Chicago, my kind of town

As a student with a limited budget, I spent four years in college largely surviving on dorm food, take out from Hyde Park chinese joints and home cooked meals made by myself, my roommate or friends. Even when I did go out for meals with friends, we invariably wound up in Chinatown, where huge plates of roasted meat along with slushy and sweet bubble tea can be had for next to nothing, or to cheesecake factory along Michigan Avenue, to reward ourselves with cake after a day of window shopping. On those special occasions where pak and I did go out for dinner, I would yield to his francophile tendencies and we would test out the house's coq au vin and creme brulee each time. Hence, with the exception of an arsenal of knowledge around french bistros in chicagoland, my grasp on the local restaurant scene was a little less than desirable.
Without the tight budgetary constraints and with the absence of a certain escargot lover, TPS, ruoying, rosie and I set out to out-eat each other at various Chicago restaurants serving a myriad of different cuisines.
We went russian for lunch at the Russian Tea Time a block away from the Art Institute. With its dark wood furniture, chandeliers, oversized pots of fresh flowers and dark colored walls, the room exuded a faded glamour. And under the ministration of our charming server we noshed on a lamb stuffed blinchinki and enormous platters of assorted appetizers and meats. We washed down the sweet stuffed cabbage and dumplings with house flavored vodka. The black currant tea, slightly bitter at first sip but with a wonderfully fragrant aftertaste was a clear favorite.
Next stop is Cafe Iberico, an old favorite of mine. If you can endure the sometimes interminable wait during dinner time, you will be rewarded with potent sangria, luscious desserts and the tasty and big "small-plates". The tapas portions at Cafe Iberico are huge, and for less than $15 one can get full and/or roaring drunk and all have a great time. Between the four of us, we had my favorite tortilla espanola, a big plate of potatos in pungent and garlicky aioli, perfectly pan seared scallops served with saffron rice, more garlic in the generous bowl of shrimp and a big platter of paella. Throw in half a pitcher of sangria and we were only $12 poorer each leaving the place compared to when we got there. Unfortunately, the wait can be a trial to all, especially those with little patience. Thankfully Macdonald's is always nearby for a short respite while we endure the hour long wait.
Even though the crema catalana at Cafe Iberico's one of the best I've had so far, we saved our stomachs for the real treat of the night, a luxurious night-cap and dessert at Tru. Tru's one of the top restaurants in the city, and when I heard about its dessert offerings in the less formal lounge, I jumped on it and made reservations. I have had dinner a few years ago at Tru, and had shelled out an obscene amount of money for the caviar staircase in the multicourse tasting menu. Dessert was a high point then, and I was hoping it to be the same this time too. Unfortunately dessert this time was rather mundane and unimaginative. The cornbread topped with blueberries was really dry while the napoleon with chocolate mousse and caramel ice cream was merely passable. Luckily, at around $10 per piece, it wasn't too much of a heartache. The unimpeachable service and the after meal gift of moist banana bread helped soften the blow. But what really saved the evening and made it a truly memorable one was what happened post meal. We asked the hostess to help us hail a cab, and instead she offered us the use of the restaurant's towncar! So instead of having to stand unglamorously at the kerb waving for an elusive cab, we were whisked back to TPS's apartment in no time in a slick black limousine. That, my friend, is class.
The next morning, we woke up still full. Still TPS wanted us to try breakfast at Melrose Cafe, her favorite brunch spot, and so we dragged ourselves to Belmont for a spot of hot coffee, gigantic omelettes and a first class hash browns. The runners participating in the Chicago marathon was passing Belmont as we ate our fill and rubbed our bloated bellies. Talk about compare and contrast!
By the time we rolled out of Melrose Cafe, rosie and I were already planning our salad lunches for the rest of the week to pay penance for our gluttonous exhibition. But, we had still one last stop to make before swearing of cholestrol and calories. Peishan had been raving about a certain bread pudding at Rose Angelis, a really cute Italian restaurant that would be a sure neighborhood favorite had I lived in Lincoln Park. Walking by a bar in the front of the room, we were led through a short corridor to our table located in one of the multiple partitioned rooms. Walking through the restaurant reminded me of walking through Peishan's old house on Kimbark, the one she shared with Chuck and Amanda, where a similar corridor connected the living room from the dining area. Anyway, the salad with a peppery ceasar dressing and the chicken marsala wafting in a haze of steam and alcohol was sized with Midwest sensibilities. The pudding was also enormous, more like a brick than those dainty things you find in martini glasses in a New York eatery. The dense pudding was drenched in warm sweet, slightly salty caramel sauce and wow was that a potent combination. Even without wine, I was feeling heady with all that good food and that much sugar in the system.
While I dont lament my poor student lifestyle ( time in the kitchen did hone my culinary skills), am I glad I have another chance to check out what Chicago has to offer!

