It Knows It When It Sees It

A long time ago, in a century far, far away (or so it seems), there was an enduring earworm of a hit song entitled “Shrimp Boats Is A-Comin'” popularized in 1951 by singer Jo Stafford. (If you’re under 60 years of age, you can hear it here.) So being of a certain age and a lover of wordplay, the original title for Monday’s post about shrimp balls was, of course, “Shrimp Balls Is A-Comin’.”

Quite by coincidence, a couple of days before it went up, my webhost had dispatched a routine missive to their clients indicating that they had upgraded some underlying code and suggesting that we have a look at our sites to ensure that all was well. A healthy round of clicking revealed no anomalies, so I thought nothing of it.

Subsequently, I published the shrimp balls piece, apparently without incident, but although it looked just fine online, none of my subscribers had received the customary notification that a new post had dropped; everything else about it, text, photos, internal links and the like, worked as anticipated. I tried a repost. Nothing. I assumed that it might have something to do with the under-the-hood tinkering (perhaps involving the outgoing email system?) that had recently taken place, so armed with a steaming mug of coffee and prepared to spend the day staring at my computer screen while listening to music on hold, I called my webhost.

I’ll spare you the details because I’m certain that you’ve all been victims of Customer Support Abuse: scripted questions like, “Are you sure your computer is plugged in?” “Is the caps lock key engaged?” “Have you tried wiping it down with a soft cloth?” and finally, “All right then, I’ll escalate you to Technical Support…” [of course, I had already pressed 3 when I called initially] “…and when [WHEN?] we get disconnected, call us back. Please hold.” 🎶🎶🎶….

Mercifully, I was connected to someone who knew the difference between a plug and a jack, and we unearthed the answer: their mail server’s oblivious algorithm had dutifully flagged the title of the post as porn and refused to distribute the message! So to verify, while Tech Support was standing by, I hastily substituted the rather insipid but assuredly safe title “Another Chinese Snack”, reposted it, and Bob’s your uncle, the announcements were dispatched.

Clearly, algorithms are not programmed to include a sense of humor.
 
 
What follows is the post “Shrimp Balls Is A-Comin'” as it originally appeared; only the name has been changed to – ostensibly – protect the innocent.

Although in retrospect, I think the backstory is more likely to grab you. 😉


(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

The Japanese inscription エビのボール reads ebi no bōru, shrimp balls, although it’s a Chinese product; the package shows a serving suggestion so don’t expect to find the sesame/cumin seeds or sprinkles of seasoning depicted in the photo. They bear some resemblance to the fish balls I wrote about in my post Goodness, Gracious, Great Balls of…Fish? (a particularly popular post among spammers, BTW – IDKW 😉) but rather than being something fished out of the freezer case destined for a soup pot or the like, these are a packaged item destined for snackin’ right out of the bag.


Individually wrapped as so many of these snacks are.


The inner workings. They’re moist, about 1½ inches in diameter, and actually pretty tasty; seems like there’s something more shrimp-related in there beyond what I’m guessing is mostly surimi masquerading as a higher form of seafood – plus the tiniest bit of spice. They have enough flavor on their own that I wouldn’t try to repurpose them into some loftier culinary creation; they might be more at home toothpicked with others of their ilk on a party platter.

 
 

Every Day Host Gluten Strips

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

Retrieved from another snack aisle in another Chinese supermarket, these were identified in English merely as Every Day Host Gluten Strips and something very approximately like Hand Ripped Lunch Strip Taste in Chinese, taken character by character. (Feel free to tag in, 朋友们.) About five inches long, the easily unzipped twin strips are a tad oily; they’re salty, sweet, and spicy – which comes as no surprise since the ingredients listed are wheat flour, soybean oil, salt, white sugar, chili and spices. As a matter of fact, the only surprise came from their unusual texture: chewy, puffy, airy, and a bit like biting into a sponge. They’re not bad exactly, just a little unusual.

