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

ML - 20110909

Post 63: Taipei - More Szechwan Flavors / 更多川味 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

Although beef noodle soup is the supposed national dish of Taiwan, it is rumored to have origins in the Szechwan region of China.  Since its creation, beef noodle soup has been altered by the many generations of Taiwanese to what it is today.  However, other Szechwan-branded dishes such as mapo tofu (麻婆豆腐), hot and sour soup (酸辣湯), and dan dan noodles (擔擔麵) have generally remained constant throughout their culinary histories.  There may have been substitutions for different or better quality ingredients and perhaps slight tweaks in flavors to suit regional palates, but for the most part, these famous items are still considered Szechwan dishes.  Chili House Restaurant (四川吳抄手) in Taipei is a great place for a taste of these traditional spicy Szechwan flavors... but it's also a great place for discovering some non-spicy items too.



On my previous visits to the restaurant, I had ordered the usuals: red chili wontons (紅油抄手), super spicy mala noodles (麻辣麵) that numb your tongue, and hot and sour cabbage pork (酸白菜肉絲) wrapped in steamed shaobing pockets (燒餅).  This time, though, I had a sudden craving for fatty pork.  I doubt the Szechwan origins of this dish, especially because the only remotely spicy ingredient in it is minced garlic, but hey, a craving is a craving.  The English translation of this dish is cold white cut pork slices (蒜泥白肉), which doesn't sound appetizing in the least... so let's just use my translation: fatty pork in minced garlic and soy sauce.  Yum!

Hey, that's exactly what it is, anyway.  Lean slices of pork, which are blanched just quick enough to cook the meat, are bordered by thin, wrinkles of fat without a hint of grease.  Before anything else is done to the pork, it's chilled so that the meat becomes stretchy and tender, and the curls of fat on the pork taste almost al dente.  Soy sauce paste, a thickened and more pungent version of soy sauce that is widely used in Taiwanese cooking, is later drizzled over the top of the meat.  And the minced garlic? Already in the soy sauce paste.  No need for rice.  It's like chomping on bacon and not worrying about the eggs.

But I guess you can't really eat at a restaurant that serves Szechwan cuisine without ordering any spicy food at all right? Bring the red chili wontons, please.  In fact, these red chili wontons are exactly what anyone coming to this restaurant should order.  After all, the name of the wonton dish (紅油抄手) is in the name of the restaurant (四川吳抄手). 

The chili wontons come six in an order, and they come sitting in a puddle of soy and chili oil... unmixed.  You can relish in the tossing, mixing, and marinating of the flappy, Chinese ravioli before indulging in these bite-size poppers.  They're mouthfuls of savory, salty, and spicy bliss.  And what's even better is that you put effort into these one-bite wonders, and you know... it always tastes better if you've had a hand in the work.

After devouring half a dozen little fists of cloud-like wontons, I dug my chopsticks into the mound of hot and sour cold noodles (冰鎮酸辣麵).  The noodles were topped off with Chinese celery, chili and chili oil, green onions, sesame, and bean sprouts... a combination of of ingredients that provided notes of sour tang and chilled bursts of crunchy refreshment.  The celery, sesame, and sprouts opened the way to cooling off during the hot and humid Taipei summer afternoon.



A bowl of noodles usually sustains my hunger, but after discovering the refreshing delight from the Chinese celery and bean sprouts, I perused the menu for another vegetable dish.  Typical Szechwan vegetable dishes include dry fried green beans (乾煸四季豆) and fish fragrant garlic eggplant (魚香茄子), but somehow I landed on a tofu dish that contained more seafood than it did veggies.  The treasure chest of seafood (海至尊) came in a shallow dish filled to the brim with kryptonite green peas, cubes of diced sea cucumber, shrimp, clams, squid, and smoked ham submerged in a sauce made from salted egg yolk.

This was the most disturbing looking dish of the meal.  Perhaps the house specialty appetizer, bean sprouts wrapped in tofu skin (芝麻豆皮捲豆芽), was a better choice just based simply on appearance.  But this pool of sulfuric tofu was actually pretty tasty.  Each item of seafood was diced to the size of the tofu, which meant every bite had equal parts of tender tofu and springy seafood.  The salted egg yolk gave the dish a hearty and homemade taste while binding the plethora of ingredients together.  It looked ugly, but it tasted pretty damned good.  Hey, we aren't supposed to judge a book by its cover anyway, right?

