Turning Japanese

fig. a: Laser Suzuki!

It may have had something to do with the Laser Suzuki t-shirt that a friend of mine got me for my birthday last year, somewhat inexplicably. I've definitely been wearing it a fair bit recently, much to the puzzlement of those who know me well and who can't understand the message.* Or maybe it was all those travel tales from Japan that we've been hearing over the last several months from all those friends who've insisted, "You really must go! It's not as expensive as you think!" Then again, it may also have been the effects of that full-on Kazu fever that we developed this spring and that has yet to relent in spite of weekly (bi-weekly?) visits. All I know is that, for a while there, our AEB test kitchen was all about the Japanese.

fig. b: Harumi!

And when we felt like we need a little help with this process, our newest favorite friend, Harumi, was there to guide the way. I was none the wiser until quite recently, but Harumi Kurihara is something of a sensation in Japan. A former housewife turned "lifestyle authority," Harumi has apparently gone platinum many times over with her assortment of cookbooks, interior design books, lifestyle magazines, etc. But all of that is just hearsay.

All we really know is that Everyday Harumi: Simple Japanese Food for Family & Friends, her follow-up to her award-winning Harumi's Japanese Cooking (her first book in English), is a smash hit in our household. Everyday Harumi features some 70 homestyle Japanese recipes and a whole lot of gorgeous photography, and, as the title suggests, this is a book that focuses on recipes that are unfussy and that one might make on an everyday basis, many of which call for a minimum of ingredients. Best of all, they've all been winners so far,

fig. c: three toppings!

from the Three Toppings Rice, which is a kind of "mother & child"/"chicken & egg" number,

fig. d: green beans!

to her deliciously simple, simply delicious Green Beans with a Sesame Dressing (the same ones she's stirring in the photograph that graces the cover),

fig. e: eggplant!

to her Eggplant in Spicy Sauce--another ultra-straightforward, ultra-satisfying gem.

Michelle's been in heaven throughout this entire recent foray into all things Japanese, but for some reason she found the Eggplant in Spicy Sauce to be particularly brilliant, so that's the recipe I've decided to highlight.

Eggplant in Spicy Sauce

1 lb 3 oz eggplant (either Japanese, or baby Italian)
1/3 cup light soy sauce, such as usukuchi
1/3 cup mirin
2 1/2 tbsp superfine sugar (not to be confused with icing/confectioners' sugar)
1/4 cup rice vinegar
sunflower, canola, or vegetable oil for deep-frying
2-3 tbsp finely minced leeks or scallions
1 tsp finely minced garlic
1 tsp finely minced ginger
1-2 red chilies, seeded and finely sliced
shredded leek for garnish

Trim the eggplants and, using a vegetable peeler, make some stripes in its skin. Cut the eggplant into 1-inch thick disks and then quarter them. Place the chopped eggplant in a bowl of cold water, soak for 10-15 minutes, then drain and pat dry.

Combine the soy sauce, mirin, sugar, and rice vinegar to make the sauce. Stir well and set aside.

In a skillet, heat enough oil to cover the eggplant. When the oil reaches 340º F, add the eggplant pieces, and deep-fry until the pieces are golden all over and buttery soft in the middle. Remove the eggplant pieces from the skillet with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Repeat process as necessary. You should be able to deep-fry all the eggplant in no more than 2-3 batches. The eggplant pieces cook quite rapidly--3-4 minutes, usually--so even 3 batches of deep-frying won't take long.

Transfer the eggplant pieces to a bowl, add the sauce, then the minced leek or scallion, garlic, ginger, and chili to combine.

Serve with some shredded leek on top, or some finely chopped scallions.

[recipe from Everyday Harumi by Harumi Kurihara]

One night we had a really lovely simple meal that consisted of the Eggplant in Spicy Sauce, the Green Beans with a Sesame Dressing, steamed short-grain rice, and an assortment of simple Asian pickles,

fig. f: pickled radishes!

fig. g: pickled beets!

including pickled cucumbers, pickled radishes, and pickled beets.

On special occasions, we've been combining recipes from Everyday Harumi with some of the more Japanese or Japanese-inspired recipes from David Chang's Momofuku cookbook.

fig. h: Asian cherry tomato salad!

One day we even made his wonderful Cherry Tomato Salad with Silken Tofu & Shiso,

fig. i: cherry tomatoes!

which required us to score the best cherry tomatoes we could find,

fig. j: naked cherry tomatoes!

before blanching and peeling some of them (others were left uncooked and fully clothed).



fig. k: shiso leaves!

