Luky Duck

Posted on October 15, 2015 by Rich

Thai desserts (khanom thai) are sweet but not overly so, light, and delicious. Generally, they draw from a limited repertoire of ingredients but those are mixed and matched and combined and presented in a wide array of variations. Sticky rice, jackfruit, mango and other tropical fruits, pumpkin custards, pandan, sweet egg yolk threads boiled in syrup, and black beans and mung beans and corn (oh, my!) make their way into puddings, jellies, soupy concoctions, tiny cakes, candies, and a host of other delights.

One popular dessert is look choop (you may run across it as luk chup or any number of other transliterations) which look similar to shiny marzipan but taste nothing like it. The process is painstaking: soak and boil mung beans, sweeten with coconut milk and sugar, cook it down, mold or shape into miniature vegetable or fruit shapes, paint with food coloring, then glaze with agar-agar (like gelatin, but stiffer), and the result is something perfectly precious that looks too good to eat. (Little wonder that these were formerly served exclusively to royalty.)

Elmhurst’s sweetly named Sugar Club is my hands-down favorite market for khanom thai (as well as for outstanding prepared foods as good as you’ll find in any Thai restaurant). Recently, I was perusing their dessert case and, desperately struggling to restrain myself from buying one of each, decided that I’d better choose just one – but which? Out of the corner of my eye, I spied what at first I thought might be a children’s toy: a little yellow duck. What’s that doing in the dessert case? But a closer inspection disabused me of that notion – it was look choop molded in the shape of a classic rubber ducky floating atop a sea of green gelatin!

So deciding which dessert to choose was easy: look choop ducky, you’re the one!

Sugar Club
8118 Broadway
Elmhurst, NY
718-565-9018

Boffo Bofe

Posted on October 14, 2015 by Rich

I received my marching orders for the Panamanian Day Parade in time to beat the band of revelers. The colorful annual procession in Crown Heights stretches along Franklin Avenue north of Eastern Parkway, but I, typically, was drawn to the food vendors clustered south of it along Classon Avenue – a sensible arrangement given the size of the jubilant throng lining the parade route.

Amid the dishes you might expect – pernil, fried fish, oxtail, arroz con pollo, stew chicken, curry chicken, BBQ chicken (you get the idea), and numerous variations on plantains and empanadas – there were a number of Panamanian specialties that caught my eye (as well as my appetite). Pictured below are cow foot soup, bofe, and chicheme. (Click to enlarge.)

Cow foot soup is a thick, comforting dish with chunks of corn, potatoes, and assorted other vegetables and herbs that was absolutely delicious. (Don’t let the “cow foot” part put you off. Soup begins with water and bones, right?) It can be found throughout the Caribbean.

On the other hand (foot?) I’ve only found bofe (rhymes with snowday) on Panamanian menus and recipes for it on the web are scarce. Bofe is beef lung. I think the idea of it may be more daunting than the taste itself, which is milder than most offal. There were several renditions of it at the festival, but all were served with fried bread called hojaldre (from the Spanish word hoja meaning leaf) which, in my opinion, is the perfect accompaniment.

Wash it down with chicheme, a creamy, sweet, corn-based beverage enhanced with evaporated or sweetened condensed milk. Redolent of cinnamon and vanilla, it’s served hot and is vaguely reminiscent of Mexican atole.

The Panamanian Day Parade is always held on the Saturday of Columbus Day weekend. If you’ve never tasted Panamanian fare, jump on the bandwagon to next year’s festivities!

Pom and Circumstance

Posted on September 27, 2015 by Rich

The annual August celebration of Suriname Day at Roy Wilkins Park in St. Albans, Queens seemed remote – certainly On Beyond Z-Train, not to mention the E and the J – but I had never experienced Surinamese food and the perfect circumstances through which I could explore it prevailed.

Occupying a tiny corner of northeast South America, Suriname was settled by the British but taken over by the Dutch (it’s the official language) in the 17th century. Demographically diverse, its cuisine promised influences from indigenous peoples, East Indians, West Africans, Javanese, Chinese, Brazilians, Portuguese, and Jews, not to mention the Dutch; and since for all intents and purposes it is culturally Caribbean, I anticipated a serious geographical culinary contribution as well. I was not disappointed.

