Post 72.2: Taipei - Wrapping Up Two Weeks in Taiwan, Part Two

Wrapping up two weeks of eating in Taiwan is not an easy thing to do.  It seems like every time I have finished deciding on the highlights of the trip, I find more that simply can't be left out.  Here are some more places I frequented while in Taipei.

Big, fat, fluffy pork belly buns:

藍家割包 (Lan Family Guabao)

台北市 中正區 / Taipei City, Jhong Jheng District

羅斯福路 三段 / Roosevelt Road, Section 3

316巷 8弄 3號 / Lane 316, 8th Alley, No. 3

全家便利店隔壁 / Next door to Family Mart

Potstickers grilled to order:

永和佳佳香鍋貼/ Jia Jia Xiang

新北市 永和區  / New Taipei City, Yonghe District

 永和路 一段 114號 / Yonghe Road, Section 1, No. 114

臺灣銀行對面 / Across the street from Bank of Taiwan

AYCE spicy hot pot with unlimited Taiwan Beer:

馬辣頂級麻辣鴛鴦火鍋 (Mala Hot Pot)

台北市 中正區 / Taipei City, Jhong Jheng District

汀州路 三段 86號 / Tingzhou Road, Section 3, No. 86

捷運公館站 4號出口 / MRT: Gongguan Station, exit no. 4

Organic pineapple cakes:

幾分甜烘焙工坊/ How Sweet Bakery

台北市 松山區 / Taipei City, Songshan District

南京東路 五段 80號 / Nanjing East Road, Section 5, No. 80 

Buttery soft cranberry pineapple cakes:

佳德糕餅 / ChiaTe

台北市 松山區 / Taipei City, Songshan District

南京東路 五段 88號 / Nanjing East Road, Section 5, No. 88

Thanks to Christine, Diana, and Duke for suggesting and bringing me to these hot spots.  Thanks also to Anna, Anne, Christine, Diana, Jimmy, Kevin, Nicolas, Rina, Sophia, Tiffany, Yvonne and everyone else for romping around Taipei with me... fun times, indeed.  And extra big thank you to my aunt and my relatives... hope to see you all again soon! Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 201109XX

Post 55: Dear Uncle Joe

Dear Uncle Joe,

I was very sad to hear that you passed on this week.  You were always a fighter, a tough guy with both your words, your spirit, and your eating habits... someone who I admired very much.  I did not get a chance to speak to you in your final days, but I just wanted to say thank you for all those times you picked me up from school when I got sick.  Thank you for instantly taking me and Emily to Knott's every time wanted to visit Snoopy.  The one thing I really want to thank you for is teaching me to live life with spontaneity and adventure... to live it up.

The best way that I can remember you is by dedicating this post to you and by sharing some of your favorite foods with everyone.  We all know that you loved spicy food, particularly mala spicy hot pot, so my mom and dad accompanied me to have some mala huoguo (麻辣火鍋) in your honor this past week.  I even upped the spiciness to mid-level spiciness (中辣) just to feel the exhilaration of chili-scented sweat dripping down my face.  We ordered thinly sliced beef and fatty pork, and we kept the vegetables to a minimum... just the way that you would have eaten it.

Today I also got a chance to walk through the world renowned company that produces a condiment that you seemed to have used more often than you drank water.  I'm not allowed to mention the specifics of where I visited, but I'm sure you know that there's only one spicy sauce in a squeeze bottle that absolutely cannot be substituted.  As we were driven on the golf cart past tens of thousands of drums of fire red vegetable, I just kept thinking that you would be amazed... and you'd probably start salivating.  The smell of chili and garlic in the air definitely penetrated the depths of my lungs.  It may even have popped a few avioli here and there.  It is absolutely incredible that I got to see what the founder literally built with his bare hands, from the piping to the walls of the warehouse.  Immediately afterward I passed by the supermarket complex that you designed and constructed, and I thought... you both built things from the ground up, and the two of you would have been good friends.

Oh, and last but not least, I'm going to stop by China Islamic Restaurant to have some Chinese Halal food.  I'm sure you remember 清真馬家館... we used to have family gatherings there all the time.  I could never figure out whether we frequented that restaurant because you liked the food there or because the restaurant and your family shared a common name (馬).  Regardless, I'm going to chomp down on their beef noodles and the giant sesame flatbread (芝麻大餅) for old time's sake.

