Sunshine Therapy in Palm Springs

I didn't go to Palm Springs to eat. I went for the sun and heat, and for my friend's 30th birthday. But I was surprised find many tasty things in that desert oasis, surrounded by shockingly magnificent mountains and date farms.

Upon arrival, I discovered that the date shake is the requisite liquid refreshment in Palm Springs. We tried a healthy version at Nature's Health Food and Cafe, which was more of a date smoothie made with hemp milk, but I preferred the thick vanilla milkshake version at the Ace Hotel, which I bought as a palliative measure to soothe myself on the ride to the airport.

Who am I kidding? The official beverage of this trip was the cocktail, in many shapes and forms (poolside, under trees, on patios, in restaurants, in manicured hotel gardens and in rat pack piano bars).  My favorite of the weekend was a Lemongrass Ricky on the shady patio at Birba. Tart and refreshing, I loved the visual effect of the muddled lemongrass, lime and cherries in the glass with gin and ice (on the right, above). The owner of Birba, and it's sister restaurant Cheeky's, gave us a tour of the property and its adjacent secluded boutique hotel, Alcazar, which looked so peaceful and Mediterranean, it instantly jumped to the top of my list for a return trip. They also own Jiao, an Asian fusion cafe at which a group of us shared probably every item on the menu. I thought that the vegetarian dishes (stir fried eggplant, red cabbage and grapefruit salad and the congee with egg) served to start were the most unexpected and refreshing.

Back at our hotel, I was impressed by the freshness of the food in the diner-style restaurant, King's Highway. It's open for breakfast, lunch, dinner and Stumptown espresso, and most everything is house made and quality sourced (the Ace's Portland influence is evident). Get the kale salad. We took the hotel's bikes and rode down to Nature's for lunch, where we found a seemingly bottomless menu of fresh smoothies and juices, and the ultimate California-style sandwich (sprouts and avocado!) that I can't seem to find in Portland.

The biggest flavor bomb of the trip was a late night fish taco at Shanghai Red's, a dive in an alley behind a seafood restaurant. I think the (perfectly) fried fish was cod, topped with shredded lettuce, sour cream sauce and salsa. Such a satisfying meal at the end of a day laying in the sun. I could eat a plateful of them right now.

My Palm Springs top five:

1. Fish tacos at Shanghai Red's - www.fishermans.com 
2. Veggie sandwiches and fresh juice at Nature's Health Food Cafe - www.natureshealthfoodcafe.com  
3. BBQ dinner at Pappy & Harriett's in Pioneertown, an hour away (for the awesome* live music and atmosphere, not necessarily the food, but dinner gets you a prime seating and the chili fries are ridiculously good) - www.pappyandharriets.com 
4. Cocktail hour in the elegant gardens at the Parker Hotel (go for just one or expect to break the vacation bank) - www.theparkerpalmsprings.com 
5. Any meal at King's Highway - www.acehotel.com/palmsprings/dining 

Wish list for my next trip, which I wish was next weekend: stay at Alcazar, visit a date farm, have brunch at Cheeky's, and explore Joshua Tree National Park.

*I use the word "awesome" here with the most genuine intention: I was blown away by the quality of the band that played the night we were there (Sunday), with musicians seemingly coming out of nowhere to join the band and play a few songs. They were the "Pappy and Harriett's Allstars," fronted by Victoria Williams.

I landed in New York with a packed schedule and a horrible cold, and the weather forecast was something like 38 degrees and raining. My sickness lasted all week, but the rain let up, and so did the work I was there to do. With what was left of my sense of taste and smell after a week of blowing my nose, I enjoyed good food and great company at hot spots like ABC Kitchen, the Marrow and Jeepney. But the meals that really left an impression on me on this trip in New York were my version of comfort food, which apparently comes down to eggs and pasta. I highly recommend these dishes and the restaurants that serve them...

1. Perfectly baked eggs for brunch, served over the cult-status kale salad (lacinato kale, aged cheddar, sweet potatoes, pecorino and almonds) at Northern Spy in the East Village. It seems that they do simple food really well -- my friend was talking about how good her porridge was all day.

