Just one short bus ride away from the bustling satellite Chinatown of Flushing, Queens is Bownie restaurant, a modest Sri Lankan eatery that has been owned and operated by Nanthini and Sri Kandharajah and their family for 11 years now.

While there are plenty of appetizing traditional Indian dishes on the menu, you’ll find that the Sri Lankan specialties really stand out. That night, dinner at Bownie was one in a continuing series of ambassador programs organized by Jeff Orlick, and Joseph Aranha of the Asian Arts and Cultural Alliance was our ambassador for the evening.  So, how exactly does an ambassador dinner work?  According to Jeff, this is what goes down: a guide (ambassador) “will order for the table and discuss what we are eating and why we are eating it. Not a classroom experience, but more of a familial gathering centered around the food.”

Just two weeks before, Joseph, Jeff and I set out to approach restaurants to participate in Asian Feastival, an event on Labor Day I helped produce. When Joseph brought us to Bownie, he first requested an order of their freshly steamed idiappams. Doused in hot mutton curry and flaky spiced desiccated coconut, these wheat noodle patties were a powerful trifecta of flavors and textures.  Spicy, nutty, and with varying textures coming from the noodles, curry and coconuts, everything worked.  Joseph instructed us to dip the idiappams into the curry like a tortilla chip into salsa, and then we were to finish them with a light sprinkling of coconut chutney. I somehow managed to inhale 5 idiappams even after a full day of eating.

I peeked into the kitchen just in time to catch Nanthini press out idiappams from a crazy-looking contraption.  The wheat dough mixture is squeezed through the press, somewhat reminiscent of play-doh spaghetti.

Then each patty is individually steamed in a little plastic mesh container.

Skip to two weeks later, and this was the menu for the ambassador dinner:

MENU

APPETIZERS
Medu Vadai and Dhal (Lentil) Vada

ENTREES
Idiappam with mutton curry
Uppumai with cocunut chutney
Egg Dosa

DESSERT
Puttu with coconut milk and sugar
Ceylon Tea

That’s Joseph. Ray and Sakiko, to Joseph’s left and right.

For our first dish, we were each given a plate with a medu vada and dhal vada with a side of coconut chutney.  Like salty, spiced donuts, the medu variety was made with rice and the dhal version with lentils.  We dipped both into the accompanying pale green chutney, flecked with coconut and what appeared to be coriander, which might be responsible for the green hue. The chutney also contained some other mysterious spices that, when eaten in spoonfuls, can give your mouth a real kick.  After a few bites, our tongues began to tingle and our eyes dashed towards of the drink cooler.

To ameliorate the spicy chutney situation, we ordered some Thums Up soda, the Indian equivalent to Coca-Cola (apparently acquired by the Coca Cola Company too). It is a fizzier, less sweetened version of its American cousin made with sugar instead of corn syrup.

Plates of idiappams were passed around, and they were just as delicious as I remembered.  This may have been the most popular and most well-spiced dish of the night.

Since Ray is a vegetarian, his plate of idiappams came with a side of sambhar, which is an earthy vegetable stew made with tamarind and other spices, instead of curry.

As soon as our idiappams disappeared, plates of uppumai arrived.  Uppumai may resemble mashed potatoes from afar, but they are actually made by mixing fluffy semolina flour with a mild medley of vegetables, herbs and spices. Eaten alone, they were a bit bland, but there again was the omnipresent coconut chutney. The uppumai served as the perfect carb vehicle to sop up the flavorful chutney.

The egg dosa had the density of a firm omelette and came with a dollop of flaky spiced coconut. Biting into the doughy dosa, I could taste the ever so delicate sour traces of the fermented rice flour.

Our dinner concluded with a plate of puttu, a compression of course ground rice, coconut and water.  By itself, the puttu had a flaky texture, like oat bran.  It wasn’t until a few bites in that I noticed the sweetened coconut milk, camouflaged against the white plate. When poured on top of the puttu, the sweet coconut milk added a welcomed flavor and moisture to the dessert. We washed it all down with a complimentary cup of hot milk tea.

At the end of the dinner, I collected our dues and finished with a group shot of the diners.

And one of the Kandharajah family too.

Thanks to Joseph, Jeff, and the Kandharajahs for this introduction to Sri Lankan cuisine.

Bownie Restaurant
143-05 45th Avenue
Flushing, NY 11355

Menu:
*Kimchi Omelette
*Brioche French Toast with Maple Syrup, Berries and Bacon
*Savory Tart with Caramelized Onions, Gruyere, and Roasted Tomatoes
*Wild Blueberry Scones with Clotted Cream and an Assortment of Jams
*Tea & Coffee with Buttermilk Rusks

Plates & Records is a nomadic and themed supper club organized by Joann, Ram and Andrzej, a writer, a human rights lawyer and an artist respectively.  To attend, all you need is a plate, a record, an empty stomach, and an Andrew Jackson ($20).  The original P&R trifecta includes Andrzej, but in his place at the stove that morning was their friend Georgie.

Joann and Ram

Talisa and I arrived at Joann’s apartment to a friendly “Hello hello! Come in!” through the intercom.  Dashing into the hallway to greet us, Mellow, Joann’s Daschund, led us into the apartment, where we found a bustling kitchen and joyously inhaled the aroma of freshly baked savory tarts. We then climbed up the stairs and into the backyard, where a long communal table for 20 was set up, and a few people had already settled down.

Joann’s botanical kitchen / living room

Luckily, what started as a wet and dreary morning turned into a sunny afternoon.  It wasn’t long before we started passing around an aluminum tray of blueberry scones and assorted jams and began sipping on Mombucha and mimosas, all while I got a head start on my summer tan.

Joann’s dog, Mellow, scoping out the brunch scene

Ingredients for the kimchi omelettes

Ram’s Savory Tart with Caramelized Onions, Gruyere, and Roasted Tomatoes

My plate, after I took a few bites and before I grabbed a scone and piled on the berries and lemon curd.

Joann collected our plates and returned them with piping hot omelettes filled with a savory spicy mix of finely diced Soppressata, carrots, cheddar cheese, and of course kimchi.  This was all topped with a zig-zag of ketchup and Sriracha hot sauce.  Who needs a Bloody Mary when there are kimchi omelettes?  Kimchi omelettes aside, Ram’s savory tarts were a culinary feat —a total of 18 onions were cut, cooked and caramelized for these two tarts, some real blood, sweat and tears!  So what exactly is a savory tart?  Imagine if a quiche and a Chinese egg custard tart (“dan tat”) had a lovechild.  A very delicious lovechild.  Tucked within a buttery crust was a silken, custard-like, otherworldly egg filling.  The delicate filling coaxed out the complimentary flavors of sweet, golden brown threads of caramelized onion and robust gruyere cheese.  Throw in some cherry tomatoes and chives, and I was eating one killer savory tart.  For those who preferred a sweeter brunch option, Georgie helmed the stove and whipped up a delicious made-to-order french toast.  Made with fresh brioche, each slice was lightly washed with egg, browned in a cast iron pan, and sent off with a dusting of powdered sugar.  Unlike the hefty, dense french toast served at some brunch venues, this toast had a crispy, crunchy exterior with a light and ethereal interior.

Thanks to the Plates and Records crew, brunch is no longer a distant college memory.  Alright, so I’m not old enough to miss college yet, but I am susceptible to occasional bouts of nostalgia.  Find updates on the next supper club gathering and a recipe for Ram’s savory tart at the Plates and Records blog.  And if you’re in the hood, swing by and visit Joann and 50+ vendors at the monthly Greenpoint Food Market this Saturday, May 22, for some sweet treats and good eats.  Cheers to a warm spring and summer with backyard bbqs and park picnics aplenty!

Beer

Schnitzel

Hypnotic lights

Between bites, I mentioned that Kelly and I were going to Japan, and immediately Lee Anne’s face lit up. She whipped out her phone and excitedly flipped through a slide show of photos. “You must meet Shinji.  He will tell you where to go,” she asserted.

A few weeks later, Kelly and I arrived in Japan, each towing a small rolly suitcase and a backpack, ready to soak in as much of Tokyo as we could in three short days.  When we arrived at our hostel, I opened an email from Shinji, which read:

“At fish market, you gotta eat at Sushi Dai (寿司大), not Daiwa Sushi (大和寿司) at inner market. They both have long lines in front, but the quality and service are different. I took Lee Anne to Sushi Dai. Sushi Dai is the best. They open 5 am. Go before and get ready. Order “omakase” and it will blow your mind.”

Early the next morning, Kelly and I awoke to the industrial warning noise of my iPhone alarm.  The sun was not out yet, leaving us to poke around in the dark for our things. A sleepy German woman two beds away looked at me incredulously and asked why we were up so early. “We’re going to the fish market,” I whispered to her. She thought we were crazy. We slipped out before waking any of the others in the room.  At 5 am, the first subway train of the morning pulled into the station and just like that, we were on our way to get some sushi for breakfast.

The sheer size of Tsukiji is mind blowing. After all, it is the largest fish market in the world.  I don’t know whether it was our lost facial expressions or the fact that we circled the same block of stalls several times, but one of the shopkeepers took the clue and came out to guide us to our breakfast.  Not only was he kind enough to point us in the right direction, but he also gave us a map of the market, drew out directions, and even wrote out the characters for “Sushi Dai” and “Daiwa Sushi” to make sure we went to the correct restaurant.  What an awesome guy.

Hand drawn directions from the friendly shopkeeper

Sushi Dai

It was 6 am when we finally reached Sushi Dai, which comprised of a stall with a narrow bar and just enough seating room to fit 20 skinny people. A woman slid open the door and asked us for our names and offered us a few options to choose from — a 10 piece omakase for 3900 yen (~40 USD) and an 8 piece omakase for 2500 yen (~27 USD).  We opted to share one of each.

The sky changed from navy to pale blue as we waited outside. We stared enviously through the windows, gawking at the people inside as they sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying their food and their morning beer. Half an hour in, we were officially hungry, and the pictures of food in the far less crowded adjacent storefront started to look very appetizing. Hot noodles and fried prawns on a cold, crisp morning… is that something anyone should turn down? But eventually the door slid open, customers filed out to some loud and friendly farewells, and the woman signaled for Kelly and me. We eagerly squeezed through the door, and the smells of hot miso soup and tea welcomed us. A wave of warmth overcame our bodies. At last!! We found our spot at the corner of the counter, anxiously sat down, and prepared for our minds to be blown.

Our view from our the corner of the bar.

Hot towels and cups of Matcha Green tea were quickly served. The warm and rich tea momentarily placated our hungry stomachs while we waited for food to arrive.

After 40 minutes of waiting outside, Kelly and I welcomed the hot miso soup with great enthusiasm.

Lo and behold, after stirring the soup with my chopsticks, I struck gold.  Well, not gold, but whole chunks of fish that were hidden underneath the surface of the cloudy soup.  The fish was clearly stewed in the soup for a while, as the dark and flavorful meat flaked off with the touch of a chopstick. Each bite was filled with the deep, satisfying flavor of miso. It was unlike any miso soup we ever had, with a complexity of flavors that packed a sucker punch of umami.

Our mind-blowing sushi experience commenced, and first up was a fatty, succulent piece of Otoro (fatty Bluefin tuna).  I had been anticipating this moment since my first glance at Lee Anne’s phone background.  We were instructed by the sushi chef to eat it straight and simple; soy sauce would overpower the delicate flavor of the fish.  A glistening sheen of marbled pink, the tuna was as delicious as it looked.  It melted in my mouth and stunned my taste buds with a subtle yet indulgently rich flavor.

Kasugo (young sea bream): This piece of sushi had a light flavor but had an interesting dense and meaty texture.

Hamachi (yellowtail): This piece affirmed my love for yellowtail — perfectly delicate, with a hint of sweetness that complemented its texture.

Amaebi (mini sweet shrimp): This may look like a textured piece of fish, but in actuality it is comprised of multiple little sweet shrimp packed together and topped with a small dollop of roe — it was as sweet and juicy as it looks.

Indisputably, all the fish served at Sushi Dai were of amazing quality because the fish is delivered straight from the fishing boats to the market every day.  But I was surprised to find that even items like the Tamago (sweet egg omelette) delivered the same light touch and complex taste as the fresh pieces of sushi.  Unlike the cold, dinky, sponge-like rectangle of shriveled egg I was used to seeing, this tamago was hunkering in size but fluffy and light in texture and still piping hot from the steamer.  Mixed with some unidentifiable herbs (If I were to guess, it was probably shredded shiso leaves), the delicately sweet egg was incredibly satisfying and quickly devoured.  I still have dreams about eating this.

Kinmedai (splended alfonsino or “golden sea bream”): What a strikingly beautiful piece of fish.  After poking around some sushi forums, I discovered that when it comes to kinmedai, the skin is usually quite tough and therefore typically torched, but I think ours was served raw.  I didn’t recall it being particularly tough, but I do remember the sweet and subtle flavor.

Uni (sea urchin): These glistening deep orange gems almost liquefied when they touched my tongue. Each morsel unleashed a refreshing taste, like a shot of ocean. The texture of the uni was smooth and silky and well complemented with a wrapper of crisp nori and a sturdy base of sushi rice. The omakase meal allowed for one additional piece of sushi of choice, and I didn’t have to think hard about asking for another perfect bite of uni.

Kohada (Japanese gizzard shad): This piece of sushi always reminds me of a painfully deep paper cut. But besides its unpleasantly painful looking appearance, it had wonderfully salty and meaty taste.

Tako (octopus): Whenever I order octopus, I usually prepare to tackle on an unmistakably dense and chewy texture, as if the octopus were giving one last fight.  This octopus, however, was neither chewy nor dense, but best characterized as having a sweet and bouncy bite which was very agreeable.

I’m not going to lie, I don’t remember how this tasted, or what it was.  By this point, I was in a euphoric state of delirium.

The mystery fish was served with four pieces of Tuna Maki (tuna and cucumber rolls)

Aji (Horse mackerel): Not as deep in flavor as the Kohada, the Aji was topped with a pile of scallions, which brought out a greater depth of flavor.

Mirugai (geoduck): “It’s alive!” laughed our sushi chef when he placed it on the wooden bar.  Moments after he cut slits into the Mirugai, it began to slowly curl up.

