Japanese Curry

👨‍🍳 Cooking in the Time of COVID 👨‍🍳

It’s been a minute since I posted any homemade Japanese food but since I cooked up this Japanese curry and it wasn’t bad, I thought I’d share. Actually, the word “homemade” might be something of a stretch: the sauce comes from a package, specifically the quick ‘n’ easy, rather ubiquitous S&B Golden Curry Sauce Mix, the hot variety – and for “hot”, read medium.

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Yes, Japanese curry is a thing; as a matter of fact it’s considered to be one of the country’s top two national dishes (the other being ramen) which are only then followed by sushi and miso soup. From The Japan Times: “The spice mix known as curry powder and curried dishes were most likely introduced to Japan via the Anglo-Indian officers of the royal Navy and other stalwarts of the British Empire. They were among the first Westerners the Japanese came into contact with, after Commodore Matthew Perry landed his Black Ships at Kurihama in 1853, opening the country to the world after hundreds of years of isolation. Since this new dish came from the West, as far as these Japanese travelers were concerned, it was classified as yōshoku (Western food)….”


After years of tinkering with flavor profiles and targeting them to local tastes, Japanese curry came of age, a countrywide comfort food that exhibits little similarity to the Anglo-Indian dishes that gave rise to it. Inside the box, you’ll find blocks of curry sauce mix, essentially an instant roux packed with all the typical flavorings. The instructions couldn’t be simpler: stir-fry chunks of your protein of choice (I used beef) along with some vegetables (onion, carrot, etc.) in oil for 5 minutes, add water, bring to a boil, and simmer for about 15 minutes.

Now if you do any cooking at all, you will immediately recognize that there’s no way red meat is going to tenderize during that meager interval, so put your optimism back in the pantry, take out your patience, and let the dish simmer covered for a good deal more time until the meat is actually tender. Then turn the heat off, break the curry-roux bricks into pieces, add them to the skillet, and stir until the sauce mix has dissolved completely. Simmer and stir for another 5 minutes or so.

I kicked up mine with some yuzu shichimi togarashi (seven spice mixture) that includes dried yuzu peel and red chili pepper and topped the rice with furikake. Raw scallion is a good foil for cooked beef and more important, I had some on hand, so why not?

 
 
Stay safe, be well, and eat whatever it takes. ❤️
 
 

Look by Plant Love House

Part of what I’m calling the “Golden Oldies” series: photos I had posted on Instagram in bygone days that surely belong here as well, from restaurants that are still doing business, still relevant, and still worth a trip.

Here are some pix from multiple occasions in 2016 and 2017 that were taken at Look by Plant Love House, the cozy Thai restaurant at 622 Washington Avenue in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. I dined there on a number of occasions and liked their Thai home cooking so much that I subsequently brought an assortment of foodie friends there to check it out as well. (Apologies for the grainy photos – I used the wrong film in the camera 😉 – but I can assure you that the food was significantly better than the pix!) In no special order:

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Chiang Mai Khao Soy, a Thai classic that highlights noodles two ways: Soft egg noodles swaddling chicken in Chiang Mai curry sauce topped with crispy egg noodles, accompanied by red onion, pickled cabbage, cilantro and lime.


Guay Tiao Num Tok (Pork Blood Noodle Soup). Don’t be squeamish about this one now that you know its ingredients; it deserves the popularity it enjoys back home! Thai boat noodle soup flavored with palm sugar, vinegar and Thai chili featuring sliced pork, pork balls, Chinese broccoli, and bean sprouts.


Hor Mok Pla, a seasonal special. As described on their menu: “a pair of banana-leaf cups filled with an airy, mousselike custard of finely ground fish, decorated with coconut cream, finely julienned makrut lime leaf, and red chili threads.” According to Wikipedia, the dish is associated with marriage because the marriage of ingredients within it is representative of the love of a married couple. And since everyone I shared it with seems to love the dish, that sounds about right to me.


Khao Kluk Kapi. Fried rice mixed with shrimp paste formed and surrounded by fried mackerel, Thai sausage, fried eggplant, shredded omelet, and more.


Khao Pad Nam Prik Pla Too. Another spicy shrimp paste rice platter (khao means rice), this time served with a fried whole mackerel, fried eggplant, steamed carrots and broccoli, a boiled egg and (if memory serves) fermented shrimp paste dip.


