Monday, May 10, 2010
Movin' On Up (to a new blogging platform)
Dear loyal readers,
I am making the big switch over to Tumblr. All of my archives have been imported to my new(ish) site, and I will be posting all future entires to this URL:
www.jamiesstomach.tumblr.com
Thanks!
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Sunday, May 9, 2010
Icelandic Bounty
Plokkfiskur: hashed fish stew with milk, potato, onion, and butter. Typically made with cod or haddock. Not exactly diet food, described by Icelanders alternately as "old-man food" and "a hangover cure." This particular microwaveable specimen was picked up at a gas station near Hvolsvollur, and photographed on the dashboard of our rented Toyota Yaris.
Smoked puffin with mustard sauce. Gosh, those little penguins sure are adorable, right? Well, they taste good too. Very lean and iron-y, almost like venison. Made me feel alive.
And last but certainly not least, the Icelandic hotdog. I unfortunately do not have a glamour shot of the sausage itself, but please enjoy this photo instead. What makes the Icelandic hotdog so special? Look, I'm not exaggerating this: hotdogs are often referred to as Iceland's national food, and in August 2006, The Gaurdian selected the Baejarins Beztu Pylsur stand in downtown Reykjavik as Europe's best hotdog. (Full article, in Icelandic, with accompanying Bill Clinton photo, here.) Icelandic hotdogs come with ketchup, sweet mustard, raw onions, fried onions, and a mayo-based remoulade with sweet relish. They are disgusting and amazing all at once, and available literally everywhere, even the most remote parts of the country. I enjoyed my first one so much (see above) that I made the mistake of getting another less than 12 hours later, after which I did not eat any more for the remainder of my time in Iceland. But in that brief, glorious moment outside on Laugavegur at 3 a.m., the pylsur was the best part of my trip.
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Monday, April 5, 2010
Ethnic Eating Adventures: Arthur Ave., Bronx
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Sunday, March 14, 2010
Oscar Party Menu
A crowning achievement, even if I lost the pool for the first time in 5+ years.
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Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Ethnic Eating Adventures: Sunset Park Edition
Last week, my intrepid band of adventuresome eaters journeyed to Sunset Park, Brooklyn, for an afternoon of cross-cultural snacking. Sunset Park is the perfect microcosm of the multi-ethnic diversity that makes NYC as a whole such an exciting place to eat. Since the 1970s, SP has been home to a large number of Mexican, Puerto Rican and Dominican immigrants--in fact, by 1990s, 50% of the nabe's population was of Hispanic descent. * And since the 1980s, the west side of the park has been home to many East Asian immigrants, who've spread out along 8th Ave. and turned this part of the hood into Brooklyn's large and thriving Chinatown.
But enough of all this demographic background--I'm just trying to get across that an afternoon walking and eating in SP can result in a stomach full of tacos, tortas, bahn mi, dumplings, noodles and more, all within blocks of each other. And that, simply put, is awesome.
Here's a look at our afternoon of face-cramming-- it was cheap (we hit five places and I don't think anyone spent more than $8 at any one place), more than filling, and crazy delicious. I tried to get at least one unflattering action shot of everyone who came, but a select few escaped the the lens. Lucky bastards. Anyhow, some highlights and notes from our trip, below:
Ari slurping dumpling soup from Yunnan Flavor Snack. The soup ($4) was a red-hot, oily, smelly mess of chili oil, pork broth, and thinly wrapped, brain-looking dumplings. YFS is, as far as I can tell, the only Chinese restaurant in NYC serving Yunnan (a southwestern Chinese province)-style cuisine, which is characteristically spicy, herbal, and noodle-heavy. YFS looks like a dump from the outside, but don't be fooled. Get the pork noodle soup (more on this below) or the aforementioned dumplings.
Portrait of a pork noodle soup.
Rizzo, really psyched about some Asian soft drink.
Bertie with the (literally)-finger-licking good pambazo ($6) (see glamour shot below) from Tacos Xochimilco. Pambazos are a cousin to tortas, except that the bread of the sandwich is dipped in a red guajillo pepper sauce and seared on the outside, meaning your figers will be seared in sauce, too. But that's okay, when the filling--potatos, chorizo, avocado, refried beans, queso freco and shredded lettuce-- is this good, a little guajillo pepper stain is worth it in the long run. I've never seen pambazos on a menu before, and I'd like to give credit to the incredible NYC Food Guy for introducing them to me.
The pambazo, bisected.
Tony preparing to inhale a taco supreme at Tacos Matmoros.
A sampling of tacos from Matamoros ($1.25 each)-- chorizo, tripe, tongue, chicken, carne asada, and carnitas. What makes Matamoros stand out from the rest of the many tacos joints lining 5th Ave. is their attention to detail--griddling the tortillas before filling them, providing multiple salsas and sauces, and the overall quality of the meats. The standouts here were the chorizo (which is hard to screw up anyway), the carne asada, and the tripe. I'm not a huge tripe fan due to my aversion to rubbery, smooth textures, but this tripe was thinly sliced, heavily seasoned, and sauteed until it was deeply smoky and crsip--almost like bacon. I was pleasantly surprised and seriously impressed. Skip the tongue (too watery) and chicken (bland, though maybe that's to be expected).