It also required us to hit up our friendly, neighborhood sushi restaurant (one of the city's very best) for some real, honest-to-goodness Japanese shiso leaves, which was kind of like hitting up your neighbor for a cup of sugar or a stick of butter or something, only way more magical.

aj

* I mean I'm down with David Suzuki, the David Suzuki Foundation, and The Nature of Things, but suddenly I'm reminded of a story I once heard about the chair of an anthropology department at a prestigious Canadian university. The chair in question was a diminutive Japanese man who'd cultivated a convincing Ho Chi Minh mustache and beard combo. His office was adorned with a single, solitary bit of decoration--a massive poster of Karl Marx. The Ho Chi Minh look + the Karl Marx poster seemed to suggest that this gentleman was a card-carrying Marxist--most who visited him in his office drew what appeared to be the logical conclusion. In fact, appearances were deceiving. He just liked the way the poster looked.**

** Presumably, he also just liked the way that Ho Chi Minh mustache and beard combo looked.

Kazu!

fig. a: ramen!

fig. b: Etta!

My thoughts exactly, Etta.

Montreal has been in desperate need of a quality izakaya for years. Montreal's also been in desperate need of good ramen for years. Now, in the cozy confines of Kazu, we have both.

fig. c: Japanes styl!

As you can see, our friends at Kazu are very much open for business. And, as you can see, Kazu touts itself as a "Japanes styl Bar" with an izakaya menu. That menu is extensive for dinner, short and sweet for lunch. A recent lunchtime selection included everything from a tuna & salmon rice bowl, to a 48-hour pork bowl, both of them substantial, both of them fresh and tasty. At $9, the pork bowl was a particularly generous portion, but it left me thinking that I'd be all too happy to fork over $10-$12 if they'd include a poached egg. That would push the dish from the exceptional to the ethereal.

The other major offering was the superlative ramen bowl featured up top. The pork belly was buttery, the broth simple and satisfying, and the noodles were homemade (!). Kazu's ramen wasn't the most adventurous bowl of ramen I've ever had--it was more along the lines of "classic"--but it was a bowl of ramen I could imagine becoming a serious habit.

And if all that wasn't enough, Kazu makes its own soft-serve ice cream. Yes!

One of my fellow luncheoners had closed down the joint the night before at 9:30 pm-10:00 pm and was back again by 12:30 pm the next day. After my meal, I fully understood why. Later that day, I saw the same fellow luncheoner cycling with abandon towards centre-ville. "Let me guess: you're going back to Kazu?", I cried, as he flew by. When he slammed on the brakes and came back to talk to me, he claimed that he was actually heading somewhere else, to a certain dumpling specialist in the Concordia ghetto, but I'm pretty sure that if I'd followed him, he would have led me to Kazu. And, again, I'd fully understand why...

fig. d: specials!

Some of us have been waiting for Kazu for a long, long time.

Kazu, 1862 Ste. Catherine W., 937-2333

aj

PS--Helpful hint: taking a friend to Kazu for lunch makes for an awesome birthday gift.

In the Mood for Rice

fig. a: the rice cooker is unveiled

The premise:

In some ways, our whole month could have been inspired by this scene from Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love. It's 1962 and Mrs. Chan's (Maggie Cheung) imported electric rice cooker (from Japan, of course) causes quite a stir--no one in their Hong Kong apartment complex has ever seen anything like it. The rice cooker is a vision of modernity--one of many--but like every other such vision in Wong's film, it's an ambivalent one. It's tied to both romance and heartbreak. At this point in the film, however, the rice cooker is still simply an innocent novelty, and it generates a considerable amount of excitement and enthusiasm.

At the beginning of March, we took a pledge that had a lot to do with the excitement generated by our own newly acquired rice cooker: all-Asian, all month. Most of the month was spent trying out Far East Asian recipes (Chinese, Japanese, Korean), but we also made a whole lot of Southeast Asian food (mostly Vietnamese), and towards the end of the month we began to steer things towards South Asian cuisine (especially Indian). A few of these dishes were noodle-based (like Mrs. Chan and Mr. Chow [Tony Leung], the two of us are both serious noodle lovers), but for the most part, because of the rice cooker, these meals were rice-based. As the month proceeded, we began to lovingly refer to the experiment as March Madness.

fig. b: lavers!