Moo Manow – moo means pork (easy to remember because of the barnyard irony); this dish consists of juicy chunks of pork dressed in garlic-chili-lime sauce served over Chinese baby broccoli.


Nam Prik Ong. Pork rinds, broccoli, and cucumber (plus jasmine sticky rice not in this photo) served with Chiang Mai’s favorite medium-spicy dipping sauce made from minced pork and tomatoes.


Num Prik Phow Tom Yum Goong Yai. Sounds like a mouthful, but let’s break it down: “num prik phow” = Thai chili paste; “tom” = to boil and “yum” is the spicy hot and sour salad you know and love, hence “tom yum” = hot and sour soup; “goong” = shrimp; “yai” = large. The menu description is “rice noodle in Thai chili paste soup with jumbo shrimp, homemade pork patty, bacon, and soft boiled egg. Not sure if the bacon is in there to complement the egg, but we sent our compliments to the chef. As I think about it, in either language, that is a mouthful – and a delicious one at that!


Pla Lui Suan. Fried fillet of red snapper covered with Thai herbs (makrut lime leaves, galangal, red onion, shallot, and mint), topped with cashew nuts and fresh chili-lime sauce.


Yum Pak Boong Grob. Crispy watercress salad with chili-lime sauce, shrimp, and minced pork, topped with crispy shallots, cilantro and peanuts. The green vegetable is known by a raft of names – fitting because it’s semiaquatic: water spinach, kangkong, Chinese watercress, morning glory, and water convolvulus to name a few; you can identify it in Asian markets by its hollow stems. Translation: yum = spicy salad, pak boong = water spinach, grob = crispy (because it’s fried).


Panang Ped. Roasted farm-raised half duck in panang curry paste, coconut milk, makrut lime leaves, string beans, and bell pepper.
 
 
Look by Plant Love House is located at 622 Washington Avenue in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn.
 
 

Honeycomb Cake

I’ve written about this triumph of texture over gravity before; in that post I described Vietnamese Pandan Cake, Bánh Bò Nướng, easily identified by its emerald hue, but Honeycomb Cake, aka Beehive Cake, has its fans throughout Southeast Asia and in China as well. It’s easy enough to find a snow white version in Chinatown bakeries around these parts (sometimes even on dim sum carts) but less frequently a chocolate colored (notice, I said colored, not flavored) variety like this one from Dragon Bay Bakery at 5711 8th Avenue in Sunset Park, Brooklyn.

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Above, a slab cut from the loaf; this piece is about nine inches long. It’s sweet but not too sweet, which I know will be welcome news to many of you; its texture is the key to its charm.

How does it come to look like this? Recipes differ. I’ve read that the type of flour used can be rice (common), tapioca (often in the Vietnamese version), or even wheat; the leavening agent, yeast (common), baking soda, baking powder, or a combination thereof; even the method of preparation can vary from steamed (common), to baked, or stovetop pan “griddled”. But somehow, the results manage to be rather similar: springy, bouncy, airy, spongy, fluffy, chewy, and squishy.

(Which quite by coincidence, I think were the names of the Seven Dwarfs. But I could be wrong about that.)


A more modest slice revealing the light cakey-looking top layer and the virtually weightless honeycomb structure supporting it. Its color comes from the use of brown sugar instead of white.


Still don’t get the “honeycomb” part? Here’s a cross section of the above slice, cut against the grain.
 
 
And a reminder: New York City boasts at least six Chinatowns and perhaps a few more depending upon your definition of what constitutes a Chinatown; just pick one and go! Now, more than ever, please SUPPORT CHINATOWN!
 
 

Two More from Tashkent Market

Two more quick bites from Tashkent Market on Brighton Beach Ave, Brooklyn, one of the stops on my Little Odessa ethnojunket, as I continue deliberations regarding its post-pandemic resumption.

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I’ve written about steamed manti before – the Turkic/Central Asian fist-sized dumplings often filled with juicy, delicately seasoned lamb and onions diced into chunks. These are Uyghur style fried manti, every bit as delicious as their steamed cousins.


And the inner workings, of course.


This one was new to me. The sign read “Men Caprese Salad”, the dish itself was hidden beneath a snowdrift of freshly grated cheese (therefore no visual clues) and nary a staffer could tell me anything about it in any mutually intelligible language.

So of course, I bought some.

