Rohm: Old faces, new Thai

MW and VS and I hadn't hung out since our fiction class ended nearly two years ago, and we decided it was high time for a mini-reunion of sorts. At JL's suggestion, we decided to meet up at Rohm Thai for a catch-up dinner. It's right by my office, and I realized when I arrived that I had eaten there when it was another restaurant, also Thai. The decor was sleeker and the menu was different, but it was the same space.

It was early and so the place was quite peaceful, making it a good spot for all of us to chat. I liked my duck pad see-ew, though it came with regular broccoli florets instead of Chinese broccoli, and didn't include as much egg as I would have liked. As you can see, the duck was pretty much Chinatown roast duck hacked into pieces and laid on top of the rice noodles. It was pretty tasty though—not too sweet, as I've complained about at other places before, and with a decent depth of flavor. With its low prices and good-sized portions, Rohm seems to be a respectable choice for Thai in this neighborhood, and an upgrade from the previous restaurant that occupied the space. I wonder if I should test out their pad thai?

For conquering cravings, only City Bakery will do

I'm generally not into sweets, but sometimes I get intense cravings for cookies. Chewy, buttery, sugar-and-chocolate-filled cookies.

And when you have the good (or bad, depending on how you look at it) fortune of working within easy walking distance of City Bakery, the choice for where to get such a one is easy. The above chocolate chip cookie has edges that are just a bit crisp, and a thin, crackly outside layer that gives way to an almost gooey center. Each bite floods your mouth with brown sugar, butter, and rich, melty chocolate.

This cookie is so intensely sweet and decadent I can't tackle one without a mug of strong black coffee on hand, and even then I can only eat about a third, verrrry slowly, before my tastebuds give up and die. One cookie lasts me about three days, and I end up satisfied for a good long while.

I also occasionally pick up one of City Bakery's whole wheat croissants, which I like better than their famous pretzel croissant. (They actually seem exactly the same to me, aside from a bit more salt and a smattering of sesame seeds on the pretzel version.) The flaky crusts of City Bakery's croissants give way to interiors that are dense and doughy and fragrant with butter, and though they can be a bit greasy, they're the best I've found in the area.

Chicago at the Shack of Shake

I took one bite of this "Shack-cago dog" from Shake Shack, just to see what it was about. I've never had a true Chicago dog so I don't know how this one compares, but aside from a glut of mustard, the other additions (relish, onion, cucumber, pickle, tomato, sport pepper, and celery salt) were a pretty good combination with the beefy, juicy sausage and poppy seed–speckled bun.

All in all though, I was much more into the fries, which were perfectly crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside, and full of hearty potato flavor. I'd had these fries before with cheese on top, but I realized after trying them plain this time—without even ketchup!—that eating them naked is the way to go. Um, the fries I mean.

Mantou and baozi shīfu

If you thought the cooking in my family was only done by my mom and my brother, I'd like ya'll to meet the mantou shīfu, aka my dad. My dad and I are really into bread, and I've grown up loving his steamed breads, both plain and meat/vegetable filled (I've mentioned them before here). Since they're steamed and not baked, they don't have much of a crust save for a thin outer skin; each is mainly fluffy dough.

Soft, springy, unfilled mantou sops up sauces perfectly, and are great with meat and fish dishes as an alternative to rice or noodles; the stuffed baozi make excellent breakfasts or snacks on their own. Several weekends ago I spent an afternoon with my dad, making several batches of each.

Okay, so we made a lot.


Making baozi: rolling out the dough round, plopping filling in the middle, pinching the dough together in a series of pleats until the baozi is sealed.


Rolling and cutting out the mantou.

Meat-filled baozi, freshly steamed!

Yum.

I've wanted my dad's recipe for mantou for a long time now, and so as I helped him that afternoon I took some notes. Below is just a rough sketch of my dad's recipe, as he tends to improvise most of the time, figuring out what the recipe needs more by observation and feel. He also sometimes adds in oats or cornmeal or other grains, depending on his mood and what's in the pantry, so each batch tends to have a different character. But this is the basic idea...enjoy!