Here’s the packaging (after I had removed most of the contents) in case you want to either try them or avoid them:

Sometimes, when I come across a product that is sort of okay but not so bad as to be trashworthy, I’ll try to invent a better use for it beyond its preordained destiny. For example, I had acquired some off-brand meat-stick Slim Jim clones. Again, not awful, but nothing to write home to Mom about. Turns out they made great stirring sticks for Bloody Marys – a triumph of snackish fulfillment.

No enlightened second life inspiration for these yet, but I’m open to suggestions!
 
 

Fat Cat Flatbread

Prowling around what remains of Flushing’s food court scene with an eye toward revitalizing my ethnojunket there, I visited Fat Cat Flatbread, stall #6 in the New York Food Court at 133-35 Roosevelt Ave.

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

As you might infer, their sole menu item is freshly made flatbread, at once crispy at the edges and yielding within, perhaps a little like a thin pizza crust; it’s available in seven varieties: pork, black pepper beef, preserved vegetable with pork, BBQ chicken, salted egg yolk & pork floss, maple sugar (really?), and red bean. Since I’m a salted egg yolk fan, I opted for that one. It was tasty, if a little monotone, and certainly more of a snack than anything else.

I wish I had chosen a different filling that might have held the promise of a heartier treat, but I imagine this is something you want to consume hot and fresh and the thought of downing two of them on the spot was daunting. There’ll be a next time.


Freshly prepared – scored…


…and folded.
 
 

Followsoshi

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

Yes, you do want this.

It’s a cross section of one of Followsoshi’s unique Roasted Cold Noodles and it tastes just as delicious as it looks. Construction is similar to that of a Jian Bing (they offer those as well) but significantly, this delicacy starts with a pair of white, striated, prepared “noodles” instead of a pancake:

It’s griddled, topped with a multiplicity of fillings and folded into the beauty you see at the top.

The slideshow chronicles the ingredients and procedure that went into our Meat Lover Roasted Cold Noodles – two eggs, followed by black sesame seeds and cilantro, then onion on the grill; it’s flipped and sauced, topped with parmesan cheese, bacon, crab stick, and BBQ sausage, then adroitly folded and portioned out:

The finished product – highly recommended:

In addition to the half dozen or so predetermined styles, there are 13 extra toppings from which you can pick and choose along with nine kinds of Jian Bing with three “Batter Upgrades” (green spinach, purple rice and red beetroot) boasting 18 optional fillings of their own.

There’s also a section of the menu called Chinese Gourmet that lists patties, rolls (ever had a “Rolling Donkey” rice roll?), bao, and braised dishes, but I’m saving those – and the Jian Bing – for a future visit.

Followsoshi is located at 135-24 40th Rd in Flushing, Queens. Of course. 😉
 
 

The Mystery of Fu Yuan

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

In today’s installment of “What Else Happened in Flushing While I Was Away?” there’s Fu Yuan at 135-43 Roosevelt Ave. It feels like that strip of Roosevelt Ave just off Main St has been playing musical chairs with a host of storefront snackish restaurant comings and goings for a while now. They don’t disappoint and I wish them all well.

Fu Yuan offers steamed rice noodle rolls (cheung fun, 腸粉) which appear to be enjoying tremendous popularity in NYC’s Chinatowns of late, as well as congee, some soups and a few other “side orders”. In addition to their traditional rice noodle rolls, they had a couple with the word “crispy” prepended which, of course, I opted for.


This one is their Crispy Roast Pork Rice Noodle Roll; the soft rice noodle is wrapped around crispy rice which is wrapped round the filling (shrimp is available as well as roast pork). Since I’m always a sucker for crispy, it totally worked for me.

But the real intrigue is the menu mystery that is “Stone Mill Noodle Roll”. I’ve returned more than once and each time I inquire, I’m told they don’t have it. Do they ever have it? Did they ever have it? That’s the enigma and I don’t have the Cantonese language skills to get to the bottom of it.

So, have any of you Chinatown roamers been luckier than I in solving this mystery?
 