On my way out, I glanced at the receipt: “Salad Men Caprice” was the spelling this time – still no help. But from having shoveled into it, I inferred that a connection to Italian caprese salad was specious: no sign of tomatoes or basil although the shredded cheese looked not unlike a firm mozzarella.


When I got it home, this is what I found: chopped hard boiled eggs, cubes of beef (likely boiled), shredded cheese (a semi-firm cow’s milk cheese it seemed), and lots of mayo and salt. So sort of a pumped-up egg salad. Pretty tasty, actually.

Later, I did manage to turn up a single website specializing in German and Russian travel and restaurants that referred to it: “The ‘Men’s Caprice’ salad is an invention of the Soviet era (although the name likely appeared quite recently). The gist of it is to take the most simple and satisfying ingredients and prepare a salad so that a hungry man has a full belly.”

Sounds right to me.

Lots more on my Little Odessa ethnojunket – if and when!
 
 

D’oh!

On April 24, Dough Doughnuts opened a new location in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. Normally I wouldn’t go out of my way for a doughnut, but I had witnessed the mountains of accolades heaped upon this legendary bakery and now, since it had found a home in my neighborhood, I braved the lines and selected four:

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From upper left, clockwise:
• Boston Cream, custard filled and topped with chocolate glaze and “soil”
• Brooklyn Blackout, a chocolate doughnut filled with chocolate pastry cream and topped with “chocolate soil”
• Banana Hazelnut, not a filled variety
• Cheesecake with Red Velvet Topping

And for those who crave a look into the inner workings:

Boston Cream


Brooklyn Blackout


Banana Hazelnut


Cheesecake with Red Velvet Topping

Now for the heresy: I’m glad I bought four (at $4.50 each!) because had there been only one, I would have thought, “Damn, it’s a little stale – probably a day or two old”, but the odds of all four being substandard were infinitesimal. They were thick, dry, dense, heavy, bready, not flavorful – actually a little sour tasting but not in a yeasty good way, with a paucity of filling – and not very good filling at that.

And just to be snarky, here’s a photo from years ago of the outstanding product from Doughnut Plant that I hadn’t really intended to include in this post until now.


Top row: coconut crème (filled), peanut butter blackberry jam (filled); bottom: vanilla blackberry jam dough seed, crème brûlée dough seed, marzipan star.

Had the opening been on April 1 rather than April 24, I might have caught the joke. But it wasn’t.

Seriously, people, what am I missing?

If you’re one of those folks who get all twitterpated over Dough’s doughnuts, please explain your passion to me – particularly if you’ve ever reveled in the joy that is a Doughnut Plant doughnut.
 
 

It’s a Fish Treat! It’s a Candy Treat! Stop! You’re Both Right!

Readers of a certain age will recall the television commercial that aired in heavy rotation for Certs breath mints/candy mints and its relentless, nagging refrain. (Readers not of a certain age can simply take this title at face value.)

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These dried fish snacks are spicy, sweet, chewy and crunchy – sort of a sesame seed encrusted, sticky-sweet fish jerky. Made from dried fish, sugar, salt, sesame oil, and chili powder, they are utterly delicious and seriously addictive.

The backstory: I was prowling around Manhattan’s Chinatown still in the throes of pondering the destiny of ethnojunkets now that they might actually be feasible again. Many business have disappeared, but for every yin, there is a yang. Case in point: Mott Street’s Aji Ichiban, the Asian candy/dried fruit/preserved snack chain, closed last September, but five months ago Sugartown opened at 63 Bayard St to satisfy a similar audience in the neighborhood.

And that’s the provenance of the treats you see here: Spicy Fish Fillet, Spicy Yellow Croaker, Spicy Dragonhead Fish, Golden Pomfret, and Málà Whitebait. The seasoning recipe is nearly identical for each variety, only the fish differ; some are more gnarly than others, so you might consider starting with the fish fillet, or do what I did and load a few pieces of each into a single bag – it’s self-serve and they’re all the same price – see what you like and come back for more.


These are Black Sesame Fish Strips; in this case the fish is very mild cod. They’re soft, chewy, sweet, and you’ll be tempted to play pick up sticks with them, but they’re even more tempting as a snack.


Extreme close up.

At Sugartown, in addition to these fishy requisites, you’ll find dried and preserved fruits, other types of jerky, sour strips, gummies, jelly rings, crisps, Chinese, Japanese, and American cookies and candies and too much more to list here. It’s a shop full of sweet novelties for all tastes and you’re bound to find something that catches your eye and tickles your tongue.

