Noodle Shops, Revisited

So after hitting many noodle houses in Manhattan over the past 22 months or so, I think we're ready to declare the winner. Hands down, the crown has to go to Food Sing 88 Corp. in Chinatown. It's an example of why so many other hipper noodle joints, while good, are hardly a deal. Momofuku, which is good in its own right, gets up to $15 for a bowl of ramen. Same with Ippudo. True, they may use Berkshire pork belly, while Sing 88 doesn't even remove the bones from your meat (the duck and the short rib arrived nestled in noodles and broth still clinging to large bones as well as teeny bits of bone that you have to awkwardly pull out of your mouth from time to time), but even with better quality meat, they're still no match for the roughly $5 a bowl at Sing 88 (not to mention for an extra $1 you get extra noodles in your bowl). And, when you leave, you're completely satisfied. True also, Ippudo and Momofuku are Japanese and Sing 88 is Chinese, but if you're looking solely at the noodles, Sing 88's can't be beat. You can watch the guy through the dirty window with the security grate in front of it flopping large hunks of noodle dough on a plastic board and turning them into perfectly chewy, tender long noodles that stew in a rich beef/pork broth. All you really have to pick is your meat or seafood -- Alisa likes the fish balls -- and a bowl is under your nose, steaming your face, in under five minutes. When we went earlier today (a Sunday), it was packed. And certainly with good reason. Another reason to visit Chinatown regularly: dumplings. Today we picked up two bags of frozen dumplings at Tasty Dumpling: 50 veggie for $12 and 50 pork and chive for $8. If you want to eat them there, you can get 5 for $1. The first time I went two summers ago while filling in for the City Hall reporter, I got 10 for $2 and I could barely finish the plate. There's a raging debate about who has the best dumplings -- I tried the ones at Fried Dumpling around the corner last month, and they were quite delicious as well. Mindy Kaling of "The Office" claims to be partial to Prosperity Dumpling, which I have yet to try, but might better avoid since they have no vegetarian option for Alisa. If you don't want to head all the way into Chinatown, Vanessa's Dumplings on 14th is also a viable alternative, with a variety of different kinds -- but there, off Union Square, you get just 30 for $10. It took us long enough to make this important discovery: For the past year, we've always bought Trader Joe's dumplings. Those might be a fine staple if we leave the city someday, but for now, there's no reason to ever leave Chinatown without a bag of frozen dumplings and a belly full of hand-pulled noodles.

Soy

Continuing our efforts to reconnect with Japan ever since we left, Alisa and I headed down to the Lower East Side on this snowy afternoon to Soy, home of Japanese "home cooking." The humble, slightly funky joint was empty when we arrived, except for the warm proprietor and a gray and white unnamed cat lounging on a wooden chair at one of half a dozen empty tables. We shared a rich, salty miso soup with daikon and napa cabbage, then an appetizer of edamame cheese rolls -- deep fried little cigar-shaped crispy and filled with the advertised ingredients. It's not often you bite into anything at a Japanese restaurant and wind up with a string of gooey cheese extending between your mouth and the food you just bit into, but here we were and they were good. For entrees, I got a beef and potato stew. Although advertised as a classic "Japanese Mama's" dish, it tasted strikingly similar to my own Canadian/Scottish-Irish mama's stew with small chunks of beef nestled among fat boiled potatoes and carrots in a hearty brown gravy. Again, not very Japanese, but wonderfully comforting as snow fell outside the window and the cat -- still looking for a home since it was found 10 days ago on Suffolk Street -- occasionally rubbing against my leg. Alisa opted for spicy tuna and avocado over rice. Although spicy tuna usually refers to crap bits of yellowfin mixed with mayo and red pepper masking its lack of quality, these spiced pieces were in decent-sized chunks and not at all stringy (the trademark of bad tuna) with nice slices of avocado. For dessert, I had a green tea cheesecake (I asked if it was soy, but in fact it was mostly cream cheese). Tasty, with a crumbly chocolate crust and faint matcha sweetness. In all, a good value and a comforting meal that was traditional and not at the same time. Worth a return visit.

