xiao long bao

just want to note that i had xiao long bao this saturday at yank sing with my friends chloe and min. we had three steamers worth. mmm... yum yum. i wish i had more.

Pulcinella Ristorante

NolaNative and I stopped by Pulcinella in Katy for dinner Saturday.

Houstonians in the far-flung suburb of Katy, you ask? Happily, we were in the neighborhood of a popular Neopolitan-style pizza joint there, thanks to our shopping expedition at Katy Mills (where I gave into my usual, insatiable mall/airport craving and downed an insanely unhealthy MochaLatta Chill from Cinnabon).

Our menu:
Antipasto
Pizza Margherita
Pizza Quattro Formaggio

We chose the antipasto because neither of our pizzas contained meat, and we wanted some. The assorted cheeses, meats and olives were good, but I’m still battling a monthslong, self-inflicted prosciutto fatigue, so please don’t make me dwell on this topic…

Now I know that Neopolitan-style pies are not supposed to be drowning in cheese and toppings like their American counterparts, but I couldn’t help wishing the restaurant had been just a little more generous with the mozzarella on their otherwise tasty pizzas. At least give me a smidge of cheese in each bite of Margherita –- would that have been so hard? I also wished the four cheeses -- provolone and mozzarella, ricotta and bleu -- on the Quattro Formaggio had been better distributed, with at least two cheeses partyin’ in each bite. It’s a good thing the antipasto platter had the delicious bleu, because I never got to taste it on the pizza. And because of the hearty dollops of ricotta, NolaNative likened it to lasagna (which was fresh on her mind, since she had just baked a pan recently).

The next day, I upped the cheese-crust ratio and gobbled down three leftover slices with some melted slivers of a young, semisoft pecorino (noticeably more assertive than the aged stuff). Now that’s good eatin’.

Frentel butter

I keep overeating.

I blame Frentel.

Frentel is a French butter that I grew up eating in America, thanks to my dad, who grew up eating it in Vietnam. It comes in a red can, which would last quite a while in our family fridge. I remember my father would put dabs of the addictive stuff on cooked veggies, in banh mi thit, even on some piping hot Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. Everyday butter makes everything better, but Frentel is so, so much better still!

I hadn’t eaten it for years when I spied the familiar red can on a recent Asian grocery trip. I have been smearing it on everything imaginable since. Even Wheat Thins taste wonderful with a curl of Frentel. Instantly flavorful, this butter quickly coats the tongue and finishes a little salty. Food has become a mere a vehicle for my rediscovered love.

On Friday, in honor of retro dining and for an upcoming expose (ha!) on low-sodium soups, I slid a sliver of Frentel into a bowl of Campbell’s chunky chicken noodle -- Healthy Request, OK? (Alongside a poached egg, of course.) Mmm.

I only ate half a can, so guess what’s for dinner tonight?

yuanyang

some time ago, my dad and i were talking about the coffee beans we bought on kona. we're big coffee drinkers. somehow the conversation lead into tea. "have you hear of yuanyang?" my dad asks.

"no. what is it?"
"it's a coffee tea drink. very popular in hong kong."
my mom had to inject something into the conversation, "i had a co-worker who drank that all the time."

afterwards, i got interested in the idea of mixing coffee and tea. i googled around to learn more about it. and finding out how to spell 'yuanyang' wasn't easy. eventually, i found it on wikipedia. however there wasn't much to go on. [read yuanyang wiki] it's funny how 'western' society debates if the drink was invented in hong kong. my mom later added that the co-worker drank yuanyang during the '70s. she also mentioned during the sf muni bus strike of that era, her co-worker would go out to by a cup of coffee and tea and mix the two at her desk. the actual origin or history of yuanyang is pretty much like the chicken or the egg question.

using my french press, i decided to try it. i'm probably doing this all wrong but who cares. i took a scoop of my free-trade 'organic' hazelnut coffee and several pinches of black tea leaves from mariage freres into my french press. poured some boiling water. and waited for four minutes.

