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!

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 gazpacho conversion at Danal

Early Monday morning after JF and JA's wedding, I made my way, with some effort, to TL's apartment. It had been a hectic weekend: on Friday I had slept only few hours in order to catch the shuttle for my 8am flight from Denver International on Saturday morning; I had spent Saturday afternoon and evening with friends having dinner and partying at the beer garden in Astoria; and I had spent all of Sunday at the wedding, traveling between Hastings, NY and Chelsea for the ceremony, reception, and after-party. By the time Monday rolled around, I had gotten maybe four hours of sleep a night and was feeling dead tired. TL was wiped out too, having just returned from Vancouver that morning on a red-eye flight.

But we had errands to run, such as delivering a special package to FoodMayhem headquarters (more on that later), so before we could take a nap we had to take the train from Astoria to Union Square. After dropping off the goods with JL, we asked if she knew of a good place to get breakfast and she recommended Danal.

Danal is definitely a restaurant full of charm: the decor is very French parlor, with menus presented in picture frames and all sorts of quaint knick-knacks and decorations around. Our cozy little banquette belonged more to a house in the countryside than to a restaurant in the middle of New York City.

TL went for the poached eggs with chicken-apple sausage and hollandaise on top of an English muffin (pictured at top). I asked for the lunch special of a tomato, mozzarella, and basil sandwich paired with the soup of the day, which that morning was gazpacho. I had always dismissed the cold Spanish soup as being some kind of watered-down salsa, but this version made me completely change my perception. I loved its clean, bright flavor and lightness, and each sip made me feel rejuventated.

The other half of my lunch special was less exciting. While the sandwich had arrived warm and with marks from a panini press embedded in the bread, sometime between the press and the table the cheese had solidified again mid-ooze. Unremarkable tomatoes and a slightly tough bread didn't help matters, but in the end it wasn't a bad sandwich, just not an amazing one. And it provided just enough fuel to get me back to TL's apartment for a much-needed snooze.

San Francisco, Day 4: El Tonyayense, Pica Pica Maize Kitchen, Bi-Rite Creamery, Pagolac

Catch up! Day 1, Day 2, and Day 3

As if to make up for only eating at two places the day before, GQ, BH, and I started my fourth day in San Francisco by hitting up the Carnaval street fair in the Mission District, where there promised to be eats aplenty.

But we might have come at the wrong time, because when we showed up there was little in the way of music, parade, or costumes. Instead, we found ourselves strolling through a typical lineup of vendors, the likes of which could have been found at any street fair in the nation. I'm not sure what made us stop to get food at the El Tonyayense truck, either, but stop we did, and I decided to get an al pastor torta. I should have skipped it for something else—the bread was tough and tasted either microwaved or steamed, and the pork was much too salty and also full of gristly bits. Meh.

GQ did better with her purchase of a "maize'wich" from the Pica Pica Maize Kitchen stand, which as far as I can tell is also an actual restaurant in Napa. A thick corn pancake was split in half and filled with black beans, cheese, and marinated tomatoes, and the sweetness of the griddled pancake really worked with the salty filling.

From the street fair we wandered over to Bi-Rite Creamery, where I skipped the famed salted caramel flavor (not salty enough for my tastes) in favor of a scoop of roasted banana. This particular ice cream was delicious, tasting exactly like the fruit but even more so, if that makes any sense.

It was a long walk back from the Mission District to SoMa, and by the time we got back to GQ and BH's apartment we sat around to rest until our stomachs called out for a meal. After all the eating we had been doing, no one was in the mood for an intense meal, so of course for dinner we went to the Vietnamese restaurant Pagolac for "Seven Courses of Beef."

Yes, had we each opted for the seven courses, it would have been another insane meal, but we wisely decided to order two portions to split among the three of us. We do have limits, you know.

What you see above are the necessary elements for this kind of meal: a bowl of hot water; dried rice-flour sheets; nuoc mam; and a plate of lettuce, pickled carrots and daikon, and assorted fresh herbs.

As each new course of beef comes out, you take the rice-flour sheet, dip it into the hot water until it softens, and then use it to wrap rolls filled with the veggies and beef. Once you have a respectable roll (or at least one that won't fall apart), you're ready to go. Dip one end into nuoc mam before taking a bite.

The first of the seven courses was a plate of marinated, nearly raw beef, which was delicious. The dressing was tangy and sweet and the thinly shaved onions, herbs, and ground peanuts each added new dimensions to the dish. This beef preparation was one of two not meant to be wrapped in the rice-flour sheets.

The next course was a plate of plain raw beef, meant to be cooked shabu-shabu style in broth. When each piece was done, we wrapped them with lettuce and herbs in the rice flour sheets.

Same with the next course, which was beef painted with some kind of sauce, which we grilled at the table.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth courses came out together on one plate. They were all grilled versions of beef: a crumbly sausage, a skewer of rolled beef, and a skewer of beef that had been barbecued flat. They all sort of had the same flavor profile, but they were all good. We just kept on wrapping and eating away; our rice paper sheets and veg were refilled as requested.

The last course was a supremely comforting soup of toasted rice, beef, and scallions in a light, flavorful broth. It was the perfect end to the meal, and they were nice enough to give us three bowls for the three of us even though we had only ordered two portions.

The next morning I would be flying out of San Francisco, and I was happy to have had such a unique eating experience as my last real meal in the city. I'd have one more meal coming though, sort of….

