A remedy of Korean soup, in H Mart

The next day, after a late night celebrating Cambodian New Year, ES woke up feeling the aftereffects and requested nourishment in the form of something hot and brothy. "Pho?" I suggested. "Congee? Kimchi chigae?"

"Mmm…Korean food," he said, and, groaning, finally got out of bed and into the car to drive us to the H Mart in Aurora.

This branch of the national Korean supermarket chain has quickly become one of my favorites, both for its expanse and for the small shops and restaurants nestled inside the store itself. In addition to the grocery section, there is a branch of Dah Won Rice Cake, selling all variations of tteok; Honey Bakery, selling fresh Korean breads and pastries; a stand selling taiyaki; a stand selling house-made tofu; and our destination, a small and casual restaurant specializing in Korean homestyle cooking.

This restaurant is counter service only, and while it mostly serves stews and stir-fries, there is also a small refrigerated section with premade kimbap: the Korean version of sushi rolls, made with cooked ingredients and unseasoned rice. We picked up a tray to hold us over while waiting for our entrees, and it was quite good, with fresh-tasting rice and a good balance of flavors in the filling of cooked carrot, marinated cooked spinach, egg omelette, takuan, and pickled gourd.

ES settled in happily with his jjamppong, a giant bowl of veggies, seafood, and thick, chewy noodles floating in a spicy red broth. This always looks a lot spicier than it is, but the soup here still had a definite kick as well as a pronounced seafood flavor (in a good way).

I was happy, too, with my clay pot of bubbling soondubu—the combination of hot, spicy broth, soft tofu, assorted seafood, and cooked zucchini slices along with a bowl of steaming rice was perfect for my mood that afternoon. The mussels were a little overcooked, but not enough to prevent me from craving this dish again regularly ever since.

That day, our meal at H Mart was just enough to power ES through driving us back to Fort Collins—it wasn't long after we got back to my apartment that he crashed again. I suppose kimbap and a bowl of noodle soup can only do so much!

A broken heart, and then forgiveness, at Tao Tao Noodle Bar

We had high expectations for Tao Tao Noodle Bar, especially once we read that they were serving Taiwanese breakfast. ES had visions of beef noodle soup; I had visions of egg pancakes, salty soy milk, and sesame bing; and even better, the place was located right near ES's place in Aurora. And so we drove over one morning, entering a corner restaurant that was once a gas station, with curious outside bathrooms to match.

Alas, the menu proved to be the first setback. Neither sweet nor salty soy milk were on the menu, nor the egg pancakes I craved. I settled instead for a sesame pocket with egg, thinking that it would be a close second, but it was one of those sandwiches that wasn't anything more than the sum of its parts: a plain seeded bread—which I think wanted to be a sao bing but was breadier and had less flavor—with a fried egg inside. No salt, no sauces, no seasoning; some scallions dotted the landscape, but raised no actual flags.

Still, I allowed myself to have hope for the pork chop over rice, a classic Taiwanese dish that when done well can make even the most stoic expat nostalgic. This version wasn't likely to make anyone recall fond memories of home, however—the braised meat spooned over the rice lacked flavor; the cabbage and soy sauce egg were forgettable, and the pork chop was a mere fried and breaded piece of meat, without the distinct flavor of five-spice that defines a Taiwanese-style preparation. It wasn't bad, but I just couldn't call it a proper pork chop over rice.

By then I suspected nothing coming out of the kitchen would be that great—I'd been broken. So I wasn't surprised by the mediocre soup dumplings, which seemed like any you could buy frozen and then heat up in a steamer, or the gua bao, which suffered from skimpiness in the filling and a simple overall lack of oomph.

The meal would have been a loss had ES's bowl of beef noodle soup not saved the day. Here was a rich, layered beef broth, with springy noodles, sharp pickled mustard greens, flavorful pieces of braised beef, and pieces of perfectly cooked bok choy. With each spoonful soothing my dissatisfied heart, I forgave Tao Tao Noodle Bar a little bit, for dangling the promise of Taiwanese food so close to home but for failing to deliver how I really wanted it. Oh Tao Tao, at least we'll always have the noodles….