Mantou
*This is roughly what my dad does, and I haven't tried this recipe on my own. Consider this more reference than anything else.

1 pack active dry yeast (1/4 oz)
1 1/3 cups lukewarm water
2 tablespoons cooking oil
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
1 egg
5 cups all-purpose wheat flour or bread flour

Stir yeast into the lukewarm water and let sit for five minutes. Add oil, salt, sugar, and egg; stir well, and then incorporate the flour. This should create a soft dough.

Knead until smooth, and then let the dough rise until doubled in size, about 1 to 3 hours depending on the room temperature.

Roll the dough out into a log with a diameter of about 2.5 inches. Using a sharp knife, cut into 2 inch pieces (it should make around 20), and let rise again for at least 30 minutes.

Steam for 20-25 minutes, and then eat!

*For baozi, you can use the same recipe for dough as above. I don't have a recipe for the meat filling my dad used, but I assume anything you would use for dumplings would do.

For the full set of photos, click here.

Making (up) with Murray's

If you remember my post about the experience I had with the Making with Murray's class at Murray's Cheese Shop, here's an update! A few days ago I finally received an email from Taylor—the Classroom Coordinator at Murray's—with "My Sincerest Apologies" as the subject heading. After apologizing for not responding earlier, she (very thoroughly) answered all of my concerns, some of which I realize had come out of my own misunderstanding. When I looked at the description again, I could see how while it could be read as being a hands-on class (when AT had emailed it to several of us, we had all made the same assumption), it had also really never stated that the class would be as such. As for the five person vs. twenty person bit, I think I had misunderstood the idea of "five spots remaining" as "five spots total."

Oh, don't say it. I know I'm a moron.

But then! Despite much of the issue being due to my own careless reading, Taylor very graciously invited me (and a guest) back for another class. I passed it up at first since I felt like it was my own fault, but she wrote back again and shoot, it's cheese, am I really supposed to resist CHEESE? So yah. I'm goin' back. Murray's, you've won me again with your stinky, nutty charm.

Noodling at Marco Polo; dubious dim sum at X. O. Cafe

Given SYB's fondness for the noodles with Peking sauce at Marco Polo Noodle Shop, it was only a matter of time before he and I, out of ideas for where to go one evening, would end up there for dinner.

Once seated, SYB didn't even bother reaching for a menu; this was a man with a plan. When his order of noodles arrived (along with some fried dumplings), I watched with amusement as he stirred in the thick, sweet, porky sauce with almost ritual meticulousness, making sure each strand was evenly coated. Then he dug in. After trying a bite, I understood why he liked the dish so much: the slightly spicy bowl of warm and chewy noodles was true comfort food.

I spotted another woman eating a bowl of what looked like wide knife-shaved noodles at the next table, and suggested to SYB that he try ordering his Peking sauce on top of those for a change. But though he nodded, I doubt he's going to take me up on that idea anytime soon.

As for me, I got beef chow fun, because I love that stuff. Well, except for when it is super greasy and makes me feel disgusting afterwards…like this one did.

So afterwards, we decided to get dessert. Y'know, a little sweetness to chase away the salt and oil. At X.O. Cafe & Grill a few blocks away, I ordered this black sesame shake, as well as two other items to share:

"Nut-filled glutinous rice dumplings," which are small mochi balls filled with sweetened black sesame paste, rolled in coconut shreds and chopped peanuts…

…and from the "Special Dim Sum" menu, these taro dumplings. Which turned out to be wholly unlike what I had envisioned. Actually, they were unlike anything I had envisioned ever, unless you include the egg sacs of aliens. I mean seriously. Do they not look like pods for some kind of freaky spawn?

After poking at the trio with my spoon (they didn't start moving), I hefted one onto my plate and cut the damn thing open. Out oozed its sweet, pasty guts. I bravely popped a piece into my mouth and chewed. And it was…well, it was okay. I wasn't eating unformed alien offspring, but the tapioca skin was completely without taste and the taro filling wasn't sweet enough to balance it out. And after I watched SYB slurp one into his mouth whole, leaving a sticky coating of tapioca goo across his lips, I was just done, completely and without question, for the night.

