic and springy.  If protein could be al dente, this would be it.  Taiwanese traditionally describe this firm yet tender, elastic and springy texture as 'Q,' a term that can be used for anything from noodles to meatballs to... well, diaphragm.

My second reaction was that it didn't taste, smell, or look like anything out of the ordinary.  No strong flavors? No strange after taste? Hrmmm... so I began to wonder what exactly this diaphragm was.  We asked the boss, and she explained that diaphragm (豬肝蓮) actually refers to the meat surrounding the liver of the pig.  Is it really diaphragm? No, although had it been, Andrew Zimmerman would have been quite proud.

My third reaction was that it was really good.  Dipped in the traditional Taiwanese garlic soy sauce paste and garnished with fresh cilantro and sliced ginger, the flash-boiled meat that circumscribed the pork liver made for a really enjoyable appetizer.

Would I ever eat it again? You betcha.  (Sarah Palin-esque?)

The bowl of noodles that arrived soon after was not bad at all.  Although there was a viscous layer of oil across the top of the noodles, the blanched baby bok choy helped provide a healthier balance.

I was really delighted to see a few goji berries sprinkled into the soup.  Not only do that further the health benefit ever-so-slightly, it really broke up the monotony of the yellows and greens in the bowl.  (While often used to slow-cook light soup or broth in Asia, the health benefits of goji berries have recently picked up in America.  You can now find them in the aisles in supermarkets such as Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and Henry's.)

I added a few shakes of the white pepper to give the soup a slight kick, but I had realized why the soup was a bit bland when the fried pork chop arrived.

This protein-packed plate was to be added to the noodles and soup.  Hidden from view is the hard-boiled egg that has later been braised in a soy sauce concoction of sorts.  Also to be added to the bowl of simple soup was the deep-fried tofu triangle, which had also been braised in the same soy sauce concoction as the egg.

The pickled cucumber and the chopped, pickled mustard greens are served alongside to help break the savory flavors and to cleanse the palate from the oils of the deep-fried pork chop and oily soup.

Not bad.  Not bad at all.  It definitely hit the spot quickly, but as Vickee mentioned, "it's not like we can't make this at home."  True, the noodles did resemble the instant dry noodles that can be purchased at an Asian supermarket.  (Funny how 99 Ranch is only 3 doors down...)  But I wasn't disappointed at all.

So I tried 'diaphragm' for the first time, and I ate a pork chop the size of my face with a bowl of noodles the size of my torso.  Not bad for less than 20 hours in the Bay Area.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Notes:
'Diaphragm' is traditionally served in Taiwanese hole-in-the-wall deli shops called 黑白切 (Taiwanese: ouh beh tzeh, Mandarin: hei bai qie).  Look for a forthcoming post for this style of Taiwanese food.

ML 20100403/20100315

Post 14.2 Paying for Girl Scout Cookies in Euros

The girl scouts nowadays have a few tricks up their sleeves, don't they? This year I felt mentally ambushed when I was returning DVDs at the local Blockbuster.  (Yes, I still have an active Blockbuster membership, and I intend to use it 'til the day I die.)  Instead of completely avoiding the temptation to buy the cookies this year, I tackled my weakness head on.  2010 was the year I planned to buy a box.  Just one box.  Samoas, perhaps.  A friendly co-worker had already secretly handed me some Thin Mints at my desk, so I had my mint chocolate fix already earlier in the week.  Okay, Samoas.  It was decided.

I dropped four singles on the table and picked up my purple box of coconut-covered caramel cookies.  Feeling satisfied that I didn't even browse the other boxes, I turned to walk away.  But just as I was turning away, the blond eight-year-old asked, "Sir, what else would you like?" Now that I think about it... she must have been at least ten years old to be asking that kind of sales-driven question.

"What else would I like, huh?" Secretly, I wanted to give her 'the look' and yell in frustration, "A higher paying job so I can buy more of your damned cookies, and an even faster metabolism so that I can eat ALL the damned cookies!" But I refrained.  Good job, Michael.  I opened my flat, dilapidated, black weathered wallet and peered inside.  Three Lincolns.  I was one dollar short of four boxes.

"Okay, here's twelve bucks... I want the Thin Mints, Trefoils, Do-si-dos, annnnnd... let me check my car for some change."  So while I had thought my plan to buy just one box was going to work out perfectly, my brain was thinking, "I reeeaaally hope there's a dollar worth of change in the car..." Honk, honk.  I opened the center console.  Two quarters and a Euro.  Not enough.  I opened the compartment above the cup holders.  A glistening pool of copper pennies appeared... 1, 2, 3... 20, 21, 22, 23, 24... 24.  I'm at 74 cents.

Pure anguish flowed through my bloodstream.  $3.74.  I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM 26 CENTS SHORT OF A BOX OF COOKIES.  RI-DI-CU-LOUS.

