Food Of The Conchords: So Hot They're Like A Curry

Folk-comedy duos from New Zealand who make me laugh my ass off are pretty cute. Folk-comedy duos from New Zealand who make me laugh my ass off AND who have subtle-but-recurring food themes on their HBO show The Flight Of The Conchords are mother flipping hot.

After only eight 30-minute episodes that have aired thus far, I've heard about talking stoves, animated racist dragons that cry jelly bean tears, Chinese roast duck, samosas, Muesli, lasagna for one, a girl so hot she's like a curry, buying kebabs for a girl who's so beautiful she could be a part-time model, girls and spaghetti, and best of all, croissants and wingmen. It's confirmed: I have a major geeky-crush on these guys. They make me want to do my hair into a flip, throw on my favorite shift dress and go have a carefree picnic in the park followed by a glittery night out at the discotheque.

Don't you wish all trips to le supermarché were this fun?

Flight Of The Conchords
Sundays at 10:30pm , HBO.


(photos--from left to right, top to bottom--courtesy of : wikimedia.org, New York Apple Country, Barilla, answers.com, HBO, frenchfriends.info, Whisk and Pin, Daily Gluttony, Daily Gluttony, Marions Kochbuch, Dominik Hundhammer via wikimedia.org, rouiba.com, Recipes4us, Kansas State University Animal Sciences & Industry, Oregon State University Food Resource, All Creatures)

Mmmm, donuts...

No, I am not going to go see the movie, but I just had to have one of these. I mean, come on, it's pink!

Needless to say, I crashed hard within about an hour. D'oh!

Cockfight!: Savoy Kitchen Vs. Dong Nguyen, Alhambra

(photo courtesy of http://www.gotouring.com/)

A long time ago in a Chinese province far, far away, someone created a dish that's almost ingenious in its simplicity. Someone took a fat hen, boiled the thing until the meat was plump and tender, and served it on some chicken stock-flavored rice. Someone did this and before you know it, this dish from the Chinese province of Hainan found its way into neighboring Southeast Asian countries such as Singapore, Malaysia, and Vietnam and eventually into the stomachs of those of us who have fallen in love with the simple dish otherwise known as Hainan Chicken Rice.

If you've never had Hainan Chicken Rice before, I suggest you try it because simply put, it's fucking good. OK, OK, so maybe it's not orgasmic good like sushi is or fancy, multi-dimensional good like say, a dinner at Providence, but like I said, it's simple good. It's tasty. It's comforting. It's unoffensive in every possible way except maybe to a vegetarian.

Fortunately for me and my Hainan Chicken Rice cravings as of late, there are two places in my new 'hood that I know of where at least 65% of the diners at any given time are eating this dish. It would only be appropriate, then, that last week, I decided to stage a cockfight: Would Savoy Kitchen's Hainan Chicken Rice rip its opponent from down the street, Dong Nguyen, apart, or would Dong Nguyen show Savoy Kitchen who's boss?

In this corner...Savoy Kitchen!

And in this corner...Dong Nguyen!

*Ding, Ding!*

Round One: The Chicken Itself.

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's places that serve Cantonese-style boiled chicken, which has more of an al dente bite and where alot of the connective tissue remains, and try to pass it off as Hainan Chicken. Fortunately both Savoy and Dong Nguyen's chicken is boiled until the meat is plump, tender and falling off the bone, both chickens having the slight taste of chicken-y oil, which trust me, is a good thing. Savoy's chicken is cut into larger, cleaner chunks whereas Dong Nguyen's chicken was cut into smaller pieces and had bone shards that kept stabbing the roof of my mouth. The winner? Savoy Kitchen because I prefer bone shard-free eating.

Round Two: The Rice.

I am not kidding when I say that I could eat Hainan Chicken Rice-Rice by itself. If I could, I would substitute the chicken-fat-drizzled or cooked-in-chicken-stock jasmine rice for the white rice that I normally eat with my meals, problem being that I would end up as big as a house. This one was a tie for me. The rice both at Savoy and at Dong Nguyen, being fluffy and full of chicken-y goodness without being too oily, would definitely put me into big, fat house-hood. It was difficult to tell them apart, really. I guess if I had to be really specific then I'd say that Dong Nguyen's rice was a little more chicken-y; Savoy's had more of a twinge of oil and salt. But I liked them both just as much.

