Noods, cukes, and nori

I probably eat cold buckwheat noodles at least once a week. Since I first learned how to prepare them from my friend SO a year or two ago, they've become a standard meal, one that I can have ready for consumption in less than fifteen minutes. SO's version involves only soba noodles, chopped scallions, wasabi, and soba sauce, but I've added a few more ingredients over time, such as roasted nori and grated cucumber. The chewy noodles, mingled with shreds of cucumber and nori and flavored with the cold, sweet, ocean-edged broth, make a perfectly refreshing and satisfying repast.

The preparation is simple: 1) Boil the soba for six minutes; rinse with cold water and then drain. 2) Pour about half a cup of dipping sauce into a small bowl; mix in about a teaspoon of wasabi (or more/less depending on your preference). 3) Top noodles with grated cucumber, scallions, and roasted nori. To eat, pour the soba sauce over the noodles, or dip each mouthful as you go. If you reserve the water you've boiled the noodles in, you can pour some into the remaining sauce to create a flavorful hot soup, a perfect ending to the meal.

Dried noodles, dipping sauce, wasabi, and roasted nori can be kept on hand in the pantry, and around my way scallions and cucumbers are easy to obtain at a moment's notice. I usually keep containers of chopped scallion, grated cucumber, and shredded nori around, so when I feel like eating this dish all that really needs to be done is to boil the noodles. It's perfect for when I come home from work starving and want to eat something tasty, quick.

All you need, minus the scallions.

This dish is flexible, too. The noodles pictured at the top are actually Korean buckwheat noodles, the kind typically used for naengmyeon. I like these because they are extremely chewy. I've also used black rice noodles, arrowroot noodles, and a few brands of Chinese buckwheat noodles, all of which yield the same resilient, bouncy texture (Japanese soba is slightly less chewy, and with a bit of grit). The only difference with using these other noodles is that the cooking time is much shorter, about two or three minutes instead of six. As long as you cook each type properly, almost any kind of thin noodle will work.

I used to make this dish heavy on the noodles, but now I add a lot of the grated cucumber instead to bulk it up without the extra calories. For those interested, here's the math: one bundle soba (350), five ounces grated cucumber (20), four ounces dipping sauce (40), one tablespoon scallions (2), one teaspoon wasabi (15), roasted nori (about 20). About 450 calories and 3 grams of fat, for a large, very filling bowl of refreshing noodle goodness.

Cookie Monster would be proud

The day after the fondue party, I took a long stroll up Steinway Street, hoping the walk would help burn off some of that cheese. But at 28th Avenue I found Laziza Sweets, a bakery with an enormous assortment of Middle Eastern pastries…and I ended up walking out with a styrofoam tray of picks from the display cases. I don't know the names of any of them, but here's what I got, clockwise from top:

1) a pistachio-filled, honey-soaked nest of shredded wheat
2) a nut-filled cookie
3) a plain cookie with a soft, sweet, smudgy coating
4) a doughnut-shaped, date-filled cookie
5) a date-filled cookie that reminded me of a Chinese mooncake
6) the same nut-filled cookie as above but with powdered sugar dusted over it
7) a plain crescent scented with cardamom

I ate these over several days. Like the Moroccan-ish cookies I had made several months ago, all had that particular tender texture that comes from using oil in the dough instead of butter. Excluding the pistachio pastry, they had good level of sweetness too. The one pictured on the right surprised me, as the filling was really a nutty, crumbly dough—something like a cookie wrapped in cookie. Everything I bought tasted very fresh, so if you're looking for some quality Middle Eastern sweets, Laziza is a good bet.

A Swiss fulfilled

Up until two weeks ago, despite my intense, undying love of cheese, I'd never had fondue. Oh, I'd fantasized about it for years, mentally drooling over the idea of dipping crusty bread and other tasty morsels into a large pot of melted cheese as a meal. And I'd contemplated having a fondue party many times. But I could never seem to find someone willing to seek out the dish in a restaurant with me, and it seemed like too many of my friends were lactose intolerant for a party to be feasible.

But after successfully convincing DL, AT, and RA to take a Cheese 101 class at Murray's with me, I began suspecting that I had more curd-enthusiast friends than I realized. And after another friend unexpectedly agreed to accompany me on a tour of Murray's underground caves, I was sure of it. In fact, the more I talked about cheese, the more cheese-lovers seemed to come out of the (caves).

The idea of hosting a dinner began ripening again. I knew it was time for me to lose my fondue innocence.

Once I chose the date and invited a few friends, I picked a basic recipe from this article, serendipitously published several weeks after I decided to have the dinner. From there I also learned that there was no need to use a specialized fondue set, when an enamel-lined cast-iron pot worked perfectly well. As I already had the pot, I had to only purchase a few sets of forks and I was set.

There's about two and a half pounds of cheese in the picture above: a little more than a pound of cave-aged gruyere, and the rest emmental.