On the way out I spotted this sign taped above the beverage listings, which amused me. Though you serve me alien dumplings, I will always love you Chinatown.

Hype-free high at Momofuku Ko

By now, there have been many, many posts written about Momofuku Ko, ranging the gamut from utter elation (over the food) to utter frustration (over the maddening reservation system) to utter snarkiness (over possible ko-nniving). As I caught bits and pieces of the madness, and listened to the laments of friends unable to gain a reservation, I shrugged my shoulders and wrote the whole thing off as hype. "Ehhh, there are so many amazing restaurants in this city—why try so hard for this one place?" was my attitude.

But I kept hearing more and more about Ko, and one after another the reviews were coming back full of starry-eyed praise. I went to the site, curious to see how the system worked. Before I knew it I had registered my email address and credit card number, and then I was there with the rest of food-obsessed New York City, clicking away at the refresh button to see what would happen.

I didn't get a seat, of course. Unlike the seemingly blessed VI, who so far has managed to score a reservation not one or two but three times, my initial attempts didn't reward me with any kind of gratification. I clicked onto the site a few times a day for about a week, resigned to being shown a screen of red X's, by the end doing it more out of habit than hope.

But of course there was an end. Just before I left work a few Fridays ago, a text message blinked up on my phone. "Do you want to go to Ko with me tomorrow?" my friend JSK had sent. This was a complete surprise—I had never talked about Ko with him before, and I had no idea he had even been interested in going.

"YES WHEN? I've been trying to get reservations!" I texted back immediately.

"6:30—call you later," he typed in reply, and that was that. We were on.

The next day, after spending the afternoon being photographed for People (hee hee) and bumming around SoHo—I met a bunch of folks from Mercer Kitchen while I rested on a stoop, which was fun—I joined up with JSK in Union Square to walk over to the restaurant. We confused our destination for the noodle bar at first, but we weren't the only ones; when we entered, a couple ahead of us was also asking where to find Ko. The patient hostess directed all of us further down the block.

Shortly after we got settled and placed our beverage requests, two crisp shards of housemade chicharrón (essentially fried pork rinds) were set down in front of us. Moments later, two mini english muffins griddled with pork fat and topped with chives appeared as well.

The taste-fest had begun!

Our second course ("Raw"), consisted of scallops with dehydrated soy sauce and pickled grapes for me, and fluke in a spicy buttermilk sauce with chives and poppy seeds for JSK. I didn't know why I had been given the scallops while JSK received the fluke, but I was grateful, as the scallops were amazing (it wasn't until midway through the meal that I was able to stop thinking about them). Fresh, cool scallop; sweet, jellied grapes; crunchy, salty soy sauce—the textures and flavors were extraordinary in combination. Yes, yes, I gave some to JSK of course—we ended up sharing everything pretty much evenly whenever we received something different—but damn, those scallops were a hard last bite to part with.

As we waited for our third course, we watched the chefs before us at work. This is definitely one of the charms of eating at Momofuku Ko: the ability to observe all the dishes being prepped and plated in front of you. In this case, it was raw oysters. Aw, shucks.

The oysters made their appearance in our "Soup" course: Berkshire pork belly, oysters, and napa cabbage in kimchi consommé for JSK; spring pea soup with crawfish and a nugget of yuba-wrapped morels for me. I was getting curious about how the chefs were choosing who was getting what—as we were always respectively addressed as "the lady" and "the gentleman," my best guess is that they offer their lighter dishes to women—but in any case I was supremely happy with my creamy, bright-tasting pea soup. I tried a spoonful of the kimchi consommé, and thought it interesting in concept but ultimately too salty.

