Back To Life, Back To Reality

My 4-week sabbatical from work is over, and I'm not particularly thrilled to have to return to the real world. Having spent 2 and a half weeks in Taipei and around Japan, and then 4 days in NY, I know it's going to be some slow-going at work for a couple of days. Whatever. As I'm shifting back into work-mode, I'm going to keep looking back on my vacation fondly. Here are a few key takeaways from this trip.


Asian Bakeries

(from Wikipedia)

They are everywhere around Taipei, and they are absolutely great. The assortment of pastries they all make is outstanding -- from butter croissants and egg tarts to savory buns topped with delicious dried shredded pork. And they make for a quick and very cheap breakfast, or nighttime snack. 85˚C Cafe, one of the many bakeries we tried out, has a pretty big presence around Taiwan and has even expanded out to southern California.

Just as impressive were the Japanese bakeries. We probably went inside every bakery we spotted on our way to/from train and subway stations. While the Taiwanese bakeries excelled in savory pastries, Japan had excellent sweet ones. My favorites: melon bread and preserved sakura (cherry blossom) buns.


The Abundance of Ramen Shops

My best analogy is "ramen is to Japan as pizza is to NYC." There's a ramen joint on every street corner, in every food court, at every train/subway station. On my 2010 trip, I only had 2 bowls or ramen, both in Shinjuku, Tokyo. I lost count of how many bowls we had on this trip. But the best bowl I had was from a shop at the top of Kyoto Station.

I should note that the awesome architecture of Kyoto Station was another takeaway of this trip

The 10th floor of the Isetan department store at Kyoto station has a section of 7 independent ramen shops, they call it the Kyoto Ramen Koji. Each specializes in different regional ramen styles, this site has a really good write-up on it. Menya Iroha's #1 specialty is Toyama style shoyu (soy sauce flavored broth) ramen seasoned and colored with black sesame. Wannabe-hipster that I am, I shunned the mainstream choice and went for their #2 most popular bowl, shio (salt flavored broth) ramen topped with dried white shrimp.

I had this bowl probably on day 9 or 10 of our stay in Japan, and I was starting to get a little tired of ramen. But this particular bowl was my first exposure to salt-flavored ramen, and I was surprised at how light it was compared to my usual choices of tonkotsu ramen (thick broth made with pork bone marrow) or miso ramen.


Taiwanese 20-Something Style

Ximending, the hotspot for Taipei's youth (once they're out of classes, anyway)

Here are some essential clothing items you need to fit in with today's Taiwanese youth:
- Acid-wash jeans, slim or skinny fit
- Horn-rimmed glasses with no lenses
- Samsung Galaxy Tab smartphone
- PSP or PS Vita handheld video game consoles

And men, there's one absolutely indispensable item

(courtesy of R. Tao)

- Shoulder bag that could pass for a bulky purse in the USA (for men). Want to buy one for yourself?.


Don't Call It Saké

Sendai, Represent

This is actually something I've known earlier, but I constantly forgot about whenever we popped into a bar. In English, we refer to Japanese rice wine as "saké." But in Japan, saké is more of a general term for liquor. So if you ask a bartender in Japan for saké, you'll get a confused face in return. Over there, you ask for "nihonshu" (日本酒).

We were first reminded of this on a night out in downtown Sendai. If that name sounds familiar, it's because it's the largest city near the epicenter of the 3/11 earthquake and tsunami that hit the northeast coast of Japan's main island last year. I wanted to expand our trip beyond just Tokyo and Kyoto, and I know Tohoku (northern region of Japan's main island) is still in recovery from the disaster and could really use tourists.

Downtown Sendai was fully operational, people were out and about doing their thang, and you'd think that nothing ever happened. One night we went out for a drink at a random bar, ordered some saké nihonshu, and we got to talking with the really nice guy in the photo above... or rather he and I talked in fractured Japanese and broken English while I translated for my friends. Anyway, he was very proud of his city, its delicious local food and fantastic rice wine (both of which he gladly shared with us), and he was very appreciative of us foreigners going out of our way to enjoy Sendai.

Did I mention that the saké from Sendai is fantastic? Great quality, smooth and aromatic, and I never got a hangover.


In the coming weeks, I'll share some more about my trip and other cool discoveries, fun experiences, good eats, and so on.

I Don't Want To Come Home

Tonight's our last night in Kyoto. Tomorrow we catch the bullet train back to Tokyo to spend the night and fly back to the States on Tuesday morning.