the color is different. with my grounded coffee alone, it has a brownish muddy appearance. but this yuanyang has the clarity of tea appearing more blackish than the usual dark red color of black tea leaves. the taste is definitely more coffee than tea. maybe the balance wasn't right. after the tasting, i add some milk since i don't usually drink coffee black.

i will have to try again to strike the right balance for the "yin and yang" of coffee and tea.

guest blogger: golden chopsticks

friday evening, my brother alex and i attended my uncle's 60th birthday dinner bash at a tiny chinese restaurant which the extended family easily filled. i didn't eat much and was too busy taking pictures of my 4 month old niece with my cousin's nikon d50. here's a review from my brother:

The quality of an unknown Chinese restaurant may be best determined by the number of Chinese construction workers partaking in the victuals therein, my parents like to say. Those men need large helpings to supply the energy they need to make it through the day, my mother reasons, and, furthermore, those men work so hard for their money that they look for the best bargains possible.

Of course, this criterion invariably leads to a certain kind of restaurant. It is often cramped and dirty with terrible service. One proprietor, who happened to be my best friend’s father, made a terribly impolitic report about my weight before I ate, making me suffer through every wonderful dish of bubbling sauces and inviting meats. But with five construction workers spread out at the other tables, I knew better than to casually dismiss the eatery for its affront to my appetite, for surely to eat is merely an act of survival! And I try my best to survive.

Tonight was a wholly new experience at the immaculate Good Chopstick on the northeast corner of the intersection of Balboa Street and 18th Ave. It seems to me that after years under the yoke of emperors, Confucianism, foreign imperialists and, finally, fascist communism, Chinese restaurant proprietors in America offered just the right amount of rudeness — a sort of ironic “bite the hand that feeds” — to its customers. You want us to refill your tea kettle? You’ll have to ask at least twice and wait five minutes before it’ll happen. You want us to remove your plates piled high with fish bones and lobster shells? Well, we’ll give you half-clean plates that you’ll have to wipe with your table napkin before being usable.

All in all, reasonable.

But the purveyors of the Good Chopstick were eager to please, clearing off our encumbered plates four times through the course of the evening in a most un-American manner (surely they can better revel in their newfound freedoms than this helpful politeness).

The highlight among the dishes was the second appetizer, a plate of shrimp and string beans alongside nuggets of deep-fried sweetened milk. After chewing through through the salty shell, the inside burst apart into a kind of tapioca, giving me hope that my friend, journalist Dan Verel, will someday fulfill his ambition to deep fry mayonnaise and market it to Southerners and the Irish.

Otherwise, the food was merely pleasant.

But what can you expect? There weren’t any construction workers in the building.

raspberry lambic ice cream

you'll get dizzy watching the raspberry ice cream spin.

shortly after telling janel that i'm writing a food blog with my friend MV, she actually read it. the idea of making raspberry lambic ice cream got stuck in her head when she read a beer cooking article by MV.

"it's so red!" she said, sounding like it's our mission to make this rosy red beer ice cream. however the original recipe had gelatin. janel is vegetarian so bone marrow-based gelatin was a big no-no. "gelatin in your ice cream?! that's not very 'cream' at all." over a series of conversations, we planned to modify the ice cream recipe, using our previous knowledge and attempts of ice cream-making.

we decided to make a 'true' cream based lambic ice cream, bypassing the use of gelatin. here's what we came up with:

• 1/8 cup sugar
• 3 egg yolks
• 3/4 cup whole milk
• 3/4 cup heavy whipping cream
• 6 ounce raspberry puree (frozen or fresh. we used frozen.)
• 1/2 cup (more give than take) framboise lambic beer
• makes 1/2 quart in a cuisinart ice cream maker
  

we're not professional chefs so we winged much of the process. first, we puree the raspberries into her tiny generic magic bullet blender with spoon of sugar and short pour of lambic. "not too much!" janel warning me. "blending fuzzy stuff will explode!"

"don't worry," i said as i poured while she ran around the corner. "well, i'll be the one covered in lambic and raspberry guts," i said while blending. and of course, not bad happened. and a good thing too... i hate to ruin my favorite western shirt. the non-explosive raspberry puree was placed in the freezer. i just like scaring her.

"shouldn't we strain the seeds out of the puree," questions janel.