Sawara (Spanish mackerel)

Anago (salt water eel): Drizzled with sweet eel sauce, this anago was picked of its bones, leaving only an airy yet fish-like texture and a lightly sweet taste. Anago doesn’t typicaly look bright yellow and orange, that’s just my poor photography skills at 7am.

The sushi chefs, happy and smiling even at ungodly hours of the morning.

Lee Anne was right, the sushi at Sushi Dai was life changing.  It’s some of the best, if not THE best, I’ve ever had, and these descriptions don’t come close to the real experience. As we paid the bill, Kelly and I caught sight of the snaking line of people waiting outside, almost three times longer than what we were greeted with earlier that morning. We knew it was time to say our final “arrigato”s, so after a few more sips of warm matcha, we gave up our much coveted spots along the counter of Sushi Dai.

“Duck Balut tonight @ umi nom!!!”

And just like that, I was headed to Brooklyn.

Despite the rain and wind, I made it alive to Fort Greene, Brooklyn that night. My eating companion Gary and I sat down at a table and prepared ourselves. Half expecting to see an alien-like entree, I was pleasantly surprised when out came two unassuming eggs, snugly tucked in a makeshift double egg holder made from a folded white napkin.  The eggs were accompanied by four different sauces — fish sauce speckled with flecks of chili, sea salt, soy sauce, and vinegar.

Chef King instructed us to crack open the top of the egg and pour in a few small spoonfuls of each sauce. We were told to eat everything…except the rubbery disk at the bottom.  (“You don’t want to eat that.”)

Following directions, Gary and I carefully pried of the top of each egg to reveal a thin, translucent grayish film, which veiled the mysteriously dark and murky liquid underneath.

With great precision, I poured a spoonful of fish sauce and soy sauce, sprinkled a dash of salt, and drizzled just a few drops of vinegar, carefully as to not overpower the flavor of the balut.

Right as I was about to begin eating, I peered into the murky waters of the balut, barely making out a little chick fetus embracing the yolk. “Now or never”, I thought to myself.  Without further hesitation, I spooned my first few sips of the watery balut liquid.

Not knowing what to expect, I was pleasantly surprised to find that my first sip wasn’t strange at all.  Rather, it evoked a familiar taste reminiscent of an earthy duck soup. It took more courage to get myself to try the embryo, which more closely resembled a science experiment gone awry than a baby chick. Helplessly clinging to the yolk, it was almost begging not to be eaten.  But that didn’t stop me.  I managed to break off a small piece with my spoon and take my first bite.  The smooth and delicately gelatinous embryo melted in my mouth, leaving a rich and robust taste, like a smooth pate, that lingered on after it was already on its way down into my stomach.

Mixed in with the correct ratio of condiments, you’ll hit the fundamental flavors of Filipino cuisine — salty, robust, with a kick of sourness at the end; the result is a pungent yet poetic combination of flavors that is uniquely Filipino.

Looking back, eating balut is really not as intimidating as it seems.  Eating bird embryos may not be for everyone, but it was an experience I certainly don’t regret having.  As a matter of fact, I’m looking forward to returning for a second helping.

**Balut is not regularly on the menu at Umi Nom, so if you are daring enough to try it for yourself, check in with the Umi Nom Twitter to see when Chef King is cooking some up.

umiNOM
433 DeKalb Ave., Brooklyn, New York 11205
tel. 718.789.8806
www.uminom.com
info@uminom.com

With a scribbled map at hand, we scaled the streets and alleyways near the hotel, but no Taiwanese breakfast was to be found. Stomachs were rumbling as the seven of us wandered desperately around what looked like the financial district, pulling aside locals and asking them where to find hot soymilk. Most were puzzled. Finally, Agnes made a quick decision for all of us. She shot her hand in the air to summon an approaching taxi.

“Where can we get hot soymilk?” she asked the driver.

“Oh, Soymilk King is very close”, he replied.

… Soymilk KING? Take us there, taxi driver!

The taxi driver’s “very close” translated into a city tour across Taiwan, through a tunnel and over a bridge. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived in a district even my dad had never been to, right in front of the famed Yong He Soymilk King (or just “Soymilk King” as I like to call it). Our eyes scanned the open air kitchen, and our ravenous expressions quickly changed to joy.

The makeshift kitchen at Soymilk King consists of a few tables for prepping and stacking bamboo steamers. This is where burly men and ladies in colorful bandanas cook, chop, and clean.

Instead of verbalizing orders, customers at Soymilk King fill out a checklist of menu items, a popular method of ordering food in East Asian restaurants. While Agnes read off the menu, my dad and Kelly checked off the orders. Meanwhile, I went around to the other side of the restaurant to see what was cooking in the kitchen.
Opening out into the street, the kitchen is where bread in varying shapes, sizes and degrees of flakiness is grilled and fried. These pipping hot, freshly fried goods are then whisked off into paper bags to be sold to hungry passerbyers or plated to be eaten by those ordering at the restaurant.

Hovering over a vat of hot oil and wielding a super long set of chopsticks, this unenthusiastic man nurses snaking strips of dough in the hot oil until they transform into properly puffed and golden you tiao (long, savory fried cruellers – a true art form).

Back at the table, our breakfast had arrived:

Kelly, Mom, Betty, and I ordered bowls of sweet soymilk, which consist of warm soymilk mixed in with sugar to create a soul-warming concoction just sweet enough to counterbalance the saltiness of the you tiao. Stirring is imperative to incorporate the sugar into the warm soymilk, and more sugar can be added as you please.

Agnes ordered the sweet soymilk with egg, the same as my sweetened soymilk, but enhanced with a frothy scrambled egg mixture. I prefer my eggs in salty dishes, but for those who who want a rich protein boost, this is the soymilk for you.

Dad and Zinnia got the salty soymilk, a mixture of salty soybean milk and cut-up bits of you tiao that sop up the flavorful milk, all topped with generous slivers of leek. Pour in a small dose of vinegar to taste and you’re set. This is a denser version of soymilk, which is a meal in and of itself, but like most things can always be accompanied by more fried stuff.

Sticky rice rolls are plump rolls of glutenous rice filled with a you tiao center and stuffed with dried meat floss. Dried meat floss — yeah, it sounds gross, but this Taiwanese specialty has a gentle sweet and salty flavor that goes wonderfully with any rice or dough. “Meat floss” is seasoned pork that has been dehydrated and shredded into fine, crumbly threads, creating a very distinct flavor-texture combination. Unfortunately, the King’s sticky rice rolls were a bit dry and bland.

You tiao wrapped with xiao bing is a double dose of fried carbohydrates. I never thought I’d say this, but double fried carbs might be a little too much fried carbs. Most of us ended up eating the you tiao, abandoning the denser surrounding xiao bing.

Freshly plucked from the cauldron of oil, this you tiao is too hot to handle, which is where the paper wrapping comes into play. Crisp on the outside, light and airy on the inside, this may be the best you tiao I’ve eaten yet.

Last but not least were the xiao long bao (soup dumplings). The doughy skin was thick and the pork inside moderately juicy, but not quite juicy enough to contend with some of the soup dumplings I’ve tasted. After discussing our food, we agreed that this style of xiao long bao would be better appreciated by Northern Chinese, who enjoy a good chewy dough, over us Southerners who prefer our xiao long bao with thin skin and gushing with molten soup. Speaking of molten soup dumplings, here are tips on how not to eat soup dumplings.

In short, if you find yourself at Soymilk King, stick to the breakfast basics: soymilk and you tiao. With the abundance of good food in Taipei, you’ll need to save some stomach room for all the other snacks you’ll see on the way.

Yong He Soymilk King
132 Fu Xing South Road Section 2
Taipei, Taiwan +886 (0)2 2702 1226

Back from London and tired from bland British food, Hope had only one request when I asked her where she wanted to go out for lunch.  “I need some SPICE!”, she pleaded.  Somehow I managed to convince Hope and Davis to wake up early on a cold day and venture into the inner depths of Queens for a taste of Sichuan cuisine.

I wanted to ensure a good meal for their inaugural visit to Flushing, so I consulted with our friend Gary for some recommendations.  “What should I order?” I texted him.  An hour later, I got an email listing with instructions on what to order, divided into “cold apps” and “main dishes”.  One of the main dishes included one that was mysteriously called “enhanced pork”, which we sadly didn’t order.  I guess that’s for next time.  Just as I was closing the email, my eyes caught a glimpse of the last sentence — a few words of caution indicated by an asterisk:

*beware of the stinky tofu!  smells like someone stepped in dog shit

Taking Gary’s suggestions — and warning — into consideration, we picked out a bunch of dishes to try and share.  We started out with some cold appetizers, which were laid out in the display case towards the front of the restaurant.  This part of the ordering process was easy. I simply pointed and said “this one” with my limited Mandarin vocabulary.

Shredded fried bean curd with celery drizzled with garlicky sesame oil.

Having grown up eating beef ligaments with hot chili oil, a staple at restaurants serving Northern Chinese cuisine, I am accustomed to the texture and taste of them.  Served cold with a dense but chewy texture, the beef tendon accompanied by chili oil is not immediately spicy, although if you start eating mouthfuls of tendon the spiciness can start to creep up on you.  Although I’ve grown to like this taste and texture, Hope and Davis were not as fond of it, admitting that this was their least favorite dish.

Bamboo shoots with chili oil had a crunchy texture and nutty flavor.

Tea smoked duck with Hoisin sauce came with a crunchy skin and a beautifully smoky taste that was complimented by the hoisin sauce and scallion shreds.

The dry sauteed stringbeans were stir-fried in super high heat from wok cooking, (in Chinese the term is literally translated into “wok air”) browning the garlic and creating had a crisp crunchy exterior while maintaining the beans’ juiciness.

Submerged in a healthy amount of chili oil and fresh chilies, the fish fillet in fresh hot pepper was perfectly cooked and spiced with plenty of Sichuan peppers and spices.  Most of the hot chilies were hidden in the middle of the dish, which were intended to be stirred in.  Instead, we just worked our way towards the middle, each piece getting hotter and hotter.

Sichuan spiciness is different from that of salsa or curry, so even the spicier middle parts of the dish were not painfully spicy. Rather, these dishes are mildly hot and flavorfully spicy, which will at most make you feel a bit flushed and produce a few drops of perspiration but not dole out a full, mouth-on-fire sensation like that of strong Indian curries such as Vindaloo.

Last but not least were the peanut butter sweet sticky rice balls — a special request by Hope, who immediately was drawn to the peanut butter component (this came as no surprise; some of our favorite snacks freshman year consisted of bananas smothered with spoonfuls of peanut butter. Yes, I had a wholesale-sized jar of Skippy peanut butter from Costco).

These black sesame-filled glutinous rice balls were powdered with sugar and drizzled with a peanut butter sauce. Though I did find that they were not as hot (temperature-wise) as I’d like them to be.

Davis contemplatively ate his sticky rice ball..

Across the table, Hope took an unorthodox approach — eating it on an upside down spoon while simultaneously texting on her Blackberry.

Slurp

Although I am a seasoned eater of sticky rice balls and a self-professed lover of all things made from glutinous rice, I somehow encountered more difficulty eating them than both Hope and Davis.  Simply put, laughing and eating is a lethal combination. In this case, it resulted in a black sesame explosion that spilled into my spoon and onto my face.

Meanwhile, amidst all the sticky rice ball commotion, the staff sat at the table next to us, calmly unpacking and prepping a mountain of Chinese celery straight from the crate.

Spicy & Tasty
37-09 Prince Street, 1H
Flushing, NY 11354
718-359-1601

This is going to be my third time in Van Gogh Is Bipolar in the span of three weeks. My cousin Ashley introduced me to this small, beautiful hole in the wall when I was down in the dumps some two weeks ago, and the cafe’s pebbly courtyard, the violet fairy lights and a perfect cup of tea was the best defiance to a thoroughly rough day.

photo: Regina Belmonte

photo: Regina Belmonte

Located in 154 Maginhawa St. (a lovely street dotted with interesting cafes, antique shops, kitschy stores and small eateries), Van Gogh Is Bipolar is the brainchild – or in this case, the love child of Jetro – photographer, artist, and now cook and restaurant owner. Lovely how this amalgamation of things root themselves in the heart of the person- art and food, they are sensual things, but more importantly they are essential things.

The cafe is not meant for big crowds or loud crowds, for that matter. While it presents itself in a casual, laid back way (one must slip off their shoes at the doorway and pad around in their socked or bare feet) you can tell that this is a place where the gleam and glint of life come to nestle themselves between potent conversations.

Amidst art-work laden walls (this month it is Jason Moss’ figurations from the period before “he killed his passion for hate”), warm wooden floors, and a shamelessly ornate chandelier, there are stories to be told. It was just some time ago when a man proposed to a woman within the walls of the place.

So why ‘Van Gogh Is Bipolar’? It is undeniable how suggestive a title like this can be. Drawing from art and the psychological, one could go on for hours and hours sifting through the principle and philosophies (because there are things to be talked about) behind cerebral, sometimes abstract, things and their power to put more meaning into the concrete and simple, in this case, food.

The menu of Van Gogh is perplexing yet magnetic, there are little blurbs and stories to be read about the principle behind being bipolar, and the names of the dishes are a delight to read. Interestingly, all the names used to title Van Gogh’s dishes are bipolar people in real life.

I recently got to taste the President Clinton’s Manic Depressive Meal (Australian Lamb Chops with Black Mountain Rice and a garden salad for 255 PHP, roughly 6 USD ). Jetro had put in a special chili-kick when he asked me if I liked things ma-anghang (translation: spicy- I love anything spicy). The lamb was served atop a mound of black rice which was on top lettuce leaves, apple and tomato discs with chili powder. On the side were two sauces, a fish sauce to flavor the rice if desired, and a sweet, dark salty sauce to accompany the lamb. The salad was drizzled with honey and really brought the kaleidoscope of flavors together.

The lamb was nicely cooked and my favorite part was that the fat was not bland, and was in fact very very flavorful. I also liked that despite possessing a number of flavor layers in the dish (spicy, salty, sweet), it did not overwhelm the taste of the lamb – I like biting into a piece of lamb and actually tasting lamb and not just the seasonings and marinades used. The dish was satisfying in every sense, however I could not get enough of that sweet sauce and the black mountain rice!

It is good to end a meal at Van Gogh with a dessert (Mel Gibson’s Darkest Sin- a vodka shooter w honey, dark chocolate, an almond and other yummy, sexy things or sinful homemade silvanas). BUT. It is also highly recommendable to end it with a cup of tea. I find that a trip to Van Gogh is never complete without a hot cup of tea.

photo: Regina Belmonte

photo: Regina Belmonte

Van Gogh’s gem (amidst other gems) are their teas – at least it is the thing that most attracted me, being a self professed tea fiend. There’s something seductive and clandestine about tea. Perhaps it is in the slowness of the process, the steeping and extraction of things we can’t see with a naked eye and then allowing such mystery to enter into our bodies and interact with our make up.

The teas served revolve around the same idea the cafe is built upon – moods. The ingredients (which are all organic!) used in every dish on the menu is made to balance out the chemicals in the body to translate the individual’s mood into something positive through a dash of dopamine, serotonin or perhaps a teaspoon or two of endorphins? The teas (which are all locally grown in a farm in Isabel) are prime illustrations of this.

Each tea in the Van Gogh collection falls into a certain mood category- extra upper (my favorite), upper, light chill, happy chill, soothing and extra calming. I am partial to excitability and giddiness, so I have always chosen the Spanish Plum tea which is sour and pungent in a gorgeous amber color. In addition to the personalization of your tea, you get to pick a teapot of your choice. I am bad with choosing from a plethora of pretty things – I could take hours looking at Jethro’s teapots and examining them one by one, waiting for a certain teapot to spark out at me. But I don’t do this, I figure Van Gogh is a place I will frequent enough that perhaps I will be able to share some time with each one of them.

Once Jetro and the rest of the Van Gogh staff finish steeping your tea, it is brought out to you (whether you are in the courtyard or inside the cafe), complete with a miniscule goblet of wild golden Palawan honey (to eliminate anxiety!) and inside the cup is a singular, perfect fresh mint leaf, grown especially in Jethro’s herb garden. The Spanish Plum tea is a beautiful complement to the dark sweetness of the honey and the slight cool surprise of the mint leaf. Next time, I am hoping to try their Banana tea. I have long had a penchant for a good banana smoothie and I think it is high-time I try the counterpart.

Bringing together a contemporary Filipino conscience to gourmet food and art, Van Gogh poses a stark innovative streak in Filipino cuisine and the concept of a space for creative dynamics to move in different tangible yet intimate ways:

it is through the steam rising from a hot cup of tea, the secret messages written on that lit red wall, the sketches of somber old men, the purple fairy lights by the window, the silent cat that ambles Van Gogh’s floors, and you — drinking it all in.

Van Gogh is Bipolar
154 H Maginhawa Street
Sikatuna Village, Quezon City
The Philippines
(02) 394.0188
0922.824.3051
0922.824.3052

***

photo: Triccie Baquiran

In the meantime, while you lucky ones are wrestling with your turkeys at home, I recommend taking a break from basting to watch a few episodes of Posh Nosh on Youtube — a British TV program on BBC recommended to me by Elsapeth, the nicest bonnet wearing, bespectacled lady and owner of Podunk, a homey little nook of a tearoom in the heart of the East Village.

Podunk is where butter is used unsparingly and cookies are sprinkled with love..and sugar.  Like a cross between an antique store and a cozy country house kitchen, a varying assortment of tea pots and children’s books populate the shelves, which sit beside the brightly painted wooden furniture and a sundry of knickknacks.  Entering the tiny tearoom, I was transported from the dark, rainy streets of New York City into a warm, familiar place.

Sweet and buttery Podunk goodness

It was after she overheard the food-centric conversation my friend Davis and I were having, over our a pot of cardamom and pepper chai and a tray of buttery cookies and scones, that she recommended Posh Nosh.  If you’re a fan of dry, British humor and a lover of food (which I assume is the case, since you’re reading this), check out the first episode below:

Posh Nosh (Episode 1)

Podunk
231 E. 5th St., New York, NY 10003
nr. Second Ave.
212-677-7722

The next day, while my cousin Wesley was over at my apartment, we told him about our grand lunch plans.  “So, why are you going all the way there to get pizza?” he asked.  Kelly then went on to explain, concluding with “…he then slowly cuts the arugula with his scissors.  Want to come?”  We didn’t have to do much more convincing after that; the three of us set our lunch date.  Later the next day, while reading some more reviews online, I stumbled across an online review titled “Sink Your Teeth Into $14 Motorino Pizza, Skip Brooklyn Commute”.  The title alone challenged the need to venture deep into Brooklyn for pizza. We did our own investigating, and upon evaluating the time it’d take to commute to Di Fara’s in Brooklyn versus Motorino in Manhattan, our trip to Motorino would require less transit time.  After extensive deliberation, we made the executive decision to go to Motorino.  Did Motorino live up to the glowing review?  Well, we won’t know until our trip to Di Fara.  In the meantime, here’s an idea of what you can find at Motorino if you’re hungry in the East Village on a weekday afternoon.

If you’re planning on going to Motorino for lunch, first of all, be sure you receive the special lunch menu.  12 clams (not literally) will get you a whole pizza pie and either a green salad or ice cream.  You can order take-out too, which can be boxed up and ready to go.  If you just can’t wait to bite into the doughy Neapolitan pizza goodness, but don’t have time to sit down for formalities, get it to go “a libretto”, in which your entire pizza gets folded taco-style and wrapped in a sheet of wax paper, so you can literally eat it on-the-go.

A framed photo of an Italian lady eating her pizza “a libretto” above our table serves both aesthetic and instructional purposes.

Fresh from the oven, the pizzas have a thick, misshapen crust mottled with puffy charred dough bubbles.  I ordered the classic Margharita, topped with molten medallions of buffalo mozzarella and basil leaves.  All of Motorino’s pizzas are made with buffalo mozzarella; a big plus in my book.  The melted fresh mozzarella is almost liquid, melting and mixing with the tomato sauce and into each other.

Take a closer look.

Kelly opted for the Brussels sprouts pizza, a white pizza without sauce, that was also topped with crispy pieces of pancetta.  While I personally prefer tomato sauce on my pizzas, this was an excellent topping combination.  The saltiness of the pancetta worked well with the crispy shreds of Brussels sprouts.  There were also pieces of garlic thrown into the mix as well.

My only complaint about this pizza would be the abundance of burnt parts.  A little too carcinogen-laden for my taste.

Wesley decided to go with the Sopressata pizza.  A spicier Italian rendition of the classic American pepperoni topping, the pie was sprinkled with red pepper flakes, for an extra kick.

Wesley and Kelly discussing how hungry we were, among other things.

While I really enjoyed Motorino’s pizza, I did have some qualms about it as well.  As noted in a post by Slice, posing the question, “The Manhattan Motorino: Is It as Good as the Brooklyn Location?” I couldn’t tell you myself, not having been to the original Williamsburg, Brooklyn location, but pizza connoisseur Adam Kuban makes a valid observation when he says, “The things I noticed were that the lip of the pizza seemed much more puffy than at the Brooklyn location and that the pie overall seemed more charred. And while the lip, or cornicione, was puffy and done well, the interior of the pie was a little droopier than those that the Brooklyn location typically puts out.” His description was right on.  I guess some tweaks still need to be made to perfect the Manhattan Motorino pizza, and this only means that I will be adding Motorino Brooklyn alongside Di Fara’s on the World to Table to-eat list.  Stay tuned for more New York pizza updates!

After five long hours of driving, we arrived in Provincetown with aching legs and growling stomachs and made our way to the nearest wharf-side food shack, John’s Footlong, to refuel before we boarded the boat for our whale watching tour.

Lobster roll busting at the seams

Just look at the toasty sides of the J. J. Nissen roll

It was at John’s Footlong that I had my very first lobster roll ever.  Judging by the hunkering mound of lobster in this roll, it was probably the sad fate of 2 or 3 lobsters.  The roll is a fine specimen itself–a signature J.J. Nissen roll, top-split New England bun, which was buttered and toasted to produce a nice golden crust that soaks in just enough mayonnaise, but doesn’t easily get soggy.

On the whale watching tour, we encountered a few friendly Humpbacks–a mom and its calf, as well as a pair of  young whales who were taking a midday nap, or “logging”, as our guide called it.  A curious whale came up right next to our boat and sneezed some plankton-scented air at us.

A friendly Humpback waving hello

Kazumtite!

Whale face speckled with barnacle scars

Red Inn

Back in Provincetown after the tour, we headed to the Red Inn for dinner.  Little did we know, this place was booked solid until 10:30 pm.  We struck a deal with the hostess, who agreed to let us eat dinner in one hour, before the guests who reserved the table would arrive.

My mom ordered the fresh local sea scallops with orzo and a citrus Cuerre Blanc; atop a bed of orzo lay four sumptuously fat and juicy scallops.  I thought the scallops were slightly under seasoned, aside from the golden brown sear on the top and bottom.

I ordered the grilled Long Island duck breast, which was blackened and grilled and a savory bread pudding drizzled with a passion fruit maple glaze.  The passion fruit glaze cut the fattiness of the duck, while the dense and cheesy bread pudding soaked up the remaining sticky glaze.

My dad ordered the daily special, a flaky and moist pan-fried cod with crispy haricot vert.  My sister ordered a gazpacho that isn’t really worth mentioning–tasted more like a watery salsa.  After our hour was up, we were thoroughly full and satisfied as we drove back to our hotel in Hyannis to rest up after a long day in Provincetown.

John’s Footlong
309 Commercial Street
Provincetown, MA 02657
(508) 487-7434

Red Inn
15 Commercial Street
Provincetown, MA 02657
(508) 487-red Inn (508.487.7334)
http://www.theredinn.com