Stomachs on legs are proud to present

We’re bacon people

Michelle Obama on ABC and "The View"

Despite Obama apparently expressing an appreciation for Michael Pollan's Open Letter to the president, Michelle Obama reaffirmed the family's" Joe The Plumber" sensibilities. Ahhhhh bacon, now elevated to the level of "every-man" political discourse

According to the Melbourne Age

FOUR days spent steering a motorbike north from Chiang Mai along the Burmese border along dangerously snaking roads must have made food blogger Phil Lees challenge his actions. Surely, he questioned the madness of making a white-knuckle, eight-day return trip through bamboo-covered mountains to slurp one bowl of khao soi soup? In a word, no.

"I think, at some point, in the trip it just tipped over the edge," explains Lees, creator of Cambodia's first street food blog, http://phenomenon.com.

After three years in Asia, he recently returned to Melbourne and now writes a food blog, Mouthful, for SBS online. "Suddenly, we weren't going to see anything any more. We were just going to eat."

So when a Cambodian friend tipped him off that some of the tastiest khao soi came from a nondescript joint near the entrance to Mae Hong Son's market "a few lazy days on a motorcycle away", well, what choice did a culinary crusader have?

To this day, Lees says, that bowl of coconut creamy curry served over flat egg noodles and melting-off-the-bone-tender beef, with a tart complement of pickled cabbage, stands uncontested as the best bowl of noodle soup he's eaten. Welcome to the world of the food warrior. No dish too abstract, no taste too challenging and no geography too impassable, these obsessives hunt out the best of the regional, the seasonal and the unusual in their journey to uncover the heart of foreign cuisines. Leave the guide books to the masses, they say, donning their metaphoric khakis - there's a whole world of food experience out there and we're going to hunt down every delicious bite.

I wonder if this is the same as Hock dragging me half way across town to eat a crappy diner breakfast at Joe Juniors in NYC just cause he's read about it being good by some hack on the intertubes....does half an hour on the subway and digesting half a pound of pure fried American fat at 9 am in the morning count as hardcore? Can we join the food warrior club too?

We slipped in early to Momofuko with pal Ms Q in our whirlwind tour of NYC landmark eating. So no queue. We quickly decided what to eat and informed our extremely surly dragon lady waitress of our preferences

To start, hamachi with beet and apple, then some of the famous steamed buns, two pork, and one shitake for me which engendered funny looks from Hock and Ms Q. One bowl of the supposedly famous ramen and the skate to finish. A few "artisinal" beers which Hock chose.

Sashimi with beet and apple


This dish arrived as a painfully small portion of sashimi of a generally low grade. Words cannot fully describe the disappointment I felt over this fish. It could have, should have been lush thick pieces, with tart crisp apple playing off against a sweet beet flavour. Instead I felt like I was being fed left overs from a diners' meal at David Chang's more upscale Ko. Left over sashimi at a $16 US price point or there abouts.

Pork Buns


Shitake Buns


The buns arrived and offered a brief moment of reprieve. They were pretty good, but considering the price, (if memory serves they were around $9 for two) and the hyperbole, you'd hope for something decent. Especially given that it is still just a steamed bun - street food in most places in East Asia that can be had for a mere dollar or two - with much more succulent pork, speedier, sweeter service and less fuss. Such as this one, had in Japan for a quick bite (and created by someone who appears to be the Japanese "elvis" of pork buns)





But I digress....next arrived the ramen

Ramen


This was a major disappointment. With all the fuss that surrounds momofuku I half expected it to be the best bowl of ramen I have ever eaten. Alas it was at this point that Hock and I turned to each other in agreement and said "the emperor has no clothes". The broth lacked depth of flavour, the pork was like a dry Chinese char sui rather than a succulent fatty ramen pork. The noodles were definitely edible, but again at 16 USD for a bowl I felt as though David Chang had personally sucker punched me in the wallet.

With a single bite into the dry unmalleable pork, both Hock and I began to pine for "our" ramen guy on Thonglor, Bangkok. A simple ramen shop that serves the most unbelievably tender and delicious pork, with a dollop of homemade miso chili paste for the modest price of 80 baht. Or 2.50 USD. Now I know that labour costs and rents are higher in New York than Thailand, but you'd expect that labour perhaps to be more skilled or at least capable of preparing ramen of equal if not superior quality......but no the "labour" in question, standing behind the "noodle bar" seemed more concerned with the placement of his hispter head band and iphone communications than the succulence of our porky noodles. And certainly there was no appreciative yelling of "thank you very much for your custom" that cheers me to no end after eating at family style ramen joints.

Skate with brussel sprouts and kochujiang style sauce


The skate was fresh. And that about sums up all I have to say about this dish.