For appetizers, I laid out red grapes, cornichons, pickled herring, country pâté, and some thin slices of toasted bread.

After everyone had arrived, I brought out the rest of the spread: apple chunks; cubes of toasted bread; steamed and quartered red potatoes; lightly steamed broccoli and cauliflower; sliced sun-dried tomato sausage and chicken-apple sausage; roasted red pepper meatballs. The fondue itself took only about fifteen minutes on the stove, and was surprisingly adaptable—when I decided that the cheese was too thick, I simply added several more glugs of white wine and it was fine. Once the sauce was smooth and melted, I brought the pot out to the table.

It was time to dig in!

Sausage chunk, and underneath that cheese hides a potato. Yum.

My first bite of fondue, after so many years of expectation, was everything I'd hoped it to be. My cube of bread emerged from the pot wrapped in creamy, nutty cheese and the combination, once deposited in my mouth, was divine. It was rich, funky, chewy, savory, delicious. As I tried out the other dipping options, I came to the happy conclusion that almost everything can be improved by a coat of melted cheese.

Fondue is a surprisingly stress-free meal to put together. Almost all of the accompaniments can be prepped in advance, leaving only the fondue to heat on the stove once guests have arrived. And if you're not baking your own bread, as I did, it gets even easier. With "grate" friends and conversation as the final ingredients, there's no better "whey" to throw a party. :)

Recipe:
"Classic Fondue," The New York Times

Duck, duck, greet

After many emails back and forth and one near-mixup with dates, RL, DW, and I finally met up at Amazing 66 two weeks ago for a business lunch of sorts. As the essay and fiction editors of a new literary journal, we had all been communicating over email for some time, but RL and DW had yet to meet each other in person. A meal of Peking Duck seemed like a fine activity over which to have a meet 'n' greet. What better ice-breaker than stuffing your face with roasted fowl while savory fat drips down your elbow?

Not that I was the one who planned it, or anything. All I did was suggest.

As the sole Mandarin speaker, RL and DW stuck me with placing our order with the waiter. I asked for the Peking Duck right off, not knowing how long it would take them to prepare it. And though I had assured RL the night before that I would not be partaking in any pan-fried-noodlery, RL and DW agreed on an order with beef anyway, which came out promptly.

So did our Chinese broccoli in garlic sauce, which we had ordered to make it a "healthy" meal.

They also brought out a bowl of soup for each of us. The clear broth was earthy, almost medicinal, and slightly sweet from dried red dates. It struck me as being an unusual choice to include with the meal (no wonton, no egg drop?) but maybe that's an indicator of the restaurant's focus on Chinese palates.

We made our way through the soup, the veg, and the noodles...and then finally, out came the Peking Duck. There was some surprise when we realized we were getting a full instead of a half, but our "dismay" quickly disappeared as the waiter efficiently transformed the whole roasted bird into a pile of juicy meat and crispy skin.

Check the cleaver action, yo.

As we began stuffing the soft pockets of steamed mantou with roasted duck, hoisin sauce, and slivers of cucumber and scallion, all editorial conversation stopped entirely. Amazing 66 doesn't serve the finest version of Peking Duck I've ever had, but it was certainly better than what I've gotten in many other restaurants (ducks soggy and thick with un-rendered fat, the entire point of the dish undermined).

(See those elbows in the picture? Our friends SYB and VI, who randomly appeared at the restaurant! I'd say they were following some kind of Peking Duck sense, except they declined to have any of our bird.)

It took some time before any of us were able to do anything else but eat, but eventually, over the last few duck legs, we finished our discussion. RL and DW each had a new face to put to a name, we'd run into some friends, and we had bellies full of the emperor's dish. All in all, a good meeting.

And did we want to take home the bones to cook later? Definitely.

Shtinky Puddin

Well, these puddings look good, don't they? Like if you were to dip a spoon into one of them, you would emerge with a creamy mound of rich, dark chocolate that would fill your mouth with joy and happiness.

Oh, if only.

Granted, this was a low-fat recipe, using skim milk and cocoa powder instead of cream and melted chocolate. I chose this one because I was planning on serving the pudding at the end of a fondue meal (post to come!), and I thought it would be good to have a sweet dessert that wasn't too rich afterward. Reviews and descriptions had led me to believe that I wouldn't be able to tell the difference, or if I could, I wouldn't mind.

But call it something like a bland chocolate flan, and it might be close. My very kind friends described the texture as "somewhere between Jell-O and pudding." It wasn't sweet enough, chocolately enough, or smooth enough; each pudding was a stoic gelatinous blob into which spoons sliced rather than sank. I knew from how fast the hot pudding had set that something in the texture might be off, but by then it was too late.

I could have experimented with re-cooking it and thinning it out I suppose, although I have no idea if that would have helped. Well, at least I got to use my set of ramekins for the first time.