I really, seriously do not want to leave Japan yet; I've gotten pretty comfortable here. Comfortable enough to the point that when I zone out on a JR train, I think for a split-second that I'm on an NYC #7 train leaving Flushing Main St station (Chinatown). As soon as I hear the nasal conductor voice say "Mamonaku eki wa, Kyoto desu" I snap out of it.

Please don't make me come home. I could make a really good salaryman. Or a store clerk, I'm good at shouting "Irasshaimase dozo" and other gibberish.

Then again, Japan makes me feel poor and unfashionable. Maybe I've been here too long, my bank account can only take so much blood-letting.

Banane Pézé (Fried Plantains)

Haiti calls it Banane Pézé (pronounced bahn-ahn pay-zay). Spanish-speaking countries around the Caribbean call it Tostones. But for English-speakers, it's just fried plantains.

For those of you who aren't so familiar with Afro-Caribbean or Latin American foods, plantains are a relative of the bananas we eat as fruit, or Cavendish bananas. But plantains have a lot more starch than Cavendish bananas and are not eaten raw. In Haitian cuisine, it's as popular of a side dish as potatoes are to Americans.

In stores, you might see them looking deep green, or yellow, or yellowish with black splotches. This correlates with the plantains' ripeness and sweetness. When they're unripe and green, they're super starchy and not very flavorful. When they start going black, they're overripe and get too sweet for me to handle. A good yellow is my ideal.

Growing up, I'd have boiled plantains with almost every dinner. But once in a while, at some Thanksgivings, my aunt would make banane pézé. So making this as a side dish for some friends' Thanksgiving dinner party definitely brought back some memories.

It's a really simple recipe. First, wash and peel the plantain. The easiest way to peel it is to chop off the stem and end, cut a shallow slit from end to end, and pull off the peel and any lingering strands. Chop the plantain into 1-inch rounds.

In some good frying oil (grapeseed, sunflower, peanut, etc), fry each piece of plantain until it's just barely golden brown on each side. When they're golden, remove them from the skillet and let them cool for a minute. Keep the oil hot, you're not done yet.

When they're cool enough to handle, flatten them. A lot of Haitian families have a complicated piece of hardware for the sole purpose of making banane pézé. It's basically 2 pieces of wood connected by a hinge. I just used some wax paper and 2 cheap wooden coasters.

Return the flatten plantain pieces to the oil and fry on each side until they've turned golden-brown. When they're done, remove them from the pan, dry them on some paper towels, and season with salt and pepper.

Serve fresh and hot.

Irish Beef and Guinness Stew

I'm not one to make New Year resolutions. Not necessarily because I think that self improvement should be a year-round thing. Maybe I agree with Tyler Durden's line from Fight Club, "Self-improvement is masturbation." (I joke, of course)

But I did promise to myself that I would try to experiment more frequently and get more content on this thing. I've been falling into a recipe-rut, where I make the same things pretty frequently. Granted I was trying out a pretty strict workout schedule for the past few months that didn't leave me much time when I get home from work. But that's over with, and I'm ready to get creative again.

That being said, this is a recipe that I spent some time on over the past few months, working from a recipe posted by a more established Austin food/recipe blogger. It was great because I could get it started before working out and let it simmer during the workout. And remember that I'm a big fan of braising/stewing.

Things that I learned while trying to get this recipe down pat:

1. Fattier pieces of stew-cut beef are ideal. If it's too lean, the meat gets too dry in the end. Some time I'll try some cut of beef that's not pre-diced and experiment with some chuck vs. round. I also want to try this with a more traditional Irish meat: lamb.
2. The more time you have, the better.
3. Parsnips are freaking delicious. It's like a cross between a carrot, a potato, and a turnip. They're especially great when roasted.

Merry Christmas

It's Christmas morning, I'm back home on Long Island, and I'm teaching my mom how to make paella [of sorts]. It's a good day :)

That is all.

Mapo Tofu with Ground Pork [Attempt 2]

I recently discovered that Whole Foods carries Sichuan peppercorns. The last time I tried to make mapo tofu, this was the key ingredient that I was missing, so I decided it's time to revisit this dish. This time around, I searched for a recipe more authentic than the one in my big book o' Chinese food, which a friend told me was relatively legit. Something about the first recipe's use of chicken broth made me somewhat skeptical, though.

