Post 110: Collaboration with Whisks & Ruffles - Pork Belly, Part 2

In my previous post, I shared the first part of my collaboration with Angelina Ang Lee of Whisks & Ruffles.  This post will continue with more pork belly deliciousness.  Rather than braising this time, I grilled some thinner cuts of the pork belly.  And so continues the life of an inner fatty...

I used thin cuts of pork belly strips with beautiful fat on the trim.  The pork belly was marinated with a mixture of gochujang (Korean hot pepper paste), a bit of soy, sesame oil, chopped perilla (sesame seed leaves also known as shiso), and sesame seeds.  I added some ground black pepper too, but salt is not needed since the gochujang and soy sauce provide enough of that saltiness.

I faux grilled the pork belly using a Korean stone wok, which works great because it heats up quickly and retains the heat even after the stove is turned off.  The strips were cooked at medium-high heat.  The temperature must be hot enough for the fat to sizzle.  Must... hear... sizzle! Like... cooking bacon! Mmmmm... Flip the meat once only, and cook until it's brown and crisp on both sides.  If the heat is high enough, the meat will be fully cooked through because the cuts are not very thick.

Tiffany, my Chinese-American from Taiwan but also raised in Korea friend, came over for a taste test.  We ate the pork belly wrapped with fresh perilla leaves, raw sliced garlic, jalapeños, and diagonally cut scallions (see instructional clip by yours truly).  We also had sides of kimchi, yellow pickled daikon, and kimbap (Korean sushi or rice rolls) from the supermarket.  See Angelina's post on homemade kimbap to prepare your own.

I have been cutting down on some carbs lately, but the grilled pork belly would also work really well with steamed rice.  No worries, I could never cut carbs out entirely, but for now, meat and greens are good enough for me.  If the jalapeños aren't spicy enough for your taste, an extra dash of Sriracha hot sauce also helps add a spicy yet sweet flavor to your dish.  Or try Angelina's method, which is to add dried hot peppers... Indonesian style. 

Check out what Angelina came up with in the Lee kitchen using pork belly two ways.  Her double recipe storm includes a pork belly braised low and slow, which looks absolutely mouth watering.  Her second recipe is something that her mom used to make in Indonesia called babi kecap, a simmered stew of pork belly, tofu, and hard boiled eggs.  Ah, Mom's home cooking... my mouth is literally drooling right now...

Great job, Angelina.  I truly enjoyed our coast-to-coast collaboration.  Let's do it again soon! Until the next collaboration, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

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Post 22: Moove Over for Moo Dae Po! (LA: Koreatown)

On my last romp through Koreatown up and down Vermont (filled to the brim with Beverly Soon Tofu), Rose pointed Moo Dae Po out to me and mentioned that it was one of the better Korean barbeque places in LA.  That mere statement jump-started my salivary glands and kicked my anxious nerves into overdrive.  The shakes.  I got the shakes.  I had to have a taste of some grilled meats at Moo Dae Po.

Joe was in town for a business project recently, and he got a craving for all-you-can-eat KBBQ. (I wasn't the one with the Korean food craving... what a shocker.) So to Moo Dae Po we went.  I was starving like mad... partly because it was dinner time and partly because I was put through some very intense reverse crunches (which I haven't done since this first time) at the gym earlier in the day.  Perfect time for KBBQ!

Okay, so official announcement: I fell in love at Moo Dae Po... with the kimchi.  At first, it looked like any ordinary restaurant kimchi... but after one bite, I knew this kimchi was different.  The gleaming red chili sauce retained a strong oyster essence.  It was almost as if the oysters had just been pulled out of the kimchi jar.  (Korean culinary conoisseurs tell me that the essence of oyster is a sign of authentic kimchi.)  The cabbage leaves made me fall even deeper in love with the kimchi.  The leaves were whole and in tact... far from being bite-sized, which means each bite of the kimchi made me feel like I was folding oceanwaves in my mouth.  This kimchi was the one.  It was love at first bite.

Completely enamored with the kimchi, I had almost forgotten about the rest of the banchan.  In stark contrast to the spiciness of the kimchi was this glowing yellow ball of yam mashed potato.  Although it looked like a sulfuric meteor of minute proportions that Venus perhaps tossed over to Earth, the taste was far from poisonous.  This mashed yam ball captured an unexpected sweet taste with a hint of ginger.  (This might be something I want to try making at home.)  I just couldn't get over its sulfuric look.

Another favorite is this gonyak (CN: konjac, JP: konnyaku) salad with bits of sesame and shredded cucumber.  The rest of the banchan were pretty typical of Korean restaurants (bean sprouts and the like), but this gonyak salad captured my attention because it was prepared differently from the gonyak I've had at other restaurants.  This dish provided another contrasting flavor and texture to the kimchi and mashed yam.  It was so light and refreshing and almost acted as a neutral palate cleanser in between the meats and heavier flavors.

While the grilled meats and spicy kimchi were more savage to the taste, the steamed egg was more mild and comforting.  (I think I've found a new favorite dish to eat with a spoon.)  Watching the amount of steam rising from the stone pot was like watching love evaporate into the air.  (Did I just compare steam to love? I think I've officially gone crazy.)  Maybe it stems from my childhood, but whenever my parents, aunts, or Ah Ma made me a big bowl of chawanmushi, the warmth of the steam made me feel loved.  I can see my married life now... my wife says, "I love you," and I reply with, "here, honey, have some steamed egg." (Potential miscommunication and slap in the face? Boy, I hope my future wife reads this post...)

By the end of the full-fledged consumption of steamed egg, the meats and lettuce (no rice paper here!) had arrived.  The server placed a garden of lettuces before us.  Hidden amongst the romaine and the butter leaves were a few sesame seed leaves (shiso).  Shiso is so ridiculously aromatic and fragrant.  The smell of shiso casts a spell on me the same way that jasmine, lavender, or freshly brewed coffee mesmerizes others.  Mmmmm...

As I began to create my lettuce wrap, I dropped a large spoonful of the fermented bean paste onto my lettuce to hold everything in place.  (Has anyone noticed that Taco Bell smears a bit of refried beans on the wax paper wrapper to hold the taco in place?) The bean paste is chock full of garlic, green onions, and red chilies, and it has a strong, pungent smell.  Funny how a simple, fermented soybean can create this pungent paste and oh-so-tantalizing taste. 

After a plop of the bean paste, I dropped two cubes of beef onto the mat of kimchi.  The beef looked like it was chillin' in a lettuce hammock.  Too bad I was about to tear it apart with my teeth.  Muahahaha... good food brings out the predator in me.

I was so busy building wraps and engrossed in conversing about how wonderful the kimchi was that I failed to take more pictures of the meat.  Super fail.  Buuutt... the Cheju pork belly is awesome; the beef tongue is tender; and the shrimp is fresh and flavorful from the olive oil marinade.  And if you're up for a bit of excitement, order the baby octopus and you can watch their bodies burst when the grill gets super hot.  (I recently came back with oolong-milktea and co. after a 10K race, and the bursting baby octopi were definitely a source of amusement.)  Oh, but the best part? They're quite delicious too.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

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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.

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