Bo Knows

Speaking of wraps, I still remember our first experience of Momofuku, way back in 2006, vividly.

fig. a: Momofuku!

Like virtually everyone else, the dish that first won our hearts was David Chang's now legendary, oft-imitated steamed pork buns, with its supremely succulent braised Berkshire pork. But the dish that left a lasting impression was the ssäm.

At the time, I had the following to say about the experience:

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.

fig. b: Momofuku ssäm

What we got, instead, was a burrito--a clever Korean-American take on the Mexican-American classic. In general, we're a little skeptical when it comes to "fusion cuisine," but here was another instance of Chang taking chances and finding (not forcing) culinary affinities. The results were brilliant--but, then again, as huge fans of Mission-style burritos and Korean food, we were pretty much an ideal audience for Momofuku's ssäm burrito.

Chang writes about his ssäm burritos with humor and a healthy dose of self-deprecation in Lucky Peach #2. In fact, his opening line baldly states, "In 2005, I thought I had the greatest idea in the world: I was going to serve Korean burritos." And he goes on to explain the logic behind his brainchild:

It wasn't that much of a stretch of the imagination: Koreans wrap up everything. Go to a summer barbecue with enough Koreans and one of them will eat his burger wrapped in a lettuce leaf just because that's how we do it. Bossäm is a traditional dish where you sit around a big plate of pork belly (and sometimes oysters) and wrap up mouthful after mouthful in napa cabbage.

fig. c: ssäm burrito spread

But, overall, Chang's piece reads more like an attempt to restore the reputation of his poor Korean burrito (and poke fun at himself) in the aftermath of the Korean taco phenomenon: "I was such a dumbass... (A year or two later, my good friend Roy Choi started doing Korean Tacos in L.A. Now he's so successful I want to be him instead of me.)"

Now, it's easy to make your own ssäm burritos at home. Chang's Bo ssäm recipe has appeared in Momofuku (the cookbook), in Lucky Peach #1, and elsewhere (such as Sam Sifton's New York Times article on Chang's version, "The Bo Ssam Miracle"). And in Lucky Peach #2, Chang provides a complete recipe for his original ssäm burritos.

But when I finally got around to preparing Chang's Bo Ssäm at home a few weeks ago, it struck me that he had missed out on a golden opportunity. As much as I love tacos, including Korean tacos, I still love burritos enormously. And while tacos might offer more opportunities for variation and innovation, there's one category where burritos have tacos beat hands down: breakfast.

Unless you're feeding a pack of coyotes, you're probably going to have some bo ssäm and some bo ssäm fixings leftover after your next bo ssäm-athon. And you're probably going  to find yourself so ravenous for the taste of bo ssäm again, and, in all likelihood, so incredibly hungover, that you're going to want to dig in to those leftovers sooner rather than later (like, for breakfast, the very next day). Just make sure you have some nice, big flour tortillas on hand, as well as some eggs, when you do. Then you can make yourself some bo ssäm breakfast burritos, or as we like to call them...

Ssäm Bburritos

1 extra-large flour tortilla, steamed or microwaved until warm
roast pork shoulder, Bo ssäm-style, reheated
refried short-grain rice
1 egg, fried, poached, or scrambled (depending on how you like it)
kimchi
quick-pickled cucumbers
quick-pickled radishes
ginger-scallion sauce
ssäm sauce

Pile the ingredients high, but not so high that you can't actually close the burrito.

fig. d: ssäm bburrito 1

Roll and fold the burrito up tightly, and wrap with aluminum foil.

fig. e: ssäm bburrito 2

Devour.

Repeat as needed.

[we'd like to think this recipe is a Momofuku/AEB co-production, but mostly it relies on recipes from Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan]

How did they turn out? Well, they tasted like "the greatest idea in the world."  The very greatest.

aj

NYC 72-hour Plan, pt. 1, rev. ed.

Any excuse is a good excuse to slip down to New York City, but a wedding’s a pretty great one. Especially when you’re really, really excited about the couple that’s getting married (!), you’re going to get a chance to hang out with old friends, and the weather is slated to be perfection. And if the wedding’s in Bushwick and Roberta’s is literally half a block away, well, all the better!



figs. a & b: The High Line, before and after

The High Line

The High Line was already a thing of beauty. Now, fully redeveloped, fully landscaped by our good friend Piet Oudolf,* and pedestrian-friendly, it's just a different kind of thing of beauty.

fig. c: The Standard, as seen from The High Line

It's a great place to take some sun, do some people-watching, get some amazing views of the city and the river, check out some of the city's most daring new architecture, even take in an art installation.

fig. d: an-ti-ci-pa-a-tion

It's also a great place to grab a popsicle or a shave ice, now that People's Pops are on the scene. We didn't realize it at the time, but it turns it out it was People's Pops' Day 2 on the High Line. What we did realize, instantly, is that we're definitely some People's Pops people.

fig. e: People's Pops people

We loved their bright, beautiful, refreshing watermelon shave ice. We were totally ecstatic about their golden plum & mint pop. They were reasonably priced too. Power to the people!

fig. f: outside Momofuku Ssäm Bar + Milk Bar

Momofuku Ssäm Bar + Milk Bar + Beer Table

They said it couldn't be done, but we showed up for our glorious return to Momofuku Ssäm Bar at 8:05 pm on a Friday night--a beautiful Friday night--and we got seated in under 3 minutes! A party of four, too. We were fully prepared to wait a good 60-90 minutes, too. It was almost too easy.