 
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!
 
 

Vegetarian Alert, Part 2

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

I wrote a post not long ago about some remarkable vegetarian “meat” and another about some incredible spicy peanuts that I found during a Chinese supermarket expedition and how I could easily see how they might figure into a stir fry.

I am thrilled to report that this experiment turned out so well – supremely simple and decidedly delicious – that I uncharacteristically wrote down what went into it. So here’s a somewhat compressed version of what I did:

Prep/mise en place: I boiled, drained well, and set aside some basic fresh Chinese noodles from my local supermarket (amazingly enough). Diced some onion and fresh red bell pepper. Cleaned and sliced fresh cremini mushrooms. Set aside a handful of those amazing peanuts along with their one-two punch of málà peppercorns and dried red chili peppers. Using two forks, I shredded the “meat” as if it were meat:

For the sauce: I usually keep a shortcut combination of ingredients ready to go in the fridge (yes, that’s cheating) for when I’m in a hurry, but if you have a favorite, go for it. This is what went into mine: soy sauce, Zhenjiang vinegar, Shaoxing cooking wine, microplaned fresh garlic, microplaned fresh gingerroot, sugar (trust me), MSG (yes, really), a little Yibin Yacai (minced preserved mustard greens, optional), and a hit of sesame oil.

Abbreviated procedure: Get your wok as hot as you possibly can (pro tip: I avoid using a wok ring – gets the wok closer to the flame). Add some peanut oil and heat to the smoking point. Stir-fry the onions and peppers to cook through, add the mushrooms and stir-fry to cook through, add the “meat” and continue to stir-fry, add the noodles and stir-fry, add the sauce (you don’t need much) and stir-fry, add the peanuts and mix in. (Proper technique would have you do this in batches, but I was all about improper in my rush to the finish line.)

I happened to have Thai basil on hand so that’s what I used for garnish along with some scallions, but it’s certainly not authentic. Of course, there’s nothing about this dish that’s authentic, but it was so tasty that I wanted to share it with you, at least virtually.

(BTW, you don’t have to be a vegetarian to enjoy it! 😉)
 
 

Beef Juan Bing

My destination had been one of the restaurants in the shared venue at 40-46 Main St, Flushing, Queens but when I arrived, it had gone the way of too many others these days. All was not lost, however, because I was able to grab a ready-made offering at Qing Dao (sometimes spelled Qingdao) at the same location.

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

This is Niú Ròu Juan Bing (牛肉卷饼), a Chinese beef roll. The first two characters denote beef, the third means rolled, and the fourth indicates pancake. Don’t confuse juan bing with jiān bing (煎饼) the extremely popular filled folded pancake that I wrote about here last year.

Qing Dao’s rendition is pretty simple: marinated beef shin/shank rolled up in a Chinese pancake with fried egg.


My Number One Spy tells me that technically it should have been a scallion pancake but as you can see from this deconstructed photo, and to paraphrase Monty Python, mine was certainly uncontaminated by scallions. It was yummy nonetheless – especially after I added my own scallions. 😉

 
 
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!
 
 

Chinese Snowflake Crisps

More from the sweet snack aisle at the Chinese supermarket, specifically Snowflake Crisps (aka Snowflake Cakes) this time.

Yes, it’s a thing – if I am to believe what I’ve seen on the interwebs. They’re a popular dessert in parts of China and Taiwan (based on the number of recipes to be found) and a favorite commercially packaged treat as well (borne out by the number of varieties I see in Chinese markets).

On my last Flushing excursion, I chose two of the many selections vying for shelf space, Strawberry Snowflake Crisp (with Chinese and Japanese labeling)…

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

…and Boba Milk Tea Snowflake Cake.

They’re pleasantly sweet but not overly so; they share a common texture, at once a little crispy and perhaps a bit melt-in-your-mouth, marshmallowy-chewy like junior varsity wannabe nougat; and they’re feathery, gossamer – so lighter-than-air that it compelled me to scrutinize the ingredients on the label, but helium was not among them.