Round Three: The Sauces

Say what you will about how much you love the chicken or the rice on your Hainan Chicken Rice, but Hainan Chicken Rice just isn't Hainan Chicken Rice without the dipping sauce or sauces that come with. The Hainan Chicken Rice that I'm used to is typically served with a trio of dipping sauces: one--a sauce of minced ginger and oil, two--a spicy sambal of red chile and lime and three--a dark soy sauce. All three work in unison to add some salty, spicy and even sweet touches to the already delicious dish. Savoy Kitchen's version, which is more true to Singaporean form, comes with these exact three sauces which, because I love them so much, are usually refilled at least once before I'm done.

Savoy Kitchen's Dipping Sauces

But as with foods like pizza and barbeque, there are also regional differences in Hainan Chicken Rice, which is why I'm assuming that since Dong Nguyen is of Vietnamese/Chiu Chow influence, their Hainan Chicken Rice is served with a sweet, vinegary dipping sauce that's a teeny bit reminiscent of ngoc cham (the dipping sauce that normally pairs with cha gio a.k.a. fried Vietnamese spring rolls) only spiked with ginger and more on the sweet side. The winner? Savoy Kitchen. Savoy Kitchen's sauce trio are true team players that work so well in unison with the chicken and rice, hence the refills. As for Dong Nguyen's sauce, not so much. Although it was markedly different than Savoy's sauces, it just wasn't as nearly as complimentary to the big picture, which is why I hardly used it.

Bonus Round: Atmosphere

This one's a draw too because it just depends on what floats your boat. Savoy Kitchen has an outdoor seating area that's pretty nice on a warm Southern California evening. But it's small and gets really crowded with young San Gabriel Valley hipsters sporting the latest in cell-phone technology (including the very necessary Sanrio cell phone charm), so be prepared to wait for a table. Other menu items include Hong Kong Coffeeshop-style fare such as curries and baked rice dishes and even pizzas and pastas. Service is pretty quick, however, especially if ordering the Hainan Chicken Rice, which the place seems to crank out at factory speed.

Hipster hangout, or...

Dong Nguyen is surrounded by 168 Chinese supermarket, a bargain clothing store, and a CVS Pharmacy in an odd strip mall whose tenants have cowboy movie-inspired facades. The atmosphere is virtually zero (which is probably why their Hainan Chicken Rice is twenty-five cents less than Savoy's at six bucks vs. six-and-a-quarter) but the place is clean, and you won't have to wait amongst a crowd of cigarette smoking, D&G-clad twenty-somethings. Go here if you're not in the mood to accompany your Hainan Chicken Rice with pizza since typical Chiu Chow dishes such as hu tieu can be found here instead. Oh, and as opposed to Savoy's street parking situation, there is plenty of lot parking available.

...faux western stripmall?

So the winner of this cockfight, not by death or knockout, but by unanimous decision, is...(drumroll please)...Savoy Kitchen! In the end, I just think that Savoy Kitchen delivers a much tighter package with its Hainan Chicken Rice. But that's not to say that Dong Nguyen doesn't put up a good fight. I mean, hey, if I'm jonesin' for some Hainan Chicken Rice and the wait at Savoy is too long, I'm heading down the street and Dong Nguyen wins.

Savoy Kitchen
138 E. Valley Blvd.
Alhambra, CA 91801
(626) 308-9535
Closed Sundays. Cash Only.

Dong Nguyen
1433 E. Valley Blvd.
Alhambra, CA 91801
(626) 300-8618
Closed Thursdays. Cash Only.

Wild Mushroom Risotto Anyone?

Having your own backyard for the first time opens your eyes up to a whole new world of stuff.

Like today, I noticed that there are 'shrooms sprouting up in random places on my lawn. Question is, are they edible, poisonous, or hallucinogenic? I don't think I'll ever find out, but if I had to rank them in order of what I'd prefer, I'd choose number one first, then number three, and number two last.

Show Me Some Skin: Shik Do Rak, Koreatown

Let's perform a little exercise, shall we? Read the following lines and tell me what comes to mind:

I love skin.

I love it when it's dry.

I love it when it's wet.

I love it when it's a little bit salty.

I love to lick it. I love to bite it. I love to smack it up, flip it, rub it down...

Now I'm assuming that most of you need to get your mind out of the gutter.

But if you're at all in touch with your Asian side, you'll know that since the Chinese word for food wrapper is also the word for "skin," that I could also be talking about that. You know, like wonton wrappers, er, I mean skins. Eggroll skins. Gyoza skins. Mu Shu skins. Mandoo skins. Xiu Long Bao skins. Burrito skins (aka tortillas) And in this case, I am.