Justin graphically devouring a pastry from Las Conchitas.
Las Conchitas is a fairly typical Mexican bakery, and while none of the offerings here were truly outstanding, they were fresh and dirt-cheap (I spent $10 on 10 pastries and 2 drinks). There was one bun, filled with a crumbly cinnamon-sugar core, that was particularly tasty. The Mexican cheesecake was also good--dense and tangy.
Yours truly, with bahn mi all over my face. Ba Xuyen is a longstanding Chowhound favorite for bahn mi in the city. The baguette was still warm, crispy on the outside, and I liked that they divvied up full-sized loafs for the sandwiches, meaning you could get lucky and end up with a middle piece that didn't taper down at one end. However, I was disappointed with the lack of spiciness on my #1 ($3.50), and I found the meatballs on the #4 borderline-gelatinous in texture. Points given for an even distribution of cilantro and pickled veggies, though, which is a pet peeve of mine at some Vietnamese sandwich places.
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Monday, January 4, 2010
Greenpoint Meat Picnic
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Dim Sum A Go-Go
I've previously sung the praises of the 7 train, the elevated subway that cuts east-west across Manhattan and Queens, exposing the deep belly of some of the city's best ethnic eats. God, I love that train. I'd ride it start to finish, and in fact I did just that a few weeks ago, when I trekked out to its last stop, Main St/Flushing. Flushing is home to the country's largest population of Chinese immigrants east of the Rockies*. It's at once more dense and less hectic than Manhattan or Brooklyn's Chinatowns, and a real culinary wonderland. I've previously compiled entire walkable dumpling tours covering wide swaths of Flushing, but mostly focused on smallish stalls and restaurants doling out seriously cheap eats. This time, my trip was little different: I was out for dim sum, in the grandest fashion possible.
Dim sum is not a casual affair in Flushing: massive, ornate banquet halls heave and ho with the weight of hundreds of diners, pressed tightly into circular tables, barking back and forth with the brusque waitstaff hawking their miniature wares. After some research, we settled on Ocean Jewels as our venue; it has a reputation for serving excellent seafood for dinner but is also renowned for their weekend dim sum feast. At Ocean Jewels, it’s best to stay seated to avoid losing a foot (or worse) to one of the ladies torpedoing down the aisles with a cart full of pork buns. It's also best to come with a group, to ensure maximum variety in dishes tasted, and it's probably best to designate one loud, slightly bossy person to deal with the cart-staff and order for the table.
Major kudos to my adventuresome friends, who woke up early on a Saturday, rode the subway for over an hour, and were promptly greeted with braised tripe and abalone dumplings. Here's a sampling of some of our wares: some were fairly standard, some a bit more advanced. We had shrimp cakes, steamed pork buns, jellified tripe, egg custards, sweet bean rolls, sautéed morning glory, chicken feet, the aforementioned abalone dumplings, and a creamy, milky dessert with lychee and mung beans. This was dim sum for the masses: nothing was transcendent, but everything was solid and fresh. And when brunch for 8 comes to a grand total of $120, I’d take the 7 there and back again.
*Lee, Jennifer 8. “In This Chinatown, Chinese Is Just a Start.” The New York Times. 23 July 2006.
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Monday, March 23, 2009
Ruminations: Space, Place, and Diet
Leaving your hometown and eating elsewhere raises worthwhile questions about the relationship between place and food. I've been reading Yi-Fu Tuan's Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience and it's gotten me thinking:
Specific memories, senses, and associations are deeply assigned to certain spaces, but this sensation is highly subjective. According to Tuan, when a space feels familiar, it has become a place-- but the definition of space and place vary by individual. Beyond that, every individual's personal sense of place is ringed by a haze of mythical space, which is the "fuzzy area of defective knowledge surrounding the empirically known; it frames pragmatic space." Mythical space is the area with which we are familiar, but weren't necessarily taught, and it is often too abstract to be illustrated. For some places, physical structures are representation enough (i.e., the Empire State Building = NYC), but for many others, it is fleeting sensations and memories that describe them best.
With relation to food, this mythical space can be understood as the knowledge that certain regions have certain specialities: in the US alone, think of chowder in the Northeast, muffalettos in New Orleans, or bagels in New York. We may not like these foods or ever have eaten them, but our inherent knowledge that they represent a place can convince us of their value. We need not necessarily consume these foods to feel connected to a place-- oftentimes, the mere mention of them (imagined consumption) is enough.
When I was in Cape Cod last week, I found myself affected by a common travel-diet sensation: the desire to eat foods representative of the region, i.e., chowder or stuffed quahogs. On a superficial level, it's simple: I can't get quahogs in New York, therefore, I should take advantage of them on the Cape. But after a few days, I began to question my subconscious motivation: am I ordering X, Y, or Z because I want to, or because I think I should? Because by eating this bowl of clam chowder I can shift my experience of Cape Cod from a space to a place? The consumption, or the idea of the consumption of these foods can become a physical representation of an intimate experience of place.