Seoul Garden, for cold noodles on a hot evening

TL and I, in search of late-night eats after catching a showing of (500) Days of Summer (a good flick, unless its story happens to mirror your own, in which case the movie is torturous) wound up at Seoul Garden, which was still hopping at 11pm. The night was hot and muggy and I had naengmyeon on the brain. I barely even touched the panchan when it came out—all I wanted was something cold.

I hadn't had naengmyeon in ages, but I fondly remembered the thin, intensely chewy buckwheat noodles; the icy beef broth shot through with hot mustard and citrus; and the garnishes of sliced pear, hard-boiled egg, beef, and ribbons of pickled daikon and cucumbers. The best versions I'd tried had included a handful of ice cubes or crushed ice in the broth, too. It's a strange dish, to be sure, but it's also one of the most refreshing variations of cold noodles I can think of, beating out both cold soba and hyashi chuka.

At Seoul Garden the clean-tasting beef broth was deliciously cold, tangy, and sweet, but I was surprised at how clumpy the noodles were—when the server snipped the mass of noodles in four with his scissors, they remained into four solid sections instead of collapsing out into the broth. After failing to loosen up the noodles with my chopsticks, I gave up and ate some of the clumps whole. Otherwise this version wasn't bad, and actually I kept thinking about getting my hands on another bowl for a whole week afterward. During the humid summer days of NYC, a meal of naengmyeon just can't be beat.

A square meal in Chinatown: Big Wong and Chinatown Ice Cream Factory

Did I say I was sick of Asian food? Obviously a temporary respite was all I needed, because I found myself in Chinatown's Big Wong with MH a few days later, about to dive into a giant plate of beef chow fun. You could fry a whole second meal in the oil that puddles under these noodles, but I love chow fun all the same. It's definitely one of my favorite junky indulgences; I just have to keep those indulgences at "occasional" and not "frequent."

We also got a side of veggies, the "steamed seasonal vegetables w. oyster sauce" for $3.75. The funny part was, after we ordered we tried not once but twice to change our request—we wanted a different type of veg, which at $7.50 actually cost more—but both times we were told in no uncertain terms that we'd be better off getting the dish we'd originally asked for. "Too big, too much vegetable," was the general message from both our waitress and a manager. They were each so insistent that MH and I just laughed and went with it. Oh, the joys of Chinatown!

We followed our meal with another joy of Chinatown: the Ice Cream Factory. I'd never been impressed with their popular green tea, red bean, almond cookie, or black sesame flavors—I always found that they all tasted too much like basic vanilla—but this time I got a combination of lychee sorbet and mango-papaya sorbet, and I thought they were awesome. Like the cilantro-lime sorbetti I'd had in Philadelphia, both were wonderfully fruity and refreshing. I know now that while I quickly get sick of ice cream or creamy gelatos, sorbets are a sure way to rock my world.

Philadelphia, Day 2: Ocean Harbor, Thai Chef & Noodle Fusion

Catch up! Day 1

The next day, I totally wanted to eat at this place for breakfast, but unfortunately it was too early and they were still closed. Magic kingdom of dough! Where else could I possibly want to be?

Nonetheless, I was happy to go to Ocean Harbor for dim sum instead. TL and I stepped into the large Hong Kong style restaurant just before they began serving, and waited along with everyone else for the carts to begin wheeling out of the kitchen. We had cups of hot tea to warm our hands and keep us company.

After only ten minutes or so, the dim sum started appearing. We quickly pointed to a bunch of items, knowing we were getting the freshest ones possible. Our table quickly filled up with the standards: crystal shrimp dumplings, shaomai, braised beef balls, fried rice-flour dumplings filled with ground pork, and fried taro dumplings filled with ground pork. I thought they were all pretty good, though the fried items were definitely a bit on the greasy side.

We couldn't pass up on the rice noodle rolls (can you tell I can't get enough of those things?), so we ordered a beef roll and a shrimp roll. I also asked for what the woman told me was soup dumplings, but I should have known better. They were terrible specimens, with thick skins, no soup inside, and a bland, heavy filling of pork. Of all the dim sum we ordered, that was the only real clunker.

After breakfast we decided to make the uber-touristy move of taking a Ride the Ducks tour, which turned out to be, well, not super fun, but not bad either. The best part was being in the water. If our guide hadn't hated the world so much, it probably would have been a better tour.

