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Posts from the ‘Goodie Obsession’ Category

Nov 14

Nothing Krafty About It

Maybe I misunderstood this Wall Street Journal article on how today’s People contained scratch and sniff Kraft ads. As a lover of the fine publication, Kraft Food & Family, this seemed like a dream come true. I thought they meant that Kraft was sponsoring this week’s magazine so I couldn’t wait to flip through it at work this evening (I don’t need to subscribe to gossip rags—they’re practically the only periodicals we get at the Post) but it was just a plain ol’ People with a Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe cover that simply smelled liked glossy paper not an aromatic holiday edition.

Casserole I did get excited when I saw a Campbell’s ad with a recipe for green bean casserole. I know, not Kraft but a whiff of cream of mushroom soup and French’s French Fried Onions would’ve been welcome and I don’t even like soupy casseroles (I’ve been trying to detox after overindulging in alcohol and battered fried treats this weekend and eating carelessly in general the past few weeks. I so couldn’t handle the CR lifestyle. As of 8pm I’ve eaten blanched cabbage, green beans and carrots with a little peanut sauce, ¼ cup of spiced pumpkin seeds and a small box of golden raisins and I’m so starving that I’m practically hallucinating. And the peanuts and pepitas probably contain too much fat. The only thing keeping me on the wagon is that I’m working solo until midnight and can’t sneak out for a snack. I do have an emergency orange in my purse because I knew I would have a freak out).

But smelling synthetic food scents is safe, so where are my Krafty advertorials?

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Nov 14

Sweet Smell of Excess

I told myself that if I ever get to take a substantial vacation any time soon (which doesn’t seem likely in my current state) that I’ll only go to one city (ok, possibly two) and explore the hell out of it. I always try to cram in as many places as possible in my allotted amount of time off and never feel settled in any of them (Spain and Wales in ten days wasn’t enough and even two and a half weeks for Hong Kong, Singapore, Penang and Kuala Lumpur was too brief).

KitchenThat’s also how I feel about throwing parties, even low-key ones. I want to make a million things, and I often succeed despite space constraints (I can’t complain about the size of our apartment—it’s vast by local standards, but the kitchen is as tiny as NYC stereotypes would have you believe. Witness dirty aftermath in photo to the right. There’s a mere 18” of workable counter space, which is better than the zero inches I’ve had in the past). The trouble arises when I have my hands full literally, prepping snacks and sipping drinks. The last thing I’m capable of is taking pictures. Photoblogging and I are natural enemies. My antisocial nature becomes apparent when over the course of six hours I only manage a few food shots and not a single image contains humans. For all anyone knows, my Saturday night soiree was a party of one (does anyone else think it’s weird that two former Party of Five actors with animal surnames both play doctors in back-to-back ABC dramas?) when I’d estimate that thirty odd guests came and went over the course of the evening.

Deep-fried candy was intended as the main event, though judging from the heaving bag of leftover bars in the downstairs fridge, we didn’t make much progress. More attention was paid to battering and cooking oddball items like Sara Lee Cheesecake, Entenmann’s Blackout Cake, caramel apples and Hostess Sno Balls. Anyone interested in recreating the greasy decadence in the privacy of their own home can follow the recipe I posted from a previous venture a few years ago.

Candyapple
Raw caramel apple

Snoball
Cooked Sno Ball

On the non-sugary front, I whipped up two easy drinking snacks to go with the Jalapeño Margaritas. Supposedly, I squeezed enough limes for 18 drinks (it’s a good idea to not save the task of juicing 30 limes until the last minute) but the pitcher was gone in a flash. Cocktails are like that. I thought I’d counter the Three-Pepper Spiced Pepitas, which was part of a Food & Wine feature “Bar Snacks for Food Snobs” with a common people Rachael Ray Spicy Chickpea Snack Mix. I don’t want to be a hater, but the garbanzos were kind of eh. It’s hard to compete with smoked Spanish paprika though.