Gracie's apple pie

This weekend I returned to the alma mater, to relive some good old memories with TPS and to show off to Rosie, our small but charming campus. As visitors, TPS and I reveled in the ordinary, delightfully witnessing the creeping ivy that adorn the grey gothic buildings change from green to gold to red. We walked through the silent hall of the Rockefeller chapel trying to remember the "Aims of Education" message we heard 5 years ago as freshmen while Rosie admired the stained glass. We peered into Hutchinson Commons so that TPS could catch a glimpse of the picture of "the president who looked like Richard Gere". I was comforted that I still remembered all the names of the halls, and gaped in astonishment at the dvd machine on the basement of Reynolds Club, where the ORCSA noticeboards were. What a sign of progress!!!
Unfortunately, the weather, while not too uncharacteristic of a Chicago fall, was a little too chilly for us to continue hiking beyond the main quads, so we decided to warm ourselves over hot drinks and maybe something sweet to eat. And by dessert, both TPS and I wordlessly agreed, that we had to go to Medici for the definitive slice of apple pie.
For the thousands of students attending the University of Chicago each year, Medici is a familiar haunt. With its graffiti loaded walls, good and filling diner food and very, very affordable prices, scores of bookish students take the short walk from the quads to 57th St each day to the Med as we call it, where politics and the arts are discussed, gossip shared and soup sipped. For me and my friends, it was a place to share in our love for good food and great company, as well as to revel in our common identity as survivors of the harsh UofC regime. Between me and my friends, we have had multiple first dates, pre-exam binges, post-exam leisurely chat-n-chew, bitch and snitch sessions at the Medici. We have slurped thick milk-shakes during hot summers and warmed ourselves with spiced cider during winter. When the proprietors opened a bakery next door to the restaurant, I had on many occasions taken the long way home so that I could duck in there for a cup of spicy mexican hot chocolate. But while we mulled over the long list of appetizers and entrees, dessert was a foregone conclusion. We would like to order Gracie's apple pie, ala mode, thank you very much. Sure, our affection for this apple pie may be tinged with more than a little bit of fond memories, but that's not to say that it isn't a mean slice of pie. The pie at Medici is baked to order, wonderfully crusty and redolent of cinnamon. The generous scoop of vanilla ice cream melts slowly into the bowl, its sweetness balancing the tartness of the apples. And the sensation of both hot and cold is plain amazing. Unsurprisingly, we licked this bowl clean, like the many orders of apple pie before it. While the school has progressed in my absence, the taste of apple pie remains the same.

Medici
1327 E57th St

munching on the east side

Last weekend, while my usual dinner pal was out of commission due to an oral surgery, I had the good fortune to replace her with two friends who were visiting the city, both friends since Chicago, both students in the east coast, both with a hearty appetite and most importantly, both game enough or foolhardy to agree to a 5 destination within 1.5 hour whirlwind eating exercise.
While both Wellian and Walter have been to New York at least half a dozen times in the past year, both of them are relatively unfamiliar with East Village and the LES. Since that is also a great area for cheap chow and relatively close to the used book cafe, we selected to start of in the East Village and work our way down to Chinatown and back to Soho in one and a half hours. Ambitious? Definitely? But sometimes, its the effort that makes it even more satisfying.
Both Walter and I are certified sugar fiends, so it should not surprise anyone that our first stop is Beard Papa, the noted Japanese chain specializing in cream puffs. The cream puffs are made to order, pumping different flavors of thick, fresh cream into the empty puffs, yielding big puff balls of choux pastry that is full of yummy goodness. While the boys chomped down their cream puffs, we headed a few blocks east to Cafe Zaiya for my breakfast and some coffee. Zaiya happens to be a must-visit for me everytime I go to E. Village, or am in the vicinity of the Bryant Park Library, which is near a sister branch. What makes Cafe Zaiya a favorite of mine is the yakimochi, a traditional Japanese bean pastry that is best eaten when its freshly baked and still warm to the touch. The lotus seed paste is fragrant but not as cloyingly sweet as a Chinese bun filling, and the pastry is both flaky and chewy at the same time, a texture that really appeals to me. The other baked goods, deep fried croquettes and various bento sets are good as well, and Walter couldn't resist buying a deep fried curry bun to eat along the way to our next stop.
Holding our coffee cups, half eaten buns and pastries, we meandered our way through St Marks Place. We peered into the neon pink automat shop that sold overpriced and non-too appetizing looking snacks, identified a few other prospective chow spots, walked down to Tompkins Square Park and reached Houston St, the border between E. Village and the LES. We wandered around for a bit, for I had lost my bearings, but we found our third spot of the day, Il Laboratorio del Gelato right next to the Tenement Musuem and for fear of not having consumed enough sugars, decided to share a cup of icecream. Il Laboratorio is quite the royalty of the New York icecream scene and dominates the freezers of many top notch restaurants in the city. Luckily, the retail store allows us to enjoy the same flavors at a much lower pricepoint (although still expensive when compared to mr. softee) and we happily dug our way through a cup of mint and fig icecream while taking in the sights and marvelling at the pace of gentrification in the still relatively grungy neighborhood.