The beer was good, if not again a little over priced....aahh what a funky label and the words artisinal will do for prices these days




The total price of the meal USD$150 plus tips.....my Chinese grandmother would turn in her grave if she knew what we paid for a bowl of noodles and some pork buns.

Afterwards we headed to Chickalicious for a quick and reasonably price dessert

thumbs up...



it was good to see the original chef still working at her kitchen

Afterwards we landed at a bar in the lower east side that is reached by walking through a Japanese noodle bar. I walked in and half heartedly wished we had eaten here. We had a few whiskys chatted and Hock talked to the Japanese barmen. He told them we had just eaten at momofuko and how bad it was. They nodded in agreement and proclaimed it odd that "white people just love it there"




Which is exactly what momofuko is, it is gentrified "Asian" food cleaned up for a primarily white clientele who will unwittingly pay three times the price for an average bowl of noodles for the privilege and convenience of not having to navigate unfathomable menus and dirty toilets. "Eating the other, without meeting the other" is a term I recall being used once, which is odd, as I thought Japanese street foods like ramen and steamed buns had already been demystified to the general populous, and certainly a Japanese toilet is often far preferable to a western one...and here I was thinking that "Asian" is the new "White"....and that the time for repackaging a steamed bun and selling it for three times the price to scared white folks were over...how wrong I was.....David Chang may not be the greatest chef in the world but he certainly isn't the stupidest either.

So in the end we too had to come to the same general conclusion as David Chang himself conceded when interviewed about being given the James Beard award - confusion and general bewilderment that such praise is utterly undeserved.

Have you ever been to a restaurant late and they accept your business but then start turning off the lights half way through your meal?

Bamboo House is such a place. It serves very cheap and rather tasty home-style Korean food, and is a bargain if you don't mind rude service and eating in the dark. The meal came to around $14 NZD each. We ordered shoju but they didn't give it to us stating that they didn't think we could drink it quickly enough before they closed. Aaahhh the delights of true Korean hospitality





9 Commerce St
Auckland City
Closing is at 10 pm SHARP

It has been a long held dream of Hock's to slow cook ribs inside of my sister's chimney bbq. So being back in NZ we obliged his fantasy.

We picked up Louisiana styled rib cuts at Westmere Butchers, which was packed to the gills the day before Easter Friday. We took our ribs back to my father's apartment in town. Hock protested that we hadn't bought enough ribs so Ginny ran up the road to Parnell butchers and got more. We began the preparation by removing the membrane from the back of the ribs and then rubbing them down with a dry rub. The ribs marinaded overnight.



Hock put Ginny to work pounding the chicken marinade. A paste of vegeta, Mexican oregan, oil, smoked paprika and a Mexican spice mixture containing Annatto .




Ginny was also instructed to start the fire in the BBQ early the next morning to make sure the heat had died down just enough to keep the bbq warm but not hot. She was instructed to never let the embers flame, but to always have a small pile of burning embers in the corner of the bbq, just warm enough to slow cook the meat with warm smoke.

BBQ-ING




Hock put together the bbq sauce, choosing a recipe from Mike Mills.

Moppping



Ruby the dog gave out tortured whimpers



Hock cooked Corn Bread



The Finished Product


Kereru landed in nearby trees but this time no one was interested in speculating on their flavour


The ribs were good, but would have been better if we had used a proper smoking device. Still it was a perfect evening and a perfect family meal.

While sitting in Bangkok traffic who should drive by and set up shop.
10 baht of sweet corny goodness.

Our menu...


Pumpkin cocoa broth, crab filled pumpkin flower


Whipped foie gras, rice and rocket


Venison, smoked tomato puree, polenta, purple basil


Pineapple, ginger candy, pomegranate


Brownie, chocolate and chestnut cream, mace and hazelnut crumbs, spiked blueberries


Number of guests: 103
Service time: two hours
After work drinks at 7/11....11:30 pm



An informal farewell to sous chef Khun Chalong as he has had to push forward his holidays(?) by a week as his rice has matured early, time to harvest! Have fun in Isan (อีสาน) Longie!!



"May pen ray Chef! Relax the foie espuma will be arroy!"

Khun Pong. Master of agar agar, xanthan and foie gras...cooked sous vide at 60c for 20 minutes, touch of calvados. Props to the Roca bros! Slapped into our temperamental thermo whips .



Mmmmm...grilled fish balls, chilie nori and beer chang


A final swig of beer Leo and home to dream about our loved ones who are always so far away.

Only two of the chefs I work with have family in Bangkok, the rest of us can't wait for their annual leave to get the fuck out of here to see their families and friends.