How to Mainline Cholesterol

Since purchasing Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, we've made the trip to his original Les Halles outpost on Park and it was so good the first time, we went back last weekend. It's beauty is in the consistency: Alisa got mussels bathed in herbs and white wine twice and both times they were right on the mark. I got a steak (first hangar with a shallot sauce then flatiron with a made-to-order bernaise...key, because it can be vile when pre-made) both times that cut like butter. And the fries, as he promises in the book, were sublime. It is a rather loud joint though and even the second time when we sat in an alcove, where the din is lessened, we were across from a table of two drunk tourist couples who's banter drove us insane. That brings up a serious pet peeve I promise not to dwell upon at length: People with loud or irritating voices at adjacent tables who can literally ruin a meal. I learned during that second trip to Les Halles to soldier through it, enjoying my food and talking loudly to Alisa, in hopes of: a) being heard and b) sending a message to the next table that they were way too loud. I failed at the latter. Anyway. Enough said. Speaking of ways to mainline cholesterol, we made our second visit to Pearl Oyster Bar on Cornelia Street in the Village. Even at $27 apiece (the market price that day), their lobster rolls were fantastic -- a whole lobster, it seemed like, big chunks of claw and tail slathered in mayo on a bun barely able to contain all the lovely meat -- and accompanied by a mound of shoestring fries (I think there's something to thinner fries tasting better, probably related to more surface area to be fried in oil). As if that weren't enough to put us on the busroute to bypass, we split a caramel praline parfait (they put some caramel at the bottom as well so you don't eat the best part first, then find yourself left with lonely vanilla) and some steamers, which, even though I've had clams many a time, I had never officially ordered them as "steamers." A small bucket of long necks (I learned that's to indicate an actual neck of sorts emerging from them -- reminiscent, in miniature and far less intimidating form, the humongous neck that makes up the bulk of a geoduck clam, something I may never be brave enough to try) arrived with some warm salt and parsley water (Passover flashbacks) and drawn butter. Extras aside, the lobster rolls here are a dead-ringer for those at nearby Mary's Fish Camp, where we went once. Is there any difference? Someday soon, perhaps, I'll have an answer.

Random musings on Mexican and Cuban food

Forgive the long stretch since our last post, but between a trip to the other side of the globe and a job change, it's been busy lately and we've just now had time to settle again. There has been chowing going on, however -- and here are some regrettably brief thoughts on places we've been since the blog posts stopped: Dos Caminos on 3rd Avenue -- maybe it's just because I'm from SoCal and know good Mexican food, but it's been a rarity to find it anywhere outside. This member of the B.R. Guest empire (which includes Ocean Grill, Atlantic Grill, Isablella's, etc.) was not the exception. Even though Madonna was reported to chow here with A-Rod, it goes to show celebrity hot spots can also fall flat. Even though the fish we both ordered was cooked fine and tasted fresh, it was also bland (why anyone would think avocado "leaves" make an exciting crust for tuna is beyond me) and the guacamole scam perpetrated frequently in the city was on full display here, with a paltry amount offered up with way too much lime (a preservative for those who choose to make mass quantities in advance, as opposed to the charm and freshness of tableside preparation). Not a bad meal, but not memorable and overpriced at that. We did have a better Mexican meal several months back at Hell's Kitchen in, you guessed it, Hell's Kitchen, which offers an interesting menu balanced out by fair prices. The best Latin food in recent memory, perhaps ever in this town, can be found at Cafe Habana on Elizabeth and Prince Street. True, we've only brunched here twice, but the seasoned roasted corn on the cob covered in cojita cheese and lime juice alone is pilgrimage-worthy. I also opted for a "Michelada" -- something I'd
never seen or heard of before -- which involves a tall parfait glass half-full of ice, fresh lemon juice and Tabasco with salt around the rim. Into it you pour a bottle of Corona and squeeze lime. It's delish. For entrees, Alisa got the classic Huevos Rancheros and I got Chilaquiles, a dish done so differently so many places you never quite know what you're gonna get. It's one I ate growing up in San Diego that always consists of fried corn tortillas, red or green sauce, cheese and chicken or veggies in a casserole of sorts. Since arriving here, I've had it as a sad little pile of corn chips with red sauce and some grated cheese or a whole elaborate cheesy blissful casserole at Quantum Leap, a duo of vegetarian joints in the east and west village that does it expertly (although occasionally skimps on the portions). At Habana, it more resembled the pile of chips, put an ample pile that had started to submit to their soft tortilla form under the weight of a zesty green sauce and melty white queso with tender pieces of chicken hidden all across the plate. The accompanying black beans, with herbs still wading inside, are among the best I've ever had anywhere. We can't wait to go back.

