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Sep 9

Photograph Your Way to a Size 0

A recent study from the University of Wisconsin-Madison has shown that taking photos of your food before eating it encourages weight loss. I can’t say that snapping shots of Thai curries or burgers and fries has ever had any positive effect on my b.m.i. So then I wonder if food bloggers are slimmer than the general population? I don't really know any fat food bloggers, but really, I don't know many food bloggers period.

Yesterday I did randomly try the new Dunkin’ Donuts egg white flatbread sandwich, and yes, I took a photo of it. My at-work breakfast usually consists of either Greek yogurt with sugarless jam or a hard-boiled egg with Spanish paprika. I’m bored of both, so Friday I thought I’d go wild and stop by the Broad Street Dunkin' on my way to work (despite the guilt of my coffee cart guy seeing me patronizing another establishment across the street).

I guess I don’t pay much attention to my surroundings because the Dunkin’ Donuts was closed, paper up in the window and everything. Luckily, I was brought one of these over-toasted treats from the neighborhood on Sunday.

No, it’s not tasty and greasy like those egg and bacon rolls oozing with orange cheese. I envy women who eat those with abandon, and I do often spy totally un-overweight ladies (rarely white, for whatever reason) ordering them from delis. I think these are the same women I see with Burger King bags during lunchtime. How do they do it?

The bread is kind of dry, chewy and overwhelms the portion controlled filling. The egg white and turkey sausage are fine. All in all, it’s an inoffensive alternative to a cholesterol laden breakfast sandwich and was more filling that I’d expected but I seriously wanted to put a slice of cheese on it. I think nearly everything could benefit from a slice of cheese.

Update: I was not wrong in my want of cheese. The sandwich is supposed to have reduced fat mozzarella (the veggie has cheddar) as I noticed on TV and online. It's just that chains in NYC have a way of messing up processed food that's designed to be fool proof to prepare.

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Sep 8

Caught Between the Mooncake and New York City

These unnaturally colored mooncakes exemplify why I love places like Singapore, Kuala Lumpur and Hong Kong. They’re not afraid to experiment with food, and I don’t mean in a molecular gastronomy way. Both of my visits to the region happened to fall during mooncake season and I was amazed each time by the number of modern varieties. New York’s Chinatowns are still firmly entrenched in the traditional baked red bean cakes not these rainbow hued “snow skin” types.

Of course tradition has its place. But I don’t think that quality ingredients and crazy presentations need be mutually exclusive. I think much of the reason why I can’t get excited about local, sustainable, organic or whatever, is because while possibly tasty, it’s not very fun. Or maybe pristine produce and small producers just doesn’t rev me up. Novelty impresses me, I’m afraid.

I have no idea how this particular Chinese chef created his gummi bear and lavender flavored mooncakes or achieved those shades of pink and blue. Probably not naturally–is that a problem? It doesn’t bother me, but I’m also fine with fake green pistachio gelato, red velvet cake…and even Velveeta.

Big Boys Kitchen via The Kitchn

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Sep 7

Cambodian Cuisine

1/2 It's closed. (12/08)

I really hate it when you want a restaurant to be successful yet they do everything possible to mess up your first impression. Cambodian food is crazy scarce in NYC. We only have Kampuchea on the Lower East Side (which I’ve always avoided for no good reason) and the aptly named Cambodian Cuisine on the Upper East Side which was formerly located in Fort Greene where Smoke Joint is now.

The Brooklyn spot was a semi-hole-in-the-wall that also did generic Chinese food, mostly for take out. The new incarnation has more aspirations. The bi-level room is big and sort of minimalist zen with brick walls and a few baskets and folk art sculptures carefully placed throughout. The entrée prices are well into the teens. It’s all keeping in line with owner’s wish for a “real restaurant” as mentioned in a Salon article from last year about the dearth of Cambodian food in the US.

Thai food has been a runaway hit for years, Vietnamese is pretty mainstream too. Cambodian? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted it. A good friend in middle school, Valida, was Cambodian and never once did she offer up any window onto the cuisine. (As opposed to our mutual friend Lema whose Filipino family fed us constantly.) I have no idea what her family even ate (other than Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal) because they were secretive and odd; she never wanted me to come inside their house, which was a lone mobile home off of I-26 in this woodsy patch of nothing.

