The New Adventures Of Old Cuisine

After an evening run on Thursday, followed by a quick stop at the New York Sports Club, which I often consider my public shower, I found myself in the city with time to kill before meeting a friend downtown. Wandering the wasteland that is midtown at 8 pm on a weeknight, I ruled out the following: bad pizza from one of the many take-out joints on Lexington; a bad sandwich from one of the ubiquitous, lunchy chain restaurants; anything from McDonald's. It was cold and I was hungry and then hungrier when I happened to duck down 45th Street, passing a small Japanese restaurant that advertised ramen on a plastic-covered menu affixed to the window: Menchanko-tei. Ramen seemed the perfect antidote to a cold and hungry midtown night. I found a place at the bar.

Like Ippudo, Menchanko-tei serves a variety of different types of ramen. They have tsukemen, broth made from roasted pork bones, my personal favorite. They also have soy and chicken-based broths, also traditional species of ramen. I ordered a plate of cucumber pickles, briny and salty little disks. I ordered a plentiful bowl of pork bone ramen, toothsome noodles floating in a milky broth and topped with a tea-smoked egg, pickled bamboo and ginger, sesame seeds, scallions, and a rolled slice of cooked pork belly. I was surprised at the soup's quality, noodles just as fresh as the Ippudo version. The broth was sufficiently porky and the restaurant, as a whole, doesn't suffer from the relentless popularity that makes a trip to Ippudo tantamount to waiting in line for Space Mountain.

On that aimless walk that night, I also happened past a place I've been reading a lot about lately, a French import by the name of Le Relais de Venise L'Entrecote. Please don't ask me to pronounce that. It seemed to fit the bill for what I had planned Saturday, an inexpensive meal with my sister. In Paris, throngs of people line up nightly for L'Entrecote's $24 prix fixe menu, which includes a salad dressed with mustard vinaigrette and walnuts, crunchy French bread, an abundant plate of French fries, and a thinly sliced steak. Oh, and the sauce. Don't forget the sauce. The sauce is shipped from Paris and the ingredients remain secret. I could identify lemon and pepper and butter and something darker and earthier, possibly liver. If you ask for a list of ingredients, restaurant workers will not divulge, so don't bother. It would be worth it to come back just for a $24 jar of sauce.

The steak at L'Entrecote, something approximating a hanger steak, comes very thinly sliced and bathed in that sauce. At meal's beginning, a waitress, wearing a French maid uniform (black top, short skirt, tiny white apron) asks you how you like your steak and then writes your answer on the paper tablecloth covering your place setting. After your salad is cleared, the steak and frites arrive, served twice. Until you are ready for your second helping, the steak and potatoes stay nearby, atop small candles on a metal chaffing dish. The dessert menu makes up for the lack of variety posited by the restaurant's set playlist. Given over ten options, we chose three tartlets: cherry, lemon, and chocolate. They were small tarts indeed, buttery and fine and hard to justify sharing. Lemon tasted of a meringue pie filling and cherry was topped with three plump versions of the fruit. At night's end, our bill was so low, I considered staying for an encore.

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Menchanko-tei

131 East 45th Street

New York, NY 10017

212.986.6805

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Le Relais de Venise L'Entrecote

590 Lexington Avenue

New York, NY 10022

212.758.3989

K-Town, Etc.

Anyone who knows me would gladly attest to the following: I am not a nice/forgiving/happy/generous/enjoyable-to-be-around human being when I am hungry. This is just fact. I get grumpy. I get hypoglycemic. I swear to whomever I'm with that I'm just going to die. I could substantiate this with a thousand vignettes from childhood and beyond, but I'll leave it up to the imagination of my readers.

Now, on Friday afternoon, I ended up in Manhattan, walking up 6th Avenue, where you ain't bound to find anything worth buying, unless you're really into plastic beads or fresh flowers. This includes anything remotely ingestible. It's a culinary wasteland. I was starting to get my familiar hypoglycemic hand shake, and became immediately convinced that if I did not stop for food RIGHT NOW, I would... well, you get the picture.

My companion did not much care for my theatrics and kept telling me to pick a place, but what was there to pick? A corner bodega? A McDonald's? None of this jived with my "local foods" or "homemade" mantra that I've been espousing since August.

