169. Taiwan Day 4: My Absolute Favorite Local Spot / 我最喜歡吃台南意麵黑白切 (Taipei: Jhong Jheng District / 台北市: 中正區)

I have written about this place before, a curiously popular eatery that is just bigger than a hole-in-the-wall but still slightly smaller than a restaurant in size.  It is nestled between apartment complexes and a produce store in a residential neighborhood.  It has no English name, but I have previously titled it Black White Slice, which is a careless translation of its name in the local language.  It is a true local spot, an absolute personal favorite... good enough reason to introduce this place to Diana and the Ma brothers, Jordan and Justin... and good enough reason to write about it again.  (See previous post here.)

The sliced goose (鵝肉 / Mandarin: é ròu) is a must here... an absolute must.  The chef poaches it in its own juice, allowing the meat to reabsorb its own natural juices and flavors.  It is cooked just to the point past rare so that the flesh is still tender.  The fat from the skin renders down into the succulent yet lean flesh and makes each slice extra supple, extra glistening, extra delicious.  Pair each bite some freshly sliced ginger, the fragrant basil leaves, or even a dip in the sweet chili sauce for a taste of pure heaven.

The noodles are also a must.  After all, it is in the name of the restaurant, and you can take my word for it.  There are two options, the flatter house egg noodles (意麵 / Mandarin: yì miàn) and its slightly thicker and rounder street stall variation chek-ah noodles (切仔麵 / Taiwanese: chek-ah mi, Mandarin: qie zǎi miàn), both of which are topped off with bean sprouts, sliced leeks, scallions, crispy fried shallots, and a sprinkle of white pepper.  Oh, and the broth? It's made from the poaching liquid of the goose... so sensually good.

When I think about the freshly sliced liver (豬肝 / Mandarin: zhu gan) here, my mouth waters.  It is nothing like any liver you have ever tasted before... the tough, iron tasting, brown and bubbly looking jerky-like substance that used to be eaten only when there wasn't enough money for actual meat.  This is different.  It is fresh and doesn't have any metal taste, and the texture is almost silken like a very fine tofu.  There's tons of fresh ginger to add to the liver if you're still squeamish, but this is nothing to be scared about.

Since the first time I visited this place almost a decade ago, I have always ordered the smoked shark (鯊魚煙 / Taiwanese: soa hee ian, Mandarin: sha yú yan).  The meat itself is soft and mild, very similar to unagi.  Even its smokiness is not as apparent but just a bit more scented than the typical smokiness from lox.  Dip it into the soy sauce paste and wasabi the way you would sashimi, and the natural sweetness of the fish develops.

I prefer my oysters raw in America, but in Taiwan I prefer them deep fried, made into omelettes or par-cooked like this.  These fresh blanched oysters (燙蚵仔 / Taiwanese: thng ô-ah) are perfectly bite-sized and served with sweet chili sauce, ginger and basil... easy to chase down with a swig of Taiwan Beer or a slurp of hot noodles.

We ordered some fresh asparagus tips (蘆筍 / Mandarin: lú sǔn) to balance out our protein heavy meal.  These chilled green vegetables work as a refreshing palate cleanser for all the dishes laden with soy, ginger, garlic, basil, and wasabi. 

Stinky tofu, oh, stinky tofu, how I love you so.  For something that is usually quite malodorous when deep fried, this spicy and steamed variation on the fermented bean curd (麻辣臭豆腐 / Mandarin: má là chòu dòu fǔ) is not as unpleasant.  In fact, the garlic, chili pepper, and peppercorn that it is simmered in makes for an aroma that draws you in and keeps you coming back for more.  The numbing spiciness of the broth requires you to follow it with a spoonful of noodles and soup to wash it away, but soon after the cleanse it beckons you to take another bite... only to have you chase it again with savory goose broth.  Slippery slope, much? I don't mind rolling down this hill...