2. I've always wondered what it would be like to eat ramen at a noodle bar in Tokyo, and I think I got a little taste of it at Totto Ramen. It might have been the hour+ wait at 4:30 in the afternoon in the cold vestibule outside of the restaurant (tip: buy a huge hot tea around the corner to sip while you wait), but this was possibly the best ramen I've ever had: the chicken paitan ramen broth was rich and concentrated, the straight noodles cooked perfectly chewy, and we asked for rayu (spicy sesame oil) on the side which added a peppery flavor and refreshing heat to clear our heads.

3. I had just watched this video of Cathy Whims making cooking gnocchi look so easy, and was lucky to soon satisfy my immediate craving for the pillowy dumplings during a business lunch at Union Square Cafe. The restaurant has been around for a while, but the food there is so solid, which I think is really highlighted in their use of produce and house made pastas. The two were beautifully combined, along with duck confit, in this half portion of gnocchi.

4. And last, but definitely not least, my friend and I were wandering around looking for another great brunch spot on Sunday, and without settling for less (we even sat down in one place but got up and left when we looked around and saw that none of the diners were finishing their meals), we stumbled into  Tertulia when the restaurant was almost completely empty! I imagine that it still may be tough to get in for dinner, so brunch is a great time to go, and I recognized some of the dinner menu items available during the day. I ordered this incredibly flavorful lamb stew with tomato and peppers, with eggs baked into it, and crispy olive oil toast to dip inside.

Despite my run-down state and the chilly weather New York, as always, embraced me with open arms and fed me well. My chic room at the Ace Hotel, with its cozy Pendleton blankets, big windows and daily doses of Stumptown espresso served right downstairs definitely helped with that.

My first word was "flower." At least that’s what my Mom’s told me since I was a kid. Maybe even since I was two years old, about when I started spending a lot of time with my Tutu. We’d walk around her yard in Kilauea, picking hibiscus and plumeria to decorate the costume hats she crafted for me from paper bags.

The first job that I was ever paid for was making leis at a flower shop. I think I was twelve. Before that, my friends and I sold leis and bouquets to tourists for pocket money, from the side of the road in front of our houses. Peacefully stringing flower leis is one of my favorite things to do, possibly even more than cooking. The sheer beauty that exists in a single flower is only amplified when multiplied or variegated in a thoughtful pattern. Gathering the blossoms from your garden, the yards of friends, or wild areas is also part of the pleasure.

If you live on Kauai, you know where the good plumeria trees are. In June, when the flowers were blooming, I arrived on the island to find the trees partially picked over after the string of recent graduation ceremonies (6^th grade, middle school, high school, college…). In Hawaii, it’s common for high school students to be virtually unrecognizable under a pile of leis following their graduation ceremony.

There used to be plumeria trees all over Anahola, on every school ground and in most yards, but these days they seem harder to find. If you have a plumeria tree and a couple of ti leaf plants, you have the resources to make a lei if an occasion arises to bring one. My family still has a couple of trees, but there are far more that line the road that borders my old high school campus, so that’s where my sister and I picked them for my Tutu’s memorial celebration.

I woke up the next day on Portland time, 6:00 a.m. in Hawaii. I quietly took the pretty pink plumerias from the refrigerator onto the porch, and strung the flowers together as the neighborhood rose. We draped those leis around my Tutu’s photograph, and sent baskets of loose plumeria and orchids out on a fishing boat into the ocean with her ashes. 

After Tutu passed last year,  we were looking through old photos (in most of them, she was wearing a lei) and letters, and I found a couple of typewritten sheets on how to make different types of leis from a class taught in the 80s by the esteemed Kauai leimaker and florist, Irmalee Pomroy. Someday, I hope to have a yard of my own where I can grow lei flowers, pick them and learn those more sophisticated lei making techniques. They say that people rarely make leis anymore, but I want to be someone who does.

I love to sing for you a plaintive melody


And give a lei to you to make you happy 



It’s just an old Hawaiian custom


When I say aloha to you

-Excerpted from the lyrics of the song, “An Old Hawaiian Custom” by John Noble

Searching for Sustenance in Ohio

I snuck out of my hotel in downtown Ohio this morning with a pair of running shoes on, determined to get a taste for more of this city than what I’d seen. I was in Columbus for a three day conference, and as conferences often go, I spent most that time in one place, eating conference food. Thus, one of the last seminars had to be sacrificed in the name of culinary exploration.