Here's to you, Uncle Joe.  Thank you for everything that you've taught and instilled in me.  Thank you for spreading your love of spicy food to all of us.  Seeing someone overflowing chili sauce in their bowl of pho will definitely remind me of you.  And of course, I'll continue to live my life with spontaneity and adventure.

Your nephew,

Michael

ML - 20110702

Post 35: Finishing a Very Korean September with Gamjatang (LA: Koreatown)

Tick... pop... crack.  

As I continued to chew I wondered what was making the firecracker sensation in my mouth...

M: "What are those?"
K: "Sesame seeds."
M: "No man, they're black.  I think those are poppy seeds."
G: "Dude, my co-worker failed a drug test 'cuz she had a poppy seed bagel..."
M: "No way... that's an insignificant..."
K: "I'm telling you... they're sesame seeds"
A: "Wait.  What's wrong with poppy seeds?"
M: "Opium."
J: "What?"

The ticking, popping, and cracking black seeds were actually ground and toasted sesame seeds.  Grinding them up and toasting the seeds cause them to look round and black, allowing them to mask as poppy seeds.  They were floating around happily amongst white sesame seeds and bright green sesame seed (perilla) leaves in a deep red soup brewed from the bones of the pig's spine.  In addition to the tender, still-on-the-bone pork, the many variations of sesame seed, chunks of starchy potato were lodged at the bottom of the steel hot pot.  Hmmmm... so this is gamjatang (감자탕).

Kimmy, my token Korean friend from high school, volunteered to be our Korean food hostess for the weekend.  We call her Kimmy (her real name is Grace Kim) to highlight her Korean-ness.  Forget the fact that we have a million friends named Grace... it's her Korean-ness that allows us to call her Kimmy.  But I digress.  Kimmy, our Korean cuisine hostess extraordinaire, led us to Gam Ja Gol in Koreatown where she was about to show us some true blood Korean food... the non-BBQ, non-tofu, non-soju type of true blood Korean food.

Kimmy introduced us gamjatang, a savory stew made with the bones of a pig's spine, the earthy potatoes, and an abundance of enticing and somewhat exotic leaves of the sesame seed.  The soup was deep red.  Deep, deep red.  But it wasn't insanely spicy.  Just enough to cause droplets of perspiration to form on foreheads around the table.

In between bites of the soft pork, slurps of the savory stew, and glances at the banchan spread, I looked up every so often to ask Kimmy a question or two about the Korean food that we were having.  Gamjatang, translated literally, means potato (gamja) soup (tang), but Kimmy warned, "it's not really about the potato..."

Apparently not.  It was all about the soft and tender meat... it was about the savory and addicting soup... it was all about the fragrance of the perilla leaves... it was all about the way the gamjatang was poured into my bowl with heart, soul, and pride in the Korean culture.  It was about the complete destruction of a pig's spine... the bones looked as if they were leftover from a Velociraptor's meal.  And it was all about the second course of the meal...

As we the gamjatang slowly dwindled to its last remaining drops, the server arrived to wisp away the steel hot pot... only to refill it with white rice, chopped kimchi, and an assortment of ingredients.  I followed the sounds of the sizzle and crackle to the corner of the restaurant where it was cooking.  And as I peered into the popping pot, the server exclaimed from behind me, "chao fan!"

Bewildered, I spun around.  The supposedly Korean server used Mandarin to tell me that it was fried rice.  I didn't quite know just what to say.... or even what language to respond in.  So I just sat back down at the table, which is when Kimmy informed me, "she," pointing at the server, "told me that you looked Chinese."

I found out later that she was ethnically Korean but was born in northeastern China, so she learned to speak Mandarin growing up.  I guess that's where she learned to tell non-Koreans apart from ethnic Koreans.

But does that mean I like fried rice? Well, I sure as hell enjoyed this one.  In the little time it took to cook the fried rice, the grains of white rice had absorbed the remaining gamjatang... it was bursting with spicy and savory flavors... only a hint of which came from kimchi.  I was absolutely stuffed, and there was not a single section of spine left for us to pick at.  But I kept wanting more.  