By the way, this is a beer drinking establishment.  Customers grab the chilled bottles of Taiwan Beer from the self help fridge in the back of the restaurant and pop each one with the opener sitting in a basket on every table.  Every table, whether it's the businessmen who have just escaped their cubicles or the college students procrastinating on research assignments, has at least one bottle of beer.  Ours have four... so far.  All of these small plates or small bites (小吃 / Mandarin: xiǎo chi) paired with the alcohol makes this form of black white slice cuisine (黑白切 / Taiwanese: ouh beh tzeh, Mandarin: hei bái qie) something I look forward to each time I visit Taiwan.  From the looks of it, the Ma brothers, who happen to live just around the corner from here, may be looking forward to another visit as well.  Cheers, y'all.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Tainan Noodle Black White Slice (台南意麵黑白切) 
台北市中正區濟南路二段53-8號 
No. 63-8, Jinan Rd., Sec. 2, Jhong Jheng District, Taipei City
MRT: Zhongxiao Xinsheng Station, exit no. 5 / 捷運忠孝新生站, 5號出口

ML - 20130703

Post 81: By Invitation: Tasting Menu at Maximiliano (LA: Highland Park)

I got a chance to meet Marian the Foodie when she joined the Six Taste team last year.  Lucky for me (and all of us at Six Taste) Marian is an extreme foodie who has many culinary connects across town.  Even luckier for me... she was kind enough to invite me and Ken to attend a private tasting menu that Chef Andre Guerrero of The Oinkster put together.  This nine course dinner took place with Marian and her foodie friends at Chef Guerrero's latest restaurant called Maximiliano.  I got a chance to see Chef Guerrero's passion for cooking, talk to him about his love for Chinese food... and drink a lot of wine.  Oh, and I met OG food blogger kevinEats too.  Worth the two hour drive up from Orange County? I'd say.

We sat down to a house smoked salmon pizza served with a glass of Prosecco.  The thin crust was warm, and the smoked salmon was the right amount of salty.  The pesto gave me a world of happiness, but my favorite part was the dollop of Burrata right on top of my slice.  That topping, along with the chopped scallions, gave a freshness to every bite and complemented the saltiness of the smoked salmon so well.  Best pizza I've had in a long time.

Our next plate was a faux gras mousse, chicken liver mousse, croustades, house mad pickles, and crisp chicken bacon.  Yep, you read that right... faux gras not foie gras, and thankfully because I embarked on an eight course foie gras dinner in the week prior, and I was not ready for another taste of foie.  The spreadable mousses on the crisp croustades made for an unbeatable texture contrast.  The house mad pickles were ever so slightly spicy yet full of lip puckering sourness... absolutely delightful.  Perfect for cutting the richness of the liver mousse.  And the chicken bacon? Can't... deny... bacon.

Next up was a highlight of dinner... asparagus, bacon confit, and soft scrambled egg topped with bread crumbs and served with a 2004 Domaine Berthet-Bondet Cotes du Jura from France.  Everyone agreed that this was the most comforting of all the dishes, especially with the pork belly bacon confit at the center of the dish.  The asparagus was tender yet not overcooked or too soft.  The soft scrambled eggs reminded me of a soft cheese or almost like the slightly burned top of a potatoes au gratin.  It was just so homey and innocent... nothing could taint the purity of this dish.

The next four courses were all different pasta dishes that hit more to the core of Italian home cooking.  The porcini mushrooms really came through in the chicken ravioli topped with truffle oil and reggiano cheese.  The cream sauce really allowed me to savor the flavor of the pasta.  It was served with a 2009 Beaujolais by Henry Fessy "Fleurie" of France.

The baked polenta was unlike anything I've ever tasted.  Prepared with pomodoro and creamy gorgonzola, the polenta was truly rich in flavor.  I scooped the pomodoro over the square of polenta repeatedly hoping to recreate the last bite I took.  This, and the next dish, were served with a 2009 Sangiovese by Cecchi "Bonizio" of Tuscany.

Course number six featured a classic Italian pasta.  A capellini with pancetta, pomodoro, and reggiano really captured my heart.  The noodles were perfectly al dente, and the pancetta popped with every bite.  I loved that the pasta was swirled in an updo and that it was dotted with pancetta confetti.  It seemed like this dish oozed with love and passion.  If I didn't already know Chef Guerrero was in the kitchen, I could have sworn an Italian nonna prepared this dish.