See what I mean?

From what I hear, as far as a certain type of Korean skin is concerned, Shik Do Rak in Koreatown is apparently the self-proclaimed Home-Of-It.

And so it was that Mr. DG and I met up at Shik Do Rak with our favorite foodblogging couple, Jeni of Oishii Eats and Dylan of Eat, Drink, & Be Merry to see what this skin was all about. No, I'm not talking about Korean burlesque, you naughty little minxes. No, no, I'm talking about duk bo sam, otherwise known as Korean rice wrappers.

The process at Shik Do Rak is pretty simple. Grill up your meat. Dip it into the delicious garlicky, beany, red pepper paste and/or into the salted oil. Put it onto a square of duk bo sam. Top with some of the flavorless-needed-to-be-dressed lettuce salad. Wrap it up. Eat. Repeat. Have some of the not-too-plentiful panchan and some Hite beer while you're at it. Shik Do Rak's menu isn't all too complicated either with its handful of meat choices and just a sprinkling of other non-BBQ dishes. We did this whole wrap thing with some chadol baegi which are thin, ribbon-like slices of beef (very reminiscent of the beef curls that you see at those Mongolian BBQ places), beef tongue and beef short rib. Making things even easier is the restaurant's super-attentive wait staff: just ask and you shall receive. And if for some strange reason you don't, just ask the ultra-friendly owner--a cute little older gentleman who literally goes to each table to check on them--and you definitely shall receive.

This...

Plus this (cooked of course)...

And this...

Equals this!

I liked this place, but definitely not because of the meat. Though its overall quality was decent, its flavor left something to be desired because it wasn't pre-marinated. No, my friends, it's all about the duk bo sam here. There's something about the cool, chewy snap of the wrapper against the freshly grilled meat that has one coming back for more. After all, this is the house of skin, er, I mean duk bo sam, isn't it?

Shik Do Rak
2501 W. Olympic Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90006
(213) 384-4148

(To get Eat, Drink, & Be Merry's take on our Shik Do Rak outing, go here!)

DG's Basement Tapes: Restaurant Koshiji, Little Tokyo

(This post is the first in a series of gawd-knows-how-many unfinished posts I have hidden deep in the depths of my post library. Had I been more on top of it, this post should have been published in December.)

There are Los Angeles foodbloggers.

And there are San Diego foodbloggers.

And there would certainly come a time for the two to meet. So when Kirk, our beloved foodblogger from San Diego, emailed me to tell me he'd be in town, I arranged a mini get-together of local bloggers for the two groups so co-mingle. But somewhere in that fucked-up, obsessed-with-Bizarro-mind of mine, I couldn't help but think of the "Bizarro Jerry" episode of Seinfeld where Jerry, George and Kramer finally come face to face with Elaine's new friends who bore an uncanny resemblance to her OG chums. What if, despite so many similarities most of which revolve around our common passion for food, we had absolutely nothing to talk about once we met up? I imagined uncomfortable moments of silence, obligatory questions like "So...I hear it's going to rain this weekend" followed by "Uh yeah. Mm-hmm" and twiddling thumbs.

Fortunately, however, our Bizarro meet up was far from boring. On a Saturday night, some of us Angeleno foodbloggers--Oishii Eats, Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, Best of LA, Rick James/Diet Chili Cheese Fries, and myself--came face-to-face with Kirk and fellow San Diegan food fiend Jack at Little Tokyo's Restaurant Koshiji. I don't think there was one odd moment of silence as we all had so much to talk about; this was the first time meeting and/or hanging out with Kirk for some of us but it felt as though all of us had known each other for years. I'm really glad to have added Kirk--such a funny, kind and caring person--to my growing circle of food-loving friends.

Unlike its loud & trafficky Bizarro twin Kokekokko down the street, Koshiji is more of a low-key yakitori joint. Service can be extremely slow which could swing the pendulum on meetups like ours either way: either it could make things even more uncomfortable if say, the foodbloggers from the other side of town really are like Bizarro Jerry, or in our case, it gave us more time to chat over the good chow we've had in recent weeks and drool over Kirk's recent experience atUrusawa.

Small cups of raw vegetables with a small dish of miso-based dipping sauce seem to be included with each person's place setting; a much welcomed snack while we waited for our server to take our order and bring us our food, but unfortunately not quite enough for people like ourselves who were starving.

Cup O' Veg

Finally, our food started to arrive. Although we all ordered separately, our food came out very much un-separately, so it took some investigating to remember who ordered what and in what quantities. Luckily, one of the things Isaac and I ordered was Koshiji's chicken yakitori course, so those skewers had been separated from the rest of the pack.