And, god, was it good.

Vermont quail with sticky rice, shiitake mushrooms, and mustard greens sounded awesome--little did we know that that plump, beautiful roasted quail would come stuffed with the sticky rice and mushrooms and that it would be the quail of our dreams.

But the dish that blew our minds was one that sounded vaguely mysterious. When Michelle saw the buttermilk dish under the list of seasonal specialties she knew she had to have it. I asked her why and she told me she was convinced that the buttermilk would be served lightly set, like silken tofu, and she just had a feeling that it was going to transcend. Transcend, it did. What arrived was lightly set buttermilk (!) surrounded by a Fuji apple dashi, with toasted pine nuts and a mixed-herb salad as a garnish, and the combination was otherworldly.

Everything we had was stellar--including the simple pleasures of our Kentucky country ham plate--but that quail plate and that buttermilk bowl were the work of a team that's at the top of its game.

Afterwards we paid the mandatory visit to Ssäm Bar's little sister, Milk Bar. 1 Cereal Milk soft serve and a few cookies later, we were ready to roll. Literally.

fig. g: the menu at Beer Table

We had our car with us, and this being a Bushwick wedding, we were staying with friends in Brooklyn. So after dinner, we made our way across the bridge and had a drink at Beer Table. What exactly is Beer Table? Well, have you ever been to an intimate little wine bar? One that has a good kitchen? How about one that has a good kitchen that serves 3-course meals for $25? Well, get rid of the wines** and replace them with a well-curated selection of beers--bottled, draft, and casked, European and North American.

I'm not sure I want to pay wine bar prices for my beer (at least not regularly)--I lean towards the model of countries like Germany, Belgium, and the Czech Republic, where drinking the finest beers is a popular pastime--but the selection was definitely highly impressive. Just look at that menu. Just look at those write-ups. And I loved the honey notes of my Popperings Hommel ale.

People's Pops, various locations, including The High Line

Momofuku Ssäm Bar + Milk Bar, 207 2nd Avenue, New York, (212) 254-3500

Beer Table, 427B 7th Avenue, Brooklyn (Park Slope), (718) 965-1196

aj

p.s. Many thanks to L & T for the occasion and the inspiration.

* We wish.

** Yes, you can go ahead and drink them.

Connect the Dots, or Slouching Towards Bushwick and (Many) other Tales of the City

Late spring found members of Team AEB collaborating with Team Twitchy on a fast, furious, and highly caffeinated 2-day tour of New York. If you were to connect the dots, it would go something like this:

fig. a: Roberta's façade

1. Roberta's

How do you describe a pizza joint like Roberta's?

I'd heard great things about Roberta's. (And this being New York, Roberta's detractors were both plentiful and vocal.) I also knew full well that it was located in Bushwick, with all that that entails. Even so, I just wasn't prepared for the Roberta's experience.

From the homely, auto body shop-like exterior (the restaurant is housed in a former garage), to the eclectic urban bricolage of its dining room/pizza kitchen, tiki garden, greenhouses, vegetable & herb gardens, and radio station (?), Roberta's was unlike any serious, new-school, hardcore-Neapolitan-pizza-oven-wielding pizza joint I'd ever been to. Aspects of Roberta's reminded me of Waitsfield, VT's American Flatbread--the communitarian atmosphere, the loopy pizza nomenclature, the emphasis on sustainability, etc.--but Roberta's represented the very opposite of AF's back-to-nature ideology. This joint was long-haired, heavily bearded, and hippyish, but it was all about taking back the city. Other aspects reminded me of Joan Didion's seminal "Slouching Towards Bethlehem." This is a place to be taken with a grain of salt--or a tab of acid. All that said, the night we went, our party might have been a little bemused, but we came close to achieving instant karma--Roberta's food was right on.

fig. b: Roberta's tiki garden

Now, perhaps not surprisingly, Roberta's has its detractors (some of them vehement), but it's also got no shortage of supporters, and business is brisk. The night we went, there was a bit of a wait before we could be seated, so we took the opportunity to down a couple of frosty ones in the tiki garden, and to check out the premises.

fig. c: gardening at night

An impressive complex of greenhouses has been built on top of parts of the Roberta's compound, and a vacant lot beyond has been transformed into a massive container-gardening operation, utilizing containers of all kinds. Even bathtubs. Inside, piggy banks scattered around the dining room solicit donations to help support Roberta's Farm Fund.

