Post 46.2: Another Pit-stop at Chego (West LA: Palms)

A month ago I barely knew about this place.  In fact, I didn't even know that Palms existed. 

M1: You live where?
M2: Palms
M1: Where is that?
M2: I don't know... somewhere in West LA..
M1: I'll Google map it.

I now identify Palms by "where Chego is."

So Palms, I'm back to pick up M2... which means Chego, I'm back for the buttered kimchi chow and chubby pork belly.  Bring em out, bring em out!

M1 and M2 dropped by on the way to LAX, and we planned to get some take-out, but our flight was delayed until after midnight (good job, Southwest), which means we had plenty of time to finish our food.  And thank goodness for the extra time... those were big bowls of food.

The buttered kimchi chow is a bed of rice... no, a hilltop of rice... topped off with red chili tofu, edamame, chopped sesame seed leaves, bits of chicharrones, and a fried egg.  The taste of the first bite reminded me of an already-mixed soon tofu with rice.  The rice is buttery rich, and when it's mixed with the creaminess of the runny egg yolk, there is an allusion to the possibility of Korean risotto.  What is made smooth from the buttered rice and egg yolk is contrasted by the pop of kimchi, the bumps of edamame, and the vein-textured gaenip... but perhaps not enough.  I kept picking the kimchi out just to get a bit more contrast in flavor and texture.  Luckily I found what I wanted in texture and flavor contrast in the chubby pork belly.

The chubby pork belly is exactly what the title says it is.  Plump, fatty, flavorful pork belly in all its juicy, lipidic glory.  Mmmmm... and all of that delicious fatty pork looks like it's sprouting from a bed of rice.  Implanted in the rice are chopped water spinach (ong choy), peanuts, and pickled watermelon radishes.  The triple combo of ong choy, peanuts, and pickled radishes in the pork belly bowl works better than the kimchi chow's triple combo of kimchi, edamame and gaenip.  The contrasting textures and flavors are more apparent, which helps maintain interest and curiosity in digging deeper into the big bowl of food.  This one... I like.  Yum.

On my first pit-stop to Chego, I picked up two items from the End section of the menu... on this pit-stop I tasted two items from the Middle section of the menu.  Perhaps the next pit-stop in Palms will yield two items from the Beginning... the ooey gooey fries and 3PM meatballs sound promising.

Until the next pit-stop, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110225

Post 43.1: Running Late with Cupcakes (BUR-SJC: WN 1876)

Arms full of guava cheese rolls and red velvet cupcakes, Jessica and I walked out of Porto's Bakery at 7:50 a.m.  Boarding was in 10 minutes.  



Luckily, in the next fifteen minutes, I managed to arrive at the airport, check in my bags (filled with Cactus Cooler for the Bay Area kids who lack this delicious pineapple flavored soda), get through security, run to the gate, hop on the plane and buckle myself in... just in time.  Thankfully, I made it.  How we managed to do all that in fifteen minutes... I'll never know (thanks Jessica).  But flying down Hollywood Way while polishing off chicken croquettes in order to catch a flight to San Jose for a birthday brunch is not something I ever want to do again.  Ever.

I wanted to bring some of Porto's finest pastries up to the Bay for Vickee's birthday.  Seeing Vickee, Aparna and two fully grown men gleam at how moist and soft the red velvet and dark chocolate cupcakes were made the morning panic completely worth it.  

Tip: let the cupcakes sit out of the fridge for at least 10 minutes for best taste and texture.

Side note: San Jose Airport's newly remodeled terminal is gorgeous.  And I say that relative to LAX and Bob Hope Airport.  The natural sunlight from the skylights and wide windows gives the terminal a bright and clean look... although the long walk from the gate to baggage claim (or security to the gate) really should include a people-mover.

Happy birthday, Vickee!