The chicken-on-a-stick course was on the whole, unimpressive. The plain ol' poultry meat skewers--negima (chicken w/ green onion), tsukune (chicken meat ball), sasami (chicken breast with shiso leaf), kamo (duck breast w/ miso sauce) and tebakara (chicken wings)--though not bad, didn't have that just-came-off-the-grill caramelized and smoky wow-factor that I was looking for. My favorite part of a yakitori meal, however, comes not so much from the chicken-meats-on-a-stick but rather from the chicken-parts-on-a-stick. While the liver skewer was just plain gross, the crunchy-textured sunagimo, or chicken gizzard, skewer was pretty damn good as were the cute little quail-eggs-on-a-stick, better known as uzura.

Just So-So Chicken-Parts-On-A-Stick

Our yakitori chicken course came with a bowl of soboro-don, a hearty bowl of seasoned ground chicken with egg over rice, and a small cup of broth with...cilantro???? Koshiji lost major points with me right there--what person in their right mind puts cilantro on Japanese food? The soup was given straight to Isaac. He loved it. Enough said. As for the soboro-don, I thought it was a little on the bland side, not quite as tasty as the one I'd had down the street at Kokekokko.

A Match Made In Hell

Soboro-Don: Not Your Typical Mall Chicken Bowl

Koshiji was able to redeem itself with some of its other menu choices, however. Their chicken karaage, probably the only non-food-on-a-stick item we ordered that night, was crisp on the outside, tender on the inside and had nice hints of soy and ginger. We almost mistook our kaori (pork belly) wrapped around subtley spicy shiso leaf for grilled mushroom caps upon first glance, but fortunately figured out that they were not someone else's grilled funghi dish. Grilled spirals of squid (ika), scored for even more textural interest and wrapped around shiso leaf, were also delicious. Toumorokoshi (sweet corn) were charred in just the right spots. And with our orders of what are probably my two favorite meat-on-a-stick of all time--crispy kawa (chicken skin) and salted-just-right tan (beef tongue)--koshiji certainly did not disappoint.

It doesn't have to come on a stick to be good

Some Mo' Better Skewers

Hey, Don't Touch My Corns

Gotta Love Skin & Tongue

All in all, despite the slow service and a couple of misses on a few of their items, Koshiji is a welcome addition to my Little Tokyo dining list. I liked that it was chill, and the awesome company made it that much more fun. Of course if I were Elaine Benes, I'd be forced to choose sides--hang with my OG LA foodbloggers or my newly found San Diego ones. But this isn't Seinfeld after all, and it's good to know that I can hang with both. In the same room. At the same Bizarro restaurant.

Restaurant Koshiji
123 S. Onizuka St. #203 (in Weller Court)
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 626-4989

Eating My Way Thinner: Hijiki Nimono

It sucks trying to eat healthier.

Because suddenly, I don't want to snack on almonds or fruit. I want cookies and chips. I don't want to simple give my pan a small drizzling of olive oil. I want to brown my food in lots and lots of butter and then deglaze the hell out of it with lots and lots of wine. I don't want whole wheat bread. I want tortillas made with lard.

I struggled with many food ideas, looking at recipes from Cooking Light and other healthy eating sources. But the more of these types of recipes I thumbed through, the less appealing they all started to sound with their reduced fat mayo or skim milk substitutions. Not that that's all bad. It's just that sometimes, especially when you're willing to make a big change like this, you want the real deal.

Which is exactly why I went knocking on Japan's culinary door for diet inspiration. I've always admired that Japanese cuisine in its truest form can be so absolutely interesting in taste, texture and presentation without being drowned in huge portions or a ton of oil and fat. I figure that it's better to satisfy myself via sensory overload than by stuffing myself, right?

Unfortunately, this eating-more-Japanese-food-business would have to exclude some of my favorite deep fried Japanese goodies such as menchi katsu, kabocha korokke, chicken karaage and kaki furai. (I'll save those for an occasional weekend treat) But with the huge variety of other healthy foods available, I think I'll be OK.

I always look forward to getting little mounds of hijiki nimono, or simmered hijiki seaweed, either at Japanese restaurants or at the prepared foods section of Mitsuwa market, so I thought, "Why not make this myself?" With a little help from Kimiko Barber's The Japanese Kitchen (a really informative book with gorgeous photos, by the way) I was one step closer to a tasty meal and a healthier physique.