The Strawberry Snowflake Crisp had a little crispy, snowy white “icing” on top but only the merest suggestion of a crunch, somewhere along the candy <-> cookie continuum.


The Boba Milk Tea Cake was less chewy – but that’s acceptable because the boba, appropriately, were very much so; the bobas do taste like those in ubiquitous bubble tea.


One factor to keep in mind is that because of their fragile nature, you’re also buying a lot of packaging. Each 1¼-inch square is individually wrapped ensuring a protective cushion of air, then verrry loosely packed in a bag or an eminently reusable container (peeking out at the bottom in the first photo).
 
 
More snacks from the Chinese market to come. Stay tuned….
 
 

Huang Fei Hong Spicy Peanuts

Not long ago, I wrote that I’d be spending a lot of time in Queens developing my revised Flushing Ethnojunket 2.0. A number of businesses have succumbed to the forces of COVID-19 but happily, it seems like new ones have been popping up every day to succeed them.

My ever-vigilant Number One Spy provided me with a list of many of the newer venues; I’ve visited each and will provide my impressions about them in upcoming posts. (Spoiler Alert: she’s never wrong.) She advised me that as soon as I emerged from the subway, I’d see the new US1 Supermarket at the corner of Main St and Roosevelt Ave (with entrances on both sides). Literally three seconds after entering I spotted an overflowing mountain of these bags near the checkout area:

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

Now, this is as good a time as any to introduce you to Ethnojunkie’s Rules of Edible Acquisition. Perhaps of utmost importance is the First Rule:

If you see something that you think you might want, do not hesitate – get it immediately. It will not be there later.

They may sell the last one in your absence and for some unfathomable reason will never be able to order/make more. Or they’ve closed up shop entirely and left town. Or the gentle soul innocently standing behind you also has a knack for identifying the “good stuff” and has a forklift parked just outside.

This theory holds particularly true in ethnic supermarkets. I don’t know why, but even flashing a photo of what I bought (and gobbled up) just the day before is met with blank stares, furrowed brows, and scratched heads.

Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to grab and buy.

Corollary to Ethnojunkie’s First Rule of Edible Acquisition:

Having paid for your theoretically delicious treat, open it the instant you hit the street, taste it, and if your suspicions were correct, immediately rush back inside and buy three or four more.

As I said, it won’t be there later.


These are Huang Fei Hong Spicy Peanuts. You know how Virginia peanuts possess an eyeball rattling crunch that makes other peanuts seem mealy by comparison and intimidates them into leaving the table in disgrace while contemplating a new career as pigeon feed? Not only do these share that addictive characteristic but they are accompanied by bits of dried red chili and Sichuan málà peppercorns. Snacking perfection in a package. They are mind-blowingly, amazingly wonderful and that is not hyperbole.

(Pro tip: If you can’t take the heat, you don’t have to get out of the kitchen. Just shake the bag and many of the spicy bits will fall to the bottom giving you easy access to the now-subdued still-yummy peanuts remaining on top.)

Now you know what to look for and where to get them.

Fair warning: I am warming up my forklift.
 
 
More Flushing treats to come….
 
 

Heat Noodle – Second Heat

(Click on any image to view it in high resolution.)

Resist the urge to expect this to taste like some kind of bagel. Despite outward appearances, this morsel of savory perfection is not bready, but more “potatoey” for lack of a better description, and even that doesn’t quite nail it. You’re looking at two orders (one flipped) of Heat Noodle’s delicious Fried Sweet Potato Doughnut. (Don’t expect it to taste like a doughnut either.) Topped with black sesame seeds, crispy at the edges, soft and creamy-chewy within, it’s another must-try.


The inner workings.

It’s easy to walk past Heat Noodle (aka Wuhan Foodie, Inc.) at 135-21 40th Road in Flushing – even more than once! Here are a few window and door images to help you find your way.

You can read the first Heat Noodle post here.