Next post: San Tung Korean-Chinese food

ML - 20101227/20101211

Post 29: Yummy Yummy Is Yummy Yummy (SF: Inner Sunset)

When I told Janet about my plans to visit the Bay Area, she wanted to take me to her favorite Vietnamese restaurant in town.  Scratch that.  She wanted to take me to her favorite restaurant in town.  It just happens to be Vietnamese.  She messaged me and said that I HAD TO try it.  And yes, it was in ALL CAPS.

So as the last meal before I left (my heart in) San Francisco, we stopped by Yummy Yummy in the Sunset District, where the Asian food is still authentic and hasn't yet been toursited out like it has been in other parts of town (namely, Chinatown).



Janet took charge of the menu and showed us some of her favorites:


Raw beef salad.  The paper-thin slices of beef (from which part I have no idea) looked just a bit like hot pot beef from the yellow styrofoam tray at 99 Ranch.  But the basil, onions (both fried and raw), and peanuts helped disguise it. 

Rare steak? Not a problem.  Raw beef? Eeek.  I squeezed a good amount of lemon on the beef hoping that the acid would cook the beef fast enough so it didn't look so red.  But as the second hand on my watch ticked away and as Janet, Grace and Alex ate away, I decided to suck it up and just inhale it.  Look, I'm still here.  Blogging, no less.  Ergo, the raw beef salad is safe.  Oh, and I forgot to mention... it was bomb diggity delicious.  A punch from the peanuts, a bite frm the basil, and a kick from the onions made the raw beef salad somethin' spectacular.  I was ready for another roll of beef.


Fish sauce marinated butter fried chicken wings.  Like whoa.  These little deep-fried wings and drumettes come out with fish sauce, strands of raw onions and carrots, and pieces of raw garlic poured over the top.  This item is not on the menu (just yet) and was suggested (more like pushed) to us by the boss.  (Janet, Grace and others on Yelp think that it's Yummy Yummy's counter to the amazing-delicious chicken wings from San Tung next door.)

The sauce over the top makes for the kind of crispy batter that begins to soften as time goes on, so eating quickly is a necessity.  The only problem is that the chicken wings are fried to a point so hot that my fingers felt a bit smoldered just from the steaming heat.  Damn.  Catch 22.  It's like trying to eat the most delicious ice cream cone outdoors in the hot summer heat.  It's panic trying to get through the entire cone before it melts, but it's pleasure with every successful bite.


Crab with spicy onion seasoning.  What it really should be called is crab with spicy onion, garlic, pepper, green onion, ginger, everything seasoning.  That's what it is, and that's what it tastes like.  It's a fresh whole crab in all its glory.  Although I'm a little sad that this crab had to die for this meal, I'm glad knowing that the crab died to make four hungry people happy. 

Everyone gets their own shell cracking tool, which is great because otherwise, we'd never be able to get inside to experience the pillow-soft sinews of the martyred crustacean.  And I'm not joking about the crab meat being pillow-soft.  If seafood stink and sanitation weren't such major factors, I'd take the sinews of the crab and stuff me a pillow! What a wonderful night's sleep I'd get... but seafood stink and sanitation are major factors, so... crab pillow I shall not make.


Spicy beef pho.  This pho wasn't your typical pho from ordinary Vietnamese restaurants.  The beef was sliced thicker... the soup had a spicy kick... and if you couldn't tell already, the color was a boiling red.  Oooh.  But the additions were the same as any: bean sprouts, basil leaves, citrus squeeze (lemon instead of lime here), and green chili peppers.

We ordered the pho with thicker, white flour noodles as opposed to the traditional thinner, clear rice noodles.  They were just as springy and elastic as expected from the typical pho noodle.  The best part? The soup, of course.  I didn't feel like I was slurping up an MSG-infested, sinkwater-colored bowl of denatured enzymatic proteins.  This... was just simply Vietnamese beef noodle soup.  I like.



Hear that Janet? I like.  Thanks, Janetabulous for introducing me to this Yummy Yummy-ness.  Next door to San Tung next time?

Until then, let's get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20100817/20100725

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