So I walked back across the parking lot to the little blond girl and said, "Hey, I'm really sorry... I only have $3.74, and a Euro... ... do you know what a Euro is? It's really like two U.S. dollars..."

As much as the mom wanted to help her daughter sell all her cookies, I knew at this point... she seriously thought I was insane.  Like... I Love Lucy insane.  "I don't think the bank will take a Euro..." and trailed off.  I think my eyebrows furrowed a bit at that point.  Either this lady has never been out of the country, or she really doesn't want my damn money.

 

But before I could say sorry or even tell her where you could trade in a Euro for U.S. dollars, a very pleasant (and smart) lady overhead the conversation.  She paused as she was passing by and said, "I'll buy your Euro from you!"

And with that she reached into her pocket, pulled out four quarters, and dropped them one after one onto the table.  1, 2, 3, 4 quarters... 5, 6, 7, 8 quarters... I was speechless.

"Uh... uh... b-duh... thanks!" Uneasy laughter and more stammering.  "Thank you so much!"

"Here you go!" I grabbed the last box in such a hurry that I didn't even look.  (How ironic... they turned out to be the Thank U Berry Munches...) Embarrassed yet somewhat self-satisfied I ran to the car with my loot.  And when I turned the key to start the car, I said to myself, "This is the LAST year.  FOR REAL."

Until next year's cookie sales, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Note:

Of course there are only images of the cookie boxes in this post... I've eaten all the cookies already.  =]

ML - 20100330/20100320

Post 14.1: Unavoidable Costs

It's that time of year again!

They set up shop right outside the front entrance to the supermarket, and they tempt you with calls of solicitation... they make it extremely difficult for you to avoid them.  How annoying! As they try to guilt trip you with their looks, you deliberately avoid eye contact and side-step your way into the store.  Success.  You have made it past them without even reaching for your wallet.

But this is where the guilt trip begins.  As you pick up the shopping basket, you start thinking... just a few dollars would really support their organization.  But of course you know that those few dollars can buy your family another gallon of milk.  Oh, but the guilt sneaks in...  You think... it's not like their organization is shady or anything.  The devil and the angel in your thought cavity play tug-of-war as you continue to shop... Milk.  2%.  Expiration date? Good enough.  Moving on...

Somewhere between picking up the loaf of Oroweat and swiping your Mastercard at the check-out stand, you had successfully shoved the guilt of avoiding those solicitors to the back of your mind.  But as the double-doors open to expose the sunlight and the crowded parking lot, the guilt that you tried so hard to keep suppressed came tumbling back.  You now realize that the ever-persistent Girl Scout and her ever-supportive mom have won the guilt trip battle.  You have lost... terribly. 

"One box of Thin Mints, please," you say, while the look of guilt spreads across your face.

Yes, it is that time of year again... the time of year when the scouts camp out in store fronts, when you start counting the calories per serving, and when the cash comes flying out of your wallet in multiples of $4... and you say, once again, "This is really the last year..."

Until your actions follow your words... let's get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20100330

Post 13: Oooh... Umami Burger (LA: Sunset)

While continuing the quest for a stable, full-time job I stumbled across a unique job posting in the food/beverage/hospitality section of Craigslist: FOOD TOUR GUIDE.  Whoooooah.  Not only is food the love of my life, but I had been a campus tour guide at school for almost the entirety of my college career.  This was THE job for me. 

I applied for the job right away, and long story short, I am now the tour guide for the Arcadia food tour for Six Taste, a growing food tour company founded by two recent USC graduates.  The tours are on Sunday mornings, and guests get the opportunity to experience some authentic Taiwanese tastes.  The anchor of the tour is the ever-popular dumpling house Din Tai Fung, arguably a favorite of millions (also a favorite of Sir Oolong Milk Tea, posted March 26).

As one of the newly hired recruits at Six Taste, I hadn't met the rest of the tour guides yet.  The founders Jeff and Alex gathered us at Umami Burger on La Brea for our first company get-together.  Imagine about a dozen twenty-somethings (and a couple of slightly older twenty-somethings, but you can't really tell just by looking) sitting at a round table.  It's their first time at Umami Burger.  There is a vibe of excitement.  They are all foodies, and they have a natural energetic, effervescent, and enthusiastic aura.  Many of them are food tour guides, true professionals of the culinary kingdom who live to eat, and eat to talk about their experience.

Okay, scratch all that.  There was a group of food tour guides who were all restless and hungry.  Pure pandemonium.  When the waiter arrived to take our order, he exclaimed, "Oh, God... food tour guides?! Shit..." If the food tour guides weren't listed under the definition of enthusiasm in Webster's, then the server definitely was.  He looked directly at me and pointed, "This one must be the giddy one!"