Inevitably, we ended up on 32nd Street, home to Korea Town, commonly referred to by drunks and foodies as K-Town. We were reminded of a place recommended to us by a friend of mine a few months ago, but before we made it I saw signs for Pho32 & Shabu and decided that we need walk no farther: Pho it was.

Pho32 & Shabu specializes in two things: pho (duh), and shabu shabu. Pho is a delicious Vietnamese soup, and Shabu Shabu is this method of cooking wherein a pot of steaming broth is lit on fire before you and you dip assorted things (a.k.a. meat, vegetables, tofu) into this broth until they cook. I opted for pho, since I've never been able to get shabu shabu down.

First, a salad of cabbage and ginger dressing arrived. It was slightly bitter, crisp, salty, perfect. Next, a plate of lime, bean sprouts, shaved green peppers, basil. Finally the soup, a large bowl of beef broth, thin-sliced flank steak cooked rare, beef brisket, rice noodles. I was instructed to spill my plate of stuff into the broth "to taste" (that meant spilling the whole thing in). A condiment caddy displayed sriracha, hoisin, and chili paste. I dumped that in, too. What resulted was a rich, meaty, basil-y, crunchy, chewy, satisfying bowl of stuff. True pho eaters will tell you that tripe is a very important part of the pho experience. But I will tell you that I think tripe is disgusting and I don't like the way it looks like cotton or spun sugar, sitting out on the butcher display in my neighborhood, so I will never order my pho with tripe.

My dining companion ordered great fried chicken potstickers, but I wouldn't go back just for those. I would, however, go back for that soup, which may have been the most transcendent bowl of Asian noodles ever, aside, of course, from those pork-perfect ramen bowls at Ippudo. Slurp, slurp.

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Pho32 & Shabu
2 W. 32nd Street
New York, NY 10001
212.695.0888

Unveiled

My sister and I went to this bachelorette party last night for one of our cousins.  It was one of those parties that started late and included an even later dinner and when I picked her up at Grand Central, we were both hungry.  Since we had to be in the Union Square vicinity, and since it was a cold and rainy day, and since our last attempts at a meal at Ippudo had been thwarted by crowds, we decided to make it a ramen day.  

It's amazing that this place has a wait, even at 5:30 in the afternoon.  When we finally took a seat, it was closer to 6:00.  Salty-sweet chicken wings had that perfect, glossy, crunchy texture only acquired with hot oil and a substantial deep-fryer.  They came with sweet pickled cucumbers and carrots.  Ramen was, as always, a memorable experience.  I'll agree with Frank Bruni for once and say that the best dishes at Ippudo are the soups made with stewed pork bone broth.  The noodles are slim and not too chewy.  Our soups (the Modern this time around) also came with pieces of cabbage and Berkshire pork).  

We headed to the W to meet my cousin and her friends, where we played a bridal trivia game, drank Korbel with raspberries, and wore giant red-glowing plastic rings.  Then it was off to Alta, a tapas bar on 10th Street.  

My cousin is gluten-free, and Alta had a menu telling us which dishes we could order.  In a way, that made things easier, since there were so many choices on the menu.  I deferred my input.  Sometimes I'd rather sit back and not look at the menu.  Salty mussels came in deep cast-iron posts with plenty of residual broth.  Skewers of shrimp and chorizo were spicy and smoky.  Crab cakes came without panko, but as a result lost that textural contrast so important to a good cake.  Lamb and okra skewers were confusing; pieces of eggplant that looked like lamb were actually, well, eggplant.  The lamb itself was good enough, once we could locate it.  

Sea scallops eluded me (there were only three) and chicken wings with paprika didn't live up to our previous wings.  I couldn't eat a pretty beet salad that came studded with hazelnuts (I'm allergic), but I could eat perfect pounded duck breast wheels, stuffed with scallions and served over a foie gras emulsion.  Deviled eggs were just fine; the pork toast version Resto serves is better.  

Dinner wasn't expensive: 50 bucks per person and we covered the bachelorette.  But my sister and I got to thinking that if we hadn't eaten a mere few hours before, we would have probably found dinner a little anemic, or maybe I would have dipped a little deeper into the Oloroso Sherry pool.  

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Ippudo

65 4th Avenue

New York, NY 10003

212.388.0088

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Alta

64 W. 10th Street

New York, NY 10011

212.505.7777

E. And G. Adventure In The E.V.

Around six, we put our names in at Ippudo, who claimed to have an hour and a half wait.  We walked down to St. Mark's and I saw the sign for Ramen Setagaya and couldn't be persuaded to wait for the city's best ramen.  So Setagaya it was. 