Recipe:
"Dark Chocolate Pudding," Moosewood Collective

Tea and lemons, but no honey

After the Sunday Gospel Brunch, I decided to hit the Upper West Side. There was a period of time when I used to be here often, but these days I'm rarely in the area unless I'm going to attend something at Lincoln Center. Since I had a free afternoon, and I was close enough already, I caught the 1 train at Times Square to 72nd Street.

After poking around in Fairway for a while, where I bought some cheese, JSK joined me and we headed to Arte Around the Corner.

I'd been wanting to try one of their herb-honey slices after reading about them here and here, but there was no sign of them on display. And mysteriously, when I asked the woman behind the counter about their availability, she seemed to have no idea what I was talking about. No herb-honey: an effect of the honey bee crisis?

My plans thwarted, I chose a lemon oil cake for us to share, along with two cups of English Breakfast tea.

The cake, while surprisingly homely in appearance, was moist, light, tender, and flavored with just the barest touch of lemon. The texture was very similar to that of the paper-wrapped, popover-shaped sponge cakes sold in Asian bakeries, which are usually just vanilla. Luckily, I'm quite in love with Asian sponge cake, so I was happy with this selection.

If you look carefully, you can see where JSK had started eating from the other side.

Eventually we parted ways, JSK to deliver a Playstation 3 back to his apartment, and I to wander around Columbus Circle, where I loitered outside of the Time Warner Center for a bit before heading home. I did debate going inside to check out Bouchon Bakery, but enough was enough.

Somewhere, there is an entire set of prom photos that were taken in front of this globe…not mine of course. No, never.

Starting the day with fried chicken and gospel

Last Sunday, I went with TC and fam to check out the Sunday Gospel Brunch at B. B. King. I was excited about going for two reasons: 1) the opportunity to see the Harlem Gospel Choir live, and 2) the extensive buffet menu of Southern food promised on B. B. King's website. I almost never eat Southern food, mainly because it isn't very healthy, but also because I don't have many dining companions who are interested. A gospel brunch at one of the biggest tourist venues in Times Square isn't the same as eating chicken and waffles at some joint up in the hundreds, but I'll take whatever opportunities I can get.

That day, Kosovo had just declared its independence, and my walk from the train station to the club was filled with the wild honking of Kosovars celebrating. People were grouped on the street or hanging out of their car windows, waving flags and cheering in excitement. I couldn't help but smile at their joy.

But when I arrived to B. B. Kings at 12:30 pm, the time specified on the ticket, this huge line awaited me.

I was a little dismayed, but then realized I really was in for the full New York tourist experience. It was about half an hour before they finally opened the doors and started ushering us in.

Once we entered though, things were fairly organized. A woman led the group of us to a padded circular booth along the outside walls of the room. It was crowded—more like a booth for three than for five—but we settled in well enough. Given the approximately six hundred people in the room, B. B. King had a specific method for allowing everyone access to the buffet: they had created four lines at two long, identical buffet tables that could be reached from either side, and called up sections one at a time to go fill their plates.

Here's mine, clockwise from the top: grits, a piece of fried chicken, jambalaya, collard greens, a biscuit, a piece of fried catfish, some pasta salad, and a scoop of mac 'n' cheese. None of it was anything to make a Southerner proud. But the collard greens were spicy, and the fried chicken, while soggy-crusted, was juicy and well seasoned. And later on I snagged some pieces of perfectly crisp bacon, which pretty much makes everything right with the world.

Most of the food at the Sunday Gospel Brunch was mediocre—about what you would anticipate from a giant buffet held in a nightclub. But some of it was also better than I expected. And when your meal is followed by an exuberant group of gospel singers belting out "Oh Happy Day," you just can't help but agree.

Astoria, Astoria

Last Sunday I spent a lazy afternoon walking around my 'hood, making my way from my apartment all the way up to the Ditmars area, stopping at Astoria Park along the way.

I wandered around for several hours, moseying down new streets, taking photos, and cooing at the dogs I saw at Bugsy's dog run. After all that I got hungry, so at Ditmars I looked around for something interesting I could bring back to my apartment for dinner. I passed up a cannoli from one of my favorite bakeries, Rose and Joe's, in favor of a small pignoli tart from La Guli.

Later, spotting the grand opening banners at Parrot Coffee Market, I wandered into what turned out to be a new international grocery, full of all sorts of interesting European imports. The friendly woman behind the counter urged me to sample a piece of their freshly made pistachio Turkish delight. It was delish…I can totally see why Edmund sold out to the White Witch.

I was tempted to buy some, but as I already had the pignoli tart I went with a slice of their cheese bourek.

I also picked up these tubes of "Krabben" and "Kaviar" creme (maybe I should spell it "kreme") for LB and JL. Then, too lazy to make the walk home, I hopped on the N train back to my apartment.

It was a fine afternoon.