Shanghainese soup dumplings are a culinary phenomenon: a bite of pork and a spoonful of soup all within a neatly pleated wheat wrapper.  You’re probably curious: how does the soup get in there?  Over the years, I’ve come up with a fair share of outlandish theories – at one point I was convinced the dumplings were injected with a soup-filled syringe. But all my conspiracy theories were finally laid to rest two weeks ago when the high priestess of Nan Xiang Dumpling House, Chef Huang Jian Ping (黃建萍), came over to make soup dumplings from scratch.  In anticipation for Asian Feastival, an epic culinary event in Queens on September 6th Labor Day Monday (check out asianfeastival.com for the complete rundown), we decided to put her off-site dumpling-making capabilities to the test and invited some friends over to witness her pork and dough sorcery.  A special thanks to Roboppy for taking photos!

Pulling up to the curb, Chef Huang arrived by car with Nan Xiang’s owner, Tai Viem Ma, and Asian Feastival advisor and guru, Alex Peng, with a bag of dough, a bowl of pork filling, a rolling pin, and a stack of bamboo steamers packed into the trunk.  Once we carted all the materials to the roof, she began to set up her dumpling operation.

Chef Huang’s rooftop dumpling corner. Yep, that’s me creeping behind her shoulder.

Hailing from the town of Wu Shi (無錫) in the Jiang Su (江蘇) province located in the northeast area of China, Chef Huang has been pinching, twisting, kneading and pleating dough and pork filling into bundles of soup dumpling perfection since she was 18 years old.  Nowadays, she can practically make them with a blindfold and a hand tied behind her back.  According to Mr. Ma, he was able to recruit her from China because she was just one notch below the very best in China; top-tier dumpling makers are barred from leaving the country, since their skills are considered a national treasure.

Now, here’s a breakdown of how to make soup dumplings, from soup to nuts:

First, roll out a long snake of dough and pinch into little pieces.

Roll the dough nubs into round little orbs — Chef Huang does so by shaking them in a plastic bag like so.

Using a thin rolling pin, roll out the little dough orbs into a thin pancake shape, thicker towards the middle and thinner towards the outer edges.

With a butter knife, fill the wrapper with the filling. The secret of the soup lies in the paste-like pork filling, which consists of a secret mixture of pork, seasoning and its jus in gelatin form, the last of which melts into a liquidy soup when the dumpling is steamed. Then comes the hard part: cup your hand to make a pouch, then using your other hand, apply nimble pinching and twisting movements to seal off the top.  Chef Huang emphasizes that as a food safety measure, your finger should not touch and contaminate the pork filling, only the wrapper.

A metal circular plate resembling a big, thin metal washer is placed on top of a big stockpot of hot boiling water, funneling the steam through the small hole and upwards through the bamboo steamer to cook the dumplings.  It took a few tries to get the correct time it required to steam the dumplings — 12 minutes was just enough time to steam a bamboo steamer filled with 6 dumplings, but the stove temperature varies so adjust accordingly.

Before.

After!!

And there you go, the secrets of the soup dumpling, thanks to Chef Huang, Mr. Ma and Alex Peng, who made this all possible.  Come taste Chef Huang’s masterpieces for yourself at the Asian Feastival in September.  If you just can’t wait, pay Chef Huang a visit at Nan Xiang Dumpling House for a steamer full of some of the best soup dumplings outside of China.

Nan Xiang Dumpling House
38-12 Prince St
Flushing, NY 11354

“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

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

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

While picking up a bottle of wine from Di Palo’s in Little Italy, we asked Lou Di Palo for a pasta recommendation.  “This will be the best pasta you have ever tasted,” he assured us, presenting us with a burgundy box of perfectly coiled dried pasta.  “You can even eat it plain, it’s that good.”  Tonnarelli is similar to Spaghetti, except it has a square cross section rather than a circular one.  Convinced by his testimonial, we headed back to my place to make a simple Marinara sauce to accompany the pasta.

For a perfect, slow simmering Marinara sauce, you’ve got to peel off the tomato skin.  The first step is to cut an “x” on the bottom of each tomato, then blanch them quickly for 5 minutes.

Once blanched, they’ll be easy to peel.  Don’t forget to also cut off the little tomato nub on the top where it once connected to the vine.