I could never figure them out. They had chickens running around outside but drove a Peugeot, and Valida always wore way more expensive clothes than I did. My family never shopped at Nordstrom like hers. I had the sense they were well off but lived weirdly, and from what I gathered her parents were mentally unstable and physically abusive. I suppose if you’d escaped the Khmer Rouge, you’d probably be testy too.

Valida was a super smart goth outcast who was clueless about middle school things like shaving, makeup and menstruating. After we ended up going to different high schools she turned totally hot and started dating jocks and eventually joined the military and (unintentionally) married a gay marine when she was still in her teens. I haven’t seen her since the early ‘90s but I’m fairly certain she’s still in the military. And more to the point, I never got one clue what Cambodian food was like from her. Asking such a mundane thing seemed off limits.

I was surprised how crowded Cambodian Cuisine was. Sure it was a Friday night at peak dining time but the entire first floor was filled. That was a good sign, I figured. Manhattanites must like Cambodian food. We were given one of the only remaining tables way in the back and provided with water and menus fairly quickly. Our order was also taken in timely manner. Not so for the twosome who came in after us and walked out after being ignored. Things started falling apart around that point.

We ordered cocktails because they had a list and it seemed like a novelty. I don’t know if that was the mistake. But 45 minutes later we still only had our glasses of water. Oddly, the table next to us ordered at the same time we did and had already gone through an appetizer and beers. I started getting antsy. There only appeared to be one waiter who was understandably flustered (and bizarrely, I swear he was our waiter last month at a restaurant called Asiana in Murray Hill that I never wrote about because it wasn’t worth mentioning) and like ten guys bussing tables and topping up water. I never take things out on servers, and I didn’t on this occasion, but this was starting to get out of control. If it were up to me I would’ve left but I was getting paid to write a review. Maybe the kitchen was backed up but could they not at least pour a drink?

We never got our mai tais, nor the beef salad starter. After nearly an hour, the three mains finally showed up all at once. Was it worth the wait? Eh, not so much. It’s not like Spicy Mina where you stew for an hour in exchange for supposedly mind blowing Bangladeshi fare (I have never been to their new location because I was so traumatized on my initial visit). The food was fine, perfunctory, what I’d expect Southeast Asian on the Upper East Side to be, a solid two shovels but not cravable.

Chhar kuey teo koke. The noodles were nothing like their Malaysian namesake char kway teow. They tasted as pale and ghostly as they appear on the plate. They were in desperate need of a chile-based condiment. I do not waste leftovers, even so-so ones, and plan to doctor these up with some nam prik for lunch today.

Ok, this was good. If I’m correct, ahmok is more commonly made with fish and is akin to Thai haw moek or Malaysian otak otak. The meat, in this case chicken, is blended into a mousse-like consistency, mixed with a lemongrassy curry paste and coconut milk and steamed. The taste is rich, creamy and a little hot. This version was kind of freeform like a big omelet instead of being parceled in banana leaves.

Fried tilapia was nothing special. Now that I’m looking at the menu I realize that it states filets but I had been hoping for a whole skin-on crispy fish. My mistake. The sauce was lightly spiced and a little gloopy sweet, not far off from Chinese take out.

Getting the bill was also an exercise in patience, and as I’d feared our phantom beef salad was on it. The harried waiter told us he’d never seen so many people in the restaurant at once and they’d had “six times as many customers than usual.” I’m not sure what to make of that. It is a large space but you would think they would be equipped to handle the room if it actually filled up. I mean, that’s the size they made the restaurant.

Taking nearly two-and-a-half hours from sit down to departure, it was one of the longest simple meals I’ve ever experienced. And the poor timing bit me in the ass the entire sweaty, grueling ride home. Once a night begins to go out of whack, the rest of the evening tends to follow suit. Did I upset some cosmic balance? Every single subway was pulling away the second we got to the platform. We missed the 4 by seconds, then the 6 took off instead of waiting for transfers at Union Square and the clincher was the F at Broadway Lafayette shutting its doors when I was only a foot away.