We had soy sauce eggs (ok, I found out my sister doesn't really love eggs the way that I do, so I had the soy sauce eggs by myself) and a bamboo salad that was dressed with soy, salt, and pepper.  Fatty rounds of barbecued pork melted in our mouths.  Oshinko was served traditional style: cucumber, eggplant, and whatever that sweet potato thing is.  

My sister's ramen came in a salty broth with toothsome noodles, a soy sauce egg, and roasted pork.  The broth lacked the depth of flavor that Ippudo's is known for (they use roasted pork bones as the base of their stocks), but it did have the brininess of fresh seaweed.  That may not appeal to all.  My noodle was a thicker variety--the name escapes me--and came separate from a gelatinous, fishy broth.  I liked the texture of the noodles, though the soup was a little too ocean-y for my taste. 

Ramen mission accomplished, we slipped across the street to the newest version of the Murray Hill hot spot Baoguette--the downtown plot is called Baoguette Cafe--for some takeout sandwiches.  The line is long and they only take cash, but, hey, the banh mi are pretty delicious.  I ordered the classic, topped with country pate, pickled cucumber, carrots, daikon, cilantro, and sriracha, as well as the 'sloppy bao,' made with curry beef.  Baoguette makes their baguettes in house.  I didn't eat the sandwiches until later, though they were lovely.  Next time, I'll be ordering the grilled corn with dried shrimp and scallions. 

Finally, sweets were in order.  We hiked (ok, drove) to 2nd Avenue and waited in the excessive line at Momofuku Milk Bar to see what the hype was all about.  A half hour later, once I could finally see the display case, I noticed that all the cookies were gone, with the exception of two.  Most of the cakes and breads were gone.  I had wanted to try the blueberry cream cookie that I watched Christina Tosi make on Martha Stewart.  Instead, I ended up with three compost cookies that tasted suspiciously like my Aunt Linda's mocha chip cookies, a slice of dulce de leche cake (too sweet), a slice of cinnamon bun pie (good concept, with the cream cheese frosting, but, again, too sweet) and a cup of donut-flavored soft-serve.  A note on the soft-serve: the chocolate donut flavor actually has the doughy consistency of the pastry, while the jelly donut flavor tasted more like mediocre sorbet.  I should have gone for a set of pork buns and the bavarian cream soft-serve, but, like the line, it would have been too much.  

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Ramen Setagaya

34 St. Mark's Place

New York, NY 10003

212.387.7959

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Baoguette Cafe

37 St. Mark's Place

New York, NY 10003

212.380.1487

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Momofuku Milk Bar and Bakery

207 2nd Avenue

New York, NY 10003

212.254.3500

Run To Eat

It's my abiding philosophy.  Well, most of the time, anyway.  Yesterday afternoon, after a sunny, warm, and altogether forgiving run in the Bronx, my friend and I took a drive to the east village for some serious rewards.  

Our destination?  Ippudo, the Japanese ramen import unlike any other ramen joint run in the city.  For one, the space is enormous.  Cavernous might be more accurate.  There's nothing delicate or subtle about the decor, a high-ceilinged, mirrored, red and black monstrosity that must seat over 150 noodle-slurpers, easy.  

Weird noodle sculptures and rhinestone hanging artwork abound, but, let's be honest, no one comes for the bad Asian decor.  We're here for the noodles, bowls and bowls of the hand-cut variety.  Ippudo's menu has grown since its inception last spring, but the focus remains: If you go, it's gotta be ramen.  

So ramen it was, though we started the meal with gently fried shisito peppers that came with fresh lemons and a lemon salt for dipping.  Shisito peppers are mild and you can often swallow them whole.  But the spicy ones, few and far between, are considered good luck in Japanese culture.  It was my good fortune, then, to encounter a piping hot little sucker, only one on a plate of ten.  It was as fiery as a jalapeno.  The waitress laughed and told me I'd have good luck.  I could probably use it. 