The pitch:

Michelle was seriously psyched (maybe even hyped) about the prospect of an Asian banquet for her birthday, one that she was sure would be the crowning achievement of March Madness. She loved the idea of a big spread with lots of rice fresh from our rice cooker, lots of side dishes and condiments, and seasoned lavers to pick everything up with. She also liked the idea of people milling about and mingling, instead of our usual sit-down affairs. But when I asked her if she had any special requests, she said she wanted to build the party around some kind of activity. At first I thought she was just being difficult, but then it dawned on me...

What if we threw a big Asian-themed banquet at a bowling alley? We could rent a few lanes, invite about 15-20 people, haul in a big homecooked Asian spread, and plug in our rice cooker to make fresh rice. I was imagining one of those big bashes Elvis used to throw in the early days of his stardom, when he'd rent out an entire bowling alley or roller skating rink from closing hour until dawn so he could pal around with his friends--only, instead of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, there'd be things like Hawaiian-style ribs (after all, Elvis loved Hawaii, didn't he?). Anyway, we'd call the event Rice Bowl (pretty catchy, huh?) and though the sticky fingers might not make for too many perfect games, I thought it would make for an unforgettable birthday bash.

The problem:

As it turns out, no bowling alley or salon de quilles in Montreal will allow you to bring any food. Presumably because they all house concessions. Most of them won't even let you bring a birthday cake, unless it's for a kid's birthday. I begged and pleaded, but to no avail. I even laid the name of the event on them. Nada.

Then I thought, "Well, if we can't bring the spread to the bowling alley, maybe we can bring the bowling alley to the spread." So I got on the horn to see if someone had a Wii + Wii Sports (which I'd heard comes with simulation bowling) they'd be happy to loan for a good cause. I found plenty of Wiis, but no one willing/foolish enough to let us get our grubby hands all over their beloved vids.

So we scrapped the Rice Bowl concept and focused strictly on the food. Go ahead and use it, though. Seriously. If you happen to live in a town with bowling alleys that aren't so uptight about trucking in food, or if you have the moulah to rent out an entire bowling alley, Elvis-style, or if you happen to own a Wii, feel free to host your own Rice Bowl event. I mean it. It's yours.

The recipes:

The following are some of the highlights from our menu.

This is kind of a strange hybrid dish that we created, but it turned out to be one of the night's most popular dishes. The basic idea behind it--poaching the Vietnamese meatballs in soup--is a classic. Poaching them in a dashi was our idea.

Shiitake Dashi w/ Vietnamese Meatballs

For the meatballs:

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 1/4 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 tbsp baking powder
2 tbsp tapioca starch
1 tbsp sugar
5 tbsp fish sauce
3 tbsp canola oil

Slice the breasts and thighs across the grain into 1/4-inch-thick strips. Keep any visible fat for richness, but trim away any cartilage or sinewy bits to make it easier to process.

Whisk together the baking powder, tapioca starch, sugar, fish sauce, and oil in a bowl large enough to hold the chicken. Add the chicken and use a rubber spatula to mix well. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours and ideally overnight. The chicken will stiffen as it sits.

Remove the chicken from the refrigerator and use a spoon to separate the pieces somewhat. Working in batches, grind the chicken in a food processor until a smooth, stiff, light pink paste results. (This step will take several minutes, and it'll really give your food processor a good workout.) Stop the food processor from time to time to scrape down the sides. When you are finished, there should be no visible bits of chicken and the paste should have a slight sheen to it. Using the rubber spatula, transfer each batch to another bowl.

This paste is the basis for a number of Vietnamese preparations (like sausages), but it can also be shaped into quenelle-shaped meatballs (using two spoons to shape them) and poached in soup, and that's exactly what we did.

This recipe will make an enormous number of quenelle-shaped meatballs. We made about 40-50 (roughly 3 per person) and froze the rest of the meat paste for later use.

For the soup:

16 medium dried shiitake mushrooms
4 cups water
salt
light soy sauce
sake

Bring water to boil in a saucepan. Add the mushrooms to the boiling water and simmer without a lid for 5-8 minutes. Remove the mushrooms and flavor to taste with salt, soy sauce, and sake.

Save the mushrooms and use them in another preparation.

Add the meatballs to the soup. When they float to the surface, let them simmer, uncovered, for 10 to 12 minutes, or until cooked through. The meatballs will impart a subtle flavor to the broth. Adjust the seasonings and serve in bowls with one or two meatballs per bowl.