FWIW, if I do revive the Manhattan Chinatown ethnojunket, Sugartown will definitely be on the itinerary!
 
 

Cheeseboat

A dear friend from our prehistoric ivy-covered days at Yale was visiting from California and staying in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. My challenge was to introduce him to a cuisine he probably had never sampled while still not schlepping him miles away from his accommodations pro tem. The solution was Cheeseboat, 80 Berry Street in Williamsburg – Georgian food sans subway excursion.

Cheeseboat features Georgia’s greatest culinary hits and there were three that I particularly wanted him to try:

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We started with the Pkhali Sampler. Pkhali is often described as a vegetable pâté, a spread, a dip, or even a salad – all approximately correct. In essence, it consists of a cooked single type of vegetable plus walnuts, garlic and cilantro, ground together into a paste. The veggie component can range from carrots, beans, or eggplant to a host of others; among the most common, and on today’s plate from the top counterclockwise, are beets, spinach, and leeks, served in this case with mchadi, Georgian corn bread, and spiced oyster mushrooms.


These are Khinkali, stuffed with seasoned ground beef, which the menu describes as “soup dumplings”.

<rant> I’ve seen that portrayal elsewhere and it really gets my goat. I mean, I guess it’s a triumph of sorts that soup dumplings (xiao long bao) are so ubiquitous now that any dumpling shaped vaguely like xlb is called a soup dumpling. Soup dumplings are delicious; they contain soup. Khinkali are delicious; they do not. Similarity of outward appearance does not imply similarity of contents. You know, like books. </rant>

Now, the cool thing about khinkali is that topknot of twisted dough. Not only does it form a protective structural seal, but it also provides a convenient handle by which you can elevate the treat from plate to mouth. I’m told you’re not really supposed to eat that appendage, and I agree that it’s a little chewy, but that doesn’t stop me. Try lubricating it with the thoughtfully provided “traditional garlic Nee’ortskali sauce” (Ortskali is a river in Georgia). Yum.


The obligatory inner workings shot. Note the absence of soup.


If you’ve had any experience with Georgian food, you probably know about khachapuri, the Georgian cheese bread that comes in several varieties. One of the most popular is adjaruli, although it’s only referred to as a cheeseboat here. But since that’s the name of the restaurant and they offer fourteen not-quite-Georgian variations on their specialty from mushroom to steak to shrimp, I’ll accept the conceit. This is the standard variation. Shaped like a kayak, the center of which is filled with cheese, a raw egg and a chunk of butter are added just as it’s removed from the oven. Stir the mixture: the egg cooks and combines with the butter and melted cheese. Break off pieces of the bread and dip them into the cheese mixture. Hot bread with melted buttery cheese that you eat with your hands, fresh out of the oven – what’s not to like?
 
 

TBD 2…

Still contemplating the ins and outs and whereabouts of the revivification of ethnojunkets as the pandemic begins its retreat. A couple of posts ago, we examined khe, an appetizing fish delicacy which is customarily on the agenda in our Little Odessa tour.

In this post, we’ll take a look at two of the scores of exquisitely prepared foods available at Tashkent Market on Brighton Beach Ave, one of the stops along the way. Because they offer some incredibly delicious dishes, we always indulge in several on the tour, but I had never sampled these two so I thought I’d share.

The trick to making a successful selection is either to know the language or to go with someone who knows the ropes (🙋‍♂️ shameless plug). Case in point: there’s a long counter displaying an array of prepared fish – fried, baked, sauced, you name it – and all of them look absolutely delicious. But the signage above the trays is often just a transliteration as opposed to a proper translation into English. For example, you’ll see Fried Treska – that’s cod, Fried Korushka is smelt, Sazan is carp – you get the idea.

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This is Paltus with Sweet Chili Sauce – paltus is halibut – which was perfectly cooked. My only regret was that I should have spooned on more of the tasty sauce that permeated the skin. (Also fun for people who experience pareidolia. You know who you are.)


With the top slid back like a convertible. Sort of.


Salmon Betki – truly luscious. Big chunks of fresh salmon, barely held together by what I’m guessing was the tiniest bit of chopped onion, yellow bell pepper, possibly some carrot, black pepper and egg; I suspect there’s a binding agent like breadcrumbs, but it’s completely unobtrusive.

And remember, if you see something that piques your curiosity and it’s not on our menu du jour, I’m happy to offer some enlightenment; you can always purchase a taste to take home for yourself!

Now, back to ethnojunket contemplation. More to come….
 
 

Eid al-Fitr – 2021

Eid al-Fitr, the Festival of Breaking the Fast, is the Muslim holiday that signifies the conclusion of month-long Ramadan; in 2021, it begins on the evening of May 12. Since I’ve recently been revisiting the neighborhoods we explore on ethnojunkets, this seemed like a good time to return to the Middle Eastern section of 5th Avenue in Brooklyn which I refer to fondly as Little Levant.

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Ma’amoul are shortbread cookies filled with a paste made from dried fruit, often dates but sometimes figs, or nuts, such as walnuts or pistachios; they’re frequently associated with Ramadan but fortunately are available year round. Paradise Sweets, the Middle Eastern bakery at 6739 5th Ave, was offering three kinds the day I stopped by: clockwise from left, pistachio, walnut and date.


Can a cookie actually melt in your mouth? These were wonderfully fragile, disintegrating into a crumbly powder like a Mexican polvoron: you’ll start with a bite, but you’ll want to finish with a spoon. For those who don’t care for uber-sugary cookies, the good news is that this version is not especially sweet; I discovered that the flavor seems to blossom in the company of a hot beverage – tea or Arabic coffee would be perfect.


Some of the smaller markets along the way were offering prepackaged ma’amoul like this one from Pâtisserie Safa, a Montreal based company. Its structural integrity was sturdier than the freshly baked specimens and the cookie was surprisingly tasty.


Both the dough and the filling were significantly sweeter than the locally crafted examples and I detected a welcome note of orange blossom water that enhanced its flavor profile.


Another survivor of the pandemic is the stalwart bakery Nablus Sweets at 6812 5th Ave. These are Qatayef (aka Atayef), made only during Ramadan and especially for Eid al-Fitr; they’re often sold by street vendors in the Middle East. They start out with a batter akin to that of pancakes but they’re griddled on only one side, then they’re filled with white cheese or nuts, folded into a crescent, fried or baked, and soaked in sweet rose water syrup. This pair enclosed a syrupy chopped nut filling.


They’re thicker and chewier than I anticipated – I was expecting a straight ahead, lighter pancake texture based on what I saw as they were being prepared:


Fresh off the griddle. Some folks buy them just like this, ready to be brought home to be filled with the family recipe (of course) of creamy cheese or walnuts, sugar and cinnamon.
 
 
More to come as I continue contemplating the resumption of ethnojunkets….
 
 

TBD…

The weather is warming up and COVID-19 is settling down which means it’s time for me to start seriously considering the feasibility of offering my ethnojunkets again. An ethnojunket is a food-focused walking tour through one of New York City’s many ethnic enclaves; my mission is to introduce you to some delicious, accessible, international treats (hence, “ethno-”) that you’ve never tasted but soon will never be able to live without (hence, “-junkie”). You can learn more about my ethnojunkets here.

Rather than trying to make a decision about the future in a vacuum, I decided that actually revisiting some of my old haunts might serve a twofold purpose – to inspire me and also to reveal which businesses have survived the pandemic (so far). Therefore, I’ve been eating my way through various Chinatowns, Little Levant (the Middle Eastern enclave in Bay Ridge), Little Odessa (the Russian/Former Soviet Union strip along Brighton Beach Avenue in Brooklyn), and the Latin American section of Sunset Park in service of that quest. In this and some subsequent posts, I’ll show you what I’ve been tasting in the process.

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This is khe, one of the treats we always indulge in on the Little Odessa ethnojunket. Not many people realize that Russia and North Korea share an 11 mile border and the Korean culinary character of khe is obvious. Meaty chunks of fish marinated in vinegar, onions and Korean red chili are the main ingredients in this delectable dish (recipes vary); think of it as ceviche meets kimchi. Only better. The reason behind its migration from the Russian/Korean border into Uzbekistan is the stuff of which history is made and you’ll hear the story on this ethnojunket.

The restaurant we always visited to grab an order of khe didn’t make it (although they have another business elsewhere that did survive) but fortunately, I found this tidbit at a different venue along the tour and it’s every bit as delicious as the previous version. It’s a personal favorite and one that always gets a big thumbs up from our group.

Stay tuned. More to come….