Unless you've tried it yourself, it's hard to get an accurate picture of how hijiki nimono actually tastes but I'll try my best. Texture-wise, the black strips of hijiki are not nearly as thin or slippery as wakame seaweed; I think that they almost have the texture of simmered or steamed carrots with a slightly different bite, which is quite interesting given that there are shredded carrots partying right alongside the hijiki in this dish. Taste-wise, it's a little bitter-sweet, and compliments the saltiness of the soy sauce and the sweetness of the sugar and mirin that it soaks up during the cooking process very nicely. All the ingredients used in this recipe can easily be found at any Japanese or Asian market.

Hijiki Nimino
(adapted from Kimiko Barber's The Japanese Kitchen)

1 oz. dry hijiki seaweed
1 sheet aburage (deep fried tofu)
1/2 cup shredded carrot
3/4 cup konbu dashi (vegetarian kelp broth-see recipe below) OR water if you're short on time
4 tbsp soy sauce
3 tbsp. sugar
2 tbsp. mirin

-Soak the hijiki in hot water for about half hour then drain.
-Put the aburage in a strainer & pour boiling water over it to remove the oil and cut into shreds.
-Put the reconsituted hijiki, tofu shreds & carrots in a pot. Add the konbu dashi or water, soy sauce, sugar and mirin.
-Cook on low heat until all the liquid is absorbed.

Konbu Dashi (Vegetarian Kelp Broth)
1 postcard sized piece of dried konbu (kelp)
4 cups water

-Make a few tears in the konbu and soak it in the water for a several hours. That's it.

I enjoyed this delicious hijiki nimono sprinkled with a pinch of toasted sesame seeds and a little steamed rice and edamame on the side. As opposed to many of my gluttonous meals, there was no bloating afterwards, making this particular meal that much better.

Note: The United Kingdom, Canada, Hong Kong and New Zealand have all issued warnings that traces of inorganic arsenic have been found in hijiki. I'm not sure what to make of this since anything with the word "arsenic" in it is due to sound kinda unappetizing, if ya know what I mean. But I figure that a little hijiki here and there won't hurt since this type of seaweed, until recently, has always been touted for its health benefits and since Japanese people, who by the way are known for their longevity, have had hijiki in their diets for years. As with any food, moderation and variety are key. If you're curious about this whole inorganic arsenic schtick though, you can read about it here, here, here, or here.

Does "Quarterly Gluttony" Have The Same Ring?

Look at me, I'm all growed up now.

I was just a wee caterpillar, but over the last three months, I wanted so badly to turn into a butterfly.

Only I would have turned into an old, fat, poor butterfly real soon if I didn't watch it. Because in the last three months:

Number One: The Gluttony Family, including our very dear gastro-gnome George, moved into our new home in Alhambra. Being a homeowner is great; not being able to spend as much on food as we did in our renting days is not.

Number Two: I've gained weight.

There, I said it.

Not a ton, maybe somewhere in the vicinity of 5-7 pounds. Enough to make my jeans feel really snug and enough to make me thankful that the babydoll and tunic trend is back in full force.

I am therefore officially on a budget and a diet. I don't really have a set plan; I don't believe in gimmick diets where you're suddenly not allowed to eat any one form of food (Cut all bananas from your diet and lose ten pounds in as little as three weeks!) so I'm relying on the tried and true method of eat less and exercise more, while at the same time treating myself to new restaurants or full-on calorie-packed recipes on the weekend so that I don't shrivel up and die. As things start to settle down and as I have a little more time to dedicate to blogging (with emphasis on the word little--I'm still really busy you know), I'm hoping that you'll follow me on my spending-less-while-eating-healthier path.

If not you can fuck off.

See you soon.

The Gift Of Grub (Or, Better Late Than Never): Providence, Los Angeles

(Yes, I know that i haven't written anything in awhile and that this post is taking place nearly two months after Christmas. I've been busy, so if you have a problem with that, go home. If not, read on...)

Christmas is quite lame in my household.

That is, until this year.

Because when asked by my husband what I wanted for Christmas this year, I responded not with a material object to be opened at a rather anti-climactic gift exchange, but rather with "I want to do the tasting menu at Providence." Still pretty anti-climactic since I knew in advance what I was getting, but so much better than Isaac hunting around for a pair of True Religion Bobby's in Rigid Whiskey Creek in a size 27 and then me squealing Oh Baby, thank you!!! I totally wanted these!!! *smooooooooch* as I finish unwrapping the gift that I asked for in the first place. I can buy the jeans myself, thank you. But dinner at one of L.A.'s most highly acclaimed restaurants? Now that's not as easy to pick up at the mall on a Saturday afternoon, is it?

