I know, I said I was going to post on ramen today… but instead, I worked on a particularly GREAT post for Cooking Issues with Dave & Nils. It’s all about how to saber a champagne (or other sparkly bubble) bottle. Once you learn how to saber, you will never be able to open a bottle of champagne/sparkling wine traditionally without sighing a little for the lost chance to snap the cork off that bottle. Don’t believe me? Just watch the video (our first on Cooking Issues) and tell me that it doesn’t make you want to run out and by the cheapest bottle of sham-pog-nay that you can find. Happy sabering.
I think the universe is telling me to put down my credit card
Once upon a time and an entirely different salary ago, I used to shop. Big time. It was… a problem. Recently, I’ve been much better – mostly by force (from my husband and our bank account). I think I’m actually downright thrifty now. Well, in comparison to how I used to be anyway. It’s all relative…
But, the other week, I had a relapse. When I’m feeling blue, my fingers start itching for plastic. It’s not long before my credit card starts smelling a little like when you microwave Tupperware. In fairness to myself (yup, I’m actually taking my own side here – defensive much?), I really needed a few new items here and there for summer. Of course, there were some other odds and ends that I probably could have done without.
For instance, that $70 black belt. Once upon a time, I wouldn’t even blink to drop that kind of dough. It’s simply not the case anymore. With this belt, I could feel the guilt building in my throat as I walked it up to the cash register. I justified its purchase with every step: I don’t have a stretchy belt; stretchy raffia? Never seen that before; it’s classic, I’ll have it forever; I can actually fit into a size small in it… Well, I purchased it only to leave it in the bag by the foot of my bed, too guilty to take it out until today.
I haven’t done my laundry in a few weeks and low and behold, I have no clean pants left. Normally, I throw some jeans on, but it’s damn hot out. So today is one of the rare instances when you will find me wearing a skirt and trying to look like a lady. Usually, I try to only wear clothes that will allow me to spontaneously cartwheel should the need arise. You know, like you’re having a bad day at work so you yell “Fudge this, I’m outta here!” and you bust out of there cartwheeling.
Well, today’s skirt ensemble needed to be accessorized with a belt to cover up its elastic waistband. Yeah, that’s right, disaster rule #58: wear elastic as much as possible because you never know when you’ll need to hit an all-you-can-eat buffet. So I pulled out my $70, elastic raffia belt from the shopping bag where it had been hiding since purchase. Several disasters ensued. I snagged a nail yanking off the plastic hanger that was still attached. While trying simultaneously to curse and buckle my belt, I caught my finger on a sharp corner of the buckle. At the same moment, I realized that between when I bought the belt and this morning, I had gained some weight… just enough to shove me out of the size small belt range. The belt snapped out of my hand and tore a chunk out of my finger where the side of the buckle had caught. It’s not a true disaster day without me fumbling for a band-aid.
I’m now wearing an old belt that while not elastic raffia, actually fits and works well enough. Danger belt has gone back into the bag with the receipt and is sitting by the door waiting to be returned. I’m now off to console myself in a bowl of ramen. More on that tomorrow…
Filed under Living the disaster
Banh mi with a side of enlightenment
I dragged my congested self out of bed on Saturday to be part of the Food Panel discussion at the Vietnamese in NYC minifest called “Hay Qua.” Immediately after the event, I had to drag myself back to bed, but not before getting an awesome Banh Mi lunch with a side of inner peace and enlightenment.
