Asia, food so convenient

Tropical smoothies in plastic bags made by little Asian women every day for cheap. With extra condensed milk.

Korean Royal Court Cuisine

Korean royal court cuisine traces back to the Silla kingdom (57 BC – 935 AD) and was most famously done in the Joseon dynasty. Recently a friend of mine invited a group of us to his aunt's restaurant, Yongsusan (Hanja for "Dragon Water Mountain") in Seoul.

Here is what we ate, in order.

Jeonbok jook (abalone porridge)

Medley of salad piles

• Translucent mung bean noodles, pickled cucumber, threads of marinated beef and mushroom julienne, sprinkled with black-green seaweed
• Kaesung style mixed vegetable salad of bean-sprouts, radish, spinach and slices of dried persimmon
• Gold strands of jelly fish with Asian pear and cucumber in a mustard dressing served with thousand year old egg
  

Salad with indiscriminate creamy sauce

Bossam: steamed pork belly with cabbage and radish marinated in red chili pepper

Bossam (from previous pic) piled on cabbage; ready to be folded with chopsticks and eaten

Bindaeduk (mung bean pancake) -- served so crispy and paper-thin!

More fried things
Right: Some sort of seafood buchim (fried pancake)
Left: Unassuming deep-fried green pepper, a common sight at street cart vendors, but...

Surprise! It was stuffed with minced pork and its own seeds. Yum.

Dragon pots of soup

From the dragon pot: clear consomme with buckwheat dumpling and rice-ball pasta from Kaesong

Ddukgalbi: rib meat that is minced, marinated, and reassembled into patties, sitting on cylindrical dduk (rice cakes)

Neobiani (royal bulgogi): marinated barbecue sirloin or rib-eye. Neobiani is cut thicker than bulgogi, no stock poured into it; traditionally no vegetables are supposed to be cooked with the beef. Delicious; didn't taste as candy-sweet as modern bulgogi.

For shiksa (literally "meal," but referring to the starch at the end of the meal that fills you up after you've eaten all the meat) the choices were nengmyun, bibimbap, or nooloongji.
I chose nooloongji (burnt rice with water), which was served with a pungent dwenjang (soybean paste)

Dessert: thawed persimmon, dubbed "nature's chocolate" by Austrian dining companion


Watermelon, yakgwa (traditional cookie), and dduk (rice cake) served with maesil cha (plum tea)

Fried Dough (The South cont'd)

Yes, the illusive and infamous French doughnuts I like to refer to as fried dough, aka beignets, at the well-known establishment, Cafe Du Monde. I'm sure you all know the drill here: sit down at a small table under the terrace, put in an order of beignets (comes in 3), and receive fresh, piping-hot beignets in a matter of minutes. How do they do it so well and so effortlessly - serving soft, chewy, and perfectly deep fried pieces of dough 24 hours a day?

I was hoping to find someone back there in Cafe Du Monde's kitchen who had been making beignets since they were 5 years old, carrying on the tradition, and knowing exactly how to prepare the yeasted dough without even thinking about it. Today, it is more reminiscent of a fast-food joint-- various ethnic minority workers (sorry) hustling to take orders for numerous groups of tourists. For all I know, there might be someone hiding in back holding all of Cafe Du Monde's secrets, but I think what Cafe Du Monde has done rather successfully is carry on their technique of making delicious beignets into a life-long establishment that would otherwise be a shell of its former self (not that I have any idea as to what Cafe Du Monde looked like in 1862). My point is that although there isn't the charm of some mom and pop smiling, graciously receiving my presence and artfully preparing my beignets from their own hands, the beignets are still fucking good -- so good in fact that we went back 3 times that day.

Behold: beignet factory

Brings tears to my eyes thinking about these delicious morsels in my mouth

Southern Exposure Continued: Mosca's, Heavenly Since 1946

On the road from Austin to New Orleans, we stopped for dinner at a very special place in Avondale, LA, called Mosca's. Since 1946, Mosca's has been serving classic, unpretentious Italian fare. In what probably used to be a small roadside house, Mosca's had an atmosphere that spoke pure Americana: warm yellow lighting, jukeboxes, and separate dining rooms.

We started with a classy Italian salad of iceberg, pickled carrots and cauliflower, and red wine vinaigrette. A large party of locals sat down next to us for what seemed to be a birthday party, but everything that came to our table following managed to drown the noise coming from their side of the room. Yes, everything that normally might annoy a diner trying to concentrate on his/her eating was mitigated by the ensuing deliciousness.

Oysters Mosca: Local LA oysters (read: Large), gratin style

Jesus Christ. Wish we ordered two. I would eat this for breakfast every morning if I could.

Chicken a la Grande: Sauteed chicken with rosemary, garlic, and white wine
Succulent, salty, aromatic.

The best spaghetti and meatballs I've ever had, and probably will ever have, in my life.