Soba-tastic

Before we came to NYC, I never knew Japanese noodles extended beyond ramen and udon (and even udon I learned about just a few years before). The thick, ropey noodles at New Orleans joints like Kyoto and Sake were fantastic and a value, arriving with a healthy portion of tempura for under $15, generally. Then, spying something in the Times one day (is it clear how much I look forward to the back page of the Wednesday Food section?) I saw a $25 and under review of Soba Totto in East Midtown. We went there for the first time and tried the buckwheat noodles, which are thin like spaghetti and also have a nice nuttiness (not to mention being healthier than regular semolina noodles). They often come in a miso-soy type of broth, with green onion and any number of underwater delicacies resting on top, like uni, which adds a nice saltiness. At lunchtime, a combo meal often includes japanese pickles, a seaweed salad, fish or tempura and any number of other little side dishes. Best of all, soba is ubiquitous to the seasons and just as good cold as hot. Soba Totto also happens to be on an amazing block (East 43rd between 2nd and 3rd aves) populated by a number of amazingly authentic (I assume authentic...we haven't been to Japan yet) Japanese restaurants: Sakagura (where they have an amazing selection of sake, a fantastic array of non-sushi or noodle Japanese dishes, including something with squid liver that was ten times better than you'd think, not to mention a real Japanese toilet in the ladies' room, Alisa says) and Sushi Yasuda (last year ranked top sushi spot in the city by Zagat). Earlier today we learned it's possible to get great soba outside of that tiny strip, at Soba-Ya in the East Village, where not only is their soba equally good, but you can watch a dude make it right where it looks like they'd be running your credit card. Instead, he uses a variety of handle-less rollers to flatten out the dough and then chops off thin noodle strands. There's also a Japanese toilet (but, again, only for the ladies, although not quite as elaborate as Sakagura's, Alisa again says). For the record, there's also a recently-opened sake shop (the only one east of the Rockies, its owner says) a block east, Sakaya, that's definitely worth checking out (especially for the tiny cans that are like tasty little chocolaty flavor bombs).