I thought I was about 10 minutes late, but it turned out I was almost an hour early. I forgot that these were my people – punctuality is for the workplace, and Hay Qua was not work. And classic Vietnamese, it didn’t get crowded until lunchtime when the Banh Mi arrived – we love to eat and if we pay to eat, you better believe we’re going to be there to eat our money’s worth. An Choi, BEP, and Nicky’s all provided Banh Mi to sample. I’m not going to lie, I sampled a LOT. All 3 provided ridiculously delicious, grill chicken and pork garnished with pickled veg tastings. I’d love to pick a favorite, but in all honesty, I can’t. Being under the weather, my sense of taste is a little under right now and I don’t think it would be fair. You know the only solution, right? A banh mi crawl. You take a day and travel the boroughs sampling banh mi while taking tasting notes. It’s the only fair way. I also don’t like comparing food when it’s prepared en masse. I want individual attention lavishly garnered on my banh mi; pickled carrots and daikon lovingly hand-placed on crusty baguette. Hot summer days naturally compliment tropical Vietnamese cuisine, meaning that now is the time to take on this mission. Who’s with me??? (Yes, Nick – I see you. Put your hand down. We’ll get you that banh mi tasting badge)
Overall, I was the least-impressive participant by far, but I’m used to that. I was lucky enough to sit sandwiched between Thu Tran of Food Party and An Nguyen Xuan of BEP. If you haven’t seen Food Party, you need to. It’s beyond description, but if I had to try, it’s a little like Japanese Pop Art meets Sesame St. meets Japanese game show meets Martha Stewart meets Rachel Ray meets chemical-aided hallucination meets The State (the old MTV sketch comedy troop that rocked the 90s). Basically, it’s crazy amazing and Thu is the genius that drives it. If you have seen Food Party and like me, have wondered what she’s like in person, let me tell you: she does not disappoint. She’s hilarious without effort. The girl is REAL. She does and says exactly what she wants and thinks in that particular moment. She’s also humble and reserved. Once she gets on topic though, get out your tissues because she’ll make you laugh so hard that you’ll cry. An is also hilarious. He rocks a French-Vietnamese accent, is light-hearted and funny, and doesn’t stop smiling (probably because he’s constantly making himself laugh). Sitting between these two felt like being at a bar, just chilling with good people. We could have been anywhere – we just happened to be on a small stage talking to a roomful of people.
Tuan Bui of An Choi was the tallest Vietnamese dude that I have ever met. I don’t know how tall he is, but he’s like a one-man Vietnamese National Basketball team. He was thoughtful and well-spoken and has such a classic, well-groomed manner that I instantly felt like a putz. He, too, left Finance to get into food and has done so pretty successfully with An Choi. My confession is that I’ve never eaten at either An Choi or BEP, but meeting both Tuan and An has made me confident that they’re doing Vietnamese food justice. I’m excited to go try their current menus and then constantly go back to see how they continue to expand! Also on the panel was Yen Ha of the Lunch blog. This lady is no joke. Besides her impressive food blog, she’s also a partner in her own architecture firm. On top of all this, she is simply graceful and elegant. Her quiet confidence is so intimidating that I could only muster a “hello, nice to meet you.” I consciously decided that “less is more” with her and wouldn’t subject her to my diatribe of nonsense the way I torture all of you.
I finally got to meet the lovely Tam Ngo as well! Oh, did you know that being an amazing food writer and photographer is something she does in her spare time when she’s not practicing law or sitting on the board of Open House New York? Yeah. Talk about impressive. Oh, and she’s stunning. Girl’s able to eat a LOT (judging from her food pics) without gaining an ounce. Damn.
And you’d think that with all of this, I would have left Hay Qua feeling pretty self-conscious and down on myself… Full (of banh mi), but still down… Yet I didn’t. I actually left feeling… content. The theme of the day was one of savoring the now, heralded by Phong Bui (artist, scholar, and publisher of the Brooklyn Rail). With a buddha-like grin (and haircut), Phong gave an hour-long, reference-filled, speech that helped everyone in the room find a little more peace and acceptance with where each of us is in our lives at this moment. For me, it helped me actually laugh a little at my current predicament and find nothing short of amusement with all of my recent… pitfalls. Phong, too, was a career changer who saw a piece of art that changed his life forever. Yet he admits that he still doesn’t know where exactly he’s going (although his path thus far is pretty damn incredible). As someone who’s constantly asked “what’s your end-goal,” this rang so true to me. Is it OK to not know where you’re going, but to just enjoy the journey? If there is a destination point, what happens when I get there? Don’t get me wrong, I would love to be the type of person who has a goal or a target and just sets off to achieve it… but I’m not. I guess, like my friend Annette, I’m a wanderer, hungrily eating all of the experiences that my haphazard, hazard-filled life has to offer.
Filed under This never would have happened in Finance
Feed a fever, starve a cold?
Listen, I don’t have a fever, but now I’m STARVING. I actually felt worse this morning than yesterday, but I think the antibiotics are starting to kick in and I’m feeling a little better. I still sound terrible, which bodes well for tomorrow’s panel discussion at Hay Qua. I’ll just be seen and not heard, which isn’t really a great option… trust me, if I’d grown up as someone who people enjoy looking at, I wouldn’t have learned to be so loquacious. My husband told me it’s OK to back out if I’m not feeling well, but I quickly shot him down. First, I made a commitment and second, there’s going to be BANH MI there!!!