While the LES had been the stronghold of an older Jewish generation, the influx of Chinese immigrants in the last century, and particularly the last few decades have changed the demographic make-up of the area quite significantly. We observed many signboards in Chinese and even more Fuzhou eateries popping up further north from Canal Street, where Chinatown is largely situated. Another type of eatery that is highly popular in the area are the northern Chinese dumpling houses that served up dirt cheap dumplings in tiny and cramped shop fronts. We visited one of the oldest dumpling shops, simply called Dumpling House to sample the wares. The dumplings, fresh out of the frying pan was crisp and hot to the point of scalding. They were also plump and filled with fresh meat and chives, making for a very greasy lunch. Walter even proclaimed that he could "stand there and eat this all day long." The fact that the dumplings were $1 for an order of 5, or 20 cents each was icing on the cake. We also shared a sesame pancake stuffed with cold spiced beef. What's not to like about fried dough? Better yet, fried dough served right off the griddle, sprinkled with fragrant sesame seeds and filled with slightly spicy and aromatic beef jerky? Just thinking about it makes me hungry =)
At this point, we were all feeling the effects of heartburn, plus had run out of time as my shift at the cafe was about to begin, so I bade my buddies goodbye and rushed to the cafe. I felt a little disappointed as I still had one more place I wanted the out-of-towners to visit to round up our mini snack expedition. Luckily Wellian came back to look for me after I was done for the day and we finally managed to hit Bahn Mi So 1 for a huge vietnamese sandwich ostensibly for some greens (it had cilantro and pickled vegetables) and iced vietnamese coffee. While the sandwich is a great grab-and-go type of food, we decided to rest our feet in a small playground in Nolita to refuel and watch the diverse group of kids, from chinese kids in the neighborhood, to well-dressed children of yuppie European parents who just spent hundreds of dollars in the boutiques on Elizabeth St, to tourists who are enjoying a slice of New York pizza, play in the background. Only in this great city can you simultaneously see people from all walks of life congregate in one spot, and only in this place can you enjoy foods from different ethnicities, price points and stature in the culinary scene within a short 20 block walk.

Pearl Oyster Bar

As readers of this blog well know, I have two roommates. While we all fit the stereotype of nice Asian girls overworked in the financial world, have similar hairstyles and share a kitchen and a vacuum machine, we also all have a good appetite and a distaste (or rather, lack of motivation to go on) for diets. However, when it comes to what we eat, our individuality shines through somewhat. Gerrie's the trendiest amongst the three of us, with an admirable goal of dining at as many brand-name culinary temples in the city. I am the eclectic eater who will munch at anything but the kitchen sink and have a weird fascination for off-beat eats , and Ceci's the classy chick who goes for classic and elegant food. With that in mind, for Ceci's belated bday dinner, we decided to go to Pearl Oyster Bar, a homey New England style seafood house in the village for an unpretentious evening, slurping down fresh shellfish and trying out the "best" lobster roll in the city.
After a 3 day survey of lobster pounds in Bar Harbor during August, I thought I would have good authority to say that the cramped dining room was prettier than any simple shack I had been to in Maine. The seafood at Pearl was also as fresh as those I had eaten in Maine, and perfectly cooked to yield an even better taste than the great tasting, but simply boiled lobsters and sublimely fried fish and clams I had. Between the 5 of us (rmmates + friends), we split a platter of fried oysters (a little over battered), and another plate of briny and yet sweet raw clams and a refreshing, fruity riesling to rouse up some appetite.
After we hacked away at the appetizers, our entrees found its way onto the table and we tasted through 5 dishes, including a good sized and nicely grilled lobster, a generous bowl of bouillabaise that was stuffed with small and plump mussels, a roasted whole fish (snapper? or mullet?) that I did not taste but looked and smelt fantastic. I ate a slice of snow white cod, succulent and flaky, tasting like what fish fingers would taste like if they had been made of real fish and only lightly dusted with floor. And Gerrie ordered the house specialty lobster roll served with a heap of shoestring fries, which at twice the price and almost twice the size of any old lobster roll you see in a fish shack in Maine, was quite a tasty, mayonnaisey monstrosity.
Dinner for the three of us must end on a sweet note, so despite already stuffed stomaches, we ordered a slice of blueberry pie and two sundaes to share. The pie was great. Not too sweet and the slightly sour tang of the blueberries blended well with the creamy sweetness of the vanilla icecream that topped it. The hot fudge and butterscotch in the old-fashioned sundaes were unapologetically viscous and rich and the whole deal with thick fresh cream and more vanilla icecream was pure fatty sin. But so good we ate it all up.
Like Ceci, Pearl Oyster Bar is a classic.

18 Cornelia St

Pinkberry

It was an indian summer night of sorts this evening, where after a week of grey skies and chilly temperatures, the weather warmed up to hit mid-70s, the perfect weather for a cool treat. Frozen yogurt comes to mind, and with that I walked to ktown for a cup of the heavily touted Pinkberry yogurt.
Pinkberry is an LA transplant, and the Los Angelenos apparently love it so much that it launched a thousand parking tickets, as the yogurt eaters had no qualms double parking and making all sorts of parking violations in order to get to their yogurt. After a small cup of plain yogurt topped with fresh raspberry, I could see what the fuss was about. I really enjoyed the tanginess of the yogurt, which was great alone but also served as a bland enough canvas to highlight the flavors of the toppings. Detractors complain about the texture, citing iciness. Although I enjoyed the taste and the texture, I can see where the complaints are coming from, particularly if they are more used to the creaminess of ice-cream.
Cost-wise, a cup of Pinkberry yogurt is slightly higher than a similar cup of icecream, but in the land of absurd rents and labor cost, I can forgive the slightly higher prices as well. For people who are determined not to be fleeced, the fresh fruit toppings may offer more value for money than say Cap'n Crunch.
To sum up, yes the fro-yo is a little icy, a little tart and a little expensive. But it sure beats the artificial creaminess and sweetness of Tasti-Delite IMHO. I wish the proprietor luck however in attracting enough customers, because despite all the publicity and hype, the customer flow was a little slow on a warm Wednesday night. One can imagine how much business they will get on a cold January day...