Everything was amazing. But the real standout was the spaghetti and meatballs, and only for the following reason- It's easy to assume that a dish so simple and widely cooked by amateurs in homes throughout America would be hard to mess up, but every spaghetti and meatballs I've had since has truly paled in comparison. Mosca's version uses a fine (angel hair) pasta, has a deep, rich marinara sauce that was indubitably simmered for hours. The meatballs were fall-apart tender, the way meatballs should be. I have no idea how to make spaghetti and meatballs like this.

Delivery, it's what's for dinner!

On average, most Korean singles eat dinner alone. Purchasing ingredients and cooking for one's self is actually more expensive and time-consuming than eating out, and people in Seoul are too busy to be bothered. I'm still getting used to eating alone at restaurants, so delivery has become an increasingly attractive option for most dinner meals. Many places in Korea deliver single-serving meals to your door, no tip necessary.

I had this doshilahk (bento box) for dinner the other night. Fish, rice, various side dishes, salad, and soup (not pictured) delivered to my door -- all for 6,000 won (about $4.77). Jealous?

Samgyeopsal

[pronounced ssahm-gyeop-ssahl] Pork belly cooked at your table. Every time I have had this, it has been a little different. Variations include types of lettuce leaves, ban-chan (side dish) accompaniment, and dipping sauce options. Goes well with soju and domestic draft beer.

Koreans love to eat this. It is cheap -- much cheaper than beef. There is also something very socializing about eating this food and Korean food in general. Someone always takes charge of manning the meat -- flipping the fatty slices to achieve a balance of crispiness and juiciness, cutting up the long slices into bite-sized portions, and pushing the ready pieces over to your friend's side of the grill so they can easily eat up. If you really love them, you could even put some on their plate. Koreans also never pour their own drinks. Dining companions always watch each other's cups to make sure they are not empty.

Oh yeah, here's the usual order of events:
1. Meat is grilled and ban-chan is nibbled upon.
2. Meat and leaves are eaten together.
3. Rice and some kind of thick soup is served (btw, there are 3 words for soup which describe varying levels of liquid thickness -- tang, jjigae, and gook).

Kimchi placed on slight decline to catch dripping fat juice.


Mid-cooking. My hands were shaking, was so excited.


Basic leaves with which one wraps the cooked meat and desired sauce/kimchi/garlic combinations. Sesame leaves are particularly nice with samgyeopsal.

At this place, the restaurant proprieter cut up any leftover meat and fat-covered kimchi to make a most delicious fried rice on the grill, topped with cheese (!!) and roe. Nom nom.

Btw, three people ate and drank to their hearts content for about 20 USD.

Texas Pit Stops

After a few days in Austin and noticing claims of real Elgin sausage at every bar and restaurant we popped into (and there were many), we knew we had to stop in Elgin on the way to New Orleans, even if it meant eating juicy, hot, fatty sausages at 9am. WHATEVS.

Pit Stop #1: Elgin hot sausage, Elgin, TX

enough said

mandatory butcher paper with oil seeping through and hot sauce

Pit stop #2: HAMBURGERS, Houston TX

After doing some research by way of Robb Walsh, aka Houston hamburger extraordinaire, who very thoughtfully outlined three types of burgers: grocery store burgers (where they first originated), soul food burgers, and burger joint burgers--we whole heartedly knew we had to have some soul food burgers. Whats the south without soul food? Lockwood Malt Shop, "perfection on a buttered bun" or so we read, along with the words "look for the seemingly abandoned red building..." was, to our disappointment, no longer seemingly abandoned but really abandoned!

We relied on plan b (how familiar!), Lankford Grocery Co., a former grocery store turned restaurant known for their old-fashioned hamburgers. We walked through what looked like sliding glass doors of someone's backyard into their grandma's home with rickety chairs and tables on uneven linoleum, knick-knacks failing to let go of walls, and pastel-colored bunnies screaming sweet Jesus cluttering every surface top (clearly prepared for Easter) and and, thats it. We ordered two cheeseburgers (still recovering from pit stop #1) and a side of tatertotts. Although the burger was not as plump (aka not a 1/2 or 5/8-lb-er) as we imagined Lockwood's would have been, we could still tell the burger was made with love... or "soul" as they call it in the south.

Old-fashioned hamburgers, see?

Easter was really around the corner though

Damn that looks tasty, not the hamburger, I mean... sorry

Oh, and as I was taking a picture of an American flag hung outside, a man sitting on the long picnic table positioned on Lankford's driveway asked me why I was taking a picture of an American flag. Of course I immediately exclaimed, "because we're in America!" which to my surprise, he responded, "but aren't you from America?" WHAT??? I thought y'all thought we were from China or the Orient.

Texas Bar-B-Que, Beefier than it's Porky Eastern Cousins

The audit train had only a few days in Austin during an epic trip to the South, but insisted on enjoying some of the local Texas barbecue at least more than once. Austinites told us that the best barbecue is always at least half an hour outside of the city, and based on our two TX bar-b-que experiences, plus the help of some generalization, we kind of confirmed this.