Half an hour later, we were seated at a communal table, and we'd moved onto sipping Italian reds by the glass. Our pizzas consisted of a Margherita and a The Lupo (pesto, mozzarella, prosciutto cotto, smoked mozzarella, and spring garlic),* and we rounded things out with a hefty, incredibly juicy pork chop, served with farro, guanciale, and mizuna greens. All three were so totally rad that they didn't really fill me up--they just gave me the munchies. I was ready to work my way through the entire menu.

2. Gimme!

The folks at Gimme! got started in the Ithaca area--and that area is still home to their HQ--but they've now got two locations in NYC: one on Mott St. in SoHo/NoLIta, and another on Lorimer St. in Williamsburg. We'd been to the Mott St. location before, but this time, because our home base was in Brooklyn, it was all about the Lorimer St. location, where the staff were friendly and happy to oblige, and the espressos were expertly pulled and awfully tasty.

fig. d: inside Russ & Daughters

3. Russ & Daughters

There's more to the legendary Russ & Daughters (how legendary?--check out Anthony Bourdain's encomium in the photo above) than just bagels, gravlax, smoked fish, rollmops, candies, nuts, and halavah.

fig. e: UEC

There's also their absolutely amazing ultimate egg cream. Takes 'em about 5 minutes to make it because they pour (and stir) so much love and attention into it, but it's so worth the wait. If there's a better egg cream alive, I haven't encountered it.

Plus, the folks at R & D are such sweethearts. And they love to gab. And I love smoked fish. I could spend the whole day there.

fig. f: inside Milk Bar

4. Milk Bar

Milk Bar was something of a pilgrimage. Michelle's been following Christina Tosi's reign of catch-as-catch-can dessert mayhem closely over the last couple of years, so we were curious to visit Milk Bar up-close and in-person. And with good reason. With all the talk of the nostalgia values of recent dessert trends (cupcakes, doughnuts, whoopie pies, etc.), Tosi is one of the few people who's really pushed things further--she's also done so more inventively. Take her trademarked "cereal milk," which simulates the flavor of the leftover milk at the bottom of a just-finished bowl of cereal (Grape Nuts?), and which she's made available as a "milk" and as a soft-serve ice cream. Want to add to the layers of nostalgia? How about topping that cereal-milk ice cream with some "cornflake crunch" or, even better, "potato chip crunch"? Of course, Tosi's deliciously playful take on pop culture has also made her a major player in a scene the New York Times has labeled "haute stoner cuisine."

We got ourselves primed for our Milk Bar sugar shock by having a Ssäm Bar pork bun as an appetizer. Milk Bar is mainly a dessert outpost, but the space is connected to Ssäm Bar, and they do offer a few items that are on the savory tip. Once we'd gotten that into our system, we tried a selection of Milk Bar's soft-serve ice creams (blueberry muffin! cinnamon bun!!), and then moved on to the cookies, pies, and cakes section of the menu.

fig. g: truffles by Milk Bar

Tosi's "truffles" were a good way to sample the cakes. They're essentially bite-sized portions of the cakes that have been rolled up into a truffle-like form, and you get 3 for $3. Curious about Milk Bar's "birthday cake" cake, but hesitant to shell out the $38 it costs for a full-sized cake? Get yourself a packet of "birthday cake" truffles. We did.

fig. h: compost never tasted so good

As much as I liked the truffles and the "candy bar" pie, my favorites were the cookies. At $1.85 each or 6 for $10, Milk Bar's cookies are extremely affordable, and some of them, like the kitchen-sink appeal of the "compost" cookie** and the creamed corn/comfort food qualities of the "corn" cookie, are strokes of genius.

5. Third Rail

Third Rail was probably my favorite coffee bar of our visit. It was certainly the smallest and the cutest. And it's conveniently located just a block away from Washington Square. My late-afternoon macchiato was totally gratuitous (again, as I mentioned above, when you roll with Team Twitchy, you tend to have a fair bit of caffeine coursing through you system pretty much all the time--high-quality caffeine), but somehow it still managed to taste like my first of the day.

fig. i: impromptu ice cream picnic

6. Beez Kneez Ice Cream

One afternoon we were lying in the grass and taking in the sun and the views in Williamsburg's East River State Park when some Aussie came by and asked us if we were interested in some ice cream.

Why, yes, we are interested in some ice cream. Thanks for asking.

He pulled a container out of his cooler, handed us a couple of spoons, and the next thing we knew we were eating Australian ice cream made with real Australian honey. Was Beez Kneez ice cream as "killer" as their website claims? Well, it was pretty darned good, and the honey did taste pretty exotic, and, besides, how many artisanal ice cream companies can you think of that deliver?