Pinkberry
7 W 32rd St

Breakfasting on the UWS

Of all the days in the week, I choose to be the most productive on Sunday. Sunday, of all days... i don't get myself....
Anyway, a typical routine would be like this: Wake up a little past 8 am and immediately panicking, for church starts in an hour. Rush out to church at 9 and by 10:30, I get out of the service, and have a good day ahead of me to waste. With the extra time on my hands, compared to the more sensible people who are still sleeping in, I also have the tendency to wander around the UWS more, buy things I don't want and shop for food I am certainly do not need. Case in point: I had 2 breakfasts today. I certainly wasn't starved the day before, nor even mildly famished after i devoured my first meal, but I felt compelled to have the second breakfast, because it was pastry =p
First stop: Le Pain Quotidien for a good cup of latte in a handle-less cup, and a huge eggy brioche, slathered in marmalade and strawberry confiture. Although its part of a chain, the big and brightly lit room and the fresh smell of baked bread and other yummy sweets gave the place a friendly, warm personality unlike regular chains.
Next stop: Soutine Bakery for a thick slice of honey cake. Unlike the brisk efficiency experienced at Le Pain Quotidien, service at the tiny storefront was a little more languid and even warmer. The shop assistant served up freshly made croissants, cakes and tiny fruit tarts filled with seasonal fruits to all her customers, regulars or not, with a wide, lazy smile. The honey cake, bought in a whim, was really sweet, tasty and very filling, particularly after being heated up in the microwave and paired with tart yogurt. I would definitely eat it again. So thanks to some spontaneity and a good appetite, I had yet another productive and happy fooding sunday.

Le Pain Quotidien
60 W 65th St
Soutine Bakery
104 W 70th St

Soba Koh

It was a beautiful summer day last sunday, possibly the final summer weekend warm enough for beach afficionados to get some tanning done. It was also a perfect day to slurp some soba to cool off from the unseasonal heat. So I made my way to Soba Koh in East Village for a late lunch, only to find myself the only customer at 2 pm. While its a shame business wasn't as brisk as the proprietors would have liked, I rather enjoyed the calmness of the dining room, further set off by the austere decor (all dark cherry wood and minimalist sharp planes).
What a setting for a solo bowl of hand-made buckwheat noodles! With a healthy dose of wasabi and fresh scallions, the dipping sauce transformed from monotonous to bracingly refreshing. The generous serving of anago and green pepper tempura was crunchy and greaseless, complementary to the slick coolness of the otherwise bland and slightly chewy noodles. I ate quickly, unable to stop from alternately dipping the noodles and the tempura into the sauce and putting the food straight into my mouth. Soon my soba craving was sated. While slightly more expensive than my usual midtown lunches, the luxury of enjoying good food in the stillness of an empty room, where the only distraction you have is whether to eat the tempura or the noodles next and not which report to read while you eat and type simultaneously, well that is a good feeling worth its weight in gold.

Soba Koh
309 E5th St (bet. 1st & 2nd Ave)

Saigon Bahn Mi

Soho has become my new neighborhood ever since I started working at the Used Book Cafe on saturdays, and it is no wonder I've started scouring for things to eat while working the espresso machine for a good 4 hours meant to be tea-time. As comprehensive as the drinks and sweets menu is at the cafe (macaroons and stella artois make a killer combination) , its a little lacking in the savory foods line-up. Luckily, Saigon Bahn Mi is there to the rescue, keeping the hunger away with a warm crusty french bread sandwiching crunchy pickled carrots and refreshingly fresh cilantro, salty vietnamese pastrami and a weird-looking but tasty orange pate that's supposed to be the "supreme" version of pates.
While reference to it being the best sandwich in town is contentious, it is definitely the most value-for-money sandwich however. A huge hunk of bread, meats and vegetables all for $3, enough to tide me through a 4 hour shift, and even dinner if I manage to stop myself from eating it all at once. So far, it hasn't happened yet, but the sandwich is really best eaten in whole, so say I...

Bahn Mi So 1
369 Broome St (Bet. Mott & Elizabeth Sts)

Rice

If the mess of dark purple rice studded with green edamame beans remind you of the south east asian dessert pulut hitam, you are not too far off the mark. The rice is indeed the same variant of those used in the making of the sweet, coconuty dessert, but instead of finding it on the menu of a Malaysian restaurant, right below bubur chacha, Yanru and I found the black rice sharing a bowl with a variety of rice-toppers in a cheap and shabbily cool restaurant in the hipster-infested area of Nolita. Besides black rice, which we suspect was also cooked in coconut milk, the restaurant features about half a dozen or more other types of plain and flavored rice, from japanese to basmati, and even to one dish flecked with cilantro, parsley and spinach.The rice-toppers, from curries to ratatouille, to surprisingly hefty tofu balls drenched in a fiery sauce weren't bad either. Prices are very reasonable, and we walked out paying less than $10 with tax and tips. Rice the restaurant, attempts to make the act of rice-eating new and fresh, and even an old fogey like me, who likes her standard jasmine rice chinese takeout style, with a slight al dente texture, can't help but have to try something new. But if you are not willing to try, there will always be jasmine rice.