In addition to numerous rice dishes, some of the fare I sampled (see below) included salt fish and spicy chicken gizzard and liver, bakabana (fried plantain with spicy peanut sauce), trie and telo (anchovies and cassava/yuca)…

…and pom.

Pom? I was familiar with the others in one incarnation or another (although certainly cloaked under unfamiliar aliases here) but pom? Hardly obscure at this venue, it seemed that every table was offering their version of the dish.

Subsequent research revealed that pom is a sine qua non of festive occasions in Suriname, as the expression “without pom there is no birthday” makes abundantly clear. Made from grated pomtayer (the tuber/corm of Xanthosoma sagittifolium) plus chicken and citrus juice (often orange) along with onions, tomatoes, and various seasonings, the dish is baked until it’s GBD (golden brown and delicious).

I took my place in line anticipating my first taste of pom. The flavor was sweet, the texture about what you’d expect from a mashed yam as it coddled the flavorful chunks of chicken buried within. It was wonderful. My fellow food adventurer, having disappeared as I was waiting, returned with another version. It was better than the first. This humble dish was etching itself indelibly on my culinary sense memory. I queued up at another booth now, eager to try a third version. A brief eternity later, it was my turn. Pointing at the tray filled with golden brown deliciousness, I gushed, “One please; I love pom!” fairly swooning.

At that point my buddy stepped up behind me and intoned to the woman behind the table, “He means having tasted it for the first time today, he loves it.”

My cover blown, I confessed, “He’s right. But it was love at first sight. Or first taste actually. Can you dig that?” I asked the vendor.

“Mm-hmm,” she smiled knowingly.

I clutched my styrofoam trays of precious pomish treasure and hurried home to attempt to recreate this wonder. But where would I locate pomtayer? That turned out to be the easy part. Yautía (preferably the red/pink variety), also known as malanga, is the moniker under which I’d find it in this area; one could use taro root in a pinch, but I think that might be straying a bit far from the original. The hard part, it turns out, was unearthing a recipe. Usually bursting with helpful culinary instructions for every dish imaginable (and some not so much), the internet had surprisingly few offerings, each different from the last. The “various seasonings” I referred to above are the key. One used pickles, another rum, yet another called for salt pork; some were Jewish inflected, some Chinese, some Javanese, some Hindu. Like the pom at the festival, I could see that these would all be radically different from each other. Once again, I found myself in my kitchen/lab reverse engineering a recipe relying as much on my taste buds as the web and striving for deliciousness and authenticity. I’m pleased to report that my efforts were rewarded with a dish that met my expectations. As a matter of fact, I was so pleased with it that I’m happy to share it with you.

Leave me a comment, and the recipe is yours.

I’m Just Wild About Harry (and Ida’s)

Posted on September 15, 2015 by Rich

…Pastrami, that is.

Yes, they are purveyors of artisanal, in-house cured meats along with rows of mustards and pickles and the like…

…and they cobble together a hefty sandwich of Benton’s ham, Edwards ham, andouille, and cured beef all nestled against a thick slab of mozzarella; and they feature their bespoke renditions of smoked bluefish and smoked eel (try it if the only eel you’ve ever tasted is Asian).

But the reason to join the choir and sing the praises of Harry and Ida’s is their remarkable pastrami. This delicacy, the perfect harmonization of rich protein and buttery fat, is unlike any I’ve ever tasted – and I’m no stranger to pastrami. Simply put, this is not your mama’s pastrami. (Certainly not mine.)

Savoring this delight is like immersing yourself in a three-act opera: The story begins sweetly, betraying a gentle innocence unattainable by its crude, monotoned rivals. A moment later, a chorus of intense beefiness resounds, bullishly commanding your tastebuds. The finale peaks in a crescendo of spices bursting into peppery climax.

Yes, I like the stuff.