I’d read a bit about this midwestern city and its budding local food scene. I knew at the very least I’d be making a pilgrimage to Jeni’s, one of the country’s most craveworthy ice cream companies, known for their local sourcing (cream from Ohio grass-pastured cows, no less) and creativity. I recently thumbed through Jeni's new cookbook, spotting things like Bangkok Peanut ice cream (with cayenne pepper) and other crazy flavor combinations, and was instantly infatuated. 

So I ran down High Street to one of Jeni’s scoop shops, housed in a gourmet haven known as the North Market. This indoor public food market holds rows of vendors facing an inner arcade. It's reminiscent of other historic North American food halls like Pike Place Market in Seattle and Grandville Island Public Market in Vancouver, B.C.), with prepared foods, fish, produce, meat and poultry, ethnic groceries and locally made goods.

I quickly jogged around the place perusing my breakfast options, and decided on a fresh carrot-celery-grapefruit juice from Bubbles, the Tea and Juice Company, and a scoop of Chana Masala over rice from Flavors of India. Delicious. It was only 9:30 a.m. but I couldn’t resist the smell of their curries, and also bought a couple of spice blends to take home with me. Then I grabbed a ham (from local Bluescreek Farm) and Swiss cheese croissant from Omega Artisan Baking (oh my, was that good) to eat on the plane.

On my way out, I stopped by Jeni’s for a taste of just one flavor, which turned into at least eight. I could have tried them all, all day long. My favorites were the limited editions -- Goat Cheese with Cherry, Lemon Curd with Juniper, Grapefruit Frozen Yogurt, Backyard Mint, and get this: Wheatgrass, Pear and Vinho Verde. Seriously! I normally can’t handle wheatgrass, but this complimentary combination captured the bright flavors of springtime.

Visiting North Market was a fabulous way to get a quick hit of the thoughtful food you can find in Columbus if you look (and of course where I ended up finding the latest issue of Edible Columbus). I wish I had time to venture further.  On my last night there, I got the chance to try a dish from The Coop, one of the city’s stellar food trucks: duck confit salad with ramps. Fantastic.

Ode to Ding Dongs, and the Seattle Coffee Shops of My Dreams

There was a time that the neighborhoods of Seattle felt a little like Southeast Portland does now. When I was in college, Capitol Hill was this area with cute houses and apartment buildings, vintage clothing stores and independent coffee shops every few blocks. But these were the coffee houses of the 90s-- mismatched vintage furniture, open at night. They were where I learned to love lattes and scones (and later paid for it), and how to read under low lighting over a loud and crackly stereo system. The espresso tasted sublime to me then (mostly Caffe Vita and Vivace) and the pastries were satisfying but not ambitious. Leafy trees covered most of their windows to provide just enough of a mid-page distraction. My favorite coffee shop back then, and still today when I return, is Bauhaus on Pine Street.

About half way down the hill between Broadway and downtown, its floor-to-ceiling windows stretch two stories. Sitting at a table on the second floor, you're treated to a view of the iconic Space Needle, perfectly framed. The place is almost exactly as it was ten years ago – black walls and tables, two stories of library-style bookshelves, loud music, free alternative newspapers and a chalkboard menu listing the coffee drinks, Kool-Aid and Ding Dongs. The way those Ding Dongs were wrapped individually in foil and stacked on a cake stand inside the pastry case was timeless, and too tempting to resist. Their presence seemed both rebellious and retro in that dark space.

Like so many places that I developed a fondness for in Seattle, I just found out that the building’s been sold to a developer, and Bauhaus will soon be no longer, making way for condos and other commercial development. The thing about those developments that have changed Capitol Hill are that they destroy all of the character that made people want to live in the area in the first place, replacing cozy coffee shops with cold chains. Huh. I just read that the shops's tagline is: "brilliant. and less cold than elsewhere." Get your Ding Dongs and your free views while you can.