Wings_1 I made a Fatty Crab recipe, Malaysian Glazed Chicken Wings, against my better judgment (ok, that’s a weird thing to say. I apologize for my completely irrational aversion to Zak Pelaccio, who apparently is opening a new restaurant in London). I’m crazy for fish sauce, chiles and sugar, so no complaints. In fact, I ate extra chicken last night for dinner and I’ll probably eat a few wings this evening. James was disappointed that I baked the poultry when we had a tub of hot oil at the ready. One can only fry so much.

Said oil was put to use for Perkedel Jagung (Indonesian corn fritters). I doubled the irresistible recipe given on 'Ono Kine Grindz and should’ve quadrupled it. I don’t even have photos of the fritters because they were devoured as soon as the hit the plate. They were served with Maggi Sweet Chili Sauce that we got at a Carrefour in Singapore. We brought a few bottles back last year because I’m obsessed with the sweet-spicy stuff but you can get versions in Chinatown. It’s even on Amazon, though the bottle is different and the label looks more old fashioned.

Satay_1 I borrowed liberally from James Oseland’s new Cradle of Flavor (which never struck me as absurdly titled until friends saw it on my desk and started mocking it/me with made up names like Bassinet of Taste. I thought my own invention, Snugli of Seasoning was a hoot—too much tequila has been known to influence humor perception) but am unable to reproduce the recipes in full here. No, I didn’t just gain respect for copyright, his recipes are just really freaking long and I don’t have the wherewithal to type them out. I made a shrimp satay that completely fumed up the apartment with its requisite toasted shrimp paste for the marinade. I’m highly tolerant of extremely pungent smells (seriously, I think I have a permanent sinus infection. For better or worse, I can’t smell anything) but James was having a freak out trying to ventilate the place before company arrived. Fans, candles and incense are no match for belacan. Thank god for global warming or else we wouldn’t have been able to keep the windows open all night in November. The dipping sauce was a simple concoction of kejap manis, sliced chiles and lime juice.

GadogadoGado Gado is kind of whatever you want it to be. I briefly blanched sliced carrots, green beans, bean sprouts and also included fresh cucumber and fried tofu. I forgot about the cabbage I intended to add. You can also make it heartier with sliced potatoes and/or hardboiled eggs. Vegans threatened to attend the event so I eschewed the animal byproduct. And just because a good percentage of plain vegetarians did show that didn’t stop me from putting shrimp chips on the side. The deep-fryer had to be put to use as much as possible.

The Javanese peanut sauce that gets mixed with the salad is actually a recipe worth typing out (unfortunately, Cradle of Flavor isn’t on the desk I’m currently occupying—I’ll add it in later). You start by toasting and grinding peanuts from scratch, which is so much better than using peanut butter and I’m not just saying that to be a purist. Shallots, chiles, coconut milk and vinegar eventually are incorporated.

So, next time it’s fried candy and say, one or two Southeast Asian treats. Hypothetically, I mean. It’s not like I’m going to fry candy and grill satay again any time soon–that would be repetitive. I hate paring down, though. Excess makes me happy.

I was also happy to be brought a pair of shoes that were too big for the original purchaser and the size 9 friend she passed them on to initially. I had just been lamenting (in my mind) how much it sucks to be a 9 ½ since inexplicably no one seems to make them (seriously—why the whole jump from 9 to 10?). It’s too bad that I hobble in even near-practical thick 2” heels. I have no idea how I’ll pull off spindly 3 ½ inch heels (note the use of “teetering” in the ad copy), not to mention the skinny jeans that should accompany them. I’d better lay off the peanut sauce and fried food stat.

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Nov 10

$70 of Joy

Cover_sepoct2005 When is a magazine worth $70? It doesn’t fight “stubborn belly fat,” so how to justify the expense? The cover price works out to a mere $2.30 or so but the $54 shipping from Malaysia kills me. I love Flavours more than almost any food magazine I’ve found, despite the fact that I’ve never cooked single thing from it. My subscription just ran out and I’m going to have to bite the bullet.