How do you find Beez Kneez ice cream? Why, on Twitter, of course

fig. j: Franny's negroni

7. Franny's

It had been a while since either of us had been to Franny's. Much too long a while. Our first two experiences were all about Franny's justly famous pizza pies, and both experiences were breathtaking. This time around we took a very different tack. L. had a theory. She insisted that as outstanding as Franny's pizzas were/are, their real strong suit was their line of pasta dishes. And their cocktails. Quite specifically, L. claimed Franny's was serving the Negroni to end all Negronis. Now, we already had a dinner date planned, but it was 6:00 pm, and an absolutely beautiful evening, an evening that was just begging for a Negroni, so the next thing I knew, there we were, having a couple of Franny's phenomenal Negronis with a spaghetti chaser. Now, I'm not sure that this pasta dish eclipsed Franny's pizzas (I still have dreams about their clam pie), but it certainly lived up to the standards I've come to expect from them. Chickpeas, minced garlic, crushed chili peppers, slivers of fresh mint, and some truly perfect pasta--so simple, so honest, so extraordinarily satisfying. Now that's what I call Happy Hour.

8. Aburiya Kinnosuke

Our dinner date that night was with our friends A. and J. and when it came to picking a restaurant, we deferred to their expert knowledge of New York's Japanese food scene. Their pick? Aburiya Kinnosuke, an elegant Midtown Japanese restaurant, specializing in robata grilled treats, fish dishes, and "tidbits for drinking." The atmosphere was semi-private yet convivial. We had our own little dining cubicle all to ourselves, but we were not detached in the least from the rather animated festivities going on all around us. Aburiya Kinnosuke was evidently making many of our fellow diners quite happy, and, I have to say, the vibe was infectious--especially when the beer and sake arrived.

I was excited to see all manner of robata dishes on the menu. I was even more excited when they began to appear before us. Among the night's highlights were a trio of pork sensations: organic berkshire pork simmered in brown sugar soju, grilled pork cheek, and black peppered berkshire pork. Oishii!

fig. k: inside Saltie 1

9. Saltie

Saltie was already one of Team Twitchy's favorites. It instantly became one of Team AEB's too. From the moment I set eyes on the place, I was sold. The decor. The color scheme. The Jim O'Rourke blaring from the stereo speakers.

fig. l: Saltie's Scuttlebutt

And then there's their specialty sandwiches. Like their truly amazing Scuttlebutt, which contained feta cheese, mixed greens, hard-boiled eggs, capers, pickles, and a roasted red pepper aioli, and was served on their house-made focaccia. Patrons have been known to fall head-over-heels in love with the Scuttlebutt. I've joined their ranks, but, unfortunately, mine is a long-distance affair.

fig. m: inside Saltie 2

Saltie is essentially a luncheonette, and they're closed on Mondays, so plan your visits wisely.

Oh, and they also make an awfully bold, awfully tasty buckwheat/olive shortbread and some wickedly beautiful fruit galettes.

fig. n: inside The Brooklyn Kitchen + The Meat Hook

10. The Meat Hook + The Brooklyn Kitchen

Two for the price of one.

Last summer we met a couple of Brooklynites in Montreal who told us they were just on the verge of opening a butcher shop/kitchen store/cooking class kitchen/kitchen studio complex. I can't remember how big they said it was going to be, but I remember it being BIG. Like, 650,000 square feet or something. I'm exaggerating, of course, but the project seemed so huge, so elaborate, so grandiose that I could barely wrap my head around it.

Then, 10 months later, I was taken to a neighborhood kitchen supply store, and, lo and behold, there it was. That butcher shop/kitchen store/cooking class kitchen/kitchen studio complex had materialized before my very eyes.

The Brooklyn Kitchen/The Meat Hook is not exactly Trump Tower (it's not even Zabar's)--it's actually remarkably modest in size--but it is just as ambitious as it was initially described to us, which means that there's a lot to keep the food-obsessed among us busy.

The Brooklyn Kitchen is a seriously well-stocked kitchen supply store with knowledgeable staff. They're worth visiting for their knife selection alone, which is impressively comprehensive, with German, Swiss, French, English, American, and Japanese models to choose from.

The Meat Hook is a old-school-as-new-school butcher shop fronted by local butcher extraordinaire Tom Mylan. Like their friends at Fleisher's, they only work with farmers that they trust and they only carve sustainably raised animals. Sausages are made fresh daily on weekdays. They carry artisanal bacons and country hams like Benton's. They're friendly and helpful, too. The real deal.

fig. o: inside Grumpy

11. Grumpy

I never actually ordered a coffee at Café Grumpy (Greenpoint), but, in the company of Team Twitchy, I got to check out their roasting operation and partake in a full-on coffee cupping exercise. My very first.

I also got to check out Grumpy's backroom blackboard--the one that lists all the coffees they've been roasting.

Not sure how to find Grumpy Greenpoint?

fig. p: limited edition Grumpy map

Here's a handy map, courtesy of Team Twitchy. Just look for Mr. Grumpy Face.