Of course mad props to A&A and Sean for inspiration galore.

Walk straight down Clinton St from Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, past Italian gardens with religious statues and under the Queens-Brooklyn expressway, and you're in Red Hook, a whole different ball game.

Soccer, busted up buildings, trees, grass, and amazing Latin American food throughout summer.

Approaching the food vendors:



Quite surprising that so many people I've met who live in Brooklyn have not been to the Red Hook Ballfields...and the ones who have, act real surprised that we went there. Surely, something this good can't be a secret, when it's been there for ten years and it gets press like this article in the NY Times, which came with a tantalising accompanying video, effusing that "there is no better street food scene in all of New York", and "it’s the kind of experience that reminds you why you live in New York."

Also, Nina Lalli wrote in this 2005 article in the Village Voice about how Chowhound.com bloggers were "plotzing" over the Central American/Mexican/South American food. She explained, "(For non-Yiddish speakers, to plotz means to explode, crack, or burst). "Louise", who had written up the original report (which fellow 'hound Bob Martinez called "the definitive post on the ball fields"), replied with a confirmation: "Totally plotz-worthy.""

It was the nicest way to spend a hot few hours, chilling on the grass, eating snacks, while cute kids run around. The crowd was mostly Latino/Latina, with a few Brooklyn-dwelling palanga/pakeha families with the occasional adopted Chinese baby.
Just a few meters up the road is this big pool which was already drained since we came in early autumn, but apparently is lively throughout summer and kids have to wear white tee shirts to avoid gang skirmishes over colour affiliations.

If you go there, the article by Peter Meehan in the NY Times gives a very good directive of what to sample, going from right to left along the stalls.



The Ecuadorian-Chilean ceviche-mixto was the best I've ever had, heavy on lime juice, spring onions, cilantro, & red onions. I would ask for two servings of hot sauce. Love those roasted corn kernels.

Some of the young guys who'd been playing soccer ordered something similar but hot, that looked really good too: I guess it was the Ence Bollado.



The Baleadas from Ms Carcamo at the next stall (and the cinnamon 'Horchata' rice milk with unrefined sugar) were delicious. That was actually my favourite thing – so good I forgot to take a picture unfortunately. Just-made wheat tortillas folded around a smear of beans and a sprinkling of grated cheese, very simple, soft and tasty, and not greasy. Peter Meehan writes, "Ms. Carcamo left Honduras for Brooklyn more than 20 years ago and has been turning out these baleadas, which might be most expediently described as Honduran tacos, at the Red Hook ball fields for more than a decade. Away from the sun and soccer, on weekdays and through the winter, she runs Honduras Maya, her restaurant on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope." Watch the NY Times video to see more. It was a shame that there was a ridiculous queue for the pupusa stand next door (and a camera crew filming them too), whereas the Baleadas were sadly neglected, with hardly any customers. Hang in there, Carcamo crew.

Making baleadas:



Pupusa:



The Salvadoran-style pupusa (we had pork and cheese but if I went again I'd get jalapeno and cheese) was yummy & fresh but definitely greasy and junky.
Here is Nina Lalli's description: "Masa (meaning 'dough') is made from corn kernels dried by fire or in the sun, which are boiled and ground to a thick paste. It can also be dried to make flour, which just needs a little water to form tamales, tortillas, etc. Foodies generally become hysterical when they see the real thing, and with good reason. A freshly made tortilla is more than just a vehicle for its filling—it is crisp on the outside, but thick, soft inside, hot, and tasting truly of corn. I devoured a pork and cheese-filled pupusa, which is flattened into a fat pancake and cooked on a griddle until the cheese is melted and oozes out when cut with the side of a fork. For perfect contrast, it is served with a heap of pickled cabbage."





Actually the fried plantain with crema (like runny sour cream) from the pupusa stall was even more memorable. Plantains, where have you been all my life?



The charcoal-cooked corn (elotes) was tasty, dredged in mayo, chilli, lime and crumbled Cotija cheese (we make these at home sometimes, using parmesan, since hearing about the version at Cafe Habana in Nolita a couple years ago). I would recommend to hold the mayo though: it overwhelms the other flavours a little too much and is too rich for my taste.



For dessert we had the rest of the Horchata and a bag of chopped mango to which we were given the option of adding chilli or salt. There were piles of fruits and mango hedgehogs on sticks. The whole area was hot from the sun and smoky from all the cooking.



Cooling off:



Chilling:



Beware of Chowhounds:



The Red Hook food vendors are there Saturdays and Sundays from May through October. The atmosphere and food are SO good, if I lived locally I'd go every weekend for sure. Next time I want to try the Mexican Huaraches and the chicken tamales.