The next course ("Egg") is where my fortune turned and JSK was awarded the better of the two. A smoked egg with caviar over soubise, accompanied by teeny potato chips, was set down in front of him; I was given a chawan mushi with cashews, asparagus, and caviar, drizzled with argan oil. The silky, nutty chawan mushi was great, but despite excellent ingredients still seemed a bit ordinary; meanwhile, the rich, briny smoked egg dish felt both playful and inventive, like breakfast potatoes and eggs gone high-end mad. JSK all but licked his plate clean.

We both got the same thing for "Pasta": an open ravioli of porcini mushrooms and snails topped with asparagus, "toasted ricotta milk," and some kind of foam. I wasn't keen on the chalky texture of the toasted ricotta, but overall it was quite good.

Our "Seafood" course was also the same for both of us, half of a soft-shell crab with "celery noodles" and ramps in an Old Bay broth. After tackling this dish, I'm finally ready to admit that I'm just not a fan of soft-shell crab. I'd told myself for years that the thin-skinned crustacean was the epitome of awesome, ignoring the fact the its sharp casings scraped against my throat and that there wasn't ever enough meat to balance this unpleasantness out; it was the idea of being able to eat an entire crab whole that blinded me to how little I actually enjoyed the experience. As this particular specimen hadn't been fried, the shell was especially tough, and the pool of Old Bay broth was much too salty. This was one of the few dishes I didn't finish entirely.

Next up was the "Foie" course, probably the most acclaimed of all of Ko's offerings, consisting of foie gras shavings over lychee, reisling gelée, and pine nut brittle. JSK put one spoonful of this concoction into his mouth and didn't say a word. Moments later, he started to giggle in pure delight. I understood his giddiness after I, too, tried a bite, and our joy lasted throughout the rest of the course. Each spoonful melded fluffy, savory, unctuous fat with sweet, cool lychee, fragrant jelly, and a fine shatter of brittle. It was sensational and delicious and eye-opening.

The "Meat" course was a ramp-filled chicken roulade with baby turnips and zucchini for me, and deep-fried, marinated short rib with braised daikon, grilled ramps, and pickled mustard seed for JSK. You can see from the picture how awesomely fatty the ribs were; that and the sweet, complex marinade made them taste like they might be the best ribs you'll ever have, ever. I was into the pickled mustard seed too, which I'd never encountered before. The roulade was quite good too, but next to the ribs, beef was the clear winner.

Our "Pre" was a cantaloupe sorbet with cashew butter for JSK and an Arnold Palmer sorbet with dehydrated tea cake for me. I found the Arnold Palmer too sweet and the bits of tea cake too hard, but the cantaloupe was amazing—the smooth, cool sorbet tasted like the essence of the fruit intensified and went perfectly with the rich, slightly crunchy nut paste.

And then finally, "Dessert": fried apple pie with sour-cream ice cream and toasted miso paste for JSK; "cereal milk" panna cotta with corn flakes, chocolate, and avocado cream for me. After all the food that had come before this, my one bite of the pie tasted overwhelmingly heavy (I think it might have been fried in pork fat). I was more into the panna cotta, which was set off nicely by the salty avocado and crunchy corn flakes.

So as you might have guessed, I was really happy with my meal. Ko had definitely lived up to all its hype, and while I usually don't splurge this much, when I consider the food we were served and the intimacy of the 2.5 hour experience I think $85 is really quite a bargain. Both of us left Ko that night in extremely high spirits: I, drunk with food-love, and JSK, who had done the wine pairing—well, just drunk.

Plain Jane

While we pored over the menu at Jane, RL agreed with me that the roasted chicken plate was probably one of the more boring choices on offer. Nonetheless, I wasn't in the mood for anything elaborate and chicken, classically prepared, seemed the most appealing.

I asked for my dish to come with a simple green salad instead of garlic mashed potatoes, and was treated to a substantial (as much as a pile of lettuce can be substantial) mesclun salad with a light coating of vinaigrette. This went perfectly with the tender and flavorful roasted organic chicken and the asparagus spears, both of which demonstrated the beauty of good ingredients prepared well. Roasted chicken might have been a dull choice, but dull—that night—was exactly what I wanted.