12. Trini-Gul

Shut out at A & A because it was already early afternoon and they were very much sold out, we continued along Nostrand and just chanced upon a relatively new Trini establishment called Trini-Gul. We were looking for doubles, and doubles they had. Cheap, too. Only $1.50. Not as spiced and herbal as those at A & A, but absolutely delicious nonetheless, and they came fully loaded with hot sauce, tamarind sauce, and minced cucumber (!).

H. was with us on this particular stop, and, frankly, she was a little skeptical. She'd never had doubles, never even heard of them, and she wasn't sure it was worth the stop.

She came out of the experience a true believer.

"What are these things called again? Doubles?"

Trini-Gul has that kind of effect on people.

figs. q & r: inside Hill Country

13. Hill Country

What can you say about a place like Hill Country?

More than just a Texas-style barbecue joint, more than just a Manhattan Texas-style barbecue joint, Hill Country is a Manhattanist theme park, a Manhattanist fantasy of Central Texas, of the region that encompasses Austin and Lockhart, of a region that's renowned for its music and its barbecue. Fittingly, Hill Country's signature barbecue is modeled after one of the undisputed Legends of Lockhart: Kreuz Market.

Now, they might have pushed things further and named it Hill Trash because there's something almost Cracker Barrel-esque about Hill Country (although it's so much more cleverly/tastefully appointed, as you can see from the photos above), and there's definitely something about Hill Country that's straight out of your standard male-fantasy beer commercial/promotion (think Bud Camp). The place is simply outrageous. And enormous. And overwrought.

Copious amounts of brisket, sausage, ribs, etc. are portioned right there in front of you and served counter-style on butcher's paper, and on the day we went there was also an honest-to-goodness pig pickin' taking place. You've got your meat counter, and your sides & fixings counter, and your drink counter. You've got waitresses in short shorts and tight tees providing real Texas hospitality on the dining room floor. You've got two floors to choose from, because Hill Country is a bi-level establishment. You've got live music and big-screen TVs, Hill Country cocktail bars and a Hill Country merch counter. Get the picture?

But somehow, against all odds, Hill Country actually delivers. The brisket could definitely have been smokier, but it could hardly have been any more moist and succulent. The smoked Kreuz sausages were total crowd-pleasers--the jalapeño cheese, in particular, was juicy, just the slightest bit fiery, and oozing with cheese. The campfire baked beans with burnt ends would have been at home on the range. The green bean casserole would have passed muster at a church fundraiser. And the banana cream pudding was a blue-ribbon winner.

And we're not the only ones who like Hill Country. We're in good company (that's right, Bruni named the place one of his top five restaurants in the world).

fig. s: Bklyn Larder's ricotta & wilted greens sandwich

14. Bklyn Larder

From the good people who brought you Franny's, comes Brooklyn Larder, a.k.a. Bklyn Larder LLC. Here, you can find Franny's phenomenal sweet fennel sausages and all the rest of their brilliant selection of charcuterie, along with baked goods, prepared foods (pickles, sides, main dishes, etc.), a small but surprisingly extensive cheese counter that specializes in the very best of the New American Cheeses, a small but tastefully chosen selection of artisanal beers (North American and European), and a tantalizing selection of chocolates, preserves, canned goods, and other specialty food items.

Be forewarned: Brooklyn Larder is the kind of place that makes you want to drop a whole whack of dough.

They also have a great selection of freshly prepared sandwiches, including a ricotta and wilted greens number that was ever so simple, and ever so right.

fig. t: Palisades Parkway Pork Bun Picnic

15. Milk Bar

You can never have too many Momofuku pork buns and you can never bring too many Milk Bar cookies home for your friends, so a return trip to Milk Bar was my final stop.

Just in time, too. This post is just ridiculous.

They don't call it the Big Onion for nothing, I guess. Come to think of it, that's kind of what I looked like by the end of this trip.

Roberta's, 261 Moore St., Brooklyn (Bushwick), (718) 417-1118

Gimme!, 495 Lorimer St., Brooklyn (Williamsburg), (718) 388-7771

Russ & Daughters, 179 East Houston St., Manhattan (Lower East Side), (212) 475-4880

Milk Bar, 207 2nd Ave. (@ 13th), Manhattan (East Village), (212) 254-3500

Third Rail, 240 Sullivan St., Manhattan (Greenwich Village), (555) 555-5555

Beez Kneez Creamery

Franny's, 295 Flatbush Ave., Brooklyn (Park Slope), (718) 230-0221

Aburiya Kinnosuke, 213 E. 45th St., Manhattan (Grand Central/Midtown East), (212) 867-5454

Saltie, 387 Metropolitan Ave., Brooklyn (Williamsburg), (718) 387-4777

The Brooklyn Kitchen + The Meat Hook, 100 Frost St. (virtually underneath the BQE), Brooklyn (Williamsburg), (718) 389-2982

Café Grumpy, 193 Meserole Ave., Brooklyn (Greenpoint), (718) 349-7623

Trini-Gul, 543 Nostrand Ave., Brooklyn (Crown Heights), (718) 484-4500

Hill Country, 30 West 26th St., Manhattan (Flatiron District), (212) 255-4544

Bklyn Larder, 228 Flatbush Ave., Brooklyn (Park Slope), (718) 783-1250

aj

Many thanks to Team Twitchy, A. and J., and H. Respect to all of you that this whirlwind visit didn't allow to see.