Our final pasta dish was an orecchiete.  It had fennel sausage, cavolo nero, chile, heirloom cherry tomatoes, and pecorino romano in it.  Orecchiete has never been a favorite of mine, so what really stood out for me in this dish was the fennel sausage and the cavolo nero.  This meat and vegetable combination really play well against each other, one with the more savory umami flavor and the other with the more cleansing touch.  This was paired with the Monkey See Monkey Do, a double IPA from Craftsman.

The last entree to arrive was short ribs prepared sous vide with red wine sauce, spaetzle, and fava beans.  Even though we were given serrated knives, there were not necessary because the short ribs were ridiculously tender.  I could slice through it like butter.  The red wine sauce really made this dish though.  A combination of savory, salty and sweet clung onto the short ribs like paint on canvas.  The spaetzle really sealed the deal for me.  I swiveled the spaetzle around on my plate until it was completely coated with the red wine sauce before eating it.  I could have closed my eyes and died right then and there.  This final entree was served with a 2005 "Pandora," by Peter Waygardt Mas de la Devez in France.

But no time to die just yet... eight courses completed and only dessert to go.  Everyone's got a second stomach for dessert, right? What was listed on the menu was a mini lemon tart, but what was placed in front of me was nowhere close to being mini... not that I'm complaining. 

The lemon cream had just enough citrus to cause a tart tingle but not enough to cause squealing of any kind.  Its creaminess could not be described in any way other than heavenly.  The coif of cream at the top was almost like a cute Asian cartoon poop.  It was light, airy and fluffy... and the highlight of burned brown on just one side made for a picturesque garnish that was almost too beautiful to break with a fork. 

Surrounding the lemon tart was a trio of ice cream: a lavender ice cream, olive oil ice cream, strawberry sorbet.  The lavender ice cream was rightfully floral, a giddy girl's dream.  The olive oil ice cream was remarkably refreshing, a smart way to cleanse the palate.  The strawberry sorbet was perky and foreshadowed the coming summer harvest.  Served with a Moscato d' Asti, the lemon tart was a great way to end a nine course meal.

A big thank you goes out to Marian for the invite to dine with kevinEats and to partake in Chef Guerrero's old school Italian dishes.  It was definitely a fun experience.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

This post features photography by Ken Lee.

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Post 65.2: Taipei - Traditional Taiwanese, Part 2 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

Like black white slice restaurants, the restaurants that serve the most traditional local fare in Taiwan typically don't have menus.  The freshest ingredients are laid out by the front entrance in a refrigerator case or over ice, so when the customers arrive they are able to view the meat and seafood selection for the day.  Ordering is done by selecting what looks the freshest and then letting the chef know how it should be cooked... deep fried, stir fried, blanched, boiled, steamed, or made into soup are popular choices.  After ordering, customers walk in and sit down.

One of my first meals in Taipei was at a traditional Taiwanese restaurant called Sit Fun (喫飯食堂).  Now... there's something to be said here about a restaurant called Sit Fun in Taiwan.  What doesn't make sense is that "sit fun" sounds like a translation for eating (食飯) in Cantonese, which is not typically spoken in Taiwan.  What does make sense, though, is that to sit down and to have fun is what eating is all about! Am I right, or am I right? 

Here are some Taiwanese dishes from Sit Fun that we had.  They are cooked in the simple style of traditional Taiwanese cuisine.

Braised pork rice (魯肉飯)
Cubes of fatty pork are braised and rendered down until the juicy fat almost melts in your mouth.  Topped over steamed white rice, this bowl of pork and rice is as simple and as tasty as it gets.  Although it's one of the best rice items at Sit Fun, what this restaurant specializes in isn't braised pork over rice but actually just pork oil over rice (豬油拌飯).  Lard, you say? Let's just call it pork-infused oil.  Two words... disgustingly delicious.