One tofu dish led to another tofu dish... except the next tofu dish was a dessert, and it came compliments of the restaurant.  Almond tofu (杏仁豆腐) is typically a simple, homestyle dessert, but I understand why it's offered after a spicy meal.  The soft jello (it's not really tofu) has an almond fragrance with a sweet taste that soothes the tongue better than any other spice retardant... better than iced water or cold milk.  With or without spicy food, the springy, jiggly tofu in disguise was a great way to end any meal. 

Chili House has become a regular stop for me whenever I get a chance to visit Taipei.  Hopefully, everyone finds their own favorite spicy, Szechwan stop.  Until then, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Chili House Restaurant (四川吳抄手)

台北市 大安區/ Taipei City, Da An District

忠孝東路 4段 250之3號 / Zhongxiao East Road, Section 4, No. 250-3

How I get there:

MRT: Zhongxiao Dunhua Station (捷運忠孝敦化站)

exit no. 4; walk east on Zhongxiao East Road

make a right on Lane 248 (248 巷); restaurant is on the left

ML - 20110915

Post 62: Taipei - We Love Beef Noodle Soup / 我們愛牛肉麵 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

Okay, tell me.  Who doesn't love beef noodle soup?

Taiwanese and non-Taiwanese, locals and tourists, whoever has discovered this savory soup noodle has fallen in love with it.  It doesn't matter if other cultures have variations of this dish (think Vietnamese pho); even they have the occasional craving for soupy noodles swimming in beef juice.  Even our friend Diana, whose eating habits borderline vegetarianism, will have beef noodle soup.  Meat on the side, please. 

There are thousands of beef noodle soup restaurants in Taiwan, many of which claim to have made the champion of all beef noodle soups.  It's no wonder that many of these shops are concentrated around Yong Kang Street (永康街), a main tourist area in Taipei with hundreds of visitors from Japan and Hong Kong, many of whom come specifically to visit world-famous Din Tai Fung dumpling house... and to get a taste of Taiwan's beefy national dish.

So Yong Kang St. is where Diana and I took Rina, our special guest from Seoul, who indeed fell in love with beef noodle soup (and gua bao, among other Taiwanese specialties).  We sat down at Lao Zhang Beef Noodle Shop (老張牛肉麵), the 2006 champion of the annual Taipei beef noodle soup competition.  Lao Zhang (also known as Old Chang's) specializes in Szechwan flavors, which means they use plenty of chili pepper, garlic, and Szechwan peppercorn, a spice that effectively tingles your throat with a numbing spiciness.

While Rina slurped up the soy and tomato infused soup and while Diana enjoyed her meatless version (think clam chowder without the clams), I took delight in Old Chang's cucumber and green bean appetizers, both of which are peppered with red chili.  But what I really enjoyed from Old Chang's was the famous spicy steamed pig intestine (粉蒸肥腸).  Yup, you heard me... pig intestine.

The spicy steamed pig's intestine is a fen zheng (粉蒸) dish, which roughly translates to a dish that is powder steamed.  The powder it refers to is a type of rice powder, a sort of rice or grain that resembles couscous.  The grains of rice look like they have been broken in half by a crushing, grounding, or pounding process.  Added to the the rice powder are usually spices such as star anise, five spice powder, pepper, and sometimes cumin or cinnamon.  Wash the imagery of intestine coils out of your brain, and fill them with thoughts of tofu skin with sticky rice covered in garlic, chili, pepper, star anise, and the ever fragrant Szechwan peppercorn.  You will think it's amazing-delicious. 

Even Rina, who may have been slightly averse to internal organs prior to tasting this dish, tried it... and liked it.  When I showed oolong-milktea pictures from my trip, he made some hunger-induced oooh and ahhh noises.  What he ooohed and ahhed over was the version of the fen zheng dish made with pork spare ribs (粉蒸排骨)... equally as delicious as the intestines and perhaps just a tad less gut-wrenching.  Oh, and did I mention that there's a layer of soft and fluffy sweet potato at the bottom of the bamboo steamer soaking up all the spicy flavors and fatty oils that have dripped from down from the pork? Oooh, hell yeah.