Oh, and lest I forget, they’re one of the few places in NYC that sells Foxon Park Soda, that splendid libation crafted in East Haven, CT and formerly known only to the fortunate denizens of the region. Perhaps I’ll wax rhapsodic about their Iron Brew or White Birch Beer in a future post; a serenade might be appropriate.

(Gosh, I think I got carried away with this one. Better go compose myself.)

Harry and Ida’s Meat and Supply Co.
189 Avenue A, New York, NY
(646) 864-0967

It’s Poké, Man!

Posted on September 14, 2015 by Rich

Poké means cut or slice in Hawaiian. In this case, it refers to morsels of raw fish that have been marinated in soy sauce and sesame oil, often accompanied by sweet onions, chopped scallion, seaweed, chili pepper (or a similarly spicy component like sriracha chili sauce), ginger, and occasionally roasted crushed candlenuts or macadamia nuts.

Think of it as sashimi dressed up as a fashion plate or perhaps Hawaii’s answer to ceviche.

In Japanese, donburi (丼), often truncated to simply don, means “bowl” and refers to a bowl of rice served with numerous options of simmered toppings: pokedon is a bowl of poké over rice. Although not impossible to find in our fair city (as a matter of fact, I suspect it’s poised to be the Next Big Thing around these parts), I was surprised to see a grab ‘n’ go rendition at Dainobu, the Japanese deli and grocery chain. Considering the fact that I’ve been spoiled by stores like Mitsuwa in Edgewater, New Jersey and Sunrise Mart on Stuyvesant Street in the East Village, I was happy to discover a dizzying array of all things Japanese including an udon bar in the back. Even better, you’ll find both salmon and tuna pokedon there.

I gussied mine up with some pickled ginger and furikake (a mixture of seaweed, sesame seeds, dried bonito and the like, available in a panoply of variations). But the squeeze of lemon that was included in the bowl was just what it needed to get its game on.

Found at Dainobu
498 Sixth Avenue near West 13th Street
New York, NY
(212) 645-0237

Lard A’mighty!

Posted on September 2, 2015 by Rich

Bacon? Delicious.
Pâté? Of course.
Bacon Pâté? Um, yeah, okay. Er, I guess.

Not much to look at, I thought, peering through the thick plastic package. Still, it beckoned to me as I navigated the narrow aisle that bisects Polam International Market, one of the bright spots for Polish food in Greenpoint. Seems like an oxymoron: I think of bacon as having ribbons of fat interspersed with lean (the Jack Sprat recipe for marital harmony) and pâté as a paste, coarse or fine, but easily spreadable. I couldn’t be certain of course, but this looked like little chunks of fried bacon suspended in lard.

At home, I poured it into a bowl to get a better look.

It still looked like little chunks of fried bacon suspended in lard.

Because that’s precisely what it was. So I went online to learn more about what to do with it: Smalec po Góralsku translates as Mountaineers’ Lard. “Spreadable bacon goodness!” proclaimed the description. “Traditional simple peasant spread typically used as a substitute for butter – put it on the dark bread, add some salt and you will enjoy the Polish mountain village specialty.” Okay, I’m game. For starters, I had to get past the fact that I was about to wrap my lips around glorified lard supported only by a piece of excellent pumpernickel. (I had long since given up on trying to figure out an explanation for the “pâté” part.) I took a bite. I understood where it wanted to go, but its charms were eluding me. I felt that it had potential however. What could I do with it to make it delicious enough to write about? And then I remembered Zoltán.

Zoltán was an affable fellow of Hungarian descent who lived in the country. (When you’re a New Yorker, anywhere on the far side of a bridge leading out of the city is “the country”.) I hadn’t thought about him in years. His claim to fame was that every summer, he’d get a fire going in a little pit in his backyard and make Szalonna. He’d impale a hunk of Hungarian back bacon on a stick and hold it over the flames and just as the fat began to sizzle and render, he’d pull it out of the fire and hold it over a piece of fresh bread until the drippings dwindled. Then back over the flames it went for another round – repeatedly until the bread was saturated. Sometimes it was topped with onion, cucumber, or bell pepper. Neighborhood kids would come running to his yard as the heavenly, porky aroma filled the air. The Good Humor man had nothing on Zoltán.