Once the tour ended we made our way to the College of Physicians of Philadelphia's Mütter Museum, which was full of really creepy medical specimens like preserved human brains and a collection of foreign objects that had been removed from people's bodies. Fascinating stuff, though I actually felt kind of sick to my stomach after seeing some of the items in that museum. But this is a food blog, not a gross-out blog, so I won't get into it.

We had just enough time before our bus departure to have a quick meal before leaving. After trying to find something in the food no-man's-land immediately around the museum, we walked all the way to Continental Midtown only to be informed that they were between lunch and dinner service, and so wouldn't be able to feed us. We ended up backtracking to a whimsically decorated restaurant called Thai Chef & Noodle Fusion. (Their business card invites you to "Please Visit our Under Sea Dining" with the suggestion that "Maybe you Want to Jump into the Sea." Maybe, indeed.)

My pad see ew came with a significant amount of vegetable, far more than I'm used to with this dish. The sliced carrots, red and green peppers, and shredded cabbage certainly made the noodles healthier and more colorful, but I think I prefer my beef, rice noodles, broccoli, and egg unadorned. It was pretty good otherwise though, and the dish came in a hefty portion for its price.

Noodles noshed, there was little else to do but walk to the Bolt Bus departure area. TL and I were both really beat, and though I managed to take advantage of the free WiFi for a little while, it was only a matter of time before I passed out. When I woke again we were in Manhattan, with Philadelphia far behind us.

Philadelphia:
Day 1: Reading Terminal Market, DiNic's, Miller's Twist, Capogiero, Vietnam Palace
Day 2: Ocean Harbor, Thai Chef & Noodle Fusion

Before the bus, breakfast at Fuji Bakery

When TL and I realized that we had a weekend free, we decided to take off for Philadelphia for a few days. Maybe it's silly to return to NYC for three weeks only to leave it for somewhere else, but impromptu trips are pretty hard for me to resist.

Before boarding the Bolt Bus (which is now my bus of choice, by the way), we stopped to have breakfast at Fuji Bakery, one of the few places selling Asian baked goods in Midtown. Guess we were hungry—we ordered a hot dog bun, a pineapple bun, two roast pork buns, and two egg custard tarts, all of which were fresh and warm.

I also couldn't resist ordering a "shrimp rice roll" from the breakfast special menu…I think I was still remembering the pork version I'd eaten in Flushing. This one wasn't nearly as good: the rice noodle was thicker, the shrimp were small, and the rolls had clearly been waiting around in the steamer for a while. Still, even when these items aren't freshly made, they're pretty good. I thought it was a pretty satisfying breakfast.

Flushing never fails

Flushing is full of so many delicious things that I can't stand it sometimes.

Take the ground-level booth of Corner 28 restaurant, for instance. They gained a lot of popularity for their dollar Peking Duck sandwiches, but now they're also selling what they advertise as "rice wrap" and "made to order steam rice roll."

Whatever it is, when you tell the woman your choice of beef, pork, roast pork, or baby shrimp, she spreads some out onto a metal tray, pours a thin slurry of rice flour and water over it, and pops the whole thing into a steamer. A minute later, she pulls out the tray to reveal a sheet of soft, bouncy rice noodle embedded with whatever protein you chose (pork, above). Using a spatula, she scrapes this sheet off of the tray and into a small styrofoam container, where it's ready to be better than the best dim sum treat you've ever had. The noodle is perfectly textured and the pork lends awesome flavor. It might not have even needed the container of soy sauce it came with, but I poured it on anyway and regretted my decision not one bit. For one full container, I paid a mere $1.50.

And then there's the cumin-spiked lamb sandwich from the basement of Golden Shopping Mall, which I picked up at X'ian Famous Foods and ate on the train. Sure, the filling was way too salty, and the lamb bits too heavy on the gristle, but where else, for $2.50, can you get such a hefty, unique, flavor-packed sandwich?

Even cold, the giant, floppy egg pancake from one of the stands next to Mayflower Cafe and Bakery was tasty, and it was no more than a dollar or so. I wish I had better directions for where to get this one, but that's how Flushing is to me: a place where you wander around, coming across unexpected pockets of deliciousness, and eating your finds in full enjoyment of the moment. I wouldn't have it any other way.

A go-to meal at Saigon Grill

At certain restaurants I tend to order the same dish every time I go. It's probably because I've discovered something satisfying there, and then I go to that restaurant knowing that that particular dish is what I'm in the mood for. Most of the time I like exploring menus, but sometimes I just want to eat and not experiment.