Rice
227 Mott St (Bet. Spring & Prince St)

Daisy May's

The pig gig, as with any semi-important thing in life, like buying an air ticket, requires a certain level of commitment. First, you must be curious and eager enough to fork out $400, non-refundable, for the whole pig (because why go for half if you can get the whole thing?) at least 2 days in advance. Next, you have to assemble the crew of 12-15 friendly pork eaters to share your meal, and cajol/beg/threaten them not to ditch you at the last minute. But once you've followed through, you will, as I had last night, enjoy a close encounter with Mr. Pig, and make a really fine meal out of it.
Daisy May's operated only as a take-out counter and a couple of food carts in the city, but they have expanded since to also include a sit down area, which resembles a mess hall more than it does a formal dining room. The service is largely DIY, but that doesn't mean there was no service, as the chefs did their best to keep our raucous bunch happy, fashioning a makeshift bottle opener so that we had access to our beer (they don't have a liquor license, thus we were supposed to bring our own alcohol and corkscrew etc), and carrying out the pig with some sense of solemnity and gravity, as we and the rest of the diners gaped at it.
Now to the pig. To be honest, I was a little let down, thinking that it was going to be bigger than it actually turned out to be. But as we started chomping our way through, it dawned on me that I didn't need a pigger animal. That the suckling pig was deceptively meaty and that none of us would be going home hungry. We started out civilized, picking the meat using tongs, but heck, it was a lot more fun just ripping out the choice cuts with our bare hands (lovingly gloved in latex, to keep us from burning), and we were well acquainted with the different cuts by the end of the meal. The pig's cheeks were lusciously fatty, the loin meaty and the ribs, so perfect, smoky and so good to chew on. So good in fact, that we couldn't help but gnaw on it until the last drippy drop of meat juice had been sucked out. The sides were awesome too, from the tangy slaw, to the bacon-laden beans and the outrageously sweet watermelon that served as dessert. The evening was a resounding success, aided by liberal consumption of beer no doubt, and I have no experienced a night of corporate cheeriness in a while. Let it be known that eating pork boosts office morale!
I must admit the meal isn't for the faint of heart, there were definitely people who looked a tad green in the beginning, and the restaurant does serve the pig headless, under request and heavy duress to accomodate diners. But I mean, seeing the head is part of the experience! But if you are really squeamish, don't sit facing it! That works too =)

Daisy May's
623 11th Ave (corner of 46th)

Hiroko's Place - when the japanese flip burgers

This probably sounds like a travesty on a classic american dish, but my favorite hamburger is bunless, tomato-less and lettuce-free. It instead comes with an egg, fried sunny side up, and topped with a good ladle of bolognese sauce. And a big plate of rice on the side provides the diner with the necessary carbohydrates. The hamburger I've just described is a Japanese take on the good old burger that defines Americana, and is as, if not more satisfying than the original, especially on a chilly and gray weekend afternoon. It is a mushy, meaty, carb-laden meal that works miracles at kicking start one's urges to take an afternoon nap, again, the perfect rainy day activity.
I had my plate of hamburg rice at Hiroko's Place in SoHo, which also serves coffee brewed in the siphon method. Other food items include Omu-raisu (literally omelette rice, or fried rice wrapped in an omelette), spaghetti with shitake mushroom and taroko roe, and hot dogs ala nihon, which looked and tasted like regular hotdogs and were not as satisfying as those from Gray's Papaya. The dishes are mainly conventional japanese-western food, and simply cooked, but had a very home-cooked quality to it that made it comforting to eat. The comfortable sitting, dim lighting and 2 bookcases filled with magazines and japanese manga in the restaurant also gave it a lived-in look. As though as you were visiting a slightly kooky but well-loved aunt (the ones that wore fringed skirts, were constant travellers and part-time tea-readers) and lounging on her green polyester couch, waiting for the sleeping bug to kick in after a heavy, comforting home-cooked meal. A blissful venture indeed.

Hiroko's Place
75 Thompson St (bet Spring & Broome)

Barbes

In an attempt to break out of our chinatown rut and try something different, my friday evening dining companions and I made our way 10 blocks south of the office to Barbes, a french moroccan restaurant at Murray Hill. While the restaurant was crowded on a weekday during lunchtime when I last walked past it, the dune colored dining room was only half full when we walked in at 630 on a friday evening. However, the crowd grew larger as the night went on, and so did the chatter and clatter of the plates. Still, the tables were nicely spaced and the huge palm tree that sat squarely in the middle of the room (and next to our table) gave us a semblance of some privacy and probably acted as a noise buffer, or buffer others from the noise we four loud females were making.
While a few dishes showed signs of french inflection, the menu is largely focused on traditional moroccan items, namely tagines (hearty stews in a moroccan clay pot) and couscous (semolina grains. semolina is also the main ingredient for pasta, and therefore some people identify couscous as a type of pasta) . And since neither ying nor rosie had not had moroccan food before, and it is harder to find compared to french cusine for sure, all 4 of us ordered either one or the other dish. We also ordered a very french, and very good duck confit salad to share. The composition was an amalgation of well balanced flavors, with the salty and earthy duck blending extremely well with the mild lentils and the sharp and peppery mesclun and the sweet roasted beets.
Unfortunately, the moroccan entrees did not fare as well. The couscous were well cooked and non soggy, although a little lacking in sale. However, the meats that came with the couscous, grilled or stewed, were all overcooked. Grilled chicken breast on top of a plate of couscous dressed up with plump golden raisins were stringy. And the lamb in the tagine was too tough and underseasoned, despite the best efforts of the prunes in the same dish to provide some seasoning and taste. The tagine unveiling ceremony was however, very impressive. So points for that. The fish tagine in a spicy tomato stew happened to be the best entree that evening, but the favorable impressions was marred when Ying ate a spoonfull of clay. When questioned about it, the servers explained that the pot might have chipped because she had dug into the pot too vigorously. But points still go towards the service, as the servers were pretty apologetic about the mishap and the overall service was attentive and prompt.
We surveyed the dessert menu afterwards and found the offerings of about half a dozen french based desserts perfunctory at best. Still, we ordered a molten chocolate cake (mistakenly advertised as chocolate souffle to us) which was pretty standard.
In the end, we had a really enjoyable dinner. However, it was more a function of the boisterous conversation and the enjoyment of each other's company, and food unfortunately, played second fiddle.