Enough about the people.  Here's the food:

The Umami Burger.  The classic.  A petitely portioned patty of pure beef pleasure, placed on an ever-so-lightly toasted bun and topped off with a smooth portabella cap.  But here's what makes it so uniquely delicious: the cheese shreds (is it parmesean?) that have been heated to an intertwined crisp.  Holy cow.  This simple cheese crisp makes all the difference upon the first bite, the second bite, and all bites thereafter.  

Nakhon Lager.  Umami Burger's house brewed beer from jasmine rice.  Where else can you find beer brewed from rice at a burger joint? Definitely unique.  Crisp, refreshing, and not too heavy... similar to what I taste from an Asahi or Kirin.  Other than the foil being hard to peel off the mouth, it's good stuff.

Burgers and beer are a perfect pairing.  Nothing like grilled meat and some cold beer to wash it all down with.  But what's even better are these:

Sweet potato fries.  These fries completed the tremendous trifecta of tastiness.  Beer + alcohol + more fried carbs could be a perfect final meal if I were ever on Death Row.

The onion rings.  Wow.  When they first arrived, I thought... man, those must have been some Olympic-sized onions that they cut the rings from... look at those things! Notice the size of the rings in comparison to the bottle of beer.  There are only about half a dozen rings in the plate, but these bad boys are definitely about the quality over quantity.  Lightly fried to a golden crisp in possible beer batter with a good proportion of onion to batter.  Yum.

The ice cream sandwich.  There's always room for dessert! (It may be why the burgers are palm-sized.)  The outer layer of the ice cream sandwich is a like a frozen Girl Scout Thin Mint with the thickness and hardness of toffee or a candy cane.  Sandwiched in between the cookies is a chilly and sweet mint chocolate chip ice cream that is heavy on the mint and light on the chocolate chip.  The first impression I had of this was that... it's very... GREEN.  Your impression too, I assume.  But oooh, it's good.

Cake Monkey Desserts.  What is that? Nicole, our tour guide of the San Gabriel Valley, asked our waiter what a cake monkey dessert actually was.  In response the server said, "A cupcake or Ding Dong on crack."

A cupcake on crack? Not quite.  This is just the outer layer, but don't judge a cupcake by its chocolate-covered goodness.

THIS is what's inside.  A red velvet and raspberry cupcake, complete with cream cheese frosting... and of course, covered in a thick layer of congealed chocolate.  A definite good end to a great meal.

All of this great food has made the tour guides quite happy.  Come check out the tours if you get a chance! Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20100327/20100301

Post 12: Swooning for Soon Tofu @ Beverly Soon Tofu (LA: Koreatown)

A few weeks ago I was hired as a temp for tax season at an accounting firm in the Valley.  I hope I don't speak too soon (no pun intended), but I actually enjoy preparing tax returns for complete strangers.  I mean, the the worst part of the day isn't even at work... it's the morning commute.  On Monday it took me a little over two hours to drive 40 miles from the SG Valley into the West SF Valley.  (I won't say how late I was for work.)  In comparison, driving 120 miles from the SG Valley to San Diego only takes 90 minutes... with a non-congested I-5, of course.

The morning stack.

I work my weight in paperwork everyday in the office.

I'm not quite sure what's going on with my taste buds (or my brain for that matter), but recently I haven't been able to fulfill my cravings for Korean food.  It's not that the Korean food I have is not satisfying or that it's not hitting the spot.  It's that... I think I've become addicted to Korean food.  No matter how much haemul pajeon, banchan, or japchae I have... I want more. I look at all the creased 1040 federal filing forms, the wrinkled W-2s, and the folded 1099s plopped on my desk, and I start to think about... kimchi.  The wrinkles, ruffles, and ridges that have been so effortlessly grooved into the creased kimchi leaves... and the swirls of red from chili that glide down through the gentle folds and bends of the fermented cabbage... gawwwd.

Plethora of banchan.

The side dishes (banchan) are served complimentary with every meal.

Lucky for me I have friends who feel the same way.  When the clock struck 5:00, I called up a friend who knew (still knows) her Korean food, and I asked her to take me to the place that she says serves crack in the form of soon tofu... Beverly Soon Tofu Restaurant.  When she said the tofu stew was like kimchi-flavored crack, she wasn't kidding.

A simple and refreshing start.

The tofu drops chill in a light soy sauce topped with shredded seaweed and sesame.

I know what you're thinking... it's gotta be the MSG! That's what I thought too.  But after demolishing the entire portion of tofu stew, I didn't feel the tingling numbness that is usually associated with the malevolent monosodium mayhem.  So what makes the soon tofu so good? Other than the blocks of tender tofu brewing in beef broth and the stewing seafood... I'm convinced that it's the crack.  (My eating companion agrees with me.)  I'm sure that it's the same crack that makes the soup bubble so feverishly upon hitting the boiling point.  And it's probably the same crack that makes the soup so thick, which is a quality that distinguishes this tofu stew from the tofu stew at other Korean restaurants.