I got to "open" my gift on a Saturday night at 6:30 pm. It was located on Melrose in the old Patina space and wrapped up in shades of off-white, khaki, and dark brown, all tied together with orangey-red accents. I looked up as we were lead to our table that was located along a wall lined with one long off-white leather banquette; small white disks that either were or resembled shells seemed to dance up the corner of the wall and up the ceiling toward the graceful curves of softly glowing light fixtures. Beaded candleholders in the likeness of sea anemones gave each table some elegant mood lighting in shades of red, orange and gold. The restaurant's decor projects a calm coastal vibe, reminding one of chef Michael Cimarusti's seafood creations, without trying too hard either. Based on what we've experienced with other restaurants around town, we expected the service to be more on the pretentious, fake-accent side, but were pleasantly surprised that everyone at our service that night--from the maitre'd to our server to the sommelier--were attentive and knowledgeable, yet laid-back at the same time.

Then one by one, my Christmas gifts arrived:


An amuse-bouche consisting of a miniature glass mug of a cool and foamy fennel soup and a gelatinous saffron petit-four the size of a sugar cube helped to awaken our palates prior to our feast.


Course No. 1: Japanese Kanpachi with celery, satsuma tangerine, and American caviar. The cool and refreshing properties of the slightly foamy cucumber broth and satsuma wedges actually enhanced the ultra-tender fleshy texture of the thinly sliced kanpachi. Little black pearls of American caviar gave each bite a tiny burst of briny flavor.



Course No. 2: Jumbo Blue Lump Crab with Truffle, Fresh Egg Sabayon, and Aromatics and Course No. 3: Parsnip Soup with Sweetbreads, Maine Lobster, and Truffle Fondue. These two courses were probably my favorite courses of the evening. And it wasn't because of the meat factor, although I must say, the lump blue crab and lobster & sweetbreads were excellent. Rather, the stars of the show in these two courses were the liquids, one being an egg sabayon with wonderfully earthy black truffle undertones and the other being a naughty little parmesan and parsnip soup. As each liquid swished lightly between my upper palate and tongue, they evoked feelings of sensuality, of happiness and of comfort, their aromas making me glad that our senses of smell and taste are intertwined.


Course No. 4: Japanese Freshwater Eel with Crushed Potato Pancake, Truffle and Quail Egg. Because of too many bad, overly sauced sushi preparations, I'm not usually a big fan of the eel, but when prepared right, I absolutely love it. In this particular preparation, a small chunk of Japanese freshwater eel sat atop a potato pancake whose crispiness, along with the frilliness of a piece of frisee and the velvety goodness of a quail egg, complimented the striated flesh of the eel perfectly.


Course No. 5: Dorade Royale with Bacon, Lamb's Quarter, Cinnamon, and Sauce Vin Rouge. I'd never heard of the fish in Course #5, which with the word "Royale" attached to it, sounded either very regal or like a French translation of McDonald's Quarter Pounder (a la Pulp Fiction). Whatever the case, this ultra fresh white-fleshed sea bream was cooked to form a perfectly seared outer crust. As for its accoutrements, the lamb's quarter tasted like spinach to me, and the carrots, cauliflower and bacon chunks seemed more obligatory than necessary although the cinnamon foam which garnished the plate did provide an interesting spicy/sweet element to the dish.


Course No. 6: New Zealand King Salmon with Morroccan Squash, Duck Confit, Baby Red Kale and Chantarelle Mushrooms. I have to admit that as much as I was loving this dinner, that I was in need of a little substance at this point, which is why I was so grateful for this course and Course #5. The New Zealand King Salmon was as fresh as could be and the duck confit and chantarelles added a hearty touch. But the star of this show was the "wall" of paper thin salmon skin that stood tall behind the two pieces of salmon. It was crisp. It was salty. It was good. Someone should fry some more of those bad boys up and package it as a product just like potato chips. I'd buy it for sure.


Course No. 7: Market Cheeses. One reason we opted for the nine-course tasting menu instead of the five is because the five-course menu does not include the cheese course and I just had to have the cheese course. Now I can't remember the names of the cheeses for the life of me, nor can I remember which countries they came from; all I can tell you is that there was one goat's milk cheese, one sheep's milk cheese and one cow's milk cheese and as my friend Sam put it once, "I died and went to cheese heaven." Good gawd, I mean, the goat's milk cheese alone was so fucking good that made me wanna go out and do bad stuff, like not bad-bad stuff but good-bad stuff and that says alot about one cheese, right?