The large antique wall clock that hangs above the Saveur test kitchen is the same as the one that hung over the door to my mom’s office in her grocery store. It took all of my focus to pay attention to the editor giving us an office tour instead of staring transfixed on that clock, daydreaming about its twin back on Kauai. That clock kept the time of the moments in my life. I’d stare at it, while waiting for her to finish a meeting, check in a vendor, talk story with a long-time customer, or whatever else it was that kept me from getting the attention that I wanted. That clock told me when I had to finish eating my snack on the counter beside the register, and go to soccer practice at the ballpark behind the building. And later, when I ended up working there, it told me what time my shift was over. The aging brown face and antique hands presided over that neighborhood hub, keeping time of all the lives of which that grocery was a part of everyday. It timed the milk delivery, the start time of the farmers market in the parking lot next door, the time the movie started in the adjacent theater, then the church service when it was converted from an art house to a house of worship. Residents of the town moved in and out, old-timers stopped coming in for their newspapers in the morning, and the ownership eventually changed, but the clock remains, keeping time for Kilauea.

It's February 13th, 42 degrees and overcast in Portland, Oregon. The winter landscape possesses its own stark beauty this time of year, but still, it's when I miss color the most. Color, warmth, the scent of tropical fruit, salty ocean breezes and brazen flowers. My thoughts can't help but turn to Hawaii. I took a trip to Oahu in October, and wrote a story about it that came out in this month's Mix magazine - perfect timing to relish in these memories, images, and dreams of my next trip. You can read it here. The day I saw my words in glossy print, accompanied by the photos of the very talented Marco Garcia, was one of my happiest.

The trip to Oahu itself was heaven - a full week to stay with one of my best friends, Meleana, in her cottage in Palolo Valley, eating (and drinking) our way across the island. We traveled to Paris together many years ago, and it was fun to explore familiar turf with that same sense of discovery as a traveler to a foreign land. But even better than a trip abroad, we were greeted with aloha everywhere we went on this Hawaiian flavor journey, and made many new friends along the trail of good taste.

A few snapshots from the trip...



















This article turned out to be quite short in the end (as most do), and I wish I had room to add Prima restaurant in Kailua, which had just opened when I went there. They are raising the bar of island cuisine, for sure. I loved their curry papardelle pasta, and a dessert that had fennel incorporated in three different ways. Tim Rita is an amazing bartender, whom we met while he was working at Lewers Lounge, but has since gone to the Modern hotel's Lobby Bar. Go see him. And I serendipitously found myself sharing a meal with Reid, Oahu's most dedicated restaurant blogger, of Ono Kine Grindz.

I’m leaving Portland to go back to Kauai for the holidays, but I already feel like I’ve eaten my fill of decadent seasonal treats. Here’s a quick list of some of the tastiest things I’ve put into my mouth here in the past few weeks:

Roasted beef heart and octopus skewer over raw and roasted beets at the Woodsman Tavern

Oven roasted Brussels sprouts (and every vegetable dish there really) at the Firehouse

The Margherita D.O.C. pizza at Via Tribunali (pure and simple)

The Calabrese Salami pizza at Oven and Shaker (spicy salami, pungent provolone and honey!)

Eggnog at Clyde Common (just a sip and I was convinced)

Pumpkin bread pudding at the Woodsman Tavern

Ramen at Biwa, because it is just my favorite

The roast duck banh mi sandwich at Double Dragon

The outrageously delicious ice cream flavors at Salt & Straw (gloriously open until 11pm), specifically the Lumberjack Stack (maple syrup ice cream with bits of blueberry pancakes inside!)

The simplest sparkling holiday cocktail, which I had at a luncheon at Castagna: prosecco and Clear Creek Pear Liqueur. You can get the recipe and read about that wonderful meal on my friend Jen’s blog here.

Hele on to He'eia Pier

Oh, the power of Twitter. Through this rapid-fire social medium, I've met people in Portland and as far away as Hawaii. First online, then in person. One of my coolest discoveries on my last trip to Oahu was He'eia Pier General Store and Deli on the island's windward side, all because I was following chef Mark "Gooch" Noguchi, aka @musubman, on Twitter. The photos he posted of his creativity with native ingredients (ulu, aku, kalo, wild pohole ferns) online were enough to entice me to first fly to Honolulu, then drive out there. When I arrived, I met Gooch, ate, talked story, and was later led on a tour of the nearby fish ponds and lo'i where the taro is farmed that ends up on the menu. Their commitment to hyper-local sourcing and investing in the community are inspiring. Not to mention the scenery. Check out this video that tells the story.