A big part of why we travel is not only to participate in new, novel experiences, but also to become a part of older, more established ones. Foods are one of the most tangible manifestations of mythical space. Eating a black-and-white cookie in New York or deep-dish pizza in Chicago is a simple way to make those spaces more familiar--that is, to make them a place.
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Cape Cod Redux
Most people probably don't think of Cape Cod as a premier Spring Break destination. (Well, some people do). In March, it's cold. Very cold. And due to the Cape's highly seasonal economy, many stores and restaurants aren't open until May. But that didn't stop M, D and I from hopping a Chinatown bus to Boston and driving out to spend a week in at the Commodore Inn in West Harwich. It was quiet, chilly, and completely lovely. We ate long breakfasts, visited Plymouth Rock, and drank a lot of wine. Here's what some of those breakfasts, plus a few lunches, looked like:
Two eggs over easy over corned beef hash with toasts and homefries, @ The Lighthouse Cafe, Harwich
Bacon, cheddar and onion omelette with toast and homefries @ The Lighthouse Cafe, Harwich
"Bacon bennies" with homemade hollandaise and homefies @ Sandi's Diner, Chatham
Cranbery pancakes and two eggs over easy @ Sandi's Diner, Chatham
We didn't always eat eggs: grilled cheese sandwich with chips and a pickle @ The Lighthouse Cafe, Harwich
Fried shrimp "early-bird" special @ Captain Parker's, Yarmouth
And last, but certainly not least, "meal unto itself" clam chowder @ Captain Parker's, YarmouthRead more...
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Secret Supper Club
The menu, and a view from above. Secret supper clubs are a buzztopic that have been making the rounds for some time now (see here, here, and here), but I always assumed the trend would pass me by, partly because I've never sought them out. Well, assuming makes an ass out of you and me, because after months of ambivalence toward these little gatherings, I was invited to one. What's it like to be in with the in crowd? I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you...kind of. While the details can and should remain hazy, let these photos give you some clues as to what the scene was like:
The handwritten menu this week had a loose Southern theme, in celebration of visitors from Atlanta. Gritz-Carltons (see photo below), buttermilk biscuits with pulled short ribs and pickles, a Dirty South salad with buttermilk dressing and bacon, and classic chicken'n'waffles all made appearances. Without giving too much away, the dinner was in a private home, prepared and served by an incredibly gracious and talented couple who actually find the time to entertain weekly. It's not a publicity stunt in any way-- more like a classy (but not stuffy) dinner party, with seriously home-style dishes (and plenty of wine).
Buttermilk biscuits with pulled short ribs and pickles--way better than trendy sliders. 
Chicken'n'waffles'n'mashed potatoes'n'gravy. The thumbs-up pretty much says it all. Amazingly, this chicken was fried in a skillet, not a deep-fryer, but it still came out crispy and tender in all the right places. 
Dumplings in a spicy tomato sauce .
The Gritz-Carlton in all its glory-- grits in a spoon, with spicy merguez sausage .
Caramel apple cake, which was later topped with homemade lemon-thyme ice cream.
It was quite a spread, quite a crowd, and quite the night. I hope that I passed the initial testing period and will be invited back. Because what's better than going in to eat?
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Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Unicorned Rainbow Cake: A Photo Essay
A few weeks ago, in my house, The Best Cake Ever was made. Notice that "it was made," not "I made it," since I hate baking. I just found the cake and then forced my roommate and friend to make it instead.
Also, I stole the idea from Omnomicon, but we changed the recipe a lot, so that instead of using diet soda and no-sugar pudding mix, we used full-fat, full-sugar EVERYTHING. Now that credit has been given where credit is due, let's move on to appreciating the extreme beauty and ridiculousness of the Unicorned Rainbow Cake.
This cake is not something to be casually whipped up. You will have to separate and mix many bowls of colored batter. You will have to use vaguely mathematical calculations to ensure your layers are layered correctly. But it's totally worth it. I don't know why bakeries don't make all of their cakes look like this, since everybody seems to love them.*
*Upon further thought, I have realized that a large part of the reason people do love this cake so much is its novelty, so perhaps it's better that bakeries aren't pumping them out en masse.
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Friday, March 6, 2009
Birds Stealing Ice Cream
Heatwrenching.
http://jet-point.com/2009/02/24/birds-stealing-ice-cream/
[via SeriousEats]
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Monday, March 2, 2009
On Bubbies and Babka
The epic smoked meat counter. Take a number, or else.
Overall, a worthwhile adventure. As an added bonus, Zabar's in conveniently located next to H & H Bagels, which may very well be the finest bagel producer in the city. I concluded my visit by sloppily arranging a half pound of sable on a fresh onion bagel on the streetcorner. It wasn't the prettiest scene, and I reeked for the whole subway ride downtown, but there's nothing I love more than getting in touch with my cultural roots...by jostling with 50 other crotchety grandparents for a slice of smoked fish.
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