* Remember the "loopy nomenclature" I mentioned above? We seriously considered getting a Millennium Falco (tomato, Parmigiano, pork sausage, onion, basil, and breadcrumbs), and the Specken Wolf (speck, mushrooms, oregano, onions, and mozzarella) was tempting too, but in the end we opted for 1 classic, 1 special, and one main.

** Get this: pretzels, potato chips, coffee, oats, butterscotch, and chocolate chips.

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.

Grits, Asian-American Style

fig. a: Anson Mills coarse white grits

A stamped white paper bag, a Pyrex measuring cup, and some white grits.

Doesn't look like much, I know. But those aren't just any grits, they're Anson Mills antebellum coarse white grits, the grits David Chang has called "the killerest grits ever."

These grits being "the killerest," you could make them straight-up, add some salt and pepper, add a little butter, and you'd be sitting pretty, but you're not going to settle for straight-up, are you? Didn't think so.

No, you're going to follow David Chang and Team Momofuku on one of their flights of fancy. People often misunderstand the Momofuku experience as being just another example of "Asian fusion." Now, there's no question that there's some fusion going on within the Momofuku empire, but there's also quite a bit of fission. And, yes, Asian elements figure prominently. But there's a side to David Chang that's almost Kenny Shopsin-like. As far as I know, he hasn't invented any countries, then set about creating their national cuisines, but there's more imagination than one generally associates with the term fusion. The narratives are richer. They're more profane. They're also a hell of a lot funnier.

As Chang describes things, Momofuku Noodle Bar's Shrimp & Grits was a pivotal dish, because aside from the Asianesque broth that Chang used to make the grits, and that you couldn't actually see, "there was no Asian foundation, relation, or appearance to the dish. No other "noodle bar" was serving shrimp and grits."

The idea, the dream, behind the dish was to take a down-home Southern soul food classic, disarticulate it, ruminate on it, and then reanimate it in Momofuku's laboratories:

I imagined what it would be like if my ancestors had ended up in Charleston, South Carolina, a few generations before I was born. They would have eaten corn, they would have eaten grits, they would have cooked with bacon. Or, if Southerners were magically transplanted to Korea, they'd eat jook instead of grits at breakfast. And you know a people who can handle the salty power of a country ham certainly could have gotten down with kimchi. I imagined a Japanese cook making grits--you know he'd boil it in dashi and season it with soy.

I guess these were all conversations I was having with myself. I didn't want to be cooking shitty fusion food. I consoled myself by thinking about how Vietnamese cuisine and Cajun cooking adapted French techniques into something that might have looked French but tasted totally different. But it was with this dish that I decided--or accepted--that if we reached past "tradition" to create the truest and best version of a dish for our own palates, then what we were doing wasn't bullshit.

Chang recommends making this dish with either his Ramen Broth or his Bacon Dashi. We went with the latter a) because it's way simpler, b) because it's way cheaper to make, and c) because it's another great example of the Momofuku Philosophy at play. As Chang puts it:

I can't overstate the significance of bacon dashi to us at Momofuku. It's not the dashi itself--though it is delicious--but the thought process that went into it. The successful transposition of bacon from Tennessee for Japanese dried and smoked fish was an important early success for us, and it continues to be a driving inspiration of how we cook.

We respect tradition and we revere many traditional flavor profiles, but we do not subscribe to the idea that there's one set of blueprints that everyone should follow.

So the following are Chang's instructions (more or less verbatim), using Momofuku's Bacon Dashi.

Still can't see what all the fuss is about? Well, here goes:

fig. b: before

Momofuku Shrimp & Grits

2 cups water
2 cups white or yellow quick-cooking grits, preferably from Anson Mills (SC)
2 cups Bacon Dashi (recipe follows)
2 tablespoons light soy sauce, such as usukuchi
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
8 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1/2 pound smoky bacon, such as Benton's (TN) or North Country Smokehouse (NH), cut crosswise into 1- to 1 1/2-inch-long lardons
1 pound medium shrimp (16 to 20 count), shelled
2 tbsp grapeseed or other neutral oil, such as canola
4 freshly poached eggs
1/2 cup chopped scallions, greens and whites included

Combine the water and grits and soak the grits overnight (or for at least 8 hours) in the pot you'll cook them in.

Drain the grits, add the broth to the grits, and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, whisking all the while. Continue to whisk for 5 minutes after the liquid simmers, then turn the heat down to low. You'll reach "first starch"--the point at which the fine corn particles thicken the liquid just enough to suspend the larger particles--after 5 minutes, and it's crucial to whisk constantly until you reach that point, and to turn the heat down immediately afterwards.