Barbes
19 E36th St (At Madison Ave)

NB: My pictures of the tagines did not come out properly so i filched a picture online. Ignore the gnome =p

Serendipity 3

After 2 years and multiple tries, I finally made it into Serendipity 3, the famous ice-cream parlor made even more popular by the ill-fated, bland (un)romantic movie with the same name minus the number 3 (Why John Cusack? Why?) The "general store" in its late-afternoon glory

After a 30 minutes wait on a Tuesday afternoon, instead of the usual 2 hr wait during the weekends, we entered the dining room, dimly lit by tiffany lamps and adorned in that haphazard manner, romantic enough for lovers and quirky enough to appeal to children, the two group of diners largely responsible for the crazy lines. And for both groups, the place is perfect for an afternoon snack, a romantic jaunt, or for dessert after a hard day of shopping at Bloomingdales. For other diners, the place might not be worth the wait.
We had the signature frozen hot chocolate, an oxymoron in any case and a disappointment if you were counting on getting a drink both chilly and boiling hot at the same time. However, the huge bowl of frozen chocolate ice, topped with a big dollop of whipped cream and shaved chocolate was still refreshing and while expensive, was not exhorbitant in the city. Throw in the quaintness found in the cool recesses of the room and the hype at dining in one of the most popular restaurant/cafe/ice-cream parlor in the city, $8.50 is not such a bad deal after all.

Serendipity 3
225 E 60th St

The Chinatowns

Three consecutive meals at three different Chinatowns (two in NY, one in Boston) later, I've come to the conclusion that if you can stomach 1) a little bit of attitude from the servers, 2) sitting with others on the same table and 3) the insanity that’s called parking in Chinatown, you most definitely be able to find some excellent grub at hit me its so dirt cheap rock bottom prices. And have money to spare to eat dessert too!
Anyway, P and I hit Boston's Chinatown for Sunday brunch and both of us remembered a taiwanese restaurant (uncreatively named Taiwan Cafe) which we had been to and really liked 3 summers ago when visiting a friend at MIT. So we had the signature pork chop rice, not very suitable at 11 am, but very satisfying, with a huge pork chop deep fried in star anise-spiked batter laying atop a huge mound of rice, which was in turn drenched with dark, sweet and salty meat sauce. The plate of the rice also came with a hard boiled egg cooked in soy sauce and some pickled vegetables which helped balance the oily factor. We washed down the rice with a fresh bowl of sweet soy milk served in a bowl and picked up another plate of fried vermicelli, once again topped in the tasty meat sauce and also a big roll of baked chinese dough （烧饼）All that for under $15 bucks with a hefty tip!And the leftover dough served us well as an afternoon snack while stuck in traffic too! Parking was a crazy affair however, with hungry chinese eaters double parking, placing cars blatantly next to the fire hydrants etc, so if we do ever go back, we'll be taking the metro.
Almost 10 hours after our foray into Boston's ctown, we landed in Flushing, Queens. This time we headd to Shanghai Tide for what else? shanghainese food, including a steamer full of soup dumplings, which, while competently made did not wow us. We also had 2 not tt memorable dishes and a bowl of spicy dan dan noodle that stole the show. Its amazing how good a little bit of minced pork and a lot of chili oil mixed together with handfuls of scallions can taste. While we were there, we observed the bulk of the diners actually eating hotpot, which while did not seem like the best summer dish to us, was indeed a huge bargain, as $18.95 yielded an all you can eat buffet and as much beer you can drink. Again, we spent no more than $25 dollars, tips included. We blew the remainder of our cash on cantonese desserts at Sweet & Tart Cafe, where we had a hit in the doubled boiled ginger egg custard （姜汁炖奶）and a miss in the classic green bean soup （绿豆汤）. Still at $6 dollars, the entire tab cost less than a frozen hot chocolate in a certain Manhattan eatery, which while satisfying, is definitely not worth its price.
Chinatown #3 is our very own sprawling Manhattan version, where littered amongst some serious duds like the (un)Yummy Noodles are several more worthy restaurants. We discovered a newfound favorite in Great NY Noodletown, where the minced beef congee is up to discerning standards, and the portions for the wonton soup are huge, with more than half a dozen wontons, all swollen with fresh, succulent shrimp. We liked that place so much we were there three times (once we didn't get seats because it was so darn crowded) in less than 2 weeks. Talk about an obsession. We ended our mad eating session that day with a superlative bowl of sweeten silken tofu (豆腐花) for a princely sum of $1 from Kong Kee Food Corp. This made our total lunch expense that day $10 including tips! Slap me now, I'm giddy with the realization that I fed me and my bf for the same cost of a salad in midtown! How much less I would be spending if the office was closer to ctown =(