Appetizer platter (拼盤)
Usually the first dish to arrive, the Taiwanese appetizer platter almost always includes the following items: fresh sashimi, tender bamboo shoots, and crisp asparagus.  The sashimi for on this plate consisted of salmon, yellowtail, and whitefish... but why sashimi? Doesn't that seem more Japanese than Taiwanese or Chinese? Actually Taiwan was colonized under Japanese imperial rule for over 60 years, so it can be said that the sashimi at the start of the meal represents the large Japanese influence in Taiwanese cultural and culinary history.

Bamboo and asparagus are typical favorites for Taiwanese.  And as always, those two items have a light layer of Japanese style mayonnaise for a sweet contrast.  Also served on the platter are freshly cut pumpkin as well as baby octopus, both of which are the fresh picks of the day.

To truly make this a pu pu platter experience, the appetizer dish is served with toothpicks.  It's the closest to finger food that we're going to get without going barbaric.

Salt water chicken (鹽水雞)
No, the chicken was not raised in salt water with the fish of the ocean.  Rather, it was poached in salt water and served with a side of garlic soy.  Salty much? Not so.  The majority of the salt doesn't get far past the skin, but the portion that does bypass the skin serves to tenderize the chicken while it's cooking.  The method of cooking is so effortless that it seems almost primitive, but the true sign of tradition and authenticity.

Tempura shrimp (炸蝦球)
Who doesn't love fried shrimp? Silence.  Okay, who doesn't love spicy mayo? Continued silence.  Now... who doesn't love fried shrimp with spicy mayo drizzled all over the top? Cheers.  I think you get the picture.

Barbecue pork (台式叉燒肉)

What we typically know as Cantonese style BBQ pork is chasiu pork, that crimson colored sweet pork perhaps akin to the Mexican al pastor.  Well, here lands the Taiwanese version... a less red, less sweet, more moist and more thinly sliced version that is served with both pickled ginger and honey vinegar.  It's tastes like a moist jerky made from honey ham, and it's moist enough to be the most tender sweet and savory meat you will find this side of the Strait.

All of the dishes above have common characteristic of an easily identifiable main ingredient and an accompanying side sauce, both of which are features of traditional Taiwanese dishes.  After reading the previous post, you'll notice similar characteristics.  These simple dishes made from fresh ingredients is one of the ways to distinguish Taiwanese cuisine from others.  And it's this simplicity that makes the dishes so delicious.  Until the next simple and delicious meal, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Sit Fun (喫飯食堂)

台北市 大安區 / Taipei City, Da An District

永康街 8巷 5號 / Yong Kang Street, Lane 8, No. 5

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Post 64: Taipei - Black White Slice / 台南意麵黑白切 (Taipei: Jhong Jheng District / 台北: 中正區)

Black... white... what?

Well, it's definitely not black white magic... even though it might taste magical.  Black and white placed next to each other in any Taiwanese phrase means whatever, anything, a myriad of something.  If you black white talk (ouh beh gonh / 黑白講), it means that you're saying something that is black, but you're also saying something that is white... you don't know if you mean one thing or another.  In essence, it means you're talking nonsense or talking bullshit.

If you black white walk (ouh beh jow / 黑白走), it means that you are walking here, but you are also walking there... you're wandering, or you have no idea where you're going.  So that means that black white slice (ouh beh tzeh / 黑白切) means that you can have slices of this and slices of that... a little bit of everything. 

A little bit of this... a little bit of that... and that's exactly how to eat at restaurants that serve in this black white slice style of eating.  Upon visiting an ouh beh tzeh restaurant (Taiwanese: ouh beh tzeh, Mandarin: hei bai qie / 黑白切) for the first time, I was greeted first by a refrigerator case running the length of the chef's chopping counter, which is just inches longer than my wingspan.  On display in the refrigerator case were all the freshest items that the chef had picked up from the supermarket and anything that the chef felt was suitable for the evening meal.  From freshly boiled shrimp to bright red sausage to the greenest asparagus to a thick and tasty meatloaf to glistening white calamari... you name it; the chef's got it.

Point to something.  Choose whatever you please.  The chef will slice up whatever you want to eat.

The most popular dish at my favorite black white slice institution is actually not in the refrigerator at all.  It's goose.  And it's located next to the fridge.  The chef lays the glorious geese (whole body intact) out for everyone to see.  And I mean everyone.  It's sitting pretty right at the restaurant's entrance.  Walking to your table? Ya can't miss it.