Course No. 8: Mojito Sorbet with Avocado-Banana Puree. The ultra-refreshing mojito sorbet sitting atop a very calm, cool, and collected avocado-banana puree, in just four words, was The Perfect Palate Cleanser.


Course No. 9: Chocolate Cremeaux with Blood Orange Curd and Basil Meringue. Hmm, chocolate, basil, and orange--whodathunkit? Apparently, these guys did, and the combination of the silky-smooth rich chocolate cream canelle, a slightly spicy basil meringue and a tart blood orange curd really worked.


And as if nine courses plus an amuse-bouche of pure degustation was not enough, the kind people at Providence gave us a bonus treat of homemade candies to feast our senses on: red, sugar coated cubes of some sort of fruit jelly, peanut butter cups with sea salt (move over Reese's) and the softest, most luscious caramels I'd ever tasted.

With two glasses each of a fruity white Bourgogne from Maison Lerox and a '98 Chambolle-Musigny from Regnard, my gift came out to a little over three Benjamins after tax and tip. OK, maybe a little more than any pair of designer jeans I would have asked for, but a better Christmas gift in more ways than anyone could ever imagine.

Providence

5955 Melrose Ave.

Los Angeles, CA 90038

(323) 460-4170

www.providencela.com

New Kid On The (Writer's) Block: Santouka Ramen, West L.A.

I hate when I get writer's block. It's like I have stuff to say, but the words aren't flowing, so I'll just get to the point.

I went to the newly-opened Santouka Ramen at the West L.A. Mitsuwa food court the other day.

I had the medium-sized shio ramen.

It was good.

I liked it alot.

That's all I have to say.



Santouka Ramen
(At the Mitsuwa Marketplace food court)
3760 Centinela Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90066

(To read Oishii Eats' wonderful review, which I guarantee to be much more descriptive than mine, go here.)

Chinese Comfort Food For The Nostalgic (And Homesick) Soul

As I was growing up, school holidays meant watching cartoons and children's TV all morning, playing outside with the neighborhood kids all afternoon, and being allowed to stay up later than usual, perhaps to play video games on our Atari 2600 or watch television dramas like Dynasty even though I wasn't old enough to understand half of the grown-up themes on those shows. Staying home from school also meant home-cooked lunches by Mom, a nice break from sandwiches and school cafeteria food.

We were very lucky children, my brother and I, in that we had the best of both cooking worlds. My Dad liked to be a little more extravagant with his cooking as he cooked with bolder, richer flavors and ingredients and whipped up multiple dishes for each meal--two meats, a vegetable and a soup were the norm for dinner at our family's house. My Mom, however, is more of a simple cook who takes pride in her comforting, usually one-dish meals.

One of my favorite Mom foods to eat both growing up and in the present is something we call wui fahn in Cantonese, basically a stir fry of simple ingredients served over rice. Maybe it's homesickness, maybe it's stress, but I've been cooking alot of wui fahn lately--it's hearty, comforting, and incredibly simple to make.

The options of wui fahn toppings are wide open--you can pretty much use any type of meat and vegetable--the key is to make the stir fry a little more saucy than your average stir fry so that the gravy mixes with the rice. For this post, I'll show you how I make wui fahn with boy choy and chicken. Some other fave combos of mine include beef with Chinese long bean, pork with napa cabbage, and creamed corn (yes, creamed corn!) with chicken.

Check it out:

First make a pot of rice (long grain recommended).

Take some chicken thigh and cut it into thin pieces. Marinate with soy sauce, sesame oil, shaoxing cooking wine, sugar and a little cornstarch. Don't ask me how much because I couldn't tell ya--it's all trial and error.

Then prepare your vegetables. I like to cut the bok choy into thinner pieces, almost like a chiffonade but a little wider. It's really all personal preference however. Smash, but do not chop, one clove of garlic.



Make a mixture of a little water (half a cup, maybe?) and a teeny bit of cornstarch and set aside.

Heat a wok and add oil. When the oil is hot, add the chicken and the garlic clove. Stir fry the chicken in the wok until the chicken is cooked. Remove chicken from wok and set aside.