Add the soy sauce, a large pinch of salt, and some freshly ground black pepper. Keep the heat low and whisk regularly if not constantly; the grits should be thickening, undulating, and letting occasional gasps of steam bubble up and out. Soaked grits will be cooked after about 10 minutes over low heat. They're ready when they're no longer grainy, and they've become thick and unctuous.

Add the butter, stirring until it has melted and been absorbed into the grits. Taste them and add additional salt and pepper as needed. Set aside, covered to keep warm, while you get the rest of the dish in order (or serve them at once if you can't take it anymore and you just want to eat them solo).

Put the shrimp in a mixing bowl, pour the oil over them, and add a couple pinches of salt. Toss them in the oil and salt until they're coated. Set aside while you take care of the bacon.

Cook the bacon in a 12-inch cast-iron skillet over medium heat until the lardons have shrunk to about half their original size and are crispy, about 5 to 6 minutes. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and drain them on paper towels. Drain the bacon fat from the pan and reserve for another later use. Return the pan to the stove.

Make sure you've got your eggs poached and ready to go. They're ready? Good. Proceed.

Wipe the pan cleanish with a paper towel and turn the heat up to high. Cook the shrimp in two batches. As soon as the shrimp hit the pan, press down on them, using a bacon press, the back of a big spatula, a flattish pot lid, or a smaller pan--whatever works (we've found that a flattish pot lid works best for us). Sear the shrimp for about 1 minute on the first side. Watch the shrimp closely. As the gray-pink flesh of the raw shrimp gradually turns white in the side pressed against hot pan, and when that white line creeps about 40% of the way up the shrimp, flip them and press down on the second side. Sear that side only long enough to brown them a bit, about 30-45 seconds. Ideally, they should be just slightly shy of cooked when you pull them from the pan--they'll continue to cook after they come out of the pan. Use your judgment. Cook them a little longer if you prefer, but, remember, nobody likes overcooked shrimp. Nobody. Not even you.

Make up plates for 4. Shallow soup plates are ideal. Start with a big helping of grits, nestle a poached egg in the middle, and arrange 1/4 of the bacon, 1/4 of the shrimp, and 1/4 of the scallions in separate piles around the edge. Serve at once. Savor.

Serves 4.

Momofuku Bacon Dashi

2 x 3-by-6-inch pieces of kombu
8 cups water
1/2 pound smoky bacon, such as Benton's (TN) or North Country Smokehouse (NH)

Rinse the kombu under running water, then combine it with the water in a medium saucepan. Bring the water to a simmer over medium heat, then turn off the stove. Let steep for 10 minutes

Remove the kombu from the pot and add the bacon. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat down so that the water simmers gently, and simmer for 30 minutes.

Strain the bacon from the dashi, and chill the broth until the fat separates and hardens into a solid cap on top of it. Remove and discard the fat and use the dashi or store it. Bacon dashi will keep, covered, for a few days in the refrigerator. You can also freeze it for later use.*

Makes 2 quarts. You'll only need 2 cups of this for the shrimp & grits, so you'll have plenty left over for other uses.

[both recipes from Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan]

The resultant dish is one that's remarkably subtle, but utterly irrepressible. When I finished making the dish the first time, I remember saying to Michelle that I was surprised that the recipe didn't call for some kind of Asian-inflected sauce that you'd drizzle overtop, but then I went and took my first bite and suddenly I understood.

The taste sensation comes from below. It's deep in the grits, it's released by the butter that finishes the grits, and it's transformed into something that's positively rapturous when you take your fork and release the egg yolk and stir it up with the grits, the shrimp, the egg, the bacon, and the scallions.

fig. c: after

Are you starting to get it?

aj

P.S. A note on sources: as I've mentioned before, quality shrimp can be hard to find in Montreal, and this dish requires some reasonably fresh, juicy, tasty shrimp, so don't bother making it if you're not satisfied with the product at your local fishmonger, or, better yet, shop around. Sometimes quality can vary greatly from one poissonerie to the next. The best shrimp we've found in recent months have been at Poissonerie Shamrock (7015 Casgrain Ave., 272-5612) and at Norref (4900 Molson St., 593-9999).

You can use other brands of grits, of course, but Anson Mills' grits are pretty killer. Be sure to use quick-cooking grits, though, or you'll find yourself stirring furiously for an awfully long time.

* Among other things, Chang claims it's great with clams. I haven't had the chance to test this out yet, but I believe him.