The other night, my friend Nick brought over a crazy dish from DELICIOUS Pio Pio that is now the most prominent leftover sitting in my fridge: french fries with hot dogs. If you’ve never had it, you may have the same reaction that I did when Nick pulled it out of the takeout bag: uh, what? But he quickly broke it down into simple word that I could understand: “french fries, delicious. Hot dogs, delicious. French fries & hot dogs, delicious.” He was right, the fries actually start to get a little soggy from the hot dog juice, which doesn’t sound ideal, but damn – that’s one delicious, freakin’ french fry. I wish I could have finished the full order, but I think I was already getting sick, so my appetite wasn’t quite there. So I packed it up and put it in the fridge, where it has sat since Monday.
Here’s the thing, I still feel like someone kicked me in the head repeatedly and then sat on it, meaning that 4-day old french fries with hot dogs would be a terrible “get better” food choice. However, it’s so easy – it’s right there on the 3rd shelf of my fridge, taunting me with its deliciousness. It’s also already in an aluminum container that I can easily just pop into the oven to reheat… And did I mention how perfectly salty and potatoey it was the first time? I’m curious to see how it keeps and reheats. Maybe I’d better eat it for the sake of experimentation. And now that I’ve blogged about this, I’d better heat and eat it before my husband reads this and calls home to stop me! I’ll follow it up with a grapefruit or something to make it healthy… What??? Stop judging me, I’m sick…
Filed under Randomness
The immune system of a canary
Ok, so everybody makes fun of how crazy paranoid I get when I fly. It’s not just the whole “tons of metal flying through the air” thing, it’s also being crammed into a cabin with a bunch of strangers, breathing re-circulated air. Gross. I also get freaked out from sitting so long – can’t you get blood clots that way? Yup, I’m crazy. Before I fly, I usually down vitamins, a bottle of water (I hate being dehydrated), and a couple of aspirin. In all honesty, I should probably just be sedated to spare me and whoever is unfortunate enough to sit next to me my frequent flying anxiety attacks.
I might be crazy, but all I know is that I didn’t take vitamins before my flight on Friday and now look at me. My head feels like it weighs a million pounds my ears feel like they’ve been stuffed with cotton balls. I’ll spare you more graphic details, but I’ve got a wicked head cold/sinus infection. I was hoping the worst of it was on Monday, and then hoped the same thing on Tuesday… same on Wednesday… and now it’s Thursday and it’s the worst day so far. So maybe, just maybe, today is the worst day? Maybe this bug has finally run its course? Is it just coincidence that I got sick right after I flew with out vitamins? Maybe… But come on! I KNEW that airplane air smelled funny… It’s probably “the swine…”
I’ve quarantined myself on my couch in my apartment, wishing I had enough energy to walk 2 blocks to the video store because daytime TV is crap (except Ellen, gotta love Ellen). Looks like I didn’t need that juice diet a few weeks ago since I’m currently living on chicken broth, grapefruit juice, and tea. I keep thinking about my favorite line from The Devil Wears Prada: “I’m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight.” Even if I do lose any weight from this, I’ll pack it back on pretty quickly – all I can think about is being hungry enough for a cheese burger. Isn’t that weird? I’m not craving a cheeseburger, I’m craving the craving of a cheeseburger.
Of course, I crave ramen right now, which is making me even angrier about the fact that Ippudo doesn’t do takeout. So now I’m locked in my apartment, living off of juice, cursing Ippudo every time my stomach growls.
Filed under Living the disaster
Disasters in the press
Check it out – I got a little mention in Serious Eats! Thanks again, Tam!
And just a reminder that if you’re free this Saturday, please come check out the Hay Qua mini-fest! Don’t worry, besides me, there will be actually talented and entertaining speakers! Plus, there’ll be a banh mi lunch! What’s better than that? In fact, depending on how many banh mi they let me have, you may never hear me speak at all – I’ll just hang back and stuff my face until the whole thing is over.
You know what’s funny? I grew up eating banh mi while other kids were eating turkey sandwiches. I always felt bad that my sandwich smelled “so bad” in comparison. I mean, it never smelled bad to me, but the kids around me didn’t seem to share the same appreciation for fish sauce that I had. It’s kind of vindicating to know that people from all different backgrounds and ethnicities love banh mi now. Who knows, maybe those same kids that used to make fun of me grew up to love banh mi! Or maybe they just grew up into even bigger jerks… I’d put my money on the latter scenario… if I had any.
Filed under This never would have happened in Finance
I just want to ramen around the world
After eating at Daikokuya in LA, I’m pretty sure that I could be a happy woman if all I did was travel around the world, tasting, comparing, and contrasting ramen joints. When I told my friend, Lee Anne, how much I love ramen (I switch off between ramen and soup dumpling fits), she told me that she would take me to a ramen place in LA’s Little Tokyo that would blow my mind. The verdict? Daikokuya is more than just ramen, it’s a beacon of deliciousness for traveling souls who find themselves wandering around LA.
When someone takes you to their favorite ramen spot, a place where they go time and time again to enjoy the comfort of familiar tasty treats, you should defer to them when it comes to the ordering. Sure, you could scour the menu to try and second-guess them, but I’m all about choosing the food-path of least resistance. I’m there for the ride and I love when someone else chauffeurs. And if Lee Anne Wong is your chauffeur, shut your mouth unless you’re opening it to eat the next decadent and exquisite bite of what she’s ordered for you.
We started with the Tsukemono – a plate of assorted tangy, sweet, just-right savory pickles sprinkled with sesame seeds. The acidity and crunchiness of the pickles made my already growling stomach even hungrier for the meal ahead. Luckily, a plate of hand-made gyoza appeared to keep me from stealing the bowl of ramen that the neighbor on my left was showily slurping, rubbing in my face the fact that he was already enjoying his main course. Tender, savory, faintly sweet pork filling was accented by the slight crunch and toastiness of the seared gyoza wrapper. Delicious, delicious, but where was my pork broth ramen and shredded pork bowl combo???
Finally, my ramen arrived – I could smell the sweet pork broth before I saw it placed in front of me. Floating on top was a layer of extra pork fat that Lee Anne expertly ordered to increase the tasty porkiness of the rich ramen broth. Did I need more pork fat? No Did I enjoy more pork fat? The answer to that is always “yes.” As Lee Anne deftly garnished my bowl for me – adding pickled ginger, scallions, an extra swirl of soy sauce – I breathed in the decadent aroma and allowed the steam to engulf my face like a ramen facial. One taste of the broth and I was instantly satiated, yet ravenous for more. The noodles were just chewy enough. Next time, I’ll probably order a more rigid noodle because I like a little more bite, but these were delightfully slurpable regardless.
Lee Anne expertly garnished my bowl for optimal deliciousness
What really wowed me was the custardy yolk at the center of the marinated egg. I’ve NEVER had a yolk like this in a ramen bowl before – it was neither runny nor sulfur-green ringed. It wasn’t created with an immersion circulator either; this baby was made the old-fashioned way and then cold-soaked in a soy sauce marinade overnight. After this, I’ll never be satisfied by a poached or hard-boiled-to-death egg in my ramen ever again. A custard-yolk adds intense creaminess and depth to a broth that you just didn’t think could get any deeper. It’s like having a conversation with a gorgeous, book-worm genius who then drops that besides being a NASA engineer, he/she also drums for a rock band on the side… Damn. This yolk-spiked-broth, like that rocker genius, just leaves you feeling inadequate.
Thank goodness I was such a jerk and took a million pictures of my ramen bowl, slowing me from gulping it down the way Lee Anne and my other friend, Colby did. He literally didn’t look up from his bowl until the thing was empty, gasping for air when he emerged form his own, private ramen party with his face drenched in sweat and ramen steam. I had completely forgotten about the shredded pork bowl when all of a sudden, there it sat, taunting me with its umami sweet & savory being. It was like Christmas – one minute your looking at an empty room and the next, it’s littered with presents… pork presents in this case. The shredded pork was broiled with an unagi-esque sauce until it was just a little dry. Some may not like that, but it reminded me of the meat on the end of a rib that gets singed by the barbecue. What the hell am I trying to say? It was freaking yummy. Tangy, bright pink, pickled ginger, sesame seeds, and scallions – always a good idea – covered the pork-topped sweet rice. My head was swinging back-and-forth like a cartoon character, trying to figure out what to take a bite of next. All the while, my stomach was expanding to the point of sheer pain. The beer that I was using to “palate cleanse” between bites probably wasn’t helping either.
shredded pork bowl of deliciousness
You know how pregnant women get stretch marks on their stomachs from the skin pulling to make room for baby? Well that’s how the inside of my stomach looks from an equally impressive task of making room for things like more ramen and pork bowl. Sadly, I didn’t finish everything, but the lovely folk at Daikokuya wrapped it up for me to take home and have later for a snack. I never did have that snack since we never stopped finding something new to eat while I was in LA, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
So how does Daikokuya stack up vs. Ippudo? I wish I could tell you. I tried to go to Ippudo yesterday to do a fair comparison as I didn’t want to work from Akamaru Modern memories, but as usual, the wait was already over 1 hour. On a Sunday at 1PM. Oh, and since they don’t allow you to do ramen takeout or wrap up a doggy bag the way Daikokuya does, I may never be able to accurately measure these two up. Daikokuya wins by default, and may just win outright for that incredible custard egg and for creating something as magical as a “Pork Ramen & Pork Bowl” combo. Because at the end of the day, who doesn’t want a side bowl of pork with their giant bowl of pork?
Filed under Eating my feelings and paying for it
Ramen, ramen, ramen, ramen… ramen, ramen… Amen.
I basically always have noodles on the brain. It’s like a genetic thing, I think. If you’re Asian, you love noodles. If you don’t love noodles… well, I suspect that “they” take away your Asianness and you’re sent away to some deserted island, non-noodle-loving colony where you can’t hurt the rest of society. I don’t know for sure, but how else can you explain never meeting a non-noodle-loving-Asian, right?
Thank the ramen gods for my friend, Lee Anne – she’s basically a ramen apostle. For lunch yesterday, we dragged ourselves into a hot car and fought our way through traffic (seriously, LA, HOW do you deal with this???) to trek to Daikokuya on the premise, as preached by the ramen prophet Lee Anne, that this bowl of ramen would put all others (including Ippudo) to shame… Strong words.
I’m running to the airport now, so I can’t write every detail now, but let me leave you with this image from my pilgrimage to the ramen land. More to follow tomorrow…
Filed under Eating my feelings and paying for it
Lucky streak over
All 5 minutes of it… I just dropped my sunglasses and broke a piece of the lens off. Great. That’s ok, who needs sunglasses in LA, right?
Filed under Randomness
Whoa – I think a little of this LA luck is rubbing off on me
Just when everything around me seemed to be swirling and conspiring to make me hole-up somewhere and take up agoraphobia as a hobby, I received a divine message not to take the leap back under my covers… from Facebook. I’ve been asked, and have accepted to be, a speaker for a Vietnamese conference called Hay Quá (roughly translated into “pretty neat.” It’s purpose is to bring together “the most creative vietnamese americans in new york.” Stop laughing. No, really, stop laughing. It turns out that a real blogger, Tam Ngo of Serious Eats, reads my blog, actually likes it, and suggested that I be invited to be part of a food panel (no doubt to fill a last minute cancellation, but beggar bloggers can’t be choosers). Rock on, Tam, and thanks for being my fourth reader right after mom, husband, and Chef Hayley’s mom!
Unfortunately, I got so excited about being asked, that I went immediately to the blog and started reading about the other speakers. Oh fudge. Double fudge. The other speakers are actually super creative. They’re not just sitting here typing about all their crazy misfortunes, they’re actually out there doing things like, oh you know, running restaurants, making documentaries about changing the world, singing while playing an instrument (so impressive and so different than karaoke), etc. And me? Hi… uh, my name is Mindy Lvoff… I know my last name’s not Vietnamese, but I changed my name from Nguyen because I got married and… well you probably don’t care about that… I write a blog about food… well, it’s not really all about food, but… um… it’s really more about what a train wreck I can be… which only Hayley’s mom and my mom seem to find amusing… and… uh… oh and Tam seems to like it for some reason – thanks, Tam, bet you’re regretting the decision to invite me right now… and… hehe… uh… hi?
Oh yeah, that’s going to be a grrreat discussion. Maybe I’ll provide comic relief by tripping and falling while trying to take my seat or something. I really shouldn’t joke about that kind of thing, huh? If you’re interested, Vietnamese or not, please come and meet some actually talented Vietnamese-Americans that I’ll be sitting next to! I heard they’ll be banh mi there…
Filed under This never would have happened in Finance
Mindy's Recipe For Disaster 