Ramen Quest

Ramen is one of the most difficult foods to photograph. It’s also a complicated soup to prepare. David Chang wrote in the Momofuku cookbook, “Of all the challenges making ramen poses, getting the noodles right might be the toughest.” That’s what seemed to be at play when, on my third visit to Ippudo in New York, I finally had the patience to wait long enough to eat there. For almost two years leading up to this, I read and listened to groans of praise from food friends coast to coast about this ramen.

When the bowl of steaming noodles was placed before me, something immediately looked odd. Why weren’t they thick and glistening? Why were they whitish, thin, and almost undercooked looking? I tasted one and it was slightly floury, not chewy, as I had hoped. This thin style of noodle was unfamiliar, and I didn’t love it. What I ordered was the Akamaru Modern ramen (pictured above). The broth was cloudy, rich and savory with pork, miso and saké. The soup was addictive, but I didn’t like the noodles.

The chew: that is how I personally measure ramen. Then there’s the broth, and the garnishes, and all the rest. I developed a taste for the thick ramen noodle as a kid on Kauai, at Hamura’s Saimin. They’ve made those noodles from scratch with a winning texture for over fifty years. Toothsome wavy noodles, noodles that you can grasp with chopsticks, slurp, and bite into with satisfaction – that is what I look for in ramen. So after visiting this branch of the highly regarded Japanese chain, it affirmed that some of the small restaurants serving ramen in Portland are really doing something good.

I’ve been going to Biwa for years, and have tasted Gabe Rosen’s ramen evolve through different noodles, broths and toppings. I think that its current incarnation is the best it’s been, and the best I’ve tasted. The noodles are thick, the broth is a hearty blend of chicken and pork broths, and it comes garnished with an egg cooked in shoyu and chasyu pork.

Wafu opened recently on Division Street, and the first bowl of ramen that I had there (a couple of weeks after it opened) was a bit disappointing. But on my second visit (and apparently after the visits of many other vocal patrons with culinary backgrounds), the ramen had morphed into a deep and complex broth of pork, chicken and bonito, with chewy house made noodles topped with slow-roasted pork belly, scallions, kamaboko and corn. It won me over.

One of Portland’s sushi masters, Hiro Ikegaya, wanted to open a Sapporo-style ramen restaurant for a while, and this year he did. Mirakutei is a stark space with a counter along the kitchen and feels the most authentically Japanese. It’s a place where you can come in, find a seat, slurp down your noodles, and be on your way. There are a few styles here, but I like the Mirakutei Original Ramen. The flavor of the tonkatsu (pork and miso) broth is good, and the noodles are just right. It’s satisfying with minimal garnishes.

One day I’ll visit Japan and taste ramen at the source, and see how these compare. It’s at the top of my list of international travel destinations. Last year when I found out that I had to change planes in Tokyo on my way to Thailand, I was determined to eat a bowl of noodles there. I ordered airport udon, and it left me with so much more to desire. The watery broth tasted of packaged stock, but the noodles did have chew.


Ramen references: the Momofuku cookbook and Lucky Peach magazine

"As our palates improve, we appreciate finesse, perfume, subtlety...characteristics Pinot Noir has." Daniel Johnnes at IPNC, 2011

The IPNC is a multisensory experience that starts washing over you the minute you step onto the Linfield College Campus in late July. The heat, and smell of the dry fields of the Willamette Valley, the soft manicured greens of the quad beneath your feet, the red brick buildings around you, these are the familiar elements that immediately put you in the mindset of what is to come. And what that is are three days of joy, learning, working, eating, drinking, camaraderie and friendship forging. For the hundreds of attendees and volunteers fortunate to be a part of it, this is the weekend looked forward to year after year, to reunite with friends from another town in Oregon, or another part of the globe.

The International Pinot Noir Celebration started twenty-five years ago in McMinnville Oregon, by a group of passionate food and wine lovers in the Willamette Valley. It has grown in size, allure and esteem while still maintaining its strong local base, but now including wine producers from Pinot Noir growing regions around the world. This year, there were wineries represented from France, New Zealand, Austria, California, Canada, Italy, Australia, Washington and of course Oregon. I was most pleasantly surprised by the wines that I tasted from the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, a region I hadn't tried before.

As a lucky volunteer, my experience was richer than I could have imagined. Helping to set up various seminars and tastings, I was able to observe them, too. In a wine and cheese pairing seminar with Laura Werlin, I learned that white wine pairs far better with cheese, and that Oregon cheesemakers are producing an incredibly wide range of European cheese styles that are exceptional to eat with wine (she procured them from the Oregon Cheese Guild). The “classico” made by Tumalo Farms in Bend was outstanding.