San Francisco:
Day 1: Civic Center Farmer's Market, Bund Shanghai, Paulette, Miette, Mandalay
Day 2: Slanted Door, Ciao Bella, Acme Bread Company, Ghirardelli, Mangarosa
Day 3: Saigon Sandwich, Flying Fish Grill
Day 4: El Tonyayense, Pica Pica Maize Kitchen, Bi-Rite Creamery, Pagolac
Day 5: Lee's Sandwiches

Spring Break Shenanigans, Part 1: Braving the road for Seoul BBQ

Last month I drove to the Denver by myself to pick up TL from the airport. It's only about an hour's drive from Fort Collins, but for me, this was a big deal. Having grown up relying on NYC’s mass transit system, I didn't get my drivers’ license until age twenty-four; afterward, because I still rarely drove, I never got too comfortable with operating a vehicle. But the cost of TL renting a car from the airport was twice the cost of me renting one from Fort Collins, and so I mustered up my courage and got behind the wheel.

Turns out there are benefits to driving to the airport besides saving on the cost of car rental. For one, after the airport TL and I could drive twenty minutes to Aurora, where there is a giant HMart and authentic Korean restaurants galore.

We went to Seoul BBQ, a spacious restaurant with a shiny, modern interior. Each table had its own ventilation system, which seemed to keep the place free of the thick, meaty smoke that usually fills these types of places. Better yet, they had a great lunch special: soup, rice, and entree for $6.95, which also of course includes panchan. The selection here was pretty good: pickled cucumbers, omelette, acorn jelly, fish cakes, marinated bean sprouts, seaweed salad, and kimchi.

A bowl of turnip soup came out with the panchan, and while I'm normally not one to get too excited over these simple offerings, the clean, sweet flavor of the rich broth really hit the spot.

We got dumplings, too, and they were excellent. The dough was of perfect thickness, and they were pan-fried just enough to impart crunch and flavor. Inside, the pork and vegetable filling was juicy and well-seasoned.

We chose two different kinds of bulgogi for our main courses, a spicy pork version and the standard beef version. They each came out on a sizzling hot plate (amusingly shaped like a kneeling cow) and the meat was well marinated and beautifully charred. It was just the thing to eat with a hot bowl of rice, and TL totally cleaned up both plates after I was too full to eat anymore. It was probably one of the best meals I'd had in months. And all this for $26 bucks, including tax and tip! Totally worth my white knuckles on the steering wheel.

Spring Break Shenanigans
Part 1: Braving the Road for Seoul BBQ
Part 2: Pikes Peak donuts, Phantom Canyon Brewing Company
Part 3: Rodizio Grill, Suehiro
Part 4: Dim sum at Star Kitchen, Red Robin redux
Part 5: Farmer's Table, Han Kang Korean Restaurant

China House: Takeout for the tired

Two meals, one person. That's what happens when you come back from a ski weekend in Vail, loll about on your couch feeling too wiped out to even think about preparing food, attempt to get Chinese food delivered to your apartment, and realize there is a minimum order requirement. And the two orders of dumplings are what you add on when you also see a coupon for three dollars off orders of twenty bucks or more.

Leftovers. You can always eat the rest the next day, and the next day after that.
Plus the next day after that one, until you want to die.

The above spread was from China House, a place I knew only because a menu had once been slipped under my door. Of all the other menus that had appeared at my apartment, China House's semi-utilitarian design most closely matched what I associate with "junky Chinese takeout": red and black text, a clip-art pagoda on the front, lunch and dinner specials on the back. Exactly what I wanted.

I went for the classics: beef and broccoli and General Tso's chicken. Both were dinner specials, which means they each came with pork fried rice, an egg roll, and soup. I chose hot and sour for both.

It shouldn't have been a surprise that junky Chinese food is approximately the same across the nation, but it was. Maybe there's one giant kitchen in the middle of America; the food was no better and no worse than what I was used to getting in NYC. Jennifer 8. Lee can say a few things about that.

I had originally ordered "Chinese Donut" (whatever that is) and steamed dumplings, but after they ran my credit card they realized there were no more donuts to be had. They called me back offering cream cheese wontons, but I opted for "Dumpling Szechuan Style." As you can see, "Szechuan style" means dousing the same steamed pork dumplings in a sweet, viscous sauce—about the same sauce as the one coating the nuggets of chicken in my order of General Tso's. My two orders of dumplings also came with two large tubs of dipping sauce. Just how much sauce do dumplings need?

Altogether, this order stretched into about eight different meals: Szechuan-style dumplings for one meal, soup and steamed dumplings for another, General Tso's for three meals, and beef and broccoli for three meals. Plus those two egg rolls. Not bad, but I really don't recommend eating takeout Chinese food for that many days in a row—unless you want to feel perfectly disgusting for a long, long time.

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.

Beef and noodle nirvana

Just before noon I came home with cheese bread and bagels, and then for lunch my dad fixed me a big bowl of beef noodle soup. Good trade! Cabbage, chunks of braised beef, pickled mustard greens, and homemade noodles all floating in a savory beef broth, with a sprinkling of scallions on top. Plus a dollop of chili-garlic sauce for good measure. Yes, please.

It's really the noodles that do it for me. My dad rolls out a stiff dough and cuts out thick strips to make these extra-chewy noodles; this time he added some ground black sesame seed, which accounts for the speckles. Beef noodle soup is awesome, but I never can resist also having the noodles on their own, simply tossed with a little oyster sauce and sesame oil. I could probably eat that all day.