Add bok choy into wok and cook until tender. Scoot all of the bok choy onto the sides of the wok, forming a little well in the middle and add the water and cornstarch mixture. Stir to get some of those tasty browned bits into the liquid. When the liquid starts to simmer & thicken, add the chicken back into the wok, stirring together with the bok choy and cooking for just a couple more minutes until the bok choy, chicken and sauce have all had a chance to mingle. Spoon mixture over rice and dig in.





Because I would give anything to be on school holiday again, I like to eat my wui fahn in original old school kid style--with a spoon. There's just something about eating warm, tasty rice with a spoon that makes you feel like life is simple again.

Beer Goggle Cuisine: Hodori, Koreatown

There are some types of restaurants that leave more of a stink factor on your clothing than others, Korean restaurants being one of them. It made sense, therefore, that because we were going with our friend to the Russell Peters show at the Wiltern in Koreatown, we would try our best to avoid restaurants having too much smoky cooking odor in the air. Not that we were sitting close enough to the comedian, best known for his hilarious imitations of various ethnic groups, to be called out for letting off too much stank, but we'd still have our reputations to uphold with hundreds of other audience members sitting around us.

I remembered that whenever we'd gone to Hodori, a popular late night Korean "fast-food" restaurant, with friends after hitting the bars, we never came out too smoky since everything's cooked in the back. And it was quick and cheap. So to the minimall on the corner of Vermont and Olympic it was.

It was weird to pre-party at Hodori, as I'm used to seeing the place bustling with tables of dressed-to-the-nines clubgoers in search of some cheap nourishment to soak up the over-inebriation in their bloodstreams. Instead, the place was only about an eighth full and pretty quiet when we arrived at 6pm, most of the customers being older Korean couples.

As excited as we were for our panchan to come to the table, we couldn't help but turn all of our attention to the "Stress Reduction Kit: Bang Head Here" sign (an image all of us have received in many an email forward) printed on the back of our waitress's t-shirt. But the bizarre mental images of people actually doing slamming their heads on the waitresses' backs soon turned into full attention towards the little plates of Korean amuse-bouches in front of us. The panchan--an on-the-limp side baechu (napa cabbage) kimchi, a decent kkak-duki (radish kimchi), refreshing bean sprouts, that bland-but-surprisingly addicting plain gelatin with soy sauce dish I've never known the name of, and a hearty Korean-style potato salad--was not anywhere near as plentiful as what we're used to in other Korean restaurants and not excellent, but nevertheless welcomed as we were starving. All of this was washed down with ice cold water served in steel bowls, the cool metal making the drink seem that much more refreshing.


when you can count the panchan on one hand, it's not enough


the widest "cup" i've ever seen

I ordered their kalbi dot sot bibim bap, a dish of rice, egg, vegetables such as marinated daikon, squash, carrots and bean sprouts, and pieces of kalbi short ribs sizzling in a stone pot. No matter where you go, any bibim bap order will come with gochujang, or Korean red pepper paste, inside a red squeeze bottle of what people not in the Korean know would mistake for ketchup. After squeezing a bajillion concentric circles of the deep red-colored sauce into the bowl and mixing all the ingredients together with my spoon, I was ready to dig in. Hodori's version was just allright, with a good amount of beef and vegetables, but lacked the right amount of smoky crispiness I love in a dol sot bibim bap. Somehow, I remember this dish, with its heat from temperature as well as from the gochujang, tasting alot better after a night of drinking.


kalbi dol sot bibim bap, aka alcohol sponge

The same was thought of the bulgogi, Korean BBQ'd beef, and the dak bulgogi, BBQ'd chicken, that Isaac and our friend ordered. The meats, usually full of smoky garlicky flavor when grilled tableside, arrived on sizzling plates looking and tasting quite bland. Another couple of dishes that usually taste a thousand times better post-bar or club.


no stanky clothes=bland korean bbq


beer goggles would make this bulgogi better

Outstanding Korean cuisine is not Hodori's strongpoint, that's for sure. But it's not like they don't have a niche in the Koreatown restaurant market as a late night attraction for those with a blood alcohol level at least a tenth or even to those still giddy with excitement from dancing, a fun night out with friends, or a laugh out loud comedy show in our case. The Happy Horomones are already there--good food is just secondary at that point, right? With its round-the-clock hours and healthy portions, Hodori is just a great place for them to settle down before going home. And you'll stink more of alcohol and cigarette smoke than you will of cooking fumes.

Hodori Restaurant
1001 S Vermont Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90006
(213) 383-3554

For dessert, I'm throwing this clip in to give you an idea of the comedy that gave us our Happy Horomones that night. Take a peek: