Another Bite

4 May 2012

Speculoos

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , — lucy @ 14:12

I’ve tried Trader Joe’s particular brand of Speculoos Cookie Butter in the past, and licking a small bite off of somebody else’s spoon had already seemed decadent enough. Yet as they greeted me walking the door, nestled in a rustic basket, backed by rows of flowering orchids, I rationalized to myself, well, I’m in need of peanut butter anyway, and grabbed a jar.  They beckoned, and I relented.

Now she sits on the second shelf in my pantry, glistening and heavy. I read the ingredient list and felt a bit perturbed: ginger cookies made from processed flours and canola, ground up and mixed in with a variety of hydrogenated oils and sugars. This was nutritional doom in a can. Oh, the Dutch, they do have a way with sweets.

I have to say, though, that even with the humorous packaging and infallible combination of sugar and salt and fat, I was just the tab bit disappointed. The flavor profile was good, rich, spicy, and the fine grit of cookie was appreciated, but something about the texture, a thick, frictional gunk that did not do well anywhere but on the back of a spoon, was off-putting. If I’m going to eat something so cloyingly sweet and rich, I want the option of not feasting by the spoonful. I want to diffuse it into bread, melt it onto ice cream; I want to edit it into my diet, not have it take over.

Now, in no way am I suggesting that this stuff isn’t delicious. It is, as evidenced by the way it is disappearing from the jar. But it is delicious in the same way as perhaps, condensed milk, or pecan pie: dangerous, not particularly useful, and best washed down with a glass of cold milk.

9 April 2012

Scandinavian Candy

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , — lucy @ 00:51

(courtesy Denmark and Norway)

I think my roommate ate the last sour gummi foot.

28 March 2012

Nostalgia

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — lucy @ 02:01

Somehow the conversation topic turned to malatang. From the corner of the car, my voice gave me away, “I could kill for some of that right now.” I’m sure had this been a few months ago, when I was living some eight stories up from a street corner loaded with various carts churning out a whole variety of charred and grilled and boiled items on skewers, a friend would have wrinkled his nose in disgust. In fact, I would have probably made fun of myself.

Malatang is in the bottom barrel of things I deem safe to eat on the streets of China. A host of nearly unidentifiable edibles strung on skewers are selected from the array and dunked in a phenomenally spicy broth of unidentifiable age. I have never seen anyone change their soup base, only add to it. In fact, in certain locations, this delicacy is touted as Old Soup Hot Pot; yes, over a stretch of time, the soup acquires and integrates the tastes of all the substances that have ever been cooked in it. Imagine that, the same bath for all the beef, chicken, calamari, fish balls, vegetables, tofu, quail eggs, and noodles that hundreds of people pick out of baskets every night. As steam rolls up into the atmosphere on hot, sticky, summer nights, sweat is added to the mixture. The bubbling pot condenses down into a thick slurry of pure flavor, whatever that means.

It is a complicated relationship, and as much as I cannot deny the addictive flavor profile of this particular delicacy, I’d rather save it for a Sichuan vacation or occasional midnight foray.

Street food has often dominated my food-related thoughts as of late: convenience, swell tastes, and a gathering point for midnight city wanderers. They’re the 24-diners of the Eastern world, provided with a touch more dirt and grime and cheapness.

I think it was my comment in the car about missing malatang that got my mother started on the topic, because the next time I see her, she whispers to me that she has a new secret method for making jianbing, another street food favorite. I rolled my eyes. Everyone’s who’s ever had a good jianbing knows that she’s referring to the most vital part to the creation, it’s being, the elusive crispy wafer that is sandwiched between the scallion crepe. There’s no shortcut; I shake my head in disbelief. She pulls me to the kitchen and starts mixing up batter for the pancakes and pulling out the sauces. No fried wafer in sight. I blindly go along with this (what else could I do), but prepare myself for a sad, wafer-less jianbing. It’s a testament to my mother’s sensibilities that she waited until just my moment of mental defeat to pull out a bag of Utz potato chips that had been sitting hidden behind bags of groceries. I think I danced in delight. This was indeed an adequate simulacra. How clever, that woman; how positively tricky.

25 April 2011

Goodbye Cheesecake

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , — lucy @ 12:18

I have an oven now, in my pad, which has led to some dessert making liberties. The other day, after trudging halfway across the city in search of cream cheese and finally settling and paying four times the normal price for a bar of Philadelphia, my efforts paid off. Just the tiniest cheesecake I’ve ever made, oreo cookie crust, nothing but good old fashioned cream cheese, eggs, and sugar, perfect for the occasion, four quarters for four people, a delicious and bittersweet going-away occasion.

It was Mali’s last weekend in Beijing, and we made it a celebratory affair. There was Mahjong, and Korean BBQ, and cheesecake, and of course, the obligatory going out and partying to the wee hours. But really, this is just about the cheesecake, made with Oreos that don’t taste like Oreos at all.

The Most Basic Cheesecake

1 package cream cheese
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1 dash vanilla flavoring (I used bourbon cause it was all I had)

6 oreos, divided, filling removed
1 1/2 Tbsp butter

The rest is pretty self-explanatory: crush the oreos, mix with melted butter, press into pan. Fluff up cream cheese, beat in sugar, blend in egg and vanilla till smooth. Spread, bake in 375 F oven for 25-35 minutes, until it’s done or until your restlessness gets the best of you. Serve with more Oreos, beer, and friends.

 

7 April 2011

First Bbq of the Season

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , — lucy @ 17:30

My barbecue virginity, my Chinese bbq virginity that is, just freshly lost this past weekend, amidst the hubbub of long weekend spirit and festivities. I threw my first house party, a ravishing success if I do say so myself, I had my first night in on a weekend, and I attended my first Chinese style grilling session. The Chinese word for bbq is 烤串 (kao chuan), where the word 串 indicates skewers or shish-kebab. You don’t even have to squint with this one, it’s pretty obvious where the origin of this character comes from. On hazy spring and summer nights, you see this word stretched out largely, displayed all over the place in strands of red-orange pseudo christmas lights. The bright indicator along with the unmistakable smell of grilled meat pervades the air. Smoke rises up from a circle of people, all huddled around the long stove upon which skewers of  lamb, beef, chicken, sausages, vegetables, and bread lay sizzling.

This occurrance, of course, was a homespun sort of affair, but the idea is much the same. Meat variety is important, as is buttered toast. The demand for food is so high that there’s never quite enough space on the grill to accomodate. A little bit of soda and some hand rolls (that’s sushi/gimbap) on the side complete the mid-afternoon meal. As the wind picked up in the afternoon, I had to hold my hat and duck for cover.

30 March 2011

Classic Beijing Feast

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , — lucy @ 17:22

 

Nothing says Beijing better than Zhajiangmian (炸酱面), a classic, often over-looked, simple, highly delicious and easy noodle dish served up in courtyards big and small all over Beijing. And here, at 大宅门 (Da Zai Men), you’ll probably find some of the most authentic of all. It’s really quite simple: clean noodles, fresh julienned vegetables (cucumbers and radish usually), coated in a thick soybean miso based fried sauce, filled with cubed pork and porkfat. It’s rich, heavy and fresh at the same time, delicious, and absolutely familiar.

Since we were hosting Valentin’s parents for dinner, we wanted them to get the full experience and shelled out extra for the noodle performance. Perhaps everyone has already seen the rather dramatic noodle slinging performances done by Chinese noodle artisans (there are some pretty great intro videos on YouTube), but they really do their best to almost pelt you. A slight dusting of flour is not outside the realm of expectation.

The rest of the meal was loaded with delicious classics: pork and mei cai, shrimp tempura, salads, fried fish, tofu, Beijing pastries (豌豆黄,红豆糕,驴打滚), panfried dumplings and the like.

23 March 2011

Finally: I Made Some Dinner

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , — lucy @ 14:14

Albeit shitty, or a bit on the not-put-together side, but still ultimately satisfying and quite a bit healthier than anything I’ve had in a long while. It’s simply been difficult to find the time (too many opportunities to go out for dinner) and effort (to stock a kitchen from the ground up). Granted, I also have had the lucky fortune of having a family circle around these parts, and when I’m feeling particularly salty or greasy, I can always go 蹭 (ceng) a meal or two. This can barely be called a meal really; it’s just raw veggies and fruits, slightly mixed, slightly dressed. But all in all, rather satisfying at the moment, and clean-feeling after the fact. After a few more days, I expect to have most if not all of the things I need in the kitchen. Then, maybe some bread baking, or jam making: got to increase self-expectation at least somewhat.