But back to beef noodle soup.  Before I could even finish the bamboo steamer of pork, Rina and Diana had already demolished their bowls of noodles.  Tender beef? Gone.  Chewy noodles? Gone.  Spicy soup? All gone.  Although the fen zheng pig intestines were good, it was clear that the star of the show was still the beef noodle soup.

If you can stomach it, I'd suggest heading to Taoyuan Street (桃園街) to try another famous beef noodle soup institution (one of oolong-milktea's favorites).  There are tons of beef noodle stores, stalls, and restaurants in Taipei... including one owned by a Persian man married to a Taiwanese lady.  You're sure to find one that you love.  Until then, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Lao Zhang Beef Noodle Shop (老張牛肉麵)

台北市 大安區 / Taipei City, Da An District

愛國東路 105號 / Ai Guo East Road, No. 105

麗水街口 / Intersection of Li Shiu Street

ML - 20110911

Post 61: Taipei - I Have Returned / 台北我回來了 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

The last time I visited Taipei was just a little over two years ago.  In the time that has passed, it appears that I have lost my Taiwanese aura.  Pedestrians used to asked me for directions, but now they ask me how long it's been since I moved to America.  Uh...

I didn't want to feel like a foreigner in the city that used to feel like a second home to me, so I headed straight for my favorite beef noodle soup stall in Taipei... to eat and be amongst the locals... and to somehow find my Taiwanese mojo.  Along the way to the noodle stall, I noticed that the potsticker shop that I used to frequent had since been closed... but no worries, Old Chao's Noodles (老趙刀切麵) was right where I had last seen it.

Everything was just as I had remembered.  There was the assembly line of noodle production... meat sauce and sliced cucumbers for zhajiang noodles (炸醬麵), diced green onions, roasted beef tendon, cuts of braised beef, and a boiling vat of beef broth... all in steel containers on the counter.  And the makeshift condiment station had the pickled mustard greens and extra green onions for those who need it... in same location as before. 

Old Chao and Chao Jr. stood at the stall.  Mr. Chao, wearing bright blue board shorts, was stirring the boiling pot of noodles.  Young Mr. Chao silently took orders just as his father used to.  A nod of his head and a stare in my direction was his way of asking me what I want to order.  He spoke only to clarify whether the noodles will be eaten here or taken to-go. 

And that's when I noticed the one aspect that has changed since the last time I visited.  The price.  A bowl of beef noodle soup used to be just 40 Taiwan dollars, which was just a little over one US dollar back then.  That same bowl of noodle soup is now 100 Taiwan dollars, which is a little over three US dollars.  I was surprised when I handed Mr. Chao a 100 NT note, and I didn't get any change back.  He looked back at me, and his silence asked, "What are you waiting for?"

Nothing, I guess. 

If you hadn't gotten the picture from before, let me repaint the picture.  This is a serious beef noodle soup stall.  The noodle bowls are washed on the curb between the stand and the street, and needless to say, the bowls aren't exactly towel dried.  Never mind the potential hepatitis infection.  Taste takes precedence here... not cleanliness.  Around the stall there are two prop-up tables with stools scattered around them.  Office workers in dress shirts, delivery boys with bike helmets, and complete strangers share the communal tables... and eat in silence.  One in every ten customers is a woman.  But the woman usually loses her patience and leaves for another stall with a shorter line.  

I picked up my glorious bowl of identity crisis medication, and I plopped myself down on the metal stool barely supported my oversized American dexterior.  In the 90 degree humid heat of Taipei, I devoured each strand of noodle one of bite at a time.  A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead with each strand of noodle consumed... and with each strand of noodle consumed I felt increasingly reacquainted with the land of my parents' birth. 