Serves 12 as an appetizer.

[recipe combines elements from recipes found in Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen and Soei Yanada's The Heart of Zen Cuisine]

March Madness was all about the rice, but it was also all about the Asian pickles. Along with the Carrot and Daikon Pickle featured in an earlier post, our other favorites were these two. If you have a mandolin (the kitchen tool, not the musical instrument), you're going to love this first one. (Actually you'll probably love it either way, but you'll only be able to make it if you have the kitchen tool variety.) No need to buy that weird dyed stuff at the store anymore.

Pickled Ginger

1 lb young ginger (use the freshest, most perfect ginger you can find)
2 tbsp sea salt
2 cups rice vinegar
3/4 cup sugar

Peel the ginger. Use a mandolin to slice the ginger crosswise very thin.

Place the ginger slices in a bowl and add 1 teaspoon of the salt. Toss with your fingers to blend well, and let stand for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, put a small pot of water on to boil. Rinse off the ginger with the boiling water and drain well.

Place the vinegar, sugar, and the remaining 1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons salt in a small nonreactive pot and heat, stirring, until the sugar has entirely dissolved. Meanwhile, fill a wide-mouthed 1-quart jar with boiling water, then drain it.

Using tongs, place the ginger in the jar, then pour the hot vinegar mixture overtop. Cover tightly and let the pickled sit overnight before using. The ginger keeps, well sealed in the refrigerator, for 2 months or more.

[recipe from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Seductions of Rice]

fig. c: Viet-style mixed vegetable pickle

Mixed Vegetable Pickle

1/4 cup salt
3 cups lukewarm water
1 large bell pepper (red, yellow, or orange), seeded and cut into strips 1/2 inch wide and 1 1/2 inches long
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into matching pieces
1 small head cauliflower, trimmed and cut into 1-inch florets
2-3 hot green chiles, chopped into thin rounds
2 cups distilled white vinegar
1 1/4 cups sugar
2 cups cold water

Combine the salt and the lukewarm water in a large bowl and stir with your hand to dissolve. Add all the vegetables. The water should just cover them--if it doesn't, add more lukewarm water as needed. Set aside for 4-6 hours. The vegetables will soften and become slightly chewy.

Meanwhile, prepare the brine. In a saucepan, combine the vinegar, sugar, and cold water and heat over medium heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar has dissolved. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool completely.

When they're done, drain the salted vegetables, but do not rinse them. Put them in a 2- or 3-quart glass container. Pour in just enough brine to cover and discard the remainder. Cover the container and refrigerate overnight. The pickle is ready to eat the next day. It will keep well in the refrigerator for about 3 weeks. After that, it will lose its edge.

[adapted from Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen]

This next recipe is unbelievably simple and remarkably satisfying. It's also 150% vegetarian.

Mushroom & Tofu Salad

1/2 pound shiitake mushrooms, stems trimmed and saved
2 small rectangles Japanese fried tofu
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp rice vinegar
1 tsp sake
1/4 tsp sugar
togarashi

Grill the mushrooms and tofu square directly over a gas flame or grill, turning them with tongs to ensure they are golden on all sides. OR, place on one or two small baking sheets under the broiler and broil until the mushrooms are tender and the fried tofu is touched with brown.

Slice the mushrooms into narrow strips, discarding any tough parts. Cut the tofu into strips the same length as the mushroom strips. Place in a shallow serving bowl.

In a small nonreactive saucepan, heat the soy sauce, vinegar, and sake. When they are warm, stir in the sugar until dissolved. Let cool slightly, then pour over the mushrooms and tofu and stir gently to coat. Sprinkle lightly with togarashi and serve.

[recipe from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Seductions of Rice]

Hands down--no ifs, ands, or buts about it--our two most popular dishes of the evening were these next two: the spicy-sweet Hawaiian style ribs, and the Vietnamese-style glazed duck legs. Both literally vanished into thin air.

fig. d: ribs & rice

Hawaiian-Style Kalbi

1 1/4 cups light brown sugar
1 cup soy sauce
1 tbsp Asian sesame oil
1/4 tsp crushed red chile flakes
4 cloves garlic
1 2-inch piece peeled fresh ginger, finely chopped
3 lbs pork baby back ribs
3 scallions, thinly sliced

Whisk together the brown sugar, the soy sauce, the sesame oil, the chile flakes, the garlic, the ginger, and 1/4 cup of water in a large bowl. Add the ribs and toss to coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let marinate for at least 1 hour at room temperature, or refrigerate overnight, turning occasionally to coat.