The writing is ok, the thing is rife with advertising/pr blurring usually reserved for small town dailies, they only recently started noting which restaurant reviews were anonymous (and vice versa), but the magazine taps into a twisty culture that I’m fascinated by. When people think Malaysia, they think quintessential street food and they’d be right. In fact, there was just a travel piece in the New York Times on the topic. I had some of the best dishes ever on my visit last year. The region’s residents are food crazy, and rightly so. Eating and obsessing on where to eat is a perfectly acceptable hobby. Makansutra had this niche pre-blog era. It’s no coincidence that many of the original food bloggers were based out of Singapore and Malaysia (I recall reading a few years back when Friendster was the big thing that after the U.S., Malaysia had the highest number of members) and they continue in their proliferation. Singaporean Chubby Hubby seems to currently have the corner on the slick, anything but amateur market.

But there’s not a lot of high-low mingling, it’s either hawker or haute. Western food frequently fills the gap in the middle. Malaysians might take offense at this, but as with many nationalities, their tastes tend to be provincial. They like what they know and are incredibly particular about minutiae like subtle differences in broth at various stalls. Yet they’re not so critical with foreign flavors. I was initially baffled how Thai food could be better in NYC than 100 miles from the Thai border. Most of what I saw tended to revolve around noodles or was something not terribly Thai dubbed tom yum (though I have to admit that tom yum pizza sounds like an awesome invention) in the way we’d stick pineapple on something and call it Hawaiian.

Flavours definitely dallies in the higher end but it is tradition-bound too. The tone is aspirational, occasionally fawning and sometimes misguided. I love the hodgepodge. Picking the January/February 2006 issue off the shelf randomly, the first ad for Maggi celebrates Chinese New Year with the tagline, “customs may change but good taste is forever,” which sums everything up. Honestly, I don’t even know what the original customs are—maybe that’s why I can enjoy how they jumble them all up.

F_koo1 Content from this issue includes "The New Oriental Splendour" and pictures pretty amuse bouches of prunes & bacon with pan-fried potato and cherry tomato with Chinese bbq meat; "New Year with the Nonyas," which features old school dishes like hati babi bungkus (pork liver balls);  "Old-fashioned Favourites," profiling nostalgic snacks from yesteryear like fah sang koh and ham chit soo that are completely bewildering to me; a column from a French chef who teaches at the French Culinary School in Asia on how to cook lamb, the premise being that “Malaysians do not know what to do with lamb.” The roasted lamb rack with tapenade & black olive mashed potato looks pretty good.

Then there’s an insane feature on truffles (Perigord black truffles were quoted at RM3,000 to RM4,000 per kg. Hmm, that’s $400-500 a pound, probably about right) with a recipe for truffle puffs, essentially typical curry puffs stuffed with foie gras and truffles. It’s probably tasty, despite its ostentatious premise. Not so palatable is a cocktail they’ve devised called an azur, which is a glass of Chardonnay drizzled with blue Curaçao.

They review a place called Fondue House and are sure to point out that recipes have been tweaked for local palates, many have low alcohol content or none at all, and the bacon cheese fondue uses beef bacon. Sometimes you forget when reading flashier publications that the country is predominantly Muslim. I recall being surprised that our room service breakfast at a perfectly modern hotel had a choice of beef bacon, turkey ham or chicken sausage. No pork to be found.

I’m enamored with how the mixed culture—Malay, Chinese, Indian, British, Portuguese—all put a mark on local cuisine and how this natural fusion informs how dining is interpreted. It’s a weird scene. Last year, in Kuala Lumpur, we went to Frangipani, a swanky creative restaurant, and were two of only eight diners in the vast space, all Caucasian.

Tk_fishcurry_1  The concept hasn’t been fully embraced yet, and for good reason—it’s really freaking expensive. Our bill was around $150, more on par with a New York restaurant. Meanwhile, a bowl of laska at sit-down Madame Kwan’s goes for around $3.50, and locals complain (you can get it on the street for under one dollar). It’s like these Chinese monster malls filled with luxury goods but necessarily enough clientele. The transition is too fast and unattainable for the mainstream. (Coincidentally, there was just a related discussion on egullet about the lack of high end dining threads.)

I know it’s strange that I don’t enjoy this type of coverage when it’s home grown. Maybe that’s because New York is oversaturated with gloss. Or maybe it’s because Flavours’s style is highly un-American. When they mix Western flourishes in, which they often do, it’s European or Australian. Nods to the U.S. are nearly non-existent (they murder Mexican food—cajun spices, gouda and baked potato with your burrito?) Sometimes it’s fun being an outsider, totally unjaded and learning everything from scratch.

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Oct 28

See What I Mean?

Marysee_1 See's isn't exclusive. There's nothing Michel Cluizel or Fauchon about it. Old (long-dead) Mary See doesn't taunt you with one coveted U.S. flagship, her milk chocolate legacy can be found at practically any mall…as long as you're on the west coast. There's not really anything gourmet (or whatever that dated adjective implies anymore–I suppose artisanal or organic would be more a la minute) about See's candy but they're one of my favorite treats in the world.

And I do mean the world. I was almost crazed enough to cough up roughly $40 for a pound when I unexpectedly found a shop in a Kowloon mall. Being away from home, even for a short period, will do that to you. On my first visit to England eleven years ago all I could think about were those sugary, shortening-laden sheet cakes from any American grocery stores that usually have a lemon or raspberry jam stripe in the middle. I suspect I was having a reaction to the fruitcakey, marzipan topped wedding cake I'd been subjected to on this trip (here's a photo of such a beast from my sister's wedding #2–I obviously didn't "photoblog" the first). I might be one of the few freaks in the universe who actually likes fruitcake, but light and frivolous it is not.

Candy_2 I was thrilled to find a hand-picked box (as opposed to the standard assorted variety) in my mailbox (ok, on the little table that’s been put in the foyer because the mailman apparently thinks 11231 is still a ghetto zip code rather than half-gentrified and filled with merciless complainers who aren’t accustomed to shoddy service [seriously, I think we’re intentionally getting shit because tenants have told on this guy so many times] and throws 85% of our building’s mail on the ground rather than opening up the boxes) from my mom a few days ago. We occasionally received a box for Christmas as older kids (we got Whitman’s samplers when younger) but Halloween is new to me. It’s a tradition I could get behind, though.

The last See’s candy I was exposed to was a Christmas season two-pound gift box sitting on the table near my desk, two jobs ago (and I wonder why I’m having such a hard time getting past HR now. Three jobs in one year raises countless red flags). It was during the transit strike when I walked eight miles on top of taking the PATH to and from work, so I somehow justified eating Scotchmallows, Apricot Delights and Polar Bear Paws, throughout the day. Unfortunately, sitting around the house on a Saturday like today I have no excuse for that kind of gluttony.

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Oct 5

The Food Chain

Rico There is almost nothing quite so awesome as scary beings eating themselves. This anthropomorphic ice cream eating ice cream, cartoon cow devouring slices of its own hindquarters concept is my new favorite Flickr pick me up.

Ah…Autophagia and Cut Me, Wicket Servant also tread into this tasty yet terrifying realm.

Chicken cannibal photo from bunchofpants on Flickr.

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Aug 23

Operation: Ham Fisted

I don't really get how certain foods reach near mythical status. Sometimes it’s a matter of price such as with luxury ingredients like kobe beef or black truffles. Other times it’s a n issue of scarcity. Up until recently, mangosteens, Sichuan peppercorns and raw milk cheese were verboten in the U.S. (I think we’ve loosened up on the first two). Jamon iberico falls into both camps, making it extra attractive for carnivorous thrill seekers.