Comforted with this feeling, I gazed upon the hustle and bustle of the noodle stall.  Mama Chao appears from nowhere and begins bussing the twin tables, with chili oil still dripping from a previous customer's used chopsticks.  Young Chao, who looks like he's in his thirties, helps his father pour freshly brewed beef broth from a large kettle into an even larger vat... all while smoking a cigarette and talking on his cell phone.  Then he tends to customers who want a second helping of beef soup... free for those who still have noodles left in their bowls.  By the way... the large vat of beef soup? Yeah, it could totally swallow Mr. Chao alive.

The waft of brewing, beef broth drifts my way and cuts through not only the thick humidity but the exhaust from otobai that speed past the noodle stall as well.  Deep breath.  Ahhh... the smell... the smell of freshly sheared noodles sinking into boiling water.  Ahhh... here in Taipei, food reigns over weather and pollution.The last time I wrote about a piping hot bowl of beef noodle soup, it was perfect for a rainy, winter day.  Ironically, I was enjoying this same steaming bowl of beef noodle soup in the hot summer heat... but it was just as exhilarating as ever.  The true exhilaration, though, was the feeling that I could declare to the city, "Taipei, I have returned."

Until the next bowl of beef noodle soup, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Approximate address:
台北市 大安區/ Taipei City, Da An District
信義路 4段 60之56 號/ Xin Yi Road, Section 4, No. 60-56

How I get there:
MRT: Da An Station (捷運大安站)
exit station; walk two blocks east towards Taipei 101
make a right at Da An Road, Section 2 (大安路 2段)
pass the stall for hand made egg rolls
do not pass the stall with fresh fruit and shaved ice

ML - 20110908

F.A.T. News 9: Food Becomes Fun

Food is food is food is food.  But food becomes fun whenever a creative idea gets executed in a unique fashion.  These two articles sparked my interest, but the images in the articles are what really captured my attention.

Proud of the hint of Taiwan here:
Designs on Dining

article by Jenn Garbee, LA Times / photographs by PEDEN + MUNK

The caption of the first image from "Designs on Dining" reads, "Taiwanese fog: Golden Xuan tea, dairy orbs, crisp honey and citrus essence."  I'm not sure how the Taiwanese fog is supposed to be eaten... or whether it's supposed to be eaten at all.  Is it meant to be looked at? Or just smelled? Either way, it's really cool that the Golden Xuan tea from Taiwan's famous Alishan (or Ali Mountain) has made its way to the innovative dining experience.  The high altitude of Alishan in Nantou County of Taiwan and its high levels of moisture makes for some of the most renowned tea in the world.

This may spark a trend:

Now you can eat -- Angry Birds mooncakes

article from AFP

These Angry Birds mooncakes are pretty cool.  Someone at work who has never heard of mooncakes before went crazy over this article and asked me to bring some back to the US if I happened to drop by HK.  If Maxim's Group decided to sell these outside of Hong Kong, they would definitely make a pretty penny out of this.  I'm not too sure about the chocolate and the pomelo flavors though, but I can definitely get used to Angry Birds mooncakes in lotus flavor.

Continue the creativity, food industry! Props to Roberto Cortez and Maxim's Group for contributing to the new trends in food innovation.

ML - 20110904 TW

Post 60: San Francisco - For Love and Adventure

Back in April I headed up to San Francisco to witness Boy and Girl tie the knot.  Boy and Girl's wedding theme was For Love and Adventure, a very fitting theme considering that Boy and Girl love to travel, love food, and of course, love each other very much.  I thought it would be creative to put a little wedding spin on this post and dedicate it to Boy and Girl.  Here are something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue that I came across on my adventure through San Fran. 

Turtle Tower (SF: Civic Center)

Something old - Chicken pho (pho ga long)

It's not that the chicken is stale or that the noodles are old... in fact, the chicken is juicy and tender, and the noodles are picked up by the owner fresh each day.  Chicken pho is old in the sense that it's something familiar, something homey, something comforting.  Speaking of comforting, this big bowl of chicken noodle soup was what cured six Saturday morning hangovers.  And what better way to cure a hangover with a steaming bowl of clear broth made from organic, free range chicken? Only in San Francisco will you find the chicken used in pho to be good not only for man but for the animal as well.  Think chicken pho is good? The server says, "pho ga long is better!" If you're alright with giblets, you'll certainly agree.