The Weekend We Ate Our Trip

Intentionally, we set out to eat the cuisine of every country we'll be visiting later this summer and unintentionally we ate it in the order we'd be visiting those places. First off, there was Sakae Sushi, the Singapore-based international chain which just opened its second outpost outside of Asia last month here in NYC's Greenwich Village (the second is in Midtown). The gimmick is conveyor belt sushi, similar to numerous places in Tokyo, or so I'm told. And it's worth going to just for the experience, but once may be enough. You sit in a long row of booths as a conveyor belt with various types of Japanese fare passing by...there's rolls of all kinds, some bright red octopus, squid salad and the occasional nigiri. Each rests on a color-coded plate that denotes price and under a plastic cover. We grabbed a few plates of sushi and it was fine, although nothing memorable. We even took a plate of puffy doughy things that passed by but upon realizing they were miniature cream puffs and being nowhere near ready for dessert, we clandestinely replaced the cover and put them back into circulation. Therein lies one of the potential issues with such a setup: who's to know another patron hasn't previously pulled a dish from the belt, examined it, perhaps sneezed on it, and then replaced it? True, one has to have faith in the honor system, but here's a more vexing issue with the arrangement: I swear I saw the same plate of krabstick nigiri pass at least 8-9 times over the course of an hour -- same with that octopus -- all of which makes me wonder how long it's allowed to loop the booths before it's taken out of circulation? Seafood left out room temperature can only last so long. Anyway. For those who don't want to leave their entire dining experience to chance, there is a monitor and mouse at each booth, from which you can order any number of tempura, sashimi, sushi and various other entrees...we had better luck with that, except for the fact that the system was somewhat on the fritz, listing some items they weren't carrying that day (uni, for example) and did not register our table number, so the orders went to the kitchen without telling them exactly who had ordered them. A waiter tracked us down, fortunately, since it was pretty slow when we got there near the end of the lunch hour. Those were all good: highlights being a roll with cheese of all things, wrapped in a black sesame breading and some deep-fried rolls...more because they were interesting than anything else. In short, it was fun once. I don't think I'd return again. Next in our journey, we followed advice of the NYT and ventured downtown again to Rhong-Tiam, a relatively new Thai joint specializing in authentic Bangkok cooking, or so it said in its slogan. We started with Crispy Catfish with Green Mango Salad -- a dish our friend Julie, who lives in Bangkok, has raved about -- that's essentially shredded catfish pieces deep fried. What arrived was a plate covered with what looked like random bits from the bottom of the deep frier that were crispy and tasty bits of fish, made all the better when scooped up with the mango, lime and pepper salad in the accompanying bowl. A true hit. For entrees, we shared a plate of blue crab fried rice (tasty, although a bit fishy -- Alisa knows from her time in D.C. that blue crab is something of an acquired taste and actually top quality, but I'm not quite there yet). I got something called Pork on Fire, which that same Times article called a "contender for spiciest dish in the city." That line led me to ask if they could make it less "on fire." The waitress politely replied that she'd been asked that question before and the chef could not, believing compromising the heat would also compromise "the integrity of the dish." I absolutely respect that answer: cater do your customer's wishes when you can, but go too far and you actually end up misleading a customer into thinking the altered dish will be fine and thereby only compromising yourself when it's not. Keep it hot, then, I said and asked for a second glass of water. It arrived and although I confess to avoiding the whole chilis mixed in, it wasn't terribly hot at all. Nowhere near the four-alarm, almost inedible dishes we had at the much ballyhooed Land in our neighborhood last year. The pork was tasty, as promised, sprinkled with fried kaffir lime and thai basil leaves on top. It was a hit, although not so sublime that it wouldn't stand up against a tasty tender pork dish at a good neighborhood Chinese place. Alisa got the Tropical Mango Shrimp, which arrived with plump shrimp and peppers resting inside a beautiful mango bowl. Too bad it was all covered in a sickly sweet, bright red glaze. After one bite, Alisa pushed it to the side. The waitress, without even being asked, promptly took it back and removed it from our bill. She was fantastic and we let her know it by tipping her the entire cost of the dish. To finish up, we got mango with sticky rice -- perhaps the most simple southeast Asian dessert and arguably the best -- fresh, soft mango with porridge-like rice and a bit of creamy vanillia-like sauce with black sesame seeds on top. Alisa slightly favors the version at Cafe Asia in Arlington, which comes with a bit of honey, but we both agreed it capped off a great lunch, leaving us with three favorites in the city: Sookk, Thai Market and here. Sookk, however, appears to be the most economical. Finally, we closed out the culinary preview journey with a trip to the very recently-opened Cambodian Cuisine. Not the most interesting name, I admit, but in a city with only two Cambodian restaurants, it doesn't hurt to clearly impart your unique offering (the other is Kampuchea downtown, which we stumbled into last year and was good, but more focused on Cambodian street food and catering to a hipper downtown crowd, with its selection of interesting sandwiches and savory crepes). It turns out the restaurant has had quite a journey to opening, with the owner plunging deep into debt and facing numerous hardships in a two-year attempt to open on the Upper East Side after closing his smaller Brooklyn outpost years ago. It was well worth the effort. The decor is minimalist at best, not in a sleek, hip sort of way, but more in the haven't-had-time-to-decorate sort of way. But no matter. We started with Prawhet Kroeurng, which was four fried fish patties filled with lemongrass and basil, which were tasty and a good starter. I also got a Cambodian Iced Tea, which was a dead ringer for Thai Iced Tea, but still delish. For entrees, we shared Nom Bonchok Tuek Kary, a lemongrass curry with potatoes, bean curd, onions and water chestnuts that included vermicelli. We also got Tonle Saap Fish Chop, which was a beautifully steamed piece of tilapia in its own curry (you can also get it fried, or opt for salmon, but I feared a crispy crust may not allow it to absorb the sauce as well) atop perfectly cooked broccoli florets. Both were dishes delish, especially after they were gone and we used steamed rice to absorb all the remaining sauce. To finish, we had Songkhya, which was egg coconut pudding on brown rice served in a martini glass. Also delish. We'll be back and are hoping Cambodian Cuisine makes it.