Then the ramen arrived, giant hot bowls filled with noodles and broth.  My friend ordered a shrimp ramen special, a shrimp stock with fresh noodles garnished with shrimp and bamboo.  I ordered the spicy tonkatsu ramen, filled with ground and sliced pork, a roasted pork bone broth, julienned wood's ear mushrooms, and chili paste.  Traditional ramen arrives with a sesame seed grinder designed to garnish any soup with fresh ground seeds.  It made the broth nutty.  Fresh noodles like this are springy and toothsome, making the average eater wonder why anyone would ever settle for dried ramen sold at dollar stores for 30 cents a package.  

We slurped our soups to the sorry bottoms.  In Japan, it's considered appropriate and respectful to slurp and drink your last drop.  Wide spoons and spoon rests are provided for such glorious slurping.  The saddest part of the day was when we reached the bottoms of our bowls.  

But we'll be back.  Salty divine ramen like that can't keep me at bay long. 

*

Ippudo 

65 4th Avenue

New York, NY 10003

212.388.0088

Asian Fusion

In search of a perfect bowl of ramen, my standing Sunday date and I migrated to Sunnyside, Queens, home of the tiny and somewhat perfect "Japanese and Nepalese" restaurant Hanami. Judiciously salted edamame led into two bowls of the Hakata ramen: broth made from roasted pork bones, sliced roasted pork, shitake mushrooms, pickled red ginger, springy ramen noodles, scallions, and whole sesame seeds. The broth left nothing to be desired and while the east village's Ippudo has more options, it is pricier, more more of a scene, and a little less down home.

Where Ippudo is flash--red and gold everywhere, a cavernous dining room, mirrors, crystal, large light fixtures--Hanami is subtlety. Simple wood tables and a modest sushi bar is all you get, although we were delighted to hear the wordless version of Pink Floyd's The Wall playing in the background, elevator-style with Japanese instruments.

Lunch cost a whopping $11 per person, another reason I'll be heading back. I can't remember the last time I got anything decent for $11.

Dinner found us, joined by two enthusiastic friends, at Sripraphai, long billed as New York's best Thai restaurant. Sripraphai is in Woodside and it's cash-only, so I envisioned a small spot populated only by regulars.

Boy, was I wrong. The place was slammed. When sat, we ordered in two rounds to avoid the speedy frenzy of Thai meals. Round one included chicken curry puffs served with a cucumber-onion vinaigrette (similar to the sauce served with satay), a crispy watercress salad (possibly our favorite dish--tempura-battered and fried watercress served with onion, ginger, mint, squid, chicken, and shrimp), fried pickled pork spareribs (off the bone, not too salty but very delicious), and sweet sausage with cucumber (resembling pepperoni and also very tasty).

For round two we continued on the appetizer track, ordering only one entree, the sauteed drunken noodles. The noodles came with a serrano pepper sauce on the side that was fiery but not too fiery. The noodles were toothsome and perfect and came with ground chicken, Thai basil, and cherry tomatoes that popped in our mouths when eaten. Sweet and sour crispy vermicelli with shrimp was the big loser of the evening, resembling nothing more than noodles dipped in sweet and sour sauce. Steamed chicken and shrimp dumplings were really small and delicate shumai that we collectively loved. The fried shrimp wrap was not my personal favorite--whole shrimp wrapped in egg roll covers and deep-fried--but the others seemed to like it. The BBQ beef salad, served with chili, mint, onion, and lime, on the other hand, was amazing. The beef actually tasted like beef, which sounds silly, but doesn't always apply to this genre of cuisine.

For dessert, green tea ice-cream arrived with whipped cream and tapioca. We also ordered a basil seed dessert that was pretty to look at (it looked like pink and green icecubes topped with basil seeds) but had the consistency of too hard jello. I ordered something called "mock pomegranate seeds and jackfruit in coconut ice" and although I still have no idea what exactly I was eating, it tasted very fresh and coconut-y. Finally, the ubiquitous Thai dessert, pumpkin custard, cut into cubes.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "they must have spent a fortune." And I haven't even told you about the two liters of house wine we enjoyed during our meal. But actually, all that food--and it was certainly a lot of food--plus tax and tip set us back $34 a person. In the city, that would have bought me a single entree. Perhaps Queens dining is recession-proof. Well, for now, anyway.

*
Hanami Japanese and Nepalese Restaurant
39-11 Queens Boulevard
Sunnyside, NY 11104
718.361.8232

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Sripraphai
64-13 39th Avenue
Woodside, NY 11377
718.899.9599