Little Delhi (SF: Union Square)

Something new - Badami chicken

The first dish I order at Indian restaurants is usually chicken tikka masala.  The creamy yet spicy curry dish is simply irresistible.  This time, however, I went for something new.  The first dish that I ordered was the house recommended badami chicken, a dish prepared by adding tandoori chicken to creamy curry with ground pistachios and cashews.  Grinding up the pistachios and cashews contribute a depth of flavor to the curry so that it's not just spicy but a bit nutty tasting too.  It went great with the garlic naan, and it tasted even better as a dipping sauce for the samosas too.  Even Kevin, who wanted nothing other than garlic naan, helped himself to a few extra spoonfuls of this exotically fragrance dish.  Badami chicken was definitely something new for me.  If only more Indian restaurants served this dish along with the other items on the menu.

Hong Kong Lounge (SF: Outer Richmond)

Something borrowed - Sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaf (秘制果蒸粽)

I'm not sure what inspired Hong Kong Lounge to create an enormous, eight dollar, Chinese sticky rice wrap at dim sum, but I wouldn't be surprised if they borrowed the idea of super sizing everything from the land that's known for foot-long sandwiches, double-decker burgers, and extra large slurpees.  Often times dishes that are made to gargantuan proportions are somehow neglected if not by health, then by flavor or by lack of quality ingredients.  This sticky rice wrap is not the case.  It's full of savory pork, flavorful Shiitake mushrooms, roasted peanuts, fresh egg yolk, and saucy sticky rice.  Check out how big the wrap is sitting next to the tea cup.  That's some heavy duty Chinese flavor, for real.

SFO Aviation Museum & Library (SF: San Mateo Co.)

Something blue - Boy and Girl's wedding (SF: SFO Intl Airport)

If I were to really highlight something blue that I ate, it would just be the bleu cheese from the salad at the wedding.  But how far would I get talking about the bleu cheese in a salad? What was truly blue (in color not emotion) was the wedding itself.  From the Pan Am stewardess outfits on display to the creatively packaged Hershey's chocolate bars to the handmade table decorations to the groom's tie and the M&M's, there were vibrant shades of blue everywhere.  A beautiful color... a beautiful wedding theme... a beautiful couple.

Cheers to the happy couple, Moritaka and Cheryl.  I wish you a lifetime of happiness, much love and much adventure! I can't wait to hear more stories of food and travel.  Until next time let's get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110428-0501

Post 59: Decimated by that Ten-Course Omakase (LA-South Bay: Torrance)

After seeing pictures from the last omakase I had, a soon-to-be-wed Mr. Zhou said, "I want that."  And that he was about to get.  So the more we talked about that, and the more others heard about that, the more people wanted that.  So that became an event, and I made it my duty to gather together the long lost souls of my fraternity (and their significant others) so we could have... that. 

That became a ten-course omakase at Hirose in Torrance.  In a tiny, little shop in a gigantic strip mall, ten of us attempted to devour ten courses (each) of freshly prepared Japanese art.  Some succeed... some failed.  Some were smart and decided against decimation.  The only Japanese one at the table went for the teriyaki instead... maybe they know something the remaining Sinos and Formosans don't..?  Hmm...

This is what our that looked like... and if it seems like the pictures get progressive blurry, it's because they do.  Somewhere along the second or third course, I thought it was an incredibly intelligent idea to pair the remaining courses with a shot of sake (each)... and then some.  The day after this omakase meal was the Sunday of Father's Day, and let's just say I learned how to say hangover in Mandarin.  See how many sake glasses you count in the pictures below...

Braised pork
bonito fish broth

Itadakimasu! One bite of a simple cube of pork started off the meal.  Not only was it balanced by the savory flavor of the soy and the sweetness of the swine, the lean meat to fat ratio was perfectly balanced as well.  The green onions provided just a hint of fresh crunch to the square.

Sardines ambish

Ambish? Korewa nandesu ka? To my knowledge this word is not in the English dictionary.  Trust me, I looked it up via Webster and Google.  But from what the server told us, ambish is a word that describes something that has been deep fried and then submerged in vinegar.  So that is exactly what we had for our second course... a duo of deep fried, battered sardines served chilled in a dish of light vinegar.  Not eye opening, but horrible either... something to jump start the saliva, I guess.