Sichuan pepper doesn't give heat like red chili pepper does. It's more of a cooling, tingling sensation on the tongue, and increased salivation. This kid agrees with me (watch his other videos, I really hope my future kids will be as adventurous and curious about weird foods at such an early age!).

About Sichuan Pepper
Doing a little research, I learned that Sichuan peppercorns are actually the outer husk of the dried berries of several kinds of Asian trees of the genus Zanthoxylum. In cooking, its flavor is often described as slightly citrusy, and it creates a buzzing numbness on the tongue. That numbness is due to the berry's bioactive component Hydroxy-alpha sanshool, which excites the sensory neurons that are responsible for our response to capsaicin (spicy heat, like in a chili pepper).

Did you know that Sichuan peppercorns were banned in the USA from 1968 to 2005? Not for health reasons, like with the ban on unpasteurized milk products, but because the peppercorns were capable of carrying the citrus canker bacteria that could have wrecked our citrus crops. Enforcement stopped in 2002, then the ban was lifted in 2005 when they were proven safe as long as the peppercorns were heated to 160˚F to kill the bacteria before import.

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Braising

A few weeks ago, my friend Alex sent me an e-mail, wanting to connect me with his friend Rich who had just started up a food blog of his own. Of Feasts and Yeasts is some really interesting stuff, featuring not only recipes and chronicling home-brewing, but also discussing food science. So Alex saw potential for some good collaboration between Rich and myself.

So some time in the near future, expect to see either some cross-posting, or one of us experimenting with the other's recipes. Reading Rich's posts on the science behind marinades and capsaicin inspired me to do a little research of my own.

About Braising

Ever since I started trying to re-create my mom's Haitian dishes, I've loved the technique of braising. Simply put, braising is slow-cooking something partially submerged in liquid, covered and at lower temperatures. When done right, you could end up with the tenderest and most flavorful meat, the epitome of "falling off the bone."

One of the best applications of braising is with tough cuts of meat with a good amount of fat and connective tissue. I'm talking about briskets, chuck roasts, and pork or lamb shoulder.

Beef chuck top blade steak

Think about if you were to take some chuck top blade, with that strip of gristle right down the center, and just pan-sear or grill it. That gristle isn't going anywhere, and it's not going to feel very good in your mouth. Braising, however, not only helps to break down the gristle, but it also uses that connective tissue to keep the meat succulent.

Succulent

According to Cooks Illustrated's explanation of braising, once meat reaches 150˚F, the muscle tissue becomes fully tightened and releases its moisture and juices into the cooking liquid. So the liquid will be nice and flavorful, but if you were to pull out the meat, it would be tough. However, keeping it in the liquid longer and raising the temperature some more will break down the connective tissue, which is primarily made of collagen.

At 200˚F, collagen completely becomes soft gelatin and the tightened muscle fibres begin to separate a little, drawing moisture back into the meat. In the end, your tough and chewy cut of meat can be cut with a spoon. And it only gets better with more time in the pot.

Easy Pad Thai

I was inspired to try a pad thai recipe recently. Could it be because I spotted a jar of tamarind juice at Central Market, and my mind was flooded with memories of past Indian/Thai recipes that involved tamarind and failed miserably? Probably, yes.

Store-bought tamarind comes in many forms. There's whole fruit that you can pick up from the Hispanic markets, or the pre-packaged fruit pulp. And then there are the containers of tamarind juice that come in all sorts of concentrations. I've tried a couple of recipes with tamarind, and they were annoyingly vague about how much tamarind to utilize.

Imagine my disappointment the first time I tried tamarind with a scratch Vindaloo curry recipe. The tamarind juice I bought was so concentrated that it wasn't quite compatible with the original recipe. My first indication of failure was that the curry was dark as night and thick as sludge. The first taste was beyond sour, and borderline inedible.

After that, tamarind was dead to me. Fast-forward about 3 years, I've been on a Thai stir-fry kick lately, and I saw this guy on the market shelf.

Tamarind Juice Concentrate

Add some sugar, fish sauce, and a dash of soy, and you've got the main ingredients for the sauce in pad thai. After a few iterations, I've managed to get the procedure down to where the noodles weren't practically disintegrating on me, and the finished product wasn't a dried out mess at the end. And fortunately, I diluted the tamarind enough that you can pick up its signature tangy flavor but not be horribly overwhelmed by it, like I've had in the past.

I can't believe I forgot the wedge of lime