Taiwan Cafe (34 Oxford St, Boston)
Shanghai Tide (135-20 40th Rd, Flushing)
Sweet & Tart Cafe (13611 38th Ave, Flushing)
Great NY Noodletown (28 Bowery, NY)
Kong Kee Food Corp (240 Grand Street)

When in Maine, eat seafood

Before you leave on a holiday to Maine, which unabashedly proclaims itself as the vacationland of USA on its license plates, consider this: make sure everyone on the trip enjoys eating seafood. Any partiality towards fried food is also very welcome. Seafood, largely fried, sometimes boiled, but always served alongside wickedly good french fries fueled our traipse through the beautiful Maine coastlines and Acadia National Park. Fortunately, we love seafood, and were determined to try everything Maine is famous for, including lobster in any permutation, fried seafood of all kinds and wild blueberries, fresh, in compote, pies, soda and even beer.
We began our education on Maine seafood the moment we crossed the stateline, leaving the highway via Exit no. 3 towards Kittery. There, nestled in the midst of several factory outlet malls is Bob's Clam Hut, a classic New England fry shack famous for what else? clams, and the in-season lobster roll. At 1pm, there was a long line at the place, with shoppers and roadtrippers eager to nosh on some good lunch. We grabbed a lobster roll and fried haddock and sat in the picnic area behind the shack. While the backsides of outlet malls didn't exactly provide much scenery, that also meant we weren't paying for ambience and every dollar spent was going towards the succulent lobster meat binded very lightly in mayo and the freshest bits of fish we have eated in a while.
Next stop, Mount Desert Island, where we stayed for two nights at the Hearthside Inn and made our way on the top of Cadillac Mountain, the highest peak in eastern US, and invariably ate more seafood. Our dinners were classic Maine experiences, the lobster bake, complete with steamed clams, corn on the cob, clam chowder, lobsters and a lot of drawn butter. Slices of freshly made blueberry pie completed the artery clogging meals both times, once at Trenton Bridge Lobster Pound, where we shared a table with two men travelling on their RV from California to Canada, and Stewman Pounds, a tourist trap on the water in Bar Harbor, which surprisingly served up a really tasty and large lobster for very little moolah, courtesy of the 4-6 pm early bird dinner special =p At Ben & Bill's ice cream and fudge shoppe, we saw an interesting ice cream flavor, the lobster flavor, made with fresh vanilla icecream and real lobster chunks. Unfortunately, I was too chicken to try it. For those with unadventurous palates like me, they do serve conventional flavors, including a wild sounding moose droppings flavor, which was actually just malt balls mooshed in chocolate icecream. Nothing quite extreme at all =p
After bidding our goodbyes to Bar Harbor in all its picturesque glory, and to the yummy breakfasts our host Barry and Susan prepared, including blueberry pancakes (yep, we just couldn't get enough of blueberries), we made a stop to the Kennebunks to catch a glimpse of a lighthouse and some fried clam strips at

in Kennebunkport. Chewy, briny and coated with a crunchy batter, they sure made it easier to say goodbye to Maine, where the water's clearer, and air crisper and the skies are bluer anyday.

Luckys Famous Burgers

You know there can't be too many worthy burgers to be eaten in Singapore when Carl's Junior is the most serious contender. Hence, I entertain my boyfriend's whims to eat burgers (as with creme brulee and too many bowls of onion soup) with minimal persuasion, or coercion involved. Also, I was interested in checking out Lucky's, a somewhat new burger place 2 blocks from home, and so we went.
While Lucky's was pretty busy on a weekend afternoon the last time I passed by, the sitting area was relatively empty and customer-free. We were a little skeptical, but got past that quickly, ordered our food at the counter and sat down on the uncomfortable and very bright chairs. While waiting, the 3 plasma screens mounted on orange walls provided us with entertainment in the form of tonight's Yankees game. Besides the plasma screen, there wasn't anything else to distract you from your burger, or the bright walls or bright furniture so flourescent that they bordered on being clinically deranged.
I had the standard cheese burger while the bf went upscale and ordered the swiss cheese and mushroom burger for $2 more. We also ordered an order of crinkled fries to share, which at $3 was not a great deal, but I don't care coz what is a burger without fries? Also, the fries were fantastic with the spicy "lucky" sauce that was served alongside it. The burger was not too charred and was juicy enough, enough though slightly more cooked than I normally like my burgers. P's burger was less well received however, as the cheese was not melted enough and the mushrooms were a little underseasoned... We also bought a burger and some humongous onion rings back for my sister, who was blase about her burger as well. I think burgers don't travel well, that's why. Nevertheless, a good burger in the neighborhood in my humble opinion, in a psychotically cheerful environment. I would go back.

Lucky's Famous Burgers
52nd st, bet 8th & 9th Ave

Bouchon Bakery

I make a trip to the mall every Sunday at 10:30 am. I'm not quite the only person in the mall at 10:30 am. The shop assistants are dressing up the mannequins; the early grocery shoppers are taking the escalator down to whole foods to buy their sunday supper; the tourists, always early birds have just finished their walk through central park and are enjoying the cool respite of the air-conditioning. And I, without having to jostle my way through the crowd unlike any other time of the day make my way to the third floor, to Bouchon Bakery's take out counter. So far, I've had a good brioche and sticky bun, an eh macaroon and great croissant and a pain au raisins. I'm crazy about the raisin croissant in particular, sweet, sticky, flaky, chewy... Sometimes i bring a book to read, and other times I pretend to do some work, but really, I am there to drink my coffee and munch on my pastry, and watch life pass by as I enjoy some alone time in a mall, being anonymous in the city, just before the usual humdrum sets in. How sweet are the weekends...