Duck with potato salad
red and green shishito peppers

Two succulent pieces of duck lay atop a fluffy bed of whipped potato.  The potato salad had just enough mayo to make it creamy, but it wasn't so delicious that it stole the duck's thunder.  The duo of dueling colored shishito peppers added a vibrant color to the presentation, but the tender and flavorful duck was still the star of the dish.  Oishii desu. 

Raw oyster with ikura

Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! When the fresh oyster had arrived, a little school girl's scream may have been heard at the table.  And it may have been me.  As small as this little devil was, it was just enough as a teaser to prep my tongue for the fresh fish that was about to arrive.  Although the two drops of ikura on top tempted many of us to order another round.

Sashimi course
Yellowfin tuna, bluefin tuna, amberjack, octopus, sesame sebring snapper

Glistening fresh, vibrant in color, smooth in texture... what more could you ask for in a sashimi course? The chef even skipped out on the salmon and yellowtail that's typically served and presented us with some rare choices such as amberjack and sesame sebring.  The yellowfin and bluefin tuna were both meaty, yet they melted away with ease.  And the color of the sesame sebring was as beautiful as a fluffy white cloud with a metaphoric silver lining.

Salmon, tofu, yam and pumpkin braised in shoyu broth
This is usually a dish made at home and simmered in a large pot by an obachan.  Like a pot roast or a beef stew, it's a hearty and somewhat soupy dish that is supposed to conjure up feelings of home and the warmth of grandma's kitchen from childhood.  Halfway through the bowl of tofu and yam, I started missing the oden that my grandma makes.  You know it's good when the chef can give you a feeling of home in the form of a bowl of veggies.

Tempura course
fish stuffed zucchini flower, snow crab leg, salmon wrapped with shiso tempura

This tempura zucchini flower was the product of a delicate Japanese ingenuity.  Flaky white fish was the hidden surprise inside the flower of a vegetable that seemed to have more aesthetic appeal than nutritional value.  The zucchini flower announced its subtle flavor without even a whisper.  No self gloat, no bragging, just simple confidence.  Just a little sea salt, and it's good to go.  No tempura sauce necessary.

Beef top sirloin over five vegetables
bamboo shoot, Brussels sprout, eggplant and yuzu, pear and string bean, Yukon potato

Another dish was presented to us with an attention to detail so microscopic that only the Japanese can claim.  Five pieces of medium rare beef sat on top of a line of five different complementary vegetables, all of which provided the meat with a evenly balanced texture and flavor.  Not only were the vegetables merely placed beneath the beef, they also  helped anchor the beef in a way that helped us enjoy the angled presentation.  My favorite was the yuzu essence that somehow made its way down either side of the plate so that even the bamboo shoot on the far left and the potato on the far right was influenced by a hint of the spicy pepper.  Consistency over variation... I liked that.

Noodles with chicken yaki 
grated daikon radish, ginger, and sesame in soba sauce

Although the noodles were accredited as the lead in this dish, it was the supporting elements that really helped the dish come together.  White meat chicken and carefully grated radish along with ginger and sesame created a harmonious lightness that was a great way to end the meal.  Many times, Asian cultures (think Chinese and Korean) serve carbs (think fried rice) as the final dish to ensure that the guest has been stuffed full... but Hirose found a way to nudge us close to 100% rather than pushing us over the brink of satiation. 

Azuki red bean mousse
grapefruit, melons and mint

Nine courses down... one to go.  Even if you're stuffed, how can you refuse dessert? It's dessert! The good thing is that the dessert was served in a shotglass-sized cup... bad thing is that the shotglass-sized cup reminded me of all the sake we already drank.  And if there is just one lesson that I have learned from the glory days of college, it's that dairy and alcohol don't mix.  Remembering my lessons learned, I decided to have some fruit... and pass the mousse down.  Okay, I had one little bite, and it was smooth, creamy, but delightfully light... a nice way to finish a ten-course meal formerly known as "that."