"what? we'll lose the crunch and texture," i rebutted. she gave me a look of 'are you crazy? it's your fault if the ice cream sucks.'

next we needed to build the cream base. janel cracked the eggs and juggled the yolks out from the whites into a bowl. we added a spoon of sugar while beating the eggs which we set aside.

for the cream, janel suggested a double boiler technique to prevent over cooking. we took a large pot filled with water and let it boil. in a smaller pot which will float on top of the boiling water, we added all our milk, cream and sugar. we slightly simmered the cream. with the medium hot cream, janel slowly poured half into the eggs while i stirred the mixture. the cream can't be too hot otherwise the eggs will cook. once the cream and eggs are incorporated together, pour that egg/cream mixture back into the small pot with the remaining cream. now you have the bases of the custard. slowly stir and simmer the custard until it's thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.

with the thicken cream mixture, we had to quickly cool it and place it in the fridge. to prevent skin forming on the cream, we covered it with plastic wrap. "in france, milk skin is a delicacy," says french-blooded janel. "you spread the skin and butter on bread. it's so gross." yup, gross.

much of the hard work is done now. since i bought a really big bottle of lambic, we served ourselves a glass and toasted each other for a job well done.

while the main components of ice cream are sitting in the fridge, we played a card game of spit to pass the time. this was our first rematch since new year's. she won last time. and i'm determine to win. with her smooth confidence and reining championship spit title, she easily won the first game. "two out of three!" i whined.

"begging to lose," she replied with her hyper-competitive eyes.

in game two, i gave her a challenge. "let's check on the ice cream." she must be stressing over the possibility of losing to me. i agreed. the components were still warm so we continued the game of spit and wits. some time passed. this second round is getting intense. then, i lost. "ok, let's check if the thingies have cooled."

the ice cream components were indeed cold. we took them out of the fridge and stirred the two together. the rosy bright red puree swirled into the yellowish cream. the properly mixed "ice cream" is slowly poured into the ice cream maker. there's nothing like the noise of making ice cream. it's basically a loud motor noise. we stood around the kitchen chatting. "we should make a syrup!" said janel, looking at the leftover lambic.

"sure. that would be great." we poured the remaining lambic into a small pot. we heated the lambic with about 1/2 cup of sugar until it reduced. after thirty minutes, the ice cream was ready and the warm syrup was cooling in the freezer. "i'm feeling a hungry. should we save the ice cream for dessert?" i asked janel. she mildly agreed, looking as if she wanted to eat the ice cream first. we packed the ice cream into a contain and hide it in the freezer.

we combed through her pile of menus for places around her apartment. but nothing seemed to interest us. so we walked out into the cold and headed downtown. we eventually settled to eat at le colonial where i order a pan-seared salmon in curry while janel order sea bass steamed in banana leaves. both were good. dinner ended with former sf mayor willie brown coming into the restaurant greeting diners at the table next to us. he noticed that i was looking at him. he says "hi. how are you?" and i replied a respectful nod.

raspberry lambic ice cream topped with blackberries and raspberries.

we quickly walked back to the ice cream. we warmed to two scoops of raspberry lambic ice cream that was dressed with fresh raspberries and blackberries. we dripped the lambic syrup over the fruits and ice cream. our version of the ice cream is much more pinkish than the rosy red gelatin version MV made. i think it's due to hers gelatin vs. our full cream base. we brought the ice cream to the table and continued another round of spit. the silky tasting ice cream was creamy and bursting with strong raspberries. however light on the lambic. maybe i like that fuller robust taste of alcohol in my food. the seeds did give it a crunch and texture which janel liked. she retracted her ealier comment about the seeds. from the look of her expression, she enjoyed her ice cream along with the taste of victory.

keller + french = burgers

it seems if you're a big time chef with the last name of keller and cook french, you're destined to open a burger place. hubert keller of fleur de lys in las vegas said he wants to bring a burger joint to san francisco called burger bar. wasn't it just last year, thomas keller of french laundry fame wanted to open a burger joint?

source:
1. Keller bringing Burger Bar to San Francisco
2. An ad hoc look at Ad Hoc