Mince a healthy amount of garlic (I like my sauce nice and garlicky); 4 or 5 cloves is a fair amount.  Roughly chop up the tomatoes.

Josh very slowly and gingerly peeled 5 Roma tomatoes. Meanwhile, I feverishly minced the garlic.  “Um Josh.. can we do this a little quicker? I’m getting hungry!” I quipped impatiently.  “Veronica, if we make this quickly it won’t taste good.  You have to put love and care into the sauce,” Josh replied, gesturing with a half-peeled tomato in his hand.

After the peeling, chopping, and mincing is done, heat up a pan on medium high heat, add 3 Tbsps of olive oil, the finely chopped garlic, followed by the roughly chopped up tomatoes.

Stir it up!

Let the sauce reduce for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. By this point in the night, it was close to 9 pm and I was so ravenous that I began to gnaw on a few of the figs I had sitting on my counter to subdue my hunger.

We let the sauce reduce for 20 minutes, watching the tomatoes melt and liquefy into a chunky, viscous consistency.  The sauce reduced a lot, sinking an inch down from where it originally was in the pan, so if you like your pasta saucy, use more a few more tomatoes.

Tear up a handful of basil leaves and throw them into the sauce and stir some more. Adding the basil in last keeps the fresh basil flavor.

While the sauce is close to being fully reduced, boil a pot of salted water, add the Tonnarelli for about four and a half minutes for a perfect al dente.

Stir in the pasta into the sauce and add salt to taste.

FINALLY, the pasta was complete!  Just as I was at the brink of collapse, we filled our plates, crawled up the stairs to the roof and filled our howling stomachs with pasta.  Lou was right, it was some of the best pasta I’ve tasted — a perfectly buoyant texture with a rich egg flavor, and of course it was further enhanced with the lovingly made Marinara sauce.  And I have to admit, this was all totally worth the wait.

Di Palo’s Fine Foods
200 Grand St
(between Mott St & Mulberry St)
New York, NY 10013
(212) 226-1033

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.

Now, let’s take a closer look at these Neapolitan beauties.

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!

Kindai tuna is born and raised at Kinki University in Higashi-Osaka, Japan.  Born in the laboratory and hand fed wild catch, they are raised in better conditions than other farm-raised tuna and offer a more sustainable alternative to wild bluefin tuna.

The introduction of the lecture was led by Nick Sakagami, who described Kindai tuna as “couch potatoes” in comparison to their “athletic” wild counterparts.  Less active and therefore subsisting on less mercury-laden wild catch, the mercury levels in Kindai tuna are only .6 parts per million, while wild tuna often have levels of 1 to 2 parts per million.

Organized by the Gohan Society, this demonstration was a rare opportunity to taste Kindai tuna.  Raising tuna by these methods is pricey–about 200 Kindai tuna are successfully raised every year and only 1 to 2 fish shipped to the United States every week.

The official Kindai Tuna seal of approval indicates and ensures that the has been raised at Kinki University.  Now, for the cutting of the tuna!

We watched as the three chefs wrestled the fish and skillfully attacked it with an artillery of sharp knives.  First, an incision was made along the side of the fish, then through the gill to take off the head with a long square-shaped knife.  The rest was then cut up into more manageable segments, using smaller, precise knives, and laid aside to be carefully sliced into fillets later on.

Since the fish is killed by stunning it with electricity, there is often some bleeding near the spine–that part is sliced away by Chef Suzuki and saved to be cooked later on.  Electric shock is a common slaughtering technique used to quickly stun and kill fish.

Some more slicing.

Small tasting plates of tuna were passed around for everyone to try, each bite-sized piece a different gradient of pink and from a different part of the fish.  The buttery “oh toro” and “chu toro” differed slightly in fattiness, but both were equally delicious and smooth.  The leaner “akami” and “hakaochi” had a gamier taste and buoyant texture, while the small spoonful of “assorted scrape” burst with a bright punch of citrus and a hint of onion flavor from the thin scallion shavings.  (Check out the plating cheat sheet below for some proper Japanese tuna terminology)

The correct way to eat sashimi, especially with freshly grated wasabi, is the double-dipping method.  First dip one side of the fish generously in the wasabi, then follow through with a second dip into the soy sauce, gliding the portion of the fish that has not come in contact with the wasabi quickly across the pool of soy sauce–be careful as to not submerge the whole piece.  This method preserves the spicy, subtle taste of wasabi without being muddled by the saltiness of the soy sauce.  According to Chef Suzuki, mixing together soy sauce with fresh wasabi overpowers and ruins the wasabi flavor.  Unlike the spicy green goop you find at cheaper sushi places that is usually made from a powder, fresh wasabi has a lighter, refreshingly pungent flavor, since it is not mixed in with horseradish or other fillers.

The bigger slabs are pared down into clean, long rectangular slabs, ready to be sliced into sashimi-sized slivers.

Second round of tasting was cooked tuna. Little white ceramic bowls containing chunks of broiled tuna with caramelized onions were passed around for us to try.  Midway through our tuna, Chef Kobayashi emerged from the kitchen with a tray of tuna spines and asks, “Sorry there is not enough for everyone, but who wants to try?”.  Luckily, I was one of the few who looked eager enough to deserve a taste of broiled tuna spine.  The spine was cut up into individual vertebrae, each a tiny shot of briny cartilage topped with a sprinkling of sesame seeds and chopped scallions.  The meat surrounding each vertebrae charred to a smoky perfection and packed with flavor from the bone.

Chef Kobayashi extracts the eyeballs with a sharp knife.

Broiled tuna brain (above) tasted surprisingly similar to the meat of the fish, except with a denser texture and richer flavor.

For the more adventurous eaters, chunks of freshly cut vertebrae were passed around.  It was more gelatinous and gooey than the cooked version but meatier around the bone.  After slurping up the cartilage I proceeded to gnaw the meat off the bone.

Chef Anita Lo trying some blackened tuna jerky.

Although only certain parts of the fish are eaten raw, sashimi-style, none of it goes to waste.  It may look like a gruesome murder scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie, but the collar, eyes, and brain are cooked and made into other delicious tuna dishes.

Even the fatty scrapings from the skin of the tuna are used to as filling for maki rolls.

At the end of the demonstration, slabs of tuna were sold, individually wrapped in plastic and packed into iced bags for those who wanted to bring tuna home for dinner. After my $30 worth of medium-fatty tuna was all weighed and paid for, I snuck into the kitchen sweetly asked one of the chefs for some fresh wasabi.  A quick glance and a nod later, I was out the door and on my way home, with wasabi and tuna in tow.

Gohan Society
200 Chambers St
New York, NY 10007-1131
(212) 385-3550

French Culinary Institute
462 Broadway
New York, NY 10013-2618
(888) FCI-CHEF
(212) 219-8890

Coming up: Prepping Kindai tuna sashimi at home

Hello World (to-Table fans). My name is Kelly, and I’m writing to you from my home away from home, Poughkeepsie, NY. My real home is actually in an apartment with my sister Veronica, creator of this blog. But I currently live with three friends in a house near Vassar College, where I am a student.

That’s enough about me. What about FOOD? Like my sister, I have acquired quite a refined palate, which is a blessing and a curse, as the dining hall that “nourished” me for four semesters is not cutting it anymore. Good-bye meal plan and hello kitchen!

After eleven hours of epic cleaning, the kitchen we inherited bloomed from a museum of ancient pot lids and broken George Foreman products to the real heart of the house. We cleaned and restocked the fridge, stuffed our pantry with bags of pasta and rice, and hung up new cutting boards and pans. This is where raspberry flapjacks are made at two in the morning, borscht is stewed between classes, and tea and coffee flow endlessly. Here is where the magic happens!

Last night, instead of reading books, I was thinking about the magnificent stock of produce we had in our refrigerator. My housemates and I purchased a farm share from the Poughkeepsie Farm, so every Saturday, we bring our tote bags to the farm and pick out ten pounds of fresh vegetables and then excitedly brainstorm recipes on the short car ride home. Having chosen three plump long Chinese eggplants, I was moved to introduce some of my mom’s home cooking to the house. One of my favorite dishes is incredibly simple: steamed eggplant stuffed with chopped scallions and drizzled with soy sauce and hot oil.

So I pushed all books and syllabuses aside, descended to the kitchen, turned on the radio, and began making dinner. I sliced our eggplants in half and steamed the halves for twelve minutes, making sure to also tend to the pot of Thai rice cooking away on the adjacent burner. After steaming the eggplants, I arranged them on a dish and gently cut each half longitudinally like a hot dog bun, creating a piping hot opening for me to stuff with chopped scallions. Then I heated up a couple teaspoons of canola oil. Having had a recent bad experience with oil while frying arepas, I made my housemate David spoon the oil over the dish of eggplant while I delighted in the sizzle of scallions instantly cooking upon impact from a distance. I then whisked up a mixture of soy sauce and chili sauce and poured it over each eggplant half.

The dish was served up with another simple favorite of mine: tomato and egg stir-fry. I sliced up an assortment of tomatoes from the farm and sautéed them in canola oil with a little salt and a sprinkle of sugar. While they cooked, I beat three eggs together and then added them to the wok, making sure to turn down the heat a little so that they didn’t cook too quickly. This way, the scrambled eggs mix with the juices of the tomatoes and develop a soft, silky texture.

For a third dish, I drained one can of baby corn, cut them into more manageable, even more baby-like pieces, and sautéed them lightly with garlic, spinach and a little bit of chicken stock. When the final dish was done, we brought them all out to the porch with a big steaming pot of rice and a pitcher full of Poughkeepsie’s finest tap water.

The vegetables from the farm were amazingly sweet. The steamed eggplants came out soft yet firm. They soaked up the sauce on the plate, leaving not quite enough for all of us to spoon over our rice. The juices from the cherry tomatoes flavored each tuft of scrambled egg, and the spinach and corn retained a crispness that accompanied the other dishes wonderfully. My housemate Lily declared this was “way better than Hunan Village!”

Eating these dishes (and hearing the clinking of chopsticks against rice bowls) reminded me of having dinner with my own family. As the four of us chowed down, I felt so contented that I had left the dorms to come live in this house. Here, I can evoke the comforts of home and share them with friends. And better yet, my friends did all the dishes and I was gifted an ice cream sandwich for dessert.

If you don’t have time for a summer getaway, or you’ve just got a craving for something sweet, take a trip to Queens, where you will find that the pastries of Paris await you.  Cannelle Patisserie is a French bakery hidden deep within an unassuming mini-mall in Jackson Heights.  The inviting aromas of coffee, buttery puffed pastry and French baguettes will reel you in upon entering.  Inside you will find artfully decorated cakes behind the refrigerated display, shimmering tarts and quiches, and freshly baked pastries piled in woven baskets.

Cannelle radiates the energy of a lively neighborhood haunt. Packed at seemingly all hours of the day, the bakery appears to be a home away from home for a diverse group of customers, from an elderly quartet sipping coffee and enjoying sparse conversation to a father sharing a Croque Monsieur and soda for lunch with his son. With a humble burgundy awning and a window decorated with painted floral designs, Cannelle might look distinctly unlike the expensive bakeries you’ll find on the Upper East Side. However, do not expect anything less than the highest quality French fare.

Jean-Claude Perennou, the owner and pastry chef of Cannelle, is a master of flaky croissants, zesty lemon squares, and exquisitely moist Black Forest cake.  Previously the head pastry chef for the Waldorf Astoria, Perennou decided to stake out on his own to start Cannelle Patisserie.  Whenever I visit Cannelle to fulfill my need for sweet, Jean-Claude is usually working alongside his staff or behind the scenes in the kitchen; the intense love and dedication that goes into his pastries can be tasted in every crumb and flake of his breads and cakes. Thanks to Jean-Claude, the delicate art of French baking has become a familiar pleasure for many residents of Queens.

Jean-Claude Perennou, Pastry Chef and Proud Owner of Cannelle Patisserie

Don’t know what to get?  Here’s a box of goodies from Cannelle that I got, but you’ll have to pay a trip to Cannelle Patisserie to try for yourself.

Clockwise from the top left:
Paris Brest: a ring-shaped cream puff topped with almonds, halved and filled with praline-flavored butter cream.  (Fun fact: this dessert was created to honor a bicycle race between Paris and Brest.)
Red Velvet Cupcake: a moist red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting topped with cubes of more velvet cupcake.  One of the best red velvet cakes I’ve had, and I don’t typically choose red velvet.
Black Forest Cake: a chocolaty black forest cake with dark cherries is subtly sweet and super moist.  If you like cherries and chocolate, this is the dessert for you.
Apricot Strip: a strip of crispy pastry with apricot filling, studded with pistachios.  If you like tart pastries, this is a perfect balance of sweet and tart.
Apple Strudel Stick: apple-filled puffed pastry, a classic!
Lemon Square: creamy and zesty lemon custard on top of a piecrust, topped with a stud of candied lemon peel.  Rich and tart, this is one of my favorite desserts.
Espresso Cake: an espresso-flavored cake on the outside, with mocha mousse filling and chocolate crunchies in the center.

Cannelle Patisserie
75-59 31st Avenue
Jackson Heights, NY 11370
(718) 565-6200

Umi Nom is a long, narrow restaurant, with a dark wood bar, exposed brick walls, and Edison light bulbs hanging from the ceiling.  Some of the Asian-themed design accents in the restaurant include the funky bamboo lighting above the bar and white ceramic wall decorations with small dotted lights running through what resembled the cross-section of bamboo.

There’s a lot of soul in every bite of each flavorful small plate.  Drawing inspiration from his Filipino and Thai roots, King’s food celebrates the notion of family, which he shares with us through his cooking.  Our table was near the back of the restaurant, giving us a premium location to sneak a peek into the kitchen, where I could catch a glimpse of King’s family hanging out beside him and tasting some of the dishes themselves, looking on as the chefs with bandannas prepped and cooked away.

Here’s a preview of what’s cooking at Umi Nom:

asian market greens sauteed greens & garlic were cooked in a wok under extreme heat for a short amount of time, so they were not oily, but rather crispy, garlicky, and smoky

wok prawns chili glazed were saucy and slightly piquant from the birds eye chili.  Be sure not to waste the shrimp head, slurp up those shrimp brain juices!

grilled mackerel toasted rice, cherry tomato, jicama, garlic-chili lime dressing had a crispy, charred skin and that delicious fishy mackerel taste.  Overall the dish could have used a bit more tartness, although I did enjoy the crunchy jicama.  Perhaps the mysteriously missing toasted rice would have added more to the dish.

bahay kubo fried rice stir fried rice, egg, soy, garlic was one of my favorites. I’m not sure which ingredient gave the fried rice a sucker punch of umami, but I would gladly eat it again.  The fried rice was salty, shrimpy, and had pieces of Chinese sausage which added a sweet component to the dish.

charred beef rice vermicelli cold rice sticks, herbs, cucumbers are a nice combo of medium rare steak and rice noodles, with crunchy mung beans and herbs.  This lighter dish counterbalanced the heavier meaty dishes.

sauteed chinese sausage thai chili-lime sauce is King’s specialty and is the only dish served at both Kuma Inn and Umi Nom..because it’s SO GOOD.  Unlike the Chinese sausage usually found in Chinatown, which is skinnier, sweeter, and more dense, this meaty sausage has a more subtle sweetness.  Stir fried with shallots and garlic, then dipped in the Thai chili-lime sauce, the sweet, salty, and tart come together beautifully.  The sticky rice on the right is really sticky and really good.

grilled pork chops pickled vegetables were exquisitely juicy and tender.  The dish had a good ratio of meat to pickle.

crimini mushroom tofu skewers scallions lacked a little something, but it was still pretty good.  I’m a bit partial since I’m a big meatlover.

shitake mushrooms soy mirin glaze consisted of sweet and meaty mushrooms swimming in soy mirin sauce.

(sorry, this photo came out really dark and unrecognizable!) bbq ribs garlic, ginger, lemongrass, oyster sauce marinade were cut into small easy-to-manage riblettes.  Nice and juicy with a crispy, charred crust.

chilled summer fruit soup consisted of watermelon and canteloupe balls, lychee, and plums in a sweet, chilled lemongrass soup.  A light and sweet conclusion to my dinner at Umi Nom.

Umi Nom
433 DeKalb Ave between Classon Ave and Taaffe Place
Brooklyn, NY
718-789-8806