As I channel the emotions I felt at the end of that dinner for this post, I sensed a gradual creep of the infamous post large meal food coma... which is what I sense now.  A slow, lethargic, I want to stop writing kind of feeling.  I feel decimated.  And so... the writing shall stop.  Until the next omakase, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110618

Post 58: Be Happy... Chatting over Tartare (LA: Beverly Hills)

Back when I still had full use and employment of my teeth, a long lost friend and I decided to throw on our bourgeois attitude and roll up to Chaya for a five-course chef's tasting.  I had B.H. tattooed on my aura for that meal.  And if the letters B and H didn't mean Beverly Hills at that time, it meant be happy for the two of us.  And we were as happy as two long, lost friends could possibly be... we watched beautiful people sit and just be as beautiful as their food... and we chatted as puffy, white clouds rolled away in the big, blue sky... and we chatted as the big, orange star we call the sun lowered itself to cast a shady gloom over my risotto... and we chatted until the last dollop of vanilla caramel ice cream camouflaged itself against the ceramic dish it came in.  These are the three dishes from Chaya Brasserie that made us the most happy.

Melon y jamon
compressed melon, burrata cheese, salame, arugula, aged balsamic vinegar reduction

The first time I had melon and cured Italian meat in combination, I was a recent high school graduate vacationing with family in Canada of all places.  It was the Fairmont resort somewhere in the wilderness of Alberta that introduced me to my first combination of sweet melon and salty Italian prosciutto.  I hadn't had a serious relationship at the time, but I knew I was in love.

There's something about the contrasting sweet and salty flavors and the rough and smooth textures that makes complete sense... like when smooth slices of salty ham is placed on top of fibrous triangles of pineapple on pizza... when sprinkles of course sea salt is introduced to smooth, sweet caramel anything.  I love that I can take the salami or prosciutto and fold it over a freshly cut piece of melon.  I breathe a sigh of happiness when I do it... as if burdens have been lifted from my shoulders and pressures from life tip toe away from my heart.  I feel the same comfort when I wrap myself in blankets at bedtime.  It's not the same blanket wrap that I do when I'm freezing in the middle of winter or the blanket wrap that I do at the end of a tough day.  It's a light, delicate wrap.  A peaceful one that produces a sigh of happiness.  The kind you do on vacation.  Yes, that one.  And each bite is like having your head hit the fluffiest of down pillows... again and again... happiness.

Salmon tartare and mi-cuit
tartare: wasabi tobiko, cilantro blossom, pickled daikon radish squares
cucumber raita, wild arugula, ahi amarillo aioli, seaweed jelly
mi-cuit: sovid, wasabi creme fraiche

It's not quite tuna tartare yet not quite salmon sashimi... it's a profound dish in its own right.  The seemingly simple dish of salmon tartare actually produced a couple of wows.  The tenderness of the salmon protein became even more supple as the light layer of olive oil marinated with the salmon's own natural lipids.  Is anyone thinking about bikini mud wrestling besides me? Not so much? Hey, the analogy works.

What else works are the uniquely shaped but uniformly sized pieces of salmon.  They fit together like a chaotically constructed Jenga set teetering on the edge of collapse, yet they remain as stable as the Bird's Nest in Beijing.  So rather than being distracted by which piece of salmon is bigger or smaller than the other, the tongue can simply relax and focus on how fresh the salmon is... and the brain can say, "wow, this is good... wow, wow, wow."  The brain will be so pleasured by the bliss of deliciousness that it won't know it's fish at all.

Spring pea risotto
Japanese green risotto, sugar snaps, English peas
Parmesan, mascarpone, curry, basil, confetti flowers

Normally I wouldn't find rice and vegetables to be very exciting, but the spring pea risotto invoked a sense of happy relaxation in me.  It was as beautiful tasting as it was beautiful looking, albeit the image was marred by both the lack of natural lighting and my lack of savvy with photo editing.  But no matter... what's good is still good.