Heat the oven to 450º F. Remove the ribs from the marinade and arrange, curved side up, on a rack set over a rimmed, foil-lined baking sheet. Roast for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat the marinade in a saucepan over medium-high heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until thick and syrupy, about 20 minutes.

Using tongs, flip ribs and cook, basting frequently with the reduced marinade, until the ribs are browned, glazed, and tender, 15-20 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter and garnish with the scallions.

[recipe from Saveur's March 2009 issue]

Honey-Roasted Duck Legs

4 cloves of garlic, smashed with the broad side of a knife
1" piece of fresh garlic, thinly sliced and smashed with the broad side of a knife
3/4 tsp Chinese five-spice powder
1/4 tsp salt
6 tbsp honey
2 tbsp light (regular) soy sauce
1 tbsp dark (black) soy sauce
1 tbsp Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
3/4 tsp salt
2 tbsp Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
2 tsp peeled and grated ginger, pressed through a fine-mesh sieve to extract 1 tsp ginger juice
6 whole duck legs, trimmed of excess fat and skin
2 tbsp hoisin sauce

special equipment: steamer

To make the glaze, in a small saucepan, combine the garlic, ginger, five-spice powder, salt, honey, light and dark soy sauces, and wine. Place over medium heat and bring to a boil. Remove from the heat. When the bubble action ceases, pour the glaze through a fine-mesh sieve placed over a medium-sized bowl, pressing on the solids with the back of a spoon to extract as much liquid as possible. Let the glaze cool completely.

Select a large, shallow bowl or a deep plate that fits in your steamer tray. Add the salt, wine, and ginger juice and stir to dissolve the salt. Add the duck legs and use your fingers to coat the duck legs well with the marinade. Arrange the duck legs so that there is minimal overlap, to ensure even cooking. Put the bowl in the steamer tray and set aside to marinate for 15 minutes.

Fill the steamer pan halfway with water and bring to a rolling boil over high heat. Add the steamer tray, cover, and steam the duck for 25 minutes. The skin will pull back from the flesh, and cooking juices will collect in the bowl. Transfer the duck legs to a plate and discard the cooking juices.

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 425º F. To promote heat circulation and allow the fat to drip away from the duck, place a flat roasting rack on a foil-lined baking sheet. Put the duck, skin side up, on the rack, spacing the legs as far apart for one another as possible. Roast for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the skin is crisp and lightly golden. Turn on the exhaust fan as the duck roasts, because the dripping fat can cause a fair bit of smoke. If more than 2 tbsp of fat accumulates in the pan during roasting, remove the duck from the rack, make a spout in one corner of the foil, and pour off the fat. Then quickly return the duck to the rack and continue roasting. (We had to execute this step twice.)

When the duck is ready, using tongs, lift each leg from the rack, roll it in the glaze to coat evenly, and hold it above the bowl to allow the excess glaze to drip off. Return the duck to the rack, skin side up. Roast the legs for 5 minutes and then coat them with the glaze again. Roast for 3 to 5 minutes longer, or until the glaze richly colors the duck. Remove from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes.

After glazing the duck legs the second time, return the remaining glaze to the small saucepan and add the hoisin sauce to make a dipping sauce. Warm over medium heat, adding a spoonful or two of water if needed to balance out the flavor. Pour into a small serving bowl.

Using a heavy cleaver, chop the legs through the bone into bite-sized pieces. Or, slice the meat off the bone. Or, just serve the legs whole and let people chomp into them Friar Tuck-style, like we did. In any case, arrange the duck on a platter and serve with the sauce.

If you have any leftovers (highly unlikely, given how incredibly juicy and delicious these duck legs are), you might want to use the duck meat as the "boldly flavored meat" in your very own homemade bánh mì.

[recipe from Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen]

aj

Vancouver Diary 6

June 17, 2007

Fittingly enough--it being a Sunday and all--June 17 was our most relaxed day in Vancouver, our day of rest.