Kyotofu

Months ago we discovered Tafu on 51st St. near Lex, which arguably has the best green tea in the city -- I'm a fan of the iced sencha, which has a wonderful clean grassy taste -- and its accompanying desserts, each with a green tea flavor. There are financiers (a fancy word for dense cookies, I've found), cheesecakes, cupcakes and even ice creams -- and not the blah green tea ice cream that often stands alone on the dessert menu and your neighborhood Asian restaurant -- these use the actual flavors of Matcha, Sencha and Genmaicha and somehow make them work well in a sweet dessert. I can't say I don't prefer a Mr. Softee cone to sweet toasted brown rice-flavored ice cream every day (Alisa can), but their desserts are original and always great. It took a bit of reminding over time, however, that the desserts at Tafu (which is tinier than our Manhattan apartment and has only four seats) are made at Kyotofu, a Hell's Kitchen nouveau Japanese restaurant where, we found after riding down there on our bikes Saturday, the savory entrees are just as good (if not better) than the sweets. We arrived while there were 3-4 other parties there, with a waiter and a waitress attending to everyone and a single chef in a tiny kitchen right up front, with glass windows looking in on her. The one-woman show may have been to blame for the relatively sluggish service, but no mind, we were hardly in a rush. We started with an order of cold green tea soba noodles that were fresh, tender and tasty, with a soy dipping sauce. Next, I opted for chicken and tofu tsukune burger with lotus root chips. It was delish, a very loosely packed patty brimming with a tangy teriyaki-like flavor on a soft brioche bun. The chips, with lots of holes in the middle, were crisply fried a golden brown. Alisa got the smoked salmon donburi -- tasty bits of loxlike salmon atop a puffy, almost crispy rice. Others sitting nearby got dishes we're eager to try next time, especially, for me, a artisanal cheese souffle and a kurobuta sausage puff. Each entree also came with a free cocktail as part of the brunch special. I got a Mimosa, Alisa got a Bellini (peach juice instead of OJ). For dessert, we got a chef's omikase (tasting) of five desserts: a mini chocolate cupcake and a sugary cookie, a berry tofu cheesecake (probably the best on the plate), a tofu version of flan, a dark chocolate cupcake with a gob of green tea icing on top and a panna cotta with soft apricot on top. Alisa was more of a fan than me of these, but I at least agree they were all worth trying. But for my money, the savories won out and will bring me back -- soon -- for more.