The gamjatang rice was almost a drug.  If I had to take this drug every 8 hours for a course of 2 weeks (with food), I wouldn't have any problem with it.  In fact, I wouldn't have a problem with gamjatang or the fried rice being an intravenous drug.  Mmmm... this stuff is good.  Shoot it straight into my veins.

The gamjatang was an awesome Korean food experience.  What made it even better was that I learned and tried something I never knew existed.  Kamsamhapnida, Kimmy.  Solid meal.

Until another true blood experience, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 201000926/20101006

Post 19: Shabu-Shabu House (LA: Little Tokyo)

Shabu-Shabu House in Little Tokyo is somewhat of a spectacle.  There always seems to be a mass of hungry shabu-shabuers gathered by the storefront.  These hungry shabu-shabuers wait ever-so-patiently for the chance to swish-swish tender slices of beef in their personal Japanese savory fondue hot pot.  

The house that beef built.

One horseshoe-shaped counter serves all guests.

For those who are lucky enough (or tall enough) to peer over the heads of the waiting customers, the large, transparent window offers a glimpse of what's inside the shabu-shabu-ya... tender beef being sliced to order on a professional meat cutter.  Slice after slice, fresh beef folds ever-so-gently into the palms of a waiting hand.  Now that is the spectacle, and that is the reason why people wait outside en masse.

Sliced to order.  

In ten swift motions of the blade, fresh beef awaits impending doom.

If it's the beef that keeps people waiting outside, it's also the beef that keeps people sitting inside.  The marbling throughout the thinly sliced pink tenderness simply called beef ensures that the meat will taste soft and tender.  The right amount of swishing in the pot takes only a few seconds.  As soon as the pink diminishes, the meat is ready to be snatched up and eaten.

Marble on marble.   

The more marbling a slice of meat has the higher its fat content.

Japanese food experts claim that the best Japanese restaurants are ones that do not require patrons to flip or turn the page of the menu... the simpler the menu, the better the quality of food.  Well, that's good to know because the menu at Shabu-Shabu House is written on a chalkboard.  Choice A offers 10 slices of beef, and choice B offers 15 slices of beef.  It can't get any simpler than that.

The frou-frou platter.

Tofu, fresh vegetables and udon noodles are traditional accompaniments.

While admiring my pot of boiling denatured beef enzymes, I noticed the shabu-shabuer sitting to my left.  Before she had even begun to place vegetables in the water, she had doused the boiling base with shoyu (soy sauce) and unnecessarily drenched the uncooked beef with oil.  That, ladies and gentlemen, is lesson one in 'How Not to Shabu-Shabu.'

A quick swish.

The roaring boil of the water cooks the meat within seconds.

While the base of Chinese hot pot may be made from the simplest of chicken stocks to the spiciest of Szechwan peppercorns, the Japanese shabu base is just water and one enchanted piece of seaweed.  The base is pure because it is the all-important beef that is meant to be tasted.  The base that later encapsulates the enzymatic remnants of the beef is not meant for consumption.  Taste the beef, not the soy sauce.  Seeing the Kikkoman pollute the shabu pot was like seeing thick, black smoke engulf a burning house.  Eek.

The pool of ponzu.

Soy sauce may overpower the natural beef flavor.  Ponzu works better.

So how exactly does one shabu? It's simple! When the water comes to a boil, add vegetables, not soy sauce.  When the base comes back to a boiling degree, swish, swish, swish the meat around until the pink fades.  Do not add soy sauce.  Season the ponzu sauce and the peanut sauce with garlic, green onions, and fragrant oil to your liking.  Do not add soy sauce.  (Alright, maybe just a little bit if you really need a bit of that saltiness... but it's the Shabu-Shabu House not the Shoyu-Shoyu house.) Dip the slice of beef in your preferred sauce (ponzu or peanut)... and savor all beef in all its glory.  Repeat 9 or 14 more times to fulfill satisfaction.  Not too hard, right?

Paired with peanut.  

The sauce is like a tangy liquid peanut butter and goes great with the beef.

Lesson one... keep the beef tender.  Lesson two... don't ruin the soup base! Lesson three... class dismissed! Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20100517/20100428