The feeling of intense absence of tension in my body was brought by the sudden surprise of curry in the waves of creamy rice.  I had a feeling that it was Japanese curry powder, which unlike Thai or Indian curries, is a bit more subtle and slightly sweet.  The taste is not as prickly on the tongue as a Thai green curry or an Indian masala.  Other surprises came in the form of a pea here and a pea there, just the right amount of healthy vileness and just the right amount of pleasant, non-shocking discovery.  This was the kind of dish that I could eat by the pool.  I wouldn't mind replacing the obligatory poolside cocktail with this risotto dish either.  Swirling a big, metal spoon around in creamy, not firm, not mushy, perfectly spiced rice is so much more gratifying that twirling a swizzle stick in a martini glass.  It's just not the same.

The final dish was a beef duo of short rib and tenderloin with porcini puree and daube sauce.  It was... alright.  And the dessert tasting was a chocolate croissant bread pudding with vanilla caramel ice cream.  I was already too happy to be bothered with a sugar high.  But no matter... good food and a good friend to jumpstart a Friday evening creates a casual, lingering happiness that carries over into the start of Saturday.  To the start of a happy weekend, everyone... let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Esther of e*star LA posted on her off-menu tastings at Chaya Brasserie here.

ML - 20110610

Post 57: Wisdom Teeth Food

Not everyone remembers when their first tooth fell out, but everyone remembers when they had their wisdom teeth pulled out.  I was fortunate enough to experience this extraction of dental knowledge this past week.  After being completely scared by all the wisdom teeth horror stories from friends and family, I was hell bent on making sure I had all the culinary concoctions to make my discomfort bearable.  The last few days I have been able to consume the following items... most of which are not the least bit glorious, but I guess that depends on who you ask.

Lucky me... Kimmy dropped by with a dozen mini Beard Papa's cream puffs and two regulation sized puffs.  I started off by scooping out the insides of one mini cream puff... but by the end of day, I managed to devour seven mini cream puffs (the puff portion and all) and one regular sized cream puff.  Yes, I did that in just one afternoon.

I also managed to spoon in two cups of my favorite Japanese flan from Mitsuwa Marketplace... along with a number (four to date) of Korean honeydew melon flavored jumbo popsicles.

Since my face was throbbing with crimson fury, and the Maytag-produced hemispheres of ice weren't sufficient, I thought that the best way to calm the swollen rage down was with some Taiwanese shaved ice.  I dragged my mom with me to a local joint called Tasty To Go for their acclaimed mango shaved snow.  Being the obedient son that every Asian parent hopes to call their own (even I make myself sick sometimes), I ate all the cold, frigid, brain freezing ice... and left the nutritious, fiber-filled, vitamin-rich mango for my mom.  Heh, heh, heh...

After I thought that I would hit the roof with an uncontrollable sugar high, I decided to counter all the sugar with some protein... eggs.  I employed a very sumptuous recipe for Japanese style chawanmushi (茶碗蒸 or steamed eggs), which is a soft and simple way (and probably the most glorious of the aforementioned food choices) to endure the discomforts of wisdom teeth extraction.

Ingredients:
2 eggs, beaten
1 can of chicken broth
1 package of ikura and/or uni (optional)

To set up a makeshift steamer, pour four or five cups of water into a large soup pot.  Fill a rice bowl one-third of the way up with water, and place the rice bowl into the large soup pot.  Fire up the stove.

Combine the two eggs and just half a can of chicken broth into a ceramic bowl.  Whisk until smooth.  Carefully place and balance the ceramic bowl carefully on top of the rice bowl into the large soup pot.  This is now your makeshift steamer.  Place the cap of the pot on top, and let the eggs steam away for no longer than five minutes.  a chopstick into the middle to see if the eggs are still runny; the eggs are ready when the center has solidified.  The texture should be similar to a soft custard or a delicate flan.

Here's the glorious part.  After the chawanmushi has cooled off, spoon some ikura or uni onto the surface of the egg.  All of the ingredients should be easily conquered by even those who under the effects of Vicodin or Tylenol No. 3.  Here's my disclaimer: if your medication says you should not operate heavy machinery, please do not attempt to build a makeshift steamer no matter how simple it is.  Let your mom and dad, spouse, significant other or indentured sibling do this for you.

I hope these eggs distract you from your dental debacle.  Oh, and if the steamed eggs work, fire up the stove again... as long as there are more eggs, you still have half a can of chicken broth left! Until solid food invigorates my diet, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110728-31