So taking a tip from those ancient sense memories, I concocted a plan. Caramelize thinly sliced onions very slowly in the bacon pâté. While they grow sweet, slice an heirloom tomato and oven toast a slice of pumpernickel. When the onions are done, drench the toasted pumpernickel in the rendered lard, add the onions and bacon pieces, top with a slice of tomato, and sprinkle with wild mushroom sea salt.

Looks good, doesn’t it? Tasted even better.

Of course, I had to go through several of these to make sure they were as wonderful as I thought they were on the first bite. Ah, such sacrifice.

Found at Polam International Market
952 Manhattan Ave.
Greenpoint, Brooklyn, NY
(718) 383-2763

Chechil – Smokey for Beer

Posted on August 17, 2015 by Rich

Eight minutes. That was all the time I had before I was scheduled to meet my friend in Sunnyside for a nearby foodie event. The choice: I could simply neutralize this slice of time and wait outside the frenetic smack-in-the-middle-of-Queens-Boulevard subway entrance savoring the malodorous traffic fumes, or I could prowl around. But what could I ferret out in eight minutes?

Twenty seconds and half a block later I found Superior Market/Beer World. The store was bursting with craft beers from around the world — but that’s not the kind of thing I usually write about on these pages. A quick glance around the place and I realized I was on familiar Russian turf: some prepared foods, fresh baked goods, the usual suspects, and a lot of non-Russian products as well to satisfy their mixed clientele. With that cursory inspection and only a few minutes to spare, I found nothing special to tell you about, so I was about to leave empty handed. But something I had never seen before caught my eye as I passed the refrigerator case on my way to the door.

The vacuum packed pouch revealed what looked a bit like a bundle of short thin ropes about 4 inches in length. I picked my way through the Cyrillic text on the label. The first line was easy: СЫР – cheese. The second (hyphenated) line began with Чечил. I sounded it out: Chechil. I had no idea. Then the next word. I struggled with the Russian script: you think you’re seeing “cnazemmu” but what looks like a “c” sounds like “s”, what looks like an “n” is a “p”, “z” is “g”, “m” is “t” and that “u” is actually a lower case version of the letter that looks like a backwards N, so it must be – s, p, a, g, e, t, t, i? Really? But yes, that’s the second part of that line – spaghetti. (Well, it did look like spaghetti in sort of a dwarfed, tannish way.)

Hurriedly, I bought a pack and plunged into my research as soon as I returned home. I pulled off a string; it came apart in shreds. Very smoky. Certainly salty. Almost aged mozzarella-ish but much drier. Rather chewy. Delicious. I wondered if it would melt: I peeled off another strip. Nope. Not in the microwave, at least. After only a couple of seconds in the belly of that magnetron beast, it became even drier and oddly bubbly in a freakish sort of way but nothing I would call melted. (Should have tried a more conventional approach. Well, there’s always next time.)

I hit the interwebs and discovered that I was enjoying Smoked Chechil Beer Snack. (The third line on the label means smoked.) Ah — this Russian cheese is destined to be savored with beer, the featured product of the eponymous Beer World. Its roots are in Armenia but it’s popular throughout Central Asia and Russia. Larger hunks of this cow’s milk pasta filata cheese (which is why it reminded me of mozzarella) are typically braided into a figure 8, this being a small snippet from one of those skeins.

So this Russian string cheese is described as “spaghetti” which is the diminutive plural of spago in Italian which means “string”.

And that ties it all together.

Found at Superior Market/Beer World
40-08 Queens Blvd.
Long Island City, NY

Filipino Polvorón

Posted on August 14, 2015 by Rich

Ever tasted polvorón? The correct response is, “Which kind?”