I woke up thinking about the produce we'd gotten at the East Van/Trout Lake Farmers' Market the day before. I was also thinking about that as-of-yet unopened package of smoked ricotta from La Grotta del Formaggio.

fig. a: smoked ricotta, zucchini blossoms

I kept the mushrooms simple. They were so nice that I wanted to taste them relatively unadorned. Just some butter and some garlic, salt and pepper. The zucchini blossoms were kept pretty simple too. I just gently undid the petals and stuffed them with small hunks of that smoked ricotta, which, quite frankly, was dazzling. Probably the best cheese experience I've had since the smoked mozzarella epiphany we had outside of Joe's Dairy earlier this year. I then gently twisted the petals back together again and seared them in a bit of olive oil in a medium-hot pan--just a minute or two on each side. Eggs over-easy, toast, and Continental coffee completed the scene. The mushrooms and the zucchini blossoms and the garlic scapes (I almost forgot about the sautéed garlic scapes) were all pretty great--ideal brunch fare. I'm not the only one who thought so, either. Here, read all about it.

We ate brunch kinda late, so lunch didn't really come into play that day. We just went and caught a film at the Scotiabank Theatre, and as we rode up the escalator towards our movie theatre we noticed this out the window:

fig. b: what the...?

a bizarre, overgrown, rooftop grass tennis court sitting on top of a Denny's. We immediately envisioned some kind of site-specific artwork, a film, or, even better, a large-scale photo-conceptualist piece, this being Vancouver, after all. Mostly we just wanted to find a way up there so we could enjoy the perverse thrill of playing lawn tennis on the roof of a building. Or was that just moss?

Japa Dog

Anyway, when we left the cinema two hours later, we fully intended to try and find a staircase up to that tennis court, but we kinda got sidetracked. You see, we'd heard rumors that the one, the only, Japa Dog--home of the Japanese-style "special hotdog--was located kitty-corner to Scotiabank Theatre, at the corner of Burrard and Smithe. And, sure enough, when we got out on the street, there he was: the Japa Dog chef, along with his lovely assistant, and that unmistakable Japa Dog cart. Suddenly, lawn tennis just didn't seem as important.

fig. c: Japa Dog!

In fact, we were ecstatic. It looked even better than we'd imagined. We weren't hugely hungry, but NO WAY were we going to miss out on that Japa Dog experience. So we took a close look at Japa Dog's Japa-style menu and made a couple of selections: the all-beef Terimayo and the bratwurst Oroshi. The Terimayo, as you might have gathered, comes with teriyaki sauce and Japa-style mayonnaise. What you might not know, is that it also comes with sauteed onions and--yes!--shredded nori. It looks like this

fig. d: Japa-style Terimayo dog

and it tastes divine. The Oroshi, on the other hand, comes with "special soy sauce," chopped scallions, and pickled daikon. I preferred the Terimayo, but the Oroshi was pretty stellar too, and Michelle thought the two were equals.

Not surprisingly, Japa Dog has made waves in the two years its been open. It's gotten its fair share of attention and it's won a number of awards too. Trust me, it deserves all the attention it's gotten. We'd definitely give it an award. In fact, I'm gonna give it an award right now: AEB's "Best Fusion Dish in the World." "Ever."

All those snapshots and articles on Japa Dog's Wall of Fame were pretty impressive, but we were particularly struck by one photo in particular:

fig. e: "Mr. Ice Cube ate!"

"I love turkey!"? AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted might have lost some of his attitude over the years, but at least the man's got taste.