Bouchon Bakery
10 Columbus Circle, 3rd Floor

Sakagura

Eel encased in Tamago
The persistent rain and Ying's tight schedule ruined our plans to have Asian tapas down in LES, so we decided to pursue small plates of a different sort at Sakagura, which came to our attention by way of a NY Times article and Yanru's Japanese salesperson acquaintance's recommendation. Sakagura is known in the city as a place for sake, but even if you are not a fan of sake (we weren't), it still makes for a great spot for authentic, non-sushi (as advertised by the restaurant's website) Japanese grub in an unpretensious, but un-ghetto like underground restaurant.
For the uninitiated, Sakagura can be tricky to find, as it is stuck in the basement of an undistinguished office building in midtown. It did not help that google maps was playing tricks on me and gave me a wrong location. But no matter, we soon got to the address, and after walking down a scary looking flight of stairs into the basement, we soon found ourselves in a clean and cavernous space, nothing like the dank and narrow staircase that led us to it seem to suggest. The room was dimly lit, but not so dark you cannot see your food, and while suitable for rambunctious groups, was quite enough so that pairs and trios of diners will find it easy enough to conduct civilised conversation as well.
The food comes in small plates, well-priced under $10. Our server recommended that we each picked 3 plates, but a better suggestion might be to start with 2 each and work your way through the drinks and dishes before ordering more. We ended up with 8 dishes, including a dessert and that made for a filling meal already.
The NY Times likened Sakagura to a pub, but as with everything Japanese, the food was just daintier, prettier and tastier. We had a range of dishes, from the raw fluke sashimi served with ponzu sauce, to the heartier meat dishes like the chunky 4 sq inches of BUTA KAKUNI (fatty pork belly simmered in a soy and sugar sauce) and shredded beef ribs slow-cooked in a flavorful broth and served with a generous lump of shredded daikon. The Japanese omelette is familiar to everyone who eats cooked sushi, but comes with a twist, or a sliver of broiled eel folded in the middle. The deep fried dishes were also well executed. The tori-kaarage was moist and the marinade smelled wonderfully gingery, and the shrimp balls were soft and almond slices encasing it provided a good crunch. Personally though, i thought the almond could have been better served if it had been crushed into smaller pieces instead. The salmon ochazuke (rice in broth, topped with a slice of poached salmon) closed the savory part of the meal, simple and austere, cleansing the sweet, tart, salty flavors off our tongues with the tea broth. While simple and non-too original, we felt comforted by the home-style food, dishes a Japanese mum with a deft hand at seasoning would make for her brood, and dishes we wished we could make at home, with a little more care and a little bit more time on our hands.
Of course we had dessert... We shared a pear mille feuille, which was presented as a sandwich, only that the puff pastry contained more butter than any pullman loaf you've eaten, and the filling was soft pear poached in simple syrup, served with a dollop of cold creamy custard. The mille feuille was served with a scoop of houji icecream that alternated between sweet and bitter. Yummy.
Since sake was the name of the game, we also tried a flight of 3 sakes and reaffirmed our conviction that sake was not our poison of choice. However, alcohol does tend to make us chattier so we sat and talked for almost and hour after the meal was complete and our bill was paid for. And there was never a rush to check for the bill nor did the servers shoot us disapproving looks the whole time. This restaurant is a keeper.

Sakagura
211 E43rd St, B1 (Bet 2nd & 3rd Ave)

Chocolate Haven

Trust the French to call a less than healthy obsession on haute chocolaterie "un péché mignon", or an adorable sin. Well, adorable or not, I do have a pretty big sweet tooth, and an appreciation for good chocolate. Thank goodness I live in New York, the land of $5 chocolate bars and gourmet chocolate shoppes, ranging from artisanal local names like Kee's to conglomeratized mega- brands such as Fauchon and La Maison du Chocolate. Chocolate Haven sits in the middle of the spectrum, a large enough enterprise to have 2 factories and a website selling a whole gamut of cocoa-loaded goodies and a celebrity chocolatier at the helm, but still small and localized enough to be quintessentially New York.
Chocolate Haven's owner is Jacque Torres, dessert wunderkind and ex-dessert chef at the legendary Le Cirque. Besides all those titles, he has also been called the city's Willy Wonka and in his shop/factory down on Hudson Street, I could see why. Instead of the austere decor in La Maison du Chocolate, the walls within Chocolate Haven are painted in vibrant reds and oranges. The servers (aka. Jacque's Oompa Loompas) were likewise dressed in bright reds, greens and yellow tops and all wore weird multicolored braided headdress of sorts, as though as they were wrongly transplanted in the greyish cityscape, and should have been in a tropical rainforest instead.
Some things to try while in the shop are the signature hot chocolate (in the normal and wicked version, wicked being spiced i think); the chocolate truffles and the chocolate chip cookies, and during the hot summer months, the decadent cookies and icecream, in the form of an ice-cream sandwich. And if you are looking for some more durable gifts, the chocolate bars, as well as the bags of chocolate dipped sweets, ranging from marshmallows to expresso beans to malt balls. While not as blatantly New York as bagels and pretzels, these chocolates make an equally worthy food present from the Big Apple.

Chocolate Haven
350 Hudson St