The bubbles boil over the brim.

Heat + crack = boiling.  Crack + tofu = simple equations.

I rarely ever finish a pot of tofu stew, but on this occasion the beef, egg, and broth were completely consumed.  Just bits of white bean product spotted the sides of the black stone pot... the dregs of the tofu stew.  I'm telling ya... it's the crack.  Anyone have any other speculations other than MSG? Let me know!

Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20100323/20100301

Post 11.3: Daikokuya ramen-ya? Yeah! (LA: Little Tokyo)

In just a few hours the two of us had consumed three German sausages, fries complete with two dipping sauces, two pints of beer, shrimp ceviche on a crunchy tostada, and strawberry froyo... in a cone.  Did I mention that we stopped by for some Starbucks, a chocolate croissant, and mochi ice cream too? We had formed the basis for a Tums/Mylanta/Beano commercial in one afternoon.  It was now almost 6:00 p.m.  Time for dinner!

Sunset from 2nd St.

The street lights and headlights are reflected off the wet blacktop.

Walking around the streets of Little Tokyo, we stopped at Daikokuya (大黑家), a popular ramen house (ramen-ya) that has been a favorite of mine for quite some time now.  During the prime dinner rush (and even close to midnight), the wait time runs parallel to the wait time for Splash Mountain.  It didn't matter that it was cold, windy, and rainy outside.  Daikokuya had just what we needed... a hot bowl of noodle soup.** 

The menu is simple.  Although there are appetizers and other entrees, it is clear that the ramen is the shining star.  (It's centered smack dab in the middle of the menu.)  The foundation of Daikokuya's ramen is not the noodle but the broth, created by simmering pork bones on low heat overnight and throughout the day.  Sunday's store closing time is posted on the window outside: "when the broth runs out..."

Smell the shiso.

Sesame leaves have aromatically strong flavors in both taste and smell.

I rarely order from the appetizers section at Daikokuya, but this time I noticed a dish made from deep-frying spicy tuna wrapped in shiso (the leaves from the sesame plant).  Shiso is a favorite flavor of mine, so I had an urge to taste the spicy tuna wrapped in shiso.  Like basil, shiso leaves smell delicate in their natural state, but they inject powerful punches into the tongue. 

The three layers of the spicy tuna hit my taste buds at different times.  First, the crunchy tempura batter mediated between the sour lemon juice and the stinging grains of salt.  It kicked my taste buds into gear.  Next, wafts of the shiso found its way into my nostrils as the shiso danced on top of my tongue.  Finally, a tender taste of the fried spicy tuna.  Spicy tuna is usually consumed raw, so I think my taste buds were expecting it to be that way.  After the deep-fry, the spicy tuna was a fluffier version of the canned Bumblebee.  A bit anti-climatic but complacent.  No worries, the ramen had arrived.

So simple. 

The bubbling broth brewed from bones forms the calming caramel color.

What I truly look forward to when eating Daikokuya's ramen is the pork... just swimming in swine soup.  The circular slices of pork seem almost geometrically inscribed in a ring of fat.  I relish in this fat.  I relish it in the same way some of my friends relish in bacon and its fat.  Just close your eyes, and imagine pockets of flavor that explode with every bite.  And they are trapped in the caverns of your oral digestion.  They can't escape.  HA.  And by the time you open your mouth once again, the flavorful pork and its flowing, juicy fat have already fallen down the pitch black esophagus to their painful, acidic destruction.  BOO YA.

While I had been focusing my attention on the meat, the noodles had been just bathing away in the flavorful broth... soaking up all the juicy pork fat that I had left behind in the bathtub... er... bowl.  The noodles had the honor of befriending the pork in a Japanese jacuzzi.  Gah, the noodles are so lucky. 

Ssssluuurrrrp.

Japanese culinary culture says that the louder the slurp, the better the taste.

In Japanese ra means to pull, and men means noodles.  So with the help of my bamboo chopsticks, I pulled every strand of noodle into my mouth.  If I was to be arrested for gluttonously inhaling carbohydrates, my defense would be, "Hey, I was just abiding by the dictionary definition."  Slurp, slurp, slurp.  The completion of my ramen indicates the completion of this post.  Until next time, slurp away! Let's all get S.O.F.A.T. 

**Refer to Post 9: Rainy Days in Taipei Call for Beef Noodle Soup.

Mentions:

Rina, what a fatty day! Thanks for the beautiful shots of the street and scenery.

Diana, thanks for joining us after work and huddling under the awning with us in the rain.

ML - 20100306/20100209