There are usually two types: salted goose or goose with soy sauce... take your pick.  The chef tosses fresh basil leaves and thinly sliced fresh ginger around the tender cuts of poultry for an exotic contrast in flavor.  He also throws in some sweet chili sauce just to cover any potential gamey taste that it may have.  Still apprehensive about goose meat? No worries... it tastes just like chicken.

Whether it's alive or dead, the second of my favorite black white dishes may scare you too.

Perhaps you've had shark fin soup before, but have you ever had the actual meat from a shark? Probably not.  I don't know many cultures that consume the meat from a shark.   Well, Taiwanese do.  And by the way, a shark is a fish too.  It's just... a ferocious, fierce looking, predatory kind of fish.  If you've seen Nemo, you know that sharks can't possibly be scary... fish are their friends.  (Hopefully, you didn't get past the fishaholics anonymous meeting.)  But I digress...

Smoked shark meat is really just smoked fish.  I'm not going to say it tastes like smoked salmon because it doesn't.  It's nowhere close.  It's got more of a firm, white fish flavor combined with a soft beef tendon texture.  Contrasted with the spicy wasabi and the salty soy sauce paste it's served with, the meat actually has a hint of sweetness.  If you're wondering whether it's too tough to chew on, it's not.  But it's not fatty either... the meat is actually pretty lean.  After all, the shark swims all day looking for friends to play with.  Am I not really selling it? Okay, chicken.  B'gok! It's just one of those things you have to taste for yourself to understand.  And you have to try it once in your life.  Ohhhh, so this is shark.

The next item is also something you have to try at least once in your life... Taiwanese stinky tofu.  Wow, I just introduced the scariest three items from a black white slice restaurant... goose, shark, and stinky tofu.  Good job, Michael.  

The tofu is steamed and then simmered in this spicy sauce that is made with tons of garlic, red chili pepper, and Szechwan peppercorn.  The tofu is served in a metal dish that gets fired up right in front of you.  The on-the-spot simmering and boiling causes wafts of aroma from the spicy sauce to drift past your nose.  It's fragrant, not stinky.  I dragged my hungry friends from China and France here for dinner.  They were a bit apprehensive at every dish I ordered, but I'm not lying when I say that the delicious goose, unique shark dish, and tasty tofu got them hooked on black white cuisine.

But if the trifecta of black white glory doesn't hold your attention, this magical bowl of chek-ah noodles (Taiwanese: chek-ah mi, Mandarin: qie zai mian / 切仔麵) definitely will.  What's awesome about these noodles is that it's just noodles and broth... and it goes with each and everything that the chef has sliced up for you.  Take a look around the black white restaurant, and you'll notice that every single patron has a steaming bowl of chek-ah mi in front of them.  Some even have two bowls... one recently finished empty and one freshly made.

Each bowl of noodles is complete with fresh goose stock and topped off with crunchy, deep fried onions, deep green leek, and crisp bean sprouts.  The leeks and fried onions add a depth of flavor to the goose stock.  The profound taste of chek-ah noodle soup becomes more of a feeling than just a means of sustenance.  It presents a feeling of home and heart, perhaps the same feeling you get when you have Mom's chicken noodle soup in a warm kitchen while the howling winter winds rage on outside.

There's a deftness of chopsticks usage throughout the restaurant.  Groups of co-workers, young couples, and even, ahem, friends with their tourist guests work quickly from the spicy tofu to the platter of goose, then quickly again to dip the shark meat into the soy and wasabi combination, all while swiveling noodles up in between bites.  The cheap bamboo chopsticks in everyone's hungry hands are stained with red chili oils and dark brown sauces.  And bits of fried onion can barely be shaken off with the nimblest of movements.  It's a whir of commotion and a blur of action.  Don't be surprised if you hear a loud slurping of noodles and broth.  After all, it is this simple bowl of noodles that brings the whole meal of black and white together.

But wait.  There's more.