If you’ve ever wandered the streets of a Mexican neighborhood, you may have passed a panaderia that featured polvorónes, a soft, crumbly cookie that is essentially the Spanish version of shortbread and akin to the goody known as Mexican wedding cookies; the texture is almost like a Chinese almond cookie. One bite and you’ll know what I mean by crumbly – polvo means powder, after all. (Photo on the left.)

In the Philippines, polvorónes are made of powdered milk and toasted flour and are even more crumbly (if that’s possible) and to my taste, they’re more like a candy than a cookie. (Photo on the right.)

Typically wrapped in brightly colored cellophane twisted on the ends, Filipino polvorónes barely hold their shape and instantly crumble into sweet delicious dust when bitten into. They’re available in flavors like cashew, peanut, ube and pinipig (crisped rice).

I thought I had sampled every available version of this treat. Until now, that is. Chocolate coated polvorónes. Chocolatey goodness on the outside surrounding polvorón in flavors like cookies & cream on the inside. Surely a case of lily-gilding, but what’s to not like? I was certain that no further embellishment was conceivable.

Wrong again. Because I had stumbled upon ChocoVron’s Rite Snack Polvorón Sticks. They’re similar to the cylindrical crispy wafer cookies called Pirouettes but covered in chocolate and filled with polverón, in this case ube. (Ube is purple yam — or purple yum if we’re to believe the package labeling.) Their slogan “One Bite is not Enough” is tauntingly accurate. Beware: these are addictive. (Actually, anything that goes crunch is addictive, but that merely serves to prove the point.) Buko Pandan (coconut pandan) and Classic flavors invite a return visit.

Found at Sariling Atin Grill and Filipino Grocery
89-12 Queens Blvd.
Elmhurst, NY
718-397-1200

Hidden Pearls at Indo Java

Posted on August 6, 2015 by Rich

Not far from the intersection of Broadway and Queens Boulevard in Elmhurst, tucked away amid a cache of Southeast Asian restaurants and snackeries, lies this gem of an Indonesian boutique. Unlike some nearby markets which tend to be either Thai-centric or comprehensively Southeast Asian, Indo Java concentrates on the delicacies of Indonesia.

The perimeter of the shop displays a wealth of products: packages of blended spice mix, dozens of snacks including an abundance of emping, cake and dessert mixes, a myriad of bottled sambals and sauces, and a small frozen food case. Attempting to focus on any individual item can be a little daunting at first, particularly because the venue is tiny and it’s easy to gloss over the hundreds of products competing for your attention. It’s worth taking a bit of time to zoom in, however: this Mickey Mouse brand of dried salted watermelon seeds is a good example.

But the most compelling feature of the store and one that begs a repeat visit, is the array of tempting prepared food that’s replenished every Saturday after 6pm. An overwhelming variety of Indonesian snacks, main dishes, and sweets grace a table toward the back of the shop. Elvi, the co-owner, will be more than happy to answer your questions and, if you’ve worked up an appetite while shopping and can’t wait to get home with your goodies, can point you in the direction of their sister restaurant, Java Village, nearby at 86-10 Justice Avenue – although my experience was that the store had a much wider variety of offerings than the restaurant.

Here are a few of the items that came home with me after my last visit.

Pepes refers to food, often involving fish, that has been prepared by wrapping it in a banana leaf and then steaming it (although it’s sometimes grilled); this pepes teri (anchovy) is a little sweet, a little spicy and also contains tofu, coconut, chilies, and galangal. Delicious.

Otak otak ikan is sort of a leaf-wrapped fish paste (ikan = fish), but these tasty tidbits don’t really betray much fish flavor – only a slightly sweet, slightly oniony, slightly chewy snack accompanied by peanut sauce and it’s near impossible to consume just one. Incidentally, the repetition of a word as part of a grammatical construct is common in Indonesian and Malay, and in linguistics is referred to as reduplication (a word which itself seems redundant); cumi cumi (squid) and gado gado (a vegetable salad) come to mind. Often, as in this instance, appending a “²” to the word is used as shorthand. Yum².

This much larger arem arem was quite tasty as well. Along with coconut milk, the leaf flavors the rice that’s wrapped around bits of tofu and shredded chicken – