Food Travel - - Page 27

by gansie

Patrons Shouldn’t Have This Much Power

Tiring of kimchi, the fiery fermented cabbage side dish that is served at every single meal in Korea, we decided to try another cuisine on one of our last nights in Seoul. We thought Thai would be a good choice: how does one Asian country create another Asian country’s food?

Dilemma ensued. When trying something familiar in a new setting, does one (a) choose something they’ve never had before, something one cannot get in her country of dwelling or (b) choose a favorite dish to see how it differs? I choose (a) and 80 choose (b).

At Pattaya I didn’t love my super spicy (did they sneak kimchi in there!) vegetable-packed noodle dish (the fettuccine looking noodles were flavorless, which is an uncommon occurrence compared to the rest of my meals in Japan and Korea), but 80’s red curry was creamy with an appropriate amount of heat. I should have went with my fav, Pad See Ew!

Because we took such a long time deciding, the waitress dropped off our drinks (Soju!) and then never came back for the rest of the order. It was late and all of the other tables had eaten, which we found to be the case most nights. We didn’t find a place for dinner until after 8:30 or later and I think every night we were the last to order. Guess they haven’t been to Barcelona.

Anyway, we were waiting and waiting and then I see this granite looking block on our table. It’s not a salt shaker. It has Korean writing on it and then says the word “Mic” over a button.

Are we mic-ed? Can they hear our conversation about the slow service? Should we push the button?

by gansie

Real Convenience at a Convenience Store

Before our train ride from Tokyo to Osaka, 80 and I went to am pm (convenience store) to stock up on some snacks. I bought this, thinking it was a hard boiled egg, but also slightly hoping it was gushy in the middle, a la the picture.

So after I ate my little rice triangle thing (also bought at am pm), which is sticky rice, formed into a triangle, topped with a cooked piece of salmon and tied together with seaweed, I pulled out my egg. It was rock hard and I was scared. I didn’t want raw egg to get everywhere so I placed it back into its package, waiting to explore it in a safer environment.

It made sense that it was a raw egg. Lots of places in Japan serve hot rice dishes with a raw egg on the side. The customer cracks it into the rice and the heat from the grains melts the egg, leaving a moist coating over the egg and its toppings (usually thinly sliced beef.)

I was pisted I didn’t buy the accompanying rice bowl to properly use the egg.

The egg stayed in our mini-fridge until our train ride back to Tokyo station, to connect to the train to the airport, to connect to the flight to Seoul. Right before we left I brought the egg to the bathroom sink.

in Eggs / Food Travel 2 comments

by gansie

The Louder the Better

“Put down your plate,” my Aunt Lorrie whispers through laughter. She had taken me—and me alone, not my brother and my sister—to IHOP. I forget why I was singled out, but I felt special.

This was during the early years of my decade-long pancake obsession (from about age 6-16) and after the last of the pancake was in me, I slanted the plate toward my face and started to lick the remaining syrup.

This was clearly not appropriate in a Southern Jersey restaurant. Okay, no jokes. In any US restaurant. We just don’t show that sort of oneness with our food.

It’s probably from our stuffy British ancestors. But in America we have certain stoic standards of eating. Plates and bowls are kept on the table. No noises should utter from our mouths, except maybe a soft mmmm.

Being a dramatic type, I will show my appreciation through an extended closing of the eyes so that I may tune out the rest of the table to fully concentrate on the bite within me. I may utter a slightly-louder-than-normal mmmm. But that’s all. That’s all we do to communicate deliciousness. Well, and tip. But that’s another story.

Meanwhile, in Japan they’ve realized eating is a full-body sport. Chopsticks become an extension of the hand in a way that sharp metal objects cannot. It is fully expected that when eating one will bring a bowl of rice or noodles up to her face. Shoveling in rice. Slurping up noodle soup.

in Eggs / Food Travel / Veggie 3 comments

by gansie

A Second Round of Heart

So Im in Osaka and I cant find the apostrophe on the keyboard so just go with it. I will tell you a quick story before we start our day here.

It was our first night in Japan. Tokyo. Fourteen fucking hour plane ride. We find the hotel, which is of course a story itself, quickly pull ourselves together and walk around our tiny section of Shinjuko. Its a maze of restaurants and bars with very little English signage.

We circle the area about six times, too scared to walk in anywhere. There are no other tourists in this area. We have not heard a lick of English. But we smell deliciousness all around and are ready to wash away the processed plane food.

We walk into a long narrow place with about 15 tables. The 20-something-year-old cooks greet us with wide smiles and something in Japanese. We smile. Show two fingers (as in there are two of us) and we are brought to a high-top.

When the waitress arrives the best we can do is bring our hands, in a cup shape to our mouth, and pretend we are drinking. We say beer. It works. We are brought out two drafts and are given menus. Everything is in Japanese. I look and laugh. 80 laughs.