1. Reppin' inner-city Austin- Mann's Smokehouse Bar-B-Que

The jumbo sweet tea sign may have contributed to luring us in




Inside: very charming

Pork ribs, brisket, cole slaw and turnip greens (the latter two of which consistently served as our only source of vegetables during the trip-- I am undecided on whether or not to divulge my resulting digestive adventures in conjuction with this food blogging.)

Mann's was pretty good. Definitely better than the barbecue in California, but unfortunately, we ate it after Cooper's (see below) and it didn't compare. Tonight, I have that Vanessa Williams song stuck in my head, something about saving the best for last.

2. An hour outside of Austin and into hill country - Cooper's Pit Bar-B-Que, Llano, TX

I can't get over how fake the words "Old Time" look in this photo. But they are totally real.

Pit boss; he asked for Jenn's digits

Succulent pork loin, tasty (but slightly chewy) beef ribs, and brisket like I'd never had before in my life. Sides: wait, who cares

There are a several things that made Cooper's mind-blowing:

The hour drive through hill country was beautiful. The first thing we saw was that amazing sign, and then we saw the pit. Of course, before all this, we had smelled all that hot smoky meat as we stepped out of the car and our mouths had already been watering for a good minute.

The dudes at the pit asked us what we wanted and then schlopped it directly onto a plastic cafeteria tray. They handed us the tray and pointed us inside, through a short hallway of hooded buffet carts that contained a paltry selection of room temperature sides (obviously not the main event here) from which we unattentively chose. By this time, we were foaming at the mouths, our minds on the meat laying sexy and bare on the cafeteria tray we clutched. The dudes behind the carts wrapped our meats in butcher paper, weighed it, and slapped a price sticker on it, as if it was deli ham or something. Whatever, by this time, we already knew that presentation didn't matter. The total was forty some dollars (for three people), a good deal for this much meat.


We anxiously dispensed ourselves sweet tea and spooned free baked beans and barbecue sauce into variously sized styrofoam vessels. We floated to our indoor picnic tables, which were lined with loaves of store-bought sliced white bread still in their plastic, French's yellow mustard, pickled whole jalapenos, hot sauce, and most importantly, paper towels. We hazily unwrapped the butcher paper, and ate, ate for-fucking-ever.

I will probably never have brisket anywhere near like that again, unless I go back to Cooper's. It was entirely unlike any brisket I've had at other barbecue places. Rather than sliced, it seemed roughly chopped, similar to some Jewish briskets I've had, this being more likely a result of it being cut into bigger slabs but being so tender that it just had to fall apart (how dare it!). The pork loin was peppery and goddamned juicy. The beef ribs were a bit tough, but it didn't matter much because they could be saved with the barbecue sauce, which was tangy, rightfully thin, not really sweet at all, and obviously not from a bottle.

Of course all the white people were staring at us three Chinese girls stuffing our faces with dead animal. Maybe they thought it was bizarre, but probably not, because they were all eating the same stuff that we were and knew how good it was.

Does Bobby Flay know Tex Mex?

...maybe chipotilay sauce or pwoblano chiles but Austin knows where its at.

Flavorful shredded beef barbacoa

South Austin Trailer Park Eatery (Austin loves food served out of trailers)

Tex-Mex breakfast!

Migas (a Tex-Mex version of chilaquiles) - eggs scrambled with corn tortillas, diced onions, chile peppers, cheese, i.e. salty mush heaven


Tamale House, Austin, TX

Chez Panisse

Friture of fish and shellfish with tartar sauce and peppercress salad

Spring vegetable minestrone with creste di gallo pasta and rocket pesto

Grilled rack and loin of Elliott Ranch lamb with new onions, sorrel and potato gratin, and mache

Cheese plate: Mount Tam, some sheep's milk cheddar, some blue cheese similar to Roquefort (possibly Fourme d'Ambert -- I was drunk at this point)

Pink Lady apple feuillete with prune-Armagnac ice cream; Blue Bottle coffee

Coteaux du Languedoc, Vassal de Puech Noble

Thoughts: the friture first course was kind of strange to start with, but I will admit that fried mussels is a fabulous (sorry) idea, especially when you've been drinking cava upstairs in anticipation. The soup was boring, familiar vegetables in a mild broth that muted the exclamation points of the dish (handmade pasta and arugula pesto), but a nice gustatory respite in between courses. The lamb was tender and good -- P nibbled his rib clean and I sopped up every drop of the jus with Acme bread. I briefly wondered if the lamb and the mache (aka "lamb's tongue") together on a plate was clever word/food-play on Alice Waters' part. Dessert was pleasant and balanced (I don't think I've ever thought a dessert was balanced). The strong brandy flavors of the ice cream mitigated the tartness of the feuillete. Overall, delicious. I'm really going to miss California.