In a farm-to-table panel, I listened to Greg Higgins share his hard earned wisdom as a chef sourcing directly from farmers. "I don't think you have to be a great chef to make great food,” he said, “you have to have great ingredients." He went on to explain how lucky we are in Portland to have access to the produce that we do, and that we (and likeminded communities), need to make a conscious effort to support them to maintain that resource.

In a panel titled “Secrets of Sommeliers” (inspired by the new book by the same name), some of the country’s best, Larry Stone, Daniel Johnnes and Rajat Parr, sat and bantered about serving and selecting wine for customers. I found out that the least expensive wine on a restaurant’s list often has the highest markup, and that I share one of Daniel Johnnes’ current pet peeves -- red wine served too warm. At one point during the panel, I notice that the mediator, author Jordan Mackay, was standing barefoot behind the podium. This moment perfectly exemplified how wonderfully relaxed everyone is at IPNC, joined by a love of wine knowledge, a subject often thought to be so formal.

Every meal on campus at IPNC was served outdoors, either on a great lawn or under the trees in the old Oak Grove, and it all seemed so magical. The white tablecloths against the foliage, the flowing wine, the starry sky, the sommeliers and waitstaff serving with skill, and the food prepared by esteemed chefs from throughout the Pacific Northwest, all set an incredible stage that can only be experienced during this one time each year, in the summer of Oregon.

Late last summer, I had the fortunate opportunity to follow culinary instructor Blake Van Roekel of Keuken on a tour Zenger Farm in southeast Portland, and then a short cooking class in Robert Reynolds' lovely Chefs Studio. She prepared simple but wonderful zucchini cakes. We ate them with wine from Cameron (I think it was the Giovanni), and I was charmed by the whole experience.

This week, after running around all summer from trip to trip, I finally had some time and motivation (as well as inspiration from the farmers market) to flip through cookbooks, and actually cook. I made a simple tomato sauce with spaghetti on Monday night, with tomatoes so ripe I could peel them without boiling, and a salad with peach, arugula, feta, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Summer produce makes cooking so simple.

My new favorite cookbook is David Tanis' (of Chez Panisse and legendary Parisian dinners) "Heart of the Artichoke." The recipes are fairly simple, inspired by his own experience, and most are in small enough portions for me to prepare for myself. The book itself is beautiful as well. So, with all the zucchini so abundant this time of year (as well as summer squash), I cooked his zucchini cakes, substituting the recommended scallions for shallot, as that was all I had, which actually provided a nice deep flavor. What a great use for these vegetables, with a dish that you could eat as an entree with tomato sauce or pesto, for breakfast, or cold as a frittata-like snack. I took mine and ate them with brown rice, pesto and pinto beans, as I'm on both a budget-tightening and health-conscious kick this week.

You may look at these and think that they're not so pretty. Well, it's not the recipe's fault, it's all mine. A word of advice: when cooking zucchini, don't talk on the phone with an old friend during the part when you're supposed to drain the zucchini. You will end up with watery batter, as I did, and the cakes, while delicious, will not fry up firm.

I wish I had bought a wok in Thailand. I just brought back a couple of cookbooks and aprons. I don't think I envisioned myself cooking pad thai at that time, and now, here I am in Portland, craving the stuff. The real deal though - what you can buy in alleys in Chiang Mai for less than a dollar, cooked with egg and garnished with peanuts and a squeeze of lime. It's that sour, salty, sweet, savory, oily balance that takes place as a result of the unification of all of those flavors. There was a place in Seattle I used to go to in college that topped it with a fried egg. That was delicious. At the time that seemed authentic to me, but now, who knows. I can't find any that stack up here, so sometime soon, I'll make some myself with the recipe from David Thompson's six pound tome, "Thai Street Food."

I was immensely intimidated by the heft of the book, as well as by its expert author, but I cooked his crab fried rice and it turned out perfectly, with local dungeness from Linda Brand Crab at the Portland Farmers Market. I could've used a wok for that.