Saigon Grill is one of those places. Every time I go, I order the goi banh cuon, varying only in my choice of either chicken, shrimp, or beef to top the mound of steamed rice noodles. The marinated, grilled protein arrives beneath a heap of chopped peanuts, and it's served with a generous amount of veg (pickled cucumbers, shredded lettuce, bean sprouts, and basil), as well as a cup of nuoc cham sauce for dipping. It's not so much that Saigon Grill has the best version available, but rather that here it is the most accessible (I don't see this dish on too many other menus) and it is speedy and inexpensive. Those factors combined have had me ordering this dish at Saigon Grill for years. Years to come, too, probably.

Korean-Chinese comfort food at Hyo Dong Gak

If it's not a full-on crawfish boil, another excellent thing for an Asian-food deprived girl to come home to is a plate of dumplings and a large bowl of jajangmyeon. I'd ordered practically the same meal at Shanghai Mong the last time I was in NYC, but this time TL and I were at Hyo Dong Gak, which I remembered from previous meals as being better.

The thin-skinned fried dumplings, filled with a savory mixture of juicy ground pork and chives, were huge and delicious. The ones I had at Seoul BBQ in Aurora, CO might have a slight edge—I dug that those were pan-fried instead of deep-fried—but I definitely enjoyed these a lot. Dumplings, fried: what's not to like, really?

TL's tasty chicken fried rice came with a bowl of fiery red soup, and unlike a lot of Korean dishes that appear to be spicier than they are, this one actually singed the tongue. We were both too wimpy to drink it and so left it mostly untouched.

As for the jajangmyeon, the noodles here were bouncy and resilient, and the sauce (which came on the side instead of on top) was richly flavored with bits of pork. There was so much of the sauce left that I took the rest of it home, mixing it into rice for another version of the meal. Over noodles is the ideal, but over rice ain't bad, either.

Noodle necessities at Bann Thai

Until Bann Thai (warning: music plays on website), I hadn't had very good luck with the Thai restuarants in Fort Collins. First, there was the non-pad thai at Lulu's Asian Bistro, followed by laughably bad pad see-ew and pad thai at Toy's Thai. The pad-see ew at Thai Pepper was even worse, though the pad thai was decent. And things were a little better at Sri Thai, but not by much.

It wasn't until I ate at Ti Bar that things started really looking up. And now that I've gone to Bann Thai a few times, I can rest easy knowing that I have not one, but two places to get a good plate of Thai-style noodles.

On a rainy evening after catching a late-afternoon screening of Sunshine Cleaning (great movie by the way), four of us ducked into cozy little Bann Thai, all of us there for the first time. We each ordered green tea, which came bagged, and in individual, Western-style teapots. While I liked the fact that I could refresh my cup at will, the tea was noticeably lacking in flavor and body. If it hadn't been chilly outside, I would have definitely opted for a Thai iced coffee or tea instead.

To start, we got an order of the cream cheese wontons, which were as good as you might expect when you're deep-frying cream cheese. The wrapper was greaseless, the sweet chili dipping sauce appropriate, and it was altogether a pleasant little appetizer.

The menu said that guay teaw kua was "wide rice noodles stir-fried with egg, pickled radish, green onion flavored with soy sauce, topped with crispy egg noodles, served with lettuce." I wasn't sure what to expect from that description; it was the "topped with crispy egg noodles" part that got me—I assumed they would only be a garnish. So when my dish arrived, I was surprised by the heaping amount on top; clearly the noodles were meant to be a main ingredient.

And as an ingredient, they worked quite well, though I felt like a bit of a blob afterward for eating such an oil-saturated dish: the crisp strands lent the soft, elastic rice noodles a nice textural contrast. Plus, I'm not sure how they seasoned it, but the flavor of the dish overall (I asked for mine to be made with pork) was pretty addictive.

Several weeks later I was back again, this time with MC and a friend of hers. I'd already nabbed bites of the very serviceable pad thai last time, and I wanted to try out the pad see-ew. It was pretty good, though like the guay teaw kua it wasn't made with the very broad rice noodles I love the most (haven't seen that yet in Fort Collins at all, actually).