I don’t think I will be spending an hour traveling to try Cambodian food any time soon (I might cave and try Kampuchea, though, especially since I hate creating a category with only one thing in it–it's the librarian in me). But I wouldn’t want to discourage anyone who happens to live in the immediate area from giving them a chance. Maybe this Friday was an unfortunate fluke and I would love to be proven wrong.

Cambodian Cuisine * 1664 Third Ave., New York, NY

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Sep 4

Zabb Thai

1/2 “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” was all I could spit out while approaching Roosevelt Avenue. Even from a block away I was getting an unpleasant eyeful of at least 40 diners-to-be swarming the sidewalk in front of Sripraphai. Seriously?
I know the place’s popularity seems to grow exponentially each year and that you get what you’re asking for on a Saturday night even on a holiday weekend, but no, I wasn’t buying the insanity. It’s not Sripraphai’s problem that they’ve become such a success but I can’t tolerate the hour waiting thing even for my most favorite salad in the world (next to Resto’s crispy pig’s ear). I felt tired and defeated without even stepping into the fray.
Quick plan B: Zabb just down the road. No crowd, and in their favor they keep late night hours and are BYOB (which I didn’t realize until we’d already sat down). Curries aren’t their strength, as the focus is more Northern Thai, but fiery herby salads and stir-fries are good too.

Moo dad. I was thinking these would be crispy like skin-on pork belly in little chunks, but these pork strips were breaded and fried and served with chile sauce. This could’ve been heavy and greasy a la chicken fried steak but the coating was light and the meat was juicy. And I really liked that we got a full container of the sauce with our leftovers. I’m always disappointed when I bring home uneaten steak from Argentine parrillas and there’s no chimichurri included in the bag.

I always mean to order the catfish mango salad at Sripraphai but can never forgo the crispy watercress, it’s a catch 22. I love how the fish has been fried unrecognizably into fluff. I once made this at home a million years ago. Getting the catfish into this state wasn’t the hard part—it was shredding the mango properly. I need a tool like this. Crisp, salty and fatty hit with sweet fruit and rich cashews? I love that combination.

No, this duck salad wasn’t a replacement for my beloved awesomely rich duck, eggplant and bamboo shoot curry. The flavors were all there, maybe I just wanted those particular vegetables mixed with the poultry.

We weren’t asked about spice levels and forgot to make any mention. The chicken larb was the only dish that seemed too mild.
I have zero business sense but judging from the freak show in front of Sripraphai there is clearly a market for authentic Thai food for non-Thais. And even though there’s a glut of so-so Thai already in my neighborhood, that would be my target area. If I knew how to open a restaurant and import cooks from Thailand I would channel my inner Chodorow and make it happen.
Which reminds me, I’m 99% sure I’m going to Thailand later this year. I’d been planning on Malaysia but had my mind changed at the last minute. Why not Thailand? At least I that’s what I thought until all hell broke loose this week. But I went to Singapore during the SARS scare, particularly because the flight was dirt cheap. Maybe I can work this civil unrest thing to my financial advantage. Ha, there's always the free food for protesters angle. (8/30/08)

Sep 3

Sweet Spicy Szechuan Chips

Wah, yesterday I heard “official end of summer” used again on the radio. Do they not mean unofficial? If it’s fall why am I wasting money on air conditioning still?

Fine, the only concession I’ve made to this rumored autumn that we are now experiencing was buying a Cover Girl eyeshadow trio in Halloweeny Dazzling Metallics. I did use a Target gift certificate so technically it wasn’t my money supporting this seasonal mischaracterization.

On the new totally unnecessary items front, I found a few goodies at Shop Rite in Linden, NJ. The store is nothing special, it just happens to be in the same complex as the Target and Old Navy I frequent. It’s not quite the real guard-down suburbs because you have to pay a quarter to use the carts airport-style. Yet, I’m kind of obsessed with this place.

Banana Oreos are nearly as offbeat as those Japanese melon Kit Kats you keep hearing about (or maybe I just keep reading about them). No, I didn’t buy or sample these banana split cookies but I’m happy knowing that they exist.

Chips and soda are two product categories that I’ve never been into from an eating perspective but have always appreciated from a flavor standpoint. They’re not afraid of experimenting.

Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos sounded irresistibly Thai. Nah, I don’t even care much for Doritos but I couldn’t leave these on the shelf. Apparently, Stephen Colbert and PETA approve of these. Who knew that all other Doritos involved cow “raping?” Whatever it takes to bring me cheese, I say.

Taste verdict: Yum, maybe I’ve been missing out all these years I thought I didn’t like chips. These are strangely compelling, and yes, hot and sweet. The odd part is the corn taste in the background. These cheese-free triangles are definitely less classy than the Pringles Select below but far tastier.

I turned around and on the opposite shelf was a new jazzy line of Pringles in bags instead of cans. Select, of course. Szechuan barbecue? You know there’s not going to be a smidgen of actual Sichuan peppercorn on these, it’s just fancy code for spicy. What interested me in addition to this new Asian bent to the snack aisle was that these aren’t even potato chips. They’re rice crackers. Strangely, both bags of chips/crisps are purple. Is that the signifier for exotic?

Taste verdict: Not spicy or barbecuey. The predominate flavor is salt and the texture is kind of chalky but not unpleasant. They’re smaller than I expected too. You could easily eat a whole serving (28 crisps—hey, that’s not bad) without even realizing it. I think these would be a big seller if they were sold at Trader Joe’s under their house label but as Pringles I’m not sure how they’ll do.

Once again, I’m more swayed by the packaging than the product. I don’t eat hot dogs or chili (damn, I’m sounding picky) but Ed’s and Steve’s sauce is adorable.

That’s a lot of pork roll varieties. In the same refrigerated section at shin level was a a box of ready made pancakes. Just heat and serve. Frozen waffles seem totally normal to me but refrigerated pancakes are freakish.

Ok, you’re killing me with this Halloween shit when it’s still goddamn SUMMER! Those cat cookies are pretty cute, though.

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Sep 2

The S Word

While sitting in my apartment all weekend (please don’t make me use the S word) I had time to sort through the first few batches of books that my mom has started sending in padded envelopes from my 15 or so boxes that I left in storage over a decade ago in Portland. She has downsized from a decent sized mobile home in the suburbs to a smaller version (I’ve yet to see) at the coast. She’s not retired, it’s just a change.

I’d forgotten how many books I used to own and how much shopping for them was a regular part of my life. I’d scour used book stores, junk and thrift shops on a weekly basis. I’m not sure if the fact that I haven’t performed that task in years is a function of NYC simply not providing enough of these shopping venues or if times have changed all around and everyone just sells on eBay now (even my mom had a little online bookselling business for a spell, or maybe she still does, I’m not sure).

I prefer the serendipity of finding say, a copy of Keyboard magazine with Nick Rhodes on the cover (Arcadia era, not Duran Duran) stuffed in a pile for a dollar. I’m never going to search for that online, pay even that same dollar (which would be an unlikely minimum) plus shipping. That’s a dollar gem, nothing more.

I’m waiting for the cookbooks and pamphlets to show up, so far the bounty falls into categories like 20th century sex ed/dating, pulp fiction with lascivious covers, folklore and coloring and activity books. In the early ‘90s I kept my eye on these genres for art project fodder (I majored in printmaking). Later I xeroxed found illustrations for zine clip art.

I don’t do anything with them now, though I can’t bear to part with this ephemera despite a lack of shelving. I don’t want them to get lost for another ten years either. So, I’m going to talk about these most uncollectable paper items from time to time whether or not it’s of any interest to anyone. The Big John, Little John coloring book? Come on, that's brilliant.

I did have the intention of writing about young adult books and created the I Kid You Not tag for that purpose at the beginning of 2007. But I’m not single minded enough to ever write about any one topic with enough passion, persistence and gravitas to stand out in any way. That’s why I was wowed earlier this year when I read about the Jezebel blogger who got a book deal as a result of her column about YA lit.

And subsequently, I read the single funniest sentence ever on Gawker in reference to it:

“I guess there probably aren’t a lot of bloggers, blog-editors and freelance writers sitting around thinking ‘I am the perfect person to write a collection of nostalgic pieces about classic young adult novels, but she gets to do it and I don’t! Bitch!’”

Well, you know…there might be one or two. Just speculating. It never would’ve occurred to me in ten million years that you could get a book deal for analyzing kids books from the perspective of someone who came of age in the ‘80s. Never. And that’s why I’m staycaytioning over Labor Day weekend instead of living the good life.

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