Mari-time


1. East and west coast oysters at the John Dory, devoured between trains en route to Long Island and washed down with sparkling Riesling
2. Poster at the John Dory of Atlantic fish species
3. Sunset from the bay side of Montauk

Yesterday I spent seven hours cooking my first Thai meal, and it really was worth it. Cooking Thai food is so labor intensive, every last bit, from sourcing the right ingredients* if you're in the U.S. (light soy sauce, not Japanese soy sauce, kaffir limes, coriander root, etc.), to pounding curry paste in a mortar and pestle, to first frying the dried shrimp before you chop and mix it with everything else. Anyway, I learned a lot (like you may have to visit five stores to find everything that you need, and you're lucky if you do) and had a great time sharing it with my friends. I probably most enjoyed my favorite Thai snack, miang kham, which I described previously on this blog, because I was quite satisfied by the look and taste after having made it myself. Arroy mak! Very delicious.



I used Andy Ricker's recipe, which was published last year by Northwest Palate. But, I think next time the craving strikes, I'll head over to the Whiskey Soda Lounge and order those with a Singha, instead of going through the ordeal of gearing up in gloves and goggles to prep the birds-eye chilis that the recipe requires.

*I found the photographic ingredient glossary at RealThaiRecipes.com to be very helpful.

More from Castagna:
1. Dungeness crab with lemony foam
2. Squid a la plancha with leek charcoal (one of the best dishes I've had there yet)

Franklin BBQ

I never expected to have such strong feelings about this meat. But a few bites into my lunch at Franklin BBQ, I was feeling some passionate love. Not only was the beef brisket unbelievably succulent (Aaron Franklin asked us when we ordered if we wanted "lean, or Fatty McFatterson," and of course we ordered the latter, which he held out to show us the glistening ribbon of fat sandwiched between the roasted meat layers), but it had such a depth of flavor. And its salty, smokiness was only enhanced by the potato salad, and tangy coleslaw, and bites of the tenderest pork ribs (you could chew right through the cartilage) I have ever had in my life. They were bright with black pepper and so, so juicy. Every accoutrement was vinegary, including the homemade bbq sauces that you can see in the jars in the background, which complimented all the richness. This meal was absolutely worth waiting for an hour in the sun and 100 degrees - it outshined the hype, and they bring you iced tea while you wait. Get in line before noon.

There's some more detail from the mouth of a Texan, at Hungry in Houston, from when Franklin was just a food truck. Now they have seating, and AC.
Franklin BBQ is located at 900 E. 11th street, Austin, Texas.

Snapshots of Austin, Texas





Visiting these places, in order, would comprise a perfect day in Austin. From top to bottom:
1. Breakfast tacos at Congress Ave. Grocery inside La Peña art gallery (corner of 3rd and N. Congress Ave.) are $1.00 each, and the real deal. The bean and cheese was really good, and I thought, kind of genius (how else would you want to eat beans for breakfast?). They're more like a little burrito than a taco, served warm wrapped in a small flour tortilla and foil, served with fresh salsa. And this one was better than the one I tried from Taco Deli.
2.Lunch at Franklin BBQ. See next post. Seriously worth the wait, but get in line before noon, otherwise you'll be out of luck. They sell out at about 1:00 p.m. If you don't live in the South, this will likely be the best BBQ of your life.
3. Ice cold beverage in the leafy courtyard at the Hotel San Jose.
4. Dinner at Uchiko. I was skeptical about sushi in the desert, but they really know what they're doing here, and then some. Ultra fresh hamachi to rival what I've had in Hawaii, and really creative (but not overdone) additions. I love how they serve sashimi on a mound of shaved ice, as pictured above (that was mackerel with tomato and shaved truffles - not my favorite, but beautiful). Standout dishes were the raw ones, especially the hamachi with Thai chili, the pork belly, and the desserts (big time talent at the pastry station). Great service and sexy dining room design, too.
5. A hot and breezy after dinner stroll on South Congress, under the neon lights of places like Fran's Hamburgers, feels so nice, with options to stop into one of the many bars for a margarita outside, or a craft cocktail inside. We found Woodland, which fell into the latter category, and I had an ultra-refreshing lavender gin rickey.
If you find yourself in Austin seeking live music, sophisticated cocktails, an amazing atmosphere (including silent Westerns projected in the background), a charming patio and speak-easy vibe (trust me - this is what you should be seeking), head across town to Eastside Showroom, one of the coolest bars I've been to, ever.