Brussels Sprouts x 2

Behold the lowly Brussels sprout. Spinach may very well have been the subject to more widespread abuse over the years (here in North America, at least), but no one to my knowledge ever created a comic strip about a follically-challenged, squinty-eyed, pipe-smoking, tattooed sailor with a taste for long-legged women who develops superhuman strength every time he eats a helping of Brusssels sprouts. For our part, neither of us have ever understood the widespread aversion to Brussels sprouts. We both had vegetables that filled us with dread when we were youngsters, but we can only remember one each (his: zucchini; hers: green bell peppers), and Brussels sprouts were not among these offenders. I've never heard people go off on tirades about the equally lowly cabbage--miniaturize it, however, and suddenly it's capable of striking fear into the hearts of young and old alike.

Around here, among all the other reasons to be excited about the fall harvest season, those massive bunches of Brussels sprouts on the stalk are near the top of our list. It's not just that they have an absurdly Dr. Seussian appearance to them; it's also because they tend to be fresher and better tasting, with plenty of that earthy, almost nutty flavor that distinguishes them when they're in their prime. Our standard preparation is braised with wine, garlic, olive oil, a bit of balsamic vinegar, and some toasted pine nuts, but recently we've tested out some new Brussels sprouts recipes, both of which have wide applications.

#1 is a pasta and Brussels sprouts combo that comes from Alice Waters' Chez Panisse Vegetables, one that Michelle found herself attracted to in large part because the recipe noted that orecchiette would make an ideal accompaniment due to its similarity in size and shape to the Brussels sprout's leaf. We'd learned to make orecchiette when we took our Pasta 1 course at Mezza-Luna earlier this year, and Michelle was eager to practice making them again, but she also liked the poetry of mimicking the shape of the leaf with the shape of the pasta.

Brussels Sprouts with Orecchiette

1 lb Brussels sprouts, stems removed and separated into leaves
1 red onion, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 pinch hot red pepper flakes
1/2 lemon, pits removed
bread crumbs (optional)
1 lb orecchiette, fresh or dried

If using dried pasta, bring your water to a boil and begin cooking your pasta. If using fresh pasta, like we did, bring your water to a boil, but you can wait to cook the pasta at the very last minute, because it only takes about one minute to cook.

Heat a sauté pan, add a little olive oil, toss in the sprout leaves, add salt and freshly ground black pepper, and sauté for about one minute over high heat. Add the onions and the red pepper flakes, and continue to sauté until the sprouts are tender and a little browned, 2-5 minutes. Remove from the heat, add the garlic, and toss. If the garlic appears to be browning, add a splash of water to the pan. Squeeze a little lemon onto the sprouts, and when the pasta is done, add it, drained, to the sauté pan and toss everything together. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve drizzled with good extra-virgin olive oil. If you want, toss the pasta with some toasted bread crumbs, but if the sprouts are very sweet and tasty [they were], don't bother [we didn't].

Serves two as a main, four as a side.

Rustic yet delicate, and tremendously flavorful (that squeeze of lemon being the crowning touch), Waters' Orecchiettte with Brussels Sprouts went perfectly with our fresh tomato and mozzarella appetizer, a Caesar Salad, and a hearty red wine.



#2 is testament to our ongoing infatuation with the cuisine of David Chang. Not only does Mr. Chang share our affection for Montreal (we have it on good authority that he was up here "all summer long" enjoying Montreal's laid-back appeal), but he obviously shares our affection for Brussels sprouts because he's regularly made good use of them at both Momofuku and Momofuku Ssäm Bar over the last couple of years, and when featured in newspaper and magazine articles, as he often has been, he's tended to include a Brussels sprouts recipe. Thus, Gourmet's recent 2007 Restaurant Issue included Chang's Roasted Brussels Sprouts (tossed with Asian dressing and a devilish puffed rice/shichimi togarashi mix) in its well-deserved feature on him, but the recipe we turned to this week was one that showed up in the April 12, 2006 issue of The New York Times, one that perversely combines Brussels sprouts with cabbage (in the form of kimchi), and one that had been on the AEB hitlist ever since.

Brussels Sprouts with Kimchi

1 lb Brussels sprouts, cut in half from top to bottom
1/4 lb bacon, minced
1 cup cabbage kimchi, plus some of its juice, at room temperature
2 tbsp unsalted butter
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 400º F. Put bacon in an ovenproof pan and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until almost crisp, about 5 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and add sprouts, cut-side down.

Cook sprouts until they begin to sizzle, then transfer to oven. Roast until brown on one side, then shake pan to redistribute. Remove when bright green but browned and fairly tender, about 10-15 minutes. Meanwhile, purée the kimchi in a food processor or blender until fairly smooth.

Return pan to stove over medium heat [we found this was unnecessary, as the pan was plenty hot enough upon reemerging from the oven] and stir in butter, salt and pepper, and bacon. Put kimchi in bottom of a bowl and top with sprouts. Spoon a little kimchi juice over all and serve.

Serves 4.

That combination of bacon, Brussels sprouts, and kimchi was positively irresistible and Chang's method worked like a charm (here, it's the addition of butter that's the brilliantly unexpected touch). We completed the scene with a simple Asian-inspired rice & fish combo not unlike this and a couple of Pilsner-style lagers.

aj