Japa Dog, corner of Smithe and Burrard

aj

New York, New York 3: The Great N.Y. Noodle Wars

One reason we could afford to be cavalier about our bbq bust at the Big Apple Barbecue Block Party was because by that time we were already in the midst of the survey (an ever so brief one, given we were only in New York for 2 1/2 days) we'd decided would be the focus of our trip: noodle shops. Noodle shops? Well, Michelle had had an almost monomaniacal fixation on New York's noodle shops and on Momofuku in particular for several months before we made it down. She'd been following the press on Momofuku and its delirious take on Asian street and counter food closely, but things reached critical mass when Momofuku chef David Chang's girlfriend paid a visit to Les Chèvres a few weeks ago. Michelle got to talking her up, she got herself even more revved up about Momofuku than she'd been up to that point (I wasn't sure that was possible), and when she came back from her shift that night she just looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Pack your bags." So, we went to New York knowing we were going to be paying Momofuku a visit, but when we arrived we hadn't yet settled on a theme for our visit. Which tour was it going to be? In search of real Italian-American pizza? The Latino explosión? Kosher Cuban-Chinese, the untold story? We looked into the pizza option quite seriously: we solicited opinions, gauged preferences, and took notes. Based on our research, we decided that no pizza survey would be complete without a trip to the legendary DiFara in Brooklyn, where every pie is made with care by the proprietor, Dom, and the artichoke pizza involves gently sauteeing the artichoke for a full 30 minutes before topping the pizza with it. The thing is, we'd heard that DiFara had been closed unexpectedly a couple of times in recent months for reasons having to do with health. Dom's getting up there in age, we were told, and seeing as he's the only one who handles the pies at DiFara, they haven't always been able to open up on schedule recently. We called DiFara repeatedly over the course of a couple of days but never managed to get through. After everything we'd heard and read about the place, the thought of carrying out a pizza survey without going to DiFara and having some of that artichoke pie seemed anti-climactic, to say the least, so we started to consider alternatives. And seeing as we were already had our sights set on Momofuku and, god knows, we're starved for quality noodles shops of any and all stripes here in Montreal (Michelle tried to impress this upon Mr. Chang's girlfriend: we need quality Asian counter food here now), we just shifted gears a bit and started to think "noodles." Suddenly the geography of our research changed quite drastically; now, all of a sudden, instead of having a quest that might very well have taken us from South Brooklyn, to Lower Manhattan, to Harlem, we were very much concentrated on the East Village and Chinatown and that suited us just fine.

fig. a: just some of the mysteries of Chinatown

Now, among all the other things that are radically different about New York's food culture as compared to that of a city like Montreal, one of the most striking is just how politicized it is. People have their opinions here in Montreal, sure, but they're rarely all that vehement about them. They're divided over things like where to find the best bagels, the best smoked meat, the best steak, and maybe the best Portuguese, Greek, or Indian, but it's rare that you feel like you've touched a nerve with someone when you bring up such matters. In fact, we find ourselves constantly trying to provoke these kinds of heated discussions, but unfortunately no one ever takes the bait. Go to New York, however, talk to the right people, and you find that nearly every food issue is highly divisive, splintering people into myriad competing camps. For a city of its size, Montreal's culinary side is impressive, but New York has so much more to offer and so many more people who take these things seriously, and the stakes are so much higher. I guess it should come as no surprise that culture wars are waged each and every day there over the subject of food. Bring up the topic of noodle shops with any New Yorker who happens to take their dining seriously and you might very well end up in a firestorm.

Ultimately we settled on four noodle shops, two Chinese and two Japanese (definitely not tons for a survey, but not bad considering we hit three of them over a 15-hour span). We lapped up the BBQ dishes at N.Y. Noodle Town, like the BBQ duck and the spare ribs, and the dumplings at Wonton Garden (like these lovely shrimp dumplings)

fig. b: shrimp dumplings at New Wonton Garden

always blow our minds, but it was the Japanese noodle dishes we were craving the most because Montreal is a veritable desert in the Japanese noodle department and neither of us has quite been the same since we left Vancouver behind, where we'd eaten ramen, udon, gyoza, and other Japanese noodle bar classics regularly.

Japanese noodle stop #1 was Rai Rai Ken and when we got there I thought I was dreaming. It'd be hard to imagine a more perfectly classic Japanese noodle bar. I mean, just look at that entrance.

fig. c: Rai Rai Ken from 10th St.

We started with an order of pan-fried gyoza stuffed with pork and shrimp and a bowl of edamame to nibble on, then made up our minds about our ramen selections. There were four of us out together, so between the lot of us we were able to try every variation of ramen available from their small menu. We ended up ordering two shoyu ramens, one shio, and one miso. All three varieties came with braised bamboo shoots, hard-boiled egg, one of those distinctive pink fish cakes, a healthy slice of pork, spinach, a sheet of seaweed, and diced scallions.

fig. d: perfection incarnate, or shio ramen at Rai Rai Ken

Each of the three broths was delicious, but my favorite was the one I selected, the shio, or seafood broth, which had that perfect combination of flavor and subtlety. The miso broth was one of the boldest, most interesting miso broths I've ever encountered, but I found it a bit too rich for my liking. The shoyu broth was good, but perhaps on bit too strong on the shoyu. All in all, though, these were top-notch ramen soups at very affordable prices, and I can't say enough about the atmosphere. If I lived in New York, I'd be a regular.

fig. e: decor, Rai Rai Ken

The next day, just before hopping on the FDR and making our way off the $24 island, we stopped back in the East Village to take lunch at Momofuku. Truth be told, this was the second time Michelle had gone that weekend: she'd popped in for a snack the day before and had an order of steamed pork buns. The steamed pork bun had been such a smash hit that she insisted that we order them again--ostensibly, so that I could have the pleasure of trying them, but actually so that she might have her third steamed pork bun in two days. Like a good number of the other offerings at Momofuku, the steamed pork buns come stuffed with the restaurant's signature braised Iowa Berkshire pork.

fig. f: steamed pork bun, Momofuku

You can see it there stuffed within a steamed bun, garnished with cucumber and dressed with a teriyaki-like sauce, and the rumors are true: it's some of the most succulent tasting pork you're likely to find. I still love the purity and unity of a good Chinese pork bun--the inspiration behind this version--but Momofuku's was outstanding, if unconventional, and the cucumber was a surprisingly refreshing addition.

We then proceeded to the main dishes and Michelle ordered the house special Momofuku Ramen, complete with a "Berkshire pork combo." Many of Momofuku's specialties are based on the notion of taking some kind of classic dish--a steamed pork bun, say--and staying true to its basic architecture, while making some key substitutions. Their ramen is no exception. Staples like the braised bamboo shoots, seaweed, fish cake, and diced scallions are all there, but peas appear in place of a green like spinach, the egg is poached instead of boiled, Chang replaces the standard cut of pork typical of the Japanese ramen with two different types of his Berkshire pork--his braised pork and a few generous slices of fatty, ultra-flavorful pork belly--and the only broth available is his unexpectedly subtle house pork broth. As tasty as the pork belly was, it had the effect of turning the Momofuku Ramen into an event, and Michelle confessed that the next time she'd opt for the more subdued "ramen with shredded Berkshire pork" (which, at $10, is also $4 less than the Momofuku Ramen).

The true revelation of our luncheon, however, was my Ssäm. I have to confess, at the time that I ordered it, I really had little idea what exactly I was ordering. The ingredients--"Berkshire pork, rice, edamame, onions, pickled shiitake, kimchi"--all sounded great to me, but I was expecting some kind of a fried rice dish, or possibly even a rice-based soup. Then, as we ate our appetizers and took in the scene, we started to notice the cooks assembling an intriguing-looking dish that we couldn't quite place. We studied one cook closely for a minute or two and when we were done we turned to each other and said, "That's gotta be the Ssäm." You see, what Chang has done here is that he's taken a Korean street food classic, bo-ssam--one variation on which involves marinated and grilled pork, a spicy condiment made of soy, garlic, and chili paste, and a pile of lettuce leaves--and teased out some of the similarities it bears to Mexican-American street food, transforming it into a sort of Korean-American burrito, if you can imagine that.

fig g: ssäm, Momofuku

Edamame replace the pinto or black beans, kimchi replaces the salsa, and the tortilla is replaced, ever so cleverly, by a mu shu crêpe, but otherwise the dish is assembled in the way a San Francisco-style burrito would be, right down to the foil wrapper. I'm not one to fall for novelties generally, but when something's this outrageous and, more importantly, this delicious, it's hard to argue. News that Chang is planning on starting up a neighboring counter restaurant in the coming months that will showcase the Ssäm the way Momofuku showcases ramen soups comes as no surprise (even if I still can't figure out what that umlauten is there for).

fig. h: decor, Momofuku

The subject of Momofuku--its food, its rock-n-roll attitude, its decor, etc.--elicits by far and away the strongest reactions from New York's culinary cognoscenti, ranging from positive (hip, tasty) to negative (overhyped, arriviste). We'd heard all the arguments and counter-arguments (no pun intended) by the time we sat down to eat. All I can say is that jumping into the fray has rarely been this pleasurable.

My only regrets of the weekend ("You mean, aside from having missed out on barbecue at the Block Party and never having made it to DiFara for that artichoke pie?")? Not ordering Momofuku's Roasted Long Island Razor Clams with "Kurowycky sausage" (recalling the East Village's Eastern European past) and ginger scallion sauce, and, even more importantly, not finding the time for Minca, yet another popular East Village noodle haunt. Next time.

N.Y. Noodle Town, 28 Bowery St., (212) 349-0923
New Wonton Garden, 56 Mott St., (212) 966-4886
Rai Rai Ken, 214 E. 10th St., (212) 477-7030
Momofuku, 163 1st Ave, (212) 475-7899

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