PernilsJamón Iberico de Bellota, essentially ham from black footed Iberian pigs that have been fed on acorns (bellota) is supposedly the shit. Americans are putting down $200 deposits now to get their meat hooks on FDA approved $1,200 hams that won’t be ready for eating until 2008. I’m not that crazy (or loaded). I am curious if it's indivuals or restaurants that are going this whole ham route.

JamonI’m very much a non-foodie (is there a grosser word? Mirth and wound are also two uglies) or else I would’ve researched D.O.’s (denominaciones de origen) bought from a specialty shop like Jamonisimo. But the vacuum packed €84/kg jamon from Can Via at the Boqueria (above left photo) was sufficient for me. We got 600 grams, a little over a pound, for about $65, if I’m doing the math right. It’s not as if my palate is so advanced that it would shun a more pedestrian jamon.

The fun was more in deciding how we’d get our half kilo back to NYC undetected. Just tossing the plastic-clad lump of meat into a suitcase seemed like asking for trouble. And after the terrorist scare started hitting the news, we got more nervous. If even breast milk was suspect, what hope was there for an innocent ham?

DirtyworkWe committed total blasphemy and butchered our little porcine prize with a 99-cent type store (who knew they had these Brooklyn staples in Barcelona?) pocketknife that we paid €3 for. Hand carving is prized over machine cut jamon—here’s the proper way to do it—but I don’t think our man handling would come recommended from anyone. Rather than nicely balanced sheer strips, we sheared off irregular wedges with fat blobs in weird places. I'm sure the hotel housekeeping staff loved us.

First, we ate a bunch with a loaf of bread. Not only am I not a foodie, I’m not much of a food writer either. I can’t describe how food tastes to save my life. I like writing about eating, but delving deeply into flavors and nuances of taste is tricky. I’m shallow. Yes, the ham was earthy–how about that for cop out food description shorthand? It’s better than “interesting,” right? There was a faint sweetness, jamon isn’t salty like prosciutto at all. As for the acorns that I was likely supposed to be experiencing, that’s debatable since I’m not sure that I even know what acorns taste like. Who’s eaten an acorn? Maybe nutty would be a better overarching term. Eating jamon iberico is like dealing with an annoying bug bite that you vow to only scratch one last time and then keep compulsively going back to. One slice will inevitably lead to four more. At least instead of resulting in raw, bloody skin, you merely end up full of ham.

ContrabandThen we got to work stuffing the rest into 12” or so lengths of bread, simulating bocadillos that we’d bought the evening before from Bocatta, a fast food chain. We’d saved the sleeves the original sandwiches came in for this nefarious purpose. After sticking our hacked Spanish sandwiches into the paper wrappers, we had a close approximation of a store bought sandwich. James and I each wrapped one in a plastic bag and packed it in our own suitcases. Perhaps if one of us got nabbed, the damage might be softened by keeping the two separate, like how the royal family can’t fly in the same plane (is that even true?).

Operation: Ham Fisted was a smashing success. I ended up salvaging the porky bits and plastic bagging them up, which I’m sure also breaks some sort of purist rule. Ignorance can be bliss. I ate the last tiny remainder last night and relished it since it was the only souvenir I brought back from Spain. It was certainly beat an Olympic stadium magnet.

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Jun 10

Out with the Old, In with the New

Arbys I’m so out of the loop. How could I not know about this new mall development in Glendale? I love me a Queens mall, but there’s something a bit off with The Shops at Atlas Park. For one, I have no idea what half of these stores even are. Crazy for Animals? Amish Fine Food? White House-Black Market?! What the hell? These are not the chains I’m accustomed to. That’s what happens when you build a mall where no subway goes. And Chili’s is no great shakes. They don’t even have a theme. Er, or are baby back ribs their calling card?

After the lack of Sonics anywhere 100 miles from here, I got on an Arby’s bender because they’re another one of those fast food companies that advertises on TV yet has (almost) zero NYC presence. And I’m dying for a beef ‘n cheddar. I used to eat a beef ‘n cheddar and jamocha shake almost every day for lunch as a high school freshman. Oh, and a Cherry Coke and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup in study hall (and I weighed like 70 pounds less then than I do now. No shit. More and more, I’m starting to believe that metabolism slowing with age thing).

Horseysauce A few weeks ago I noticed that they’re building an Arby’s in Middle Village, which makes me happy. But it’s being constructed on the old Niederstein’s spot (scroll to middle of page), which makes me sad because it was the oldest restaurant on Long Island (of course you all know that technically Queens and Brooklyn are on Long Island). Even though the food supposedly sucked, I had every intention of trying Niederstein’s for at least the novelty of an old German hold-out nestled next to a cemetery, while I lived those three years in neighboring Ridgewood. But I never did it. I’ll have to rectify that oversight with a beef ‘n cheddar (don't forget the Horsey Sauce) in the near future.

Old style Arby's hat photo borrowed from tesg's guide to big chain road food consumption.

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Jan 19

Pizzeria Oh-No

I've never had any particular urge to visit Chicago. Not counting airport layovers, I've never even been in the middle of the country, just the edges (though I did spur-of-the-moment visit a few southern cities in summer '04 just to begin rectifying this extreme east-west exclusivity). But out of nowhere I was struck with the urge to check out the windy city (oh, that's big apple lame). And when I say urge to check out, what I really mean is eat.

Persau I think I've had an aversion to Chicago because I'm less than enthralled by its trademark foodstuffs: deep dish pizza, weirdo hot dogs (no regional pride, I don't care for any city's buns and wieners), Italian beef sandwiches. I don't know, I'm all about hearty everyman food, but none of these tempt me in the least.

But after this recent MLK Monday, I had wished that I'd planned something more substantial for my three-day weekend. Maybe it's because I just started a new job, but I'm feeling nervous and restless and in need of mini-vacation (I still can't believe that my big S.E. Asia excursion was almost half a year ago) despite having no vacation days yet.

My next opportunity for escape will be President's Day and I totally want to try Moto and the nearest Trader Vic's to NYC. I'm thinking I can somehow turn this into a belated Valentine's celebration. How better to say I love you than with crab rangoon and "sweetbreads with real snow that tastes like goat cheese." I shit you not.

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Dec 27

Wanton Wontons

Rangoon_1 Crab rangoon is something I seem to indulge in when no one else is around. I think it's because I'll eat an entire $3.25 order of ten in one sitting and that's not the sort of thing to brag about. I just can't help it, rangoons are that good. Jalapeño poppers are second.

I needed roast pork on Christmas for a recipe and thought it would be the perfect excuse to have crab rangoon delivered. But I must admit Wing Hua's version were way too thick and chewy. It's not like I expect subtlety or perfection from a corner take out joint, but a rangoon should be at least a little crispy.

I survived, and for me rangoons are really a vehicle for sweet chile sauce. I picked up a few bottles of Maggi chile sauce in Singapore and I put it on everything I can. Versions of this sauce come in little plastic packets at fast food chains all over S.E. Asia. I had it at Burger King in Thailand and A&W and KFC in Malaysia. Great for dipping fries.

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Dec 23

Petty Fours

Petitfours It's official, petit fours are overrated. By me, at least. I don't know why I coveted the damn little squares for so long. This year I was given a box as a gift, and while I should've been ecstatic, I was faced with the same grim reality that surfaced the last time I tried petit fours (and yes, I'm sure you get what you pay for–nice confections can't be had on the cheap). They're nothing more than littler Little Debbies with Christmassy frosting flourishes. Waxy, shortening-laden lumps in a pretty shell. And these specimens all had the exact same white cake and raspberry filling. I had to throw them out (this exact thing happened last year, so you think I would've learned) to prevent the angry fullness that comes from gorging on unsatisfying sweets.

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