Super simple: some purple cabbage, a fuji apple, peeled, cored, and diced, a spoonful of thousand island dressing (super popular here) and a dash of olive oil. Mix, mix, mix, eat with a side of yogurt. Anything with raw vegetables is my dream meal.

20 March 2011

Wedding Feast, First of Many?

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , — lucy @ 12:08

Background: A friend in passing, Xiaofeng, who was my downstairs neighbor for the better half of last year, wedding the cousin of another friend. This has been months in the making, and I happened to be on this side of the globe as it ultimately occurred.

Just this afternoon actually, amidst a drug-induced haze (tylenol cold), drinking, toasting, and the bride crying — gushing, sad tears, not the overjoyed kind you’d expect from a newlywed — people spoke little that was meaningful and a lot that was customary, and an overtone of frustration and disappointment blanketed the whole affair. I must say, out of all the supposedly joyous occasions I’ve ever been invited to, nothing made me quite so uncomfortable as this one. Never has the bride been so unwilling and the groom so clueless. When Xiaofeng sat down at our table, one of the guests whispered to her, you should smile more, you don’t look like a bride. She looked away and caught my eye, saying, I’ve got nothing to smile about.

So I promptly busied myself with the food, dozens upon dozens of deliciously warm and festive plates. There was so much that we ran out of room on our spinning serving tray, on multiple occasions. Fish, braised pork hock, peking duck, jelly fish, duck fat pumpkin fries, odds and ends, and vegetables of all shapes and sizes and serving temperatures: each more fine than the next, did their best to cover the sour feeling near the back of my throat. I wondered if perhaps my flu virus had invaded some fundamental part of my brain, my happiness center, but as these two people, supposedly in love, supposedly fit for each other, gazed at each other and past each other, I realize it is not my duty to feel happy for them, just to be happy for them. And that happiness — whether or not that happiness exists, even — is probably as clear to them as a vivid autumn day.

19 March 2011

I Yearn for Fresh Vegetables

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , — lucy @ 14:15

It seems like ages ago when I had raw vegetables for the last time. The paltry suggestions of salads they have on planes aside, my life in China for the past two and a half weeks have been a blur of stir fried vegetables and meats, too salty rice dishes, and drunken forays into street food. Change to my diet is essential, I know, but finding the time has been rather difficult.

…especially with all these food temptations swimming all around me. I live in an area of rather developed street food culture. Since there are a whole lot of students milling around, tons of places exist to cater to the demand of cheap, post-midnight eats. From the dozens of carts lining each small alley, serving up fresh-made dumplings, ramen, skewers both veggie and meaty, pies, pastries, and the like, to the built-in-three-days shacks dolling out greasy pan-fried goodies at all hours of the night, choices are bedazzling and unlimited. Why on earth, in this outrageous venue designed to cater to my every gastronomic whim, would I ever want to slave over a stove and cook dinner for myself?

 

15 March 2011

Gimbap on the Streets of China

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — lucy @ 13:45

 

It wasn’t the best thing I had ever had, and certainly not the best gimbap I’ve ever had. That has to be at the little corner store by Itaewon in Seoul, close to the hostel I had stayed at. I doubt I’d even be able to find the place again, and in retrospect, it probably wasn’t even the best gimbap I’ve ever had, and only leaves a rather deep impression because it was essentially my first. That one, the roll of my dreams, was filled with colorful pickled vegetables, some sort of deli meat, and an oozy cheese product. This one, the one I grabbed off a street cart in the middle of Haidian Huanzhuang in Beijing, was loaded with questionable ingredients like thousand island dressing, hot sauce, Chinese sausage meat and homemade kimchi (the guy who sold it to me was not Korean by the way). It was still pretty good; you really can’t go too wrong with tasty things wrapped in seaweed and rice. Still, I was hoping for more authenticity considering the proximity of our two countries. Maybe next time I’ll try a classier joint, or at least a step up from a clear cart on a bicycle in a crowded square on a particularly windy night.

 

 

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