The freshest item in the chef's fridge was the cut of salmon.  Its orange hue caught my eye, and dreams of sashimi began forming in my head.  Not a problem.  I pointed to it, and the chef knew that it would pair with my chek-ah noodles perfectly. 

Now... I can't say this is the healthiest of meals, but we did have a lot of lean protein (poultry, tofu, fish in two forms).  Why not further our health by selecting the two staples of any black white restaurant? 

Crisp asparagus (蘆筍) and tender bamboo shoots (竹筍) are both blanched (arguably the most popular way of cooking vegetables in Taiwan) and then served chilled with sweet Japanese mayonnaise as a dip.  Both asparagus and bamboo are symbolized by a common Han character (筍), which perhaps is an ancient Sino way of saying that these two vegetables go very well together.  Each is sweet, fibrous, crisp and refreshing, and they both snap quickly with a firm bite.  And after tons of protein and a bowl of noodles, I think fresh, crisp veggies are the only way to go.  Even after my tourist buddy exclaimed that she could eat no more, I caught her chopsticks veering toward the vegetable plates... "Except this."  She picks up another piece... "I can still eat this."

Well then, bring on another bowl of noodles! I think we've still got some stinky tofu to finish anyway.  Until the next black white whatever, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Black White Slice (台南意麵黑白切)
台北市 中正區/ Taipei City, Jhong Jheng District
濟南路 2段 53-8號/ Jinan Road, Section 2, No. 63-8

How I get there:
MRT: Zhongxiao Xinsheng Station (捷運忠孝新生站)
exit no. 2; walk through the park;
pass Mos Burger, Starbucks, Formosa Chang, 85度C
make a right at Jinan Road, Section 2 (濟南路 2段)
do not pass the produce store

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Post 42.1: Thanksgiving Means Turkey... Not Hot Pot

A tour guest recently asked me what a Taiwanese Thanksgiving feast is like.  Hmmm... I had never really thought about it... but I can't speak for other Taiwanese or Taiwanese-Americans.  

For me I guess I always took Thanksgiving to mean turkey, and anything Taiwanese would be saved for the remaining 364 days of the year.  Anytime any family member proposed to have hot pot for Thanksgiving, I put up strong opposition, and that usually led to our having a turkey at Thanksgiving.  

The one year that hot pot was elected over turkey, my cousins and I boycotted dinner with an I Love Lucy style hunger strike.  There was much yelling, but there was even more silence.  Not that my family ever ate hot pot on a regular basis, but hot pot was too typical of a meal for me... it wasn't special enough for this once-in-a-year holiday.  I mean... I don't particularly like turkey, but Thanksgiving without turkey is like Old Glory without the stars and stripes.  Thanksgiving meant turkey, and my cousins and I would find a way to get our roasted bird no matter what it took.... even if it was compromised with sticky rice stuffing.

This was the spread at Aunt Christy's house this year. 

Cream of mushroom soup with a swirl of sour cream and Pillsbury croissants.

Ham from Honey Baked Ham Company.

Condiments are champagne honey mustard and pineapple marmalade.

Originally prepared as asparagus in garlic and olive oil.

But later tossed into a salad of mixed greens and crispy bacon.

The golden turkey.  No stuffing... but surrounded by mini potatoes.

My aunt made the Cranberry sauce with fresh cranberries and added orange zest to it.

The seafood dishes are must haves in our family.

Shrimp cocktail with cocktail sauce on ice.  Linguine and clams with a forest of parsley.

Sweet potato casserole with brown sugar and pecan crust from Ruth's Chris.

No mashed potatoes this year? No problem.  Bye bye flat stomach.

If Aunt Jessica were stateside this year, there be two or three Marie Callender's pies on the table too, which probably makes our feast probably indistinguishable from from any other typical family's Thanksgiving feast... so I'm not sure if that answers the question, "What is a Taiwanese Thanksgiving feast like?"

But to throw in a little variation... how about another Taiwanese-American Thanksgiving feast from across town? Aunt Li doesn't eat turkey, chicken... or anything that walks on two feet, and her Thanksgiving dinner guests don't eat beef.  The compromise? Pork ribs from Tony Roma's. 

What was your Thanksgiving feast like?

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