We try to order and Im not even sure what we say. We just kinda giggle and our 20-something waitress with thick fake eyelashes and a scrounge in her hair giggles back. She walks away and 80 and I are like – what the fuck do we do. Fuck.

in Food Travel / Pig 9 comments

by Roo de Loo

Texas Tuesdays, Part III: Farm to Stomach

photos: Matthew Wexler

Roo de Loo’s final installment on the Austin food scene...

After several days of indulging on barbecue, breakfast tacos and margaritas, I thought I’d take a brief respite and check out Austin’s burgeoning urban farm scene before hitting the town for one final culinary rodeo.

My first stop was Springdale Farm, located just a few miles from downtown Austin. Created by landscape horticulturist Glenn Foore and his wife, Paula, the couple’s farm is just under 5 acres of land surrounded by modest homes and more than a few cars that have seen better days. There was a torrential downpour the afternoon I visited, but Glenn and Paula welcomed me with open arms and umbrellas as they stood under a leaky muslin farm stand. We chatted a bit about sustainability and the locavore scene. Glenn’s eagerness to further engage the community is apparent through Springdale’s participation in urban farm tours, on-site dinners and their own Community Supported Agriculture program.

Next stop was Boggy Creek Farm—the vision of Larry Butler and Carol Ann Sayle, who have been growing commercially since 1991. They are USDA-certified organic, which doesn’t come easy. Carol, with a wide toothy grin and sunspots from long days in the field, reminded me of a modern-day Aunt Eller, proclaiming, “We’re all about the soil, but we don’t know everything!” She enthusiastically bantered about the challenges of the small farmer as I wandered the grounds, stumbling across fresh strawberries, spring onions and some plucky chickens who found their way under my feet.

Although I hadn’t done anything more than chat up some locals and sneak a mouthful of red leaf lettuce right from the ground, I was craving a coffee break as if I had been harvesting all morning. I dashed off to nearby Progress Coffee, a hip coffeehouse located in a converted warehouse on Austin’s near east side. Progress Coffee is “fair trade, organic, shade-grown and custom-roasted by hand in small batches.” It’s so peaced-out, I think may have seen the Dali Lama at the barista making my double latté.

in Drinks / Food Travel 1 comments

by Roo de Loo

Texas Tuesdays, Part II: Who You Callin’ Trailer Trash?

Photos: Matthew Wexler

I like to sit down at a proper table when I eat. And after closing the door on fifteen years in the restaurant industry, I like to be served. Sometimes I feel the phantom pain in my side when I see a defeated waiter struggling to get through a shift—but for the most part, I’m just happy it’s not me. So the thought of traipsing through sweltering downtown Austin like my ancestors crossing the Egyptian desert with matzoh in their pants made me wary. I imagined when I set off on a food trailer crawl that I might be disappointed with greasy funnel cakes and toxic yellow lemonade. And where would I pee? What I stumbled upon is an entire subculture of dedicated food artisans leaving their tire tracks all over town.

photos: Matthew Wexler

Chasing Chi’Lantro

One of the newest additions to the food trailer scene is Chi’Lantro, a name derived from two cultural staples: kimchi and cilantro. The fusion of Korean and Mexican food had me all a Twitter, which is a good thing because it’s the only way you can track this trailer down. With locations that vary like the changing winds, I have to credit a friend’s i-phone for my spicy pork taco with Korean soy vinaigrette salad and salsa roja. I can’t get too attached though, as this newcomer is already revamping their menu along with their ever-changing locale.

Holding the Torch

Torchy’s Tacos is a benchmark of Austin’s food trailer scene. They are “living the taco dream” by serving up an array of tortilla-stuffed concoctions—from classic breakfast tacos to more daring fare like The Brushfire, filled with Jamaican jerk chicken, grilled jalapeños and diablo sauce. Founder and Executive Chef Michael Rypka mortgaged his house and maxed out a couple of credits cards in pursuit of the perfect taco. And it’s paid off. The homemade salsas were a knockout, and I have to give the guy a hats off for continuing to locally source the majority of their products and meats.

in Food Travel / Trends 5 comments

by BS

Sri Lankan Simmer: 12-Cent Train Food

Me: The 10:40 train to Hapatule, please.

Ticket Agent: The 10:40 train is cancelled, sir. 11:50 train is also cancelled. 1:00 train is cancelled. 3:30 train is cancelled. 4:00 train coming at 5:00 maybe 6:00.

Me: UGH. How come?

Ticket Agent: **Looks at me as if this is the most bizarre question he has ever been asked.**

Sorry for the uninspired headline, but I’ve left Indian and am currently traveling by train through the heartland of Sri Lanka, which is, um, a bit adventurous — in both good ways and bad.

The bad part is that the concept of a train schedule is, shall we say, overlooked. Mocked might be a more appropriate word, actually. The good part is that the countryside views are breathtaking, and the great news is that train food here makes Amtrak’s barely edible $12 sandwiches look like, well, barely edible $12 sandwiches.

in Food Travel 2 comments

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