In short: for pad see-ew, Bann Thai. For pad thai, Thai Pepper/Ti Bar (they share a kitchen) or Bann Thai. Whew—I don't have to go without my two beloved noodle dishes after all!

Meandering in Montreal, Part 2: Le Taj, Fairmount Bagels, Le Cheval, and Pho 32 revisited

Catch up here! Meandering in Montreal, Part 1


AS had announced his desire to try one of the numerous Indian buffets in the area, so the next morning after checking out of the hotel we headed to Le Taj for lunch, a large open restaurant with high ceilings and uncrowded tables. The price for the buffet was something around $12, and boasted a good selection of dishes for both vegetarians and non-vegetarians.

Here's my plate. From what I can remember, there's lamb curry, fish curry, a samosa, lentils, tandoori chicken, string beans, eggplant and potato curry, a fritter, pickled cabbage, and curried cauliflower on there. Except for the fried goods which were too greasy, most items were fresh, well-balanced, and of good quality; the naan, which usually gets dried out on buffet steam tables, was fluffy and moist too. I especially enjoyed the fish curry made with tender hunks of salmon, a fish that was a surprisingly good match for the strong flavors and spices.

I was surprised by the dessert table too, which had really fresh gulab jamun (still hot and crisp-edged despite its syrup soak), mildly sweet, moist squares made with semolina flour, and kheer, a creamy Indian rice pudding flavored with rosewater and cardamom. At most buffets you don't get this many dessert options.

Not sure of what else to do, we found ourselves back on Rue Mont-Royal, hoping that a stroll in the daytime would prove less frigid than our nighttime sprint. After walking around for a while we headed to Fairmont Bagels, a Montreal institution for the boiled-and-baked good. It was crowded both inside and out, with orders being rapidly placed and filled at the narrow counter. I made my way to the front and asked for a dozen: half everything, three onion, and three poppy seed.

(I didn't taste them until I got home, but when I did was terribly disappointed. I'd heard so much about the unique, Montreal-style bagel, and expected something pretty extraordinary. After toasting one of them to restore its crust, I bit into the bagel and found myself with a mouthful of bland, vaguely chewy bread. Later, when I examined the bag, I saw the words "salt-free." Let me just say this: these bagels need some salt, and the much-touted Montreal-style bagel is just not great. Sorry.)

It's been said that no visit to Montreal is complete without poutine, and we weren't about to miss out. Unfortunately, the place I had wanted to try—Patati Patata—was filled to the brim with other poutine-noshers and for the four of us, simply too crowded to attempt. After trying desperately to look up other good options in the area, we gave up and headed to Casino de Montreal as planned, hoping that in one of its restaurants the dish would be on offer.

It seemed like a miss at first until I spotted the little placard sitting on the bar at Le Cheval, one of the snack and bar areas roped off from the rest of the casino. Poutine wasn't available on its own, but could be purchased as part of a set meal including either one or two hot dogs and a drink. We went for the deal.

I'm sure this wasn't the best version I could have tried, or even anywhere close. The fries were frozen, the thin gravy probably canned, and the cheese curds soft and tasteless, melting in a way that was completely unlike the fresh, squeaky curds I had envisioned. Still, it gave me a taste of what I might be looking for. And according to TL, TVD, and AS, the hot dogs were decent too.

After that, we headed out. We crossed the border successfully, drove six hours a little less successfully due to the administration of a speeding ticket, and finally reached Manhattan near midnight, starving.

Where else but K-town to satisfy a late-night dinner craving? We headed straight for Pho 32 & Shabu, where one server alone was handling the entire restaurant. At that hour, there weren't many people in there, but nearly all the empty tables were piled high with abandoned plates and food because he didn't have enough time to clear them. It looked as if people had been called out of the restaurant for a sudden fire drill.

TL and I split an order of the fried chicken dumplings, which had the exact shape and filling as the Ling Ling brand potstickers I wrote about. I'm almost positive they are the same—just look at 'em! I should start frying my own.

I got pho with extra meatballs, and it was perfect. Not a perfect bowl of pho—the broth was weak, the herbs and vegetation pitiful, and there were too many onions and not enough noodles—but a perfect thing to eat on a cold night after a long drive home. Something about parting ways after a trip always seems sad to me, so I was glad to have a final meal with AS and TVD before TL and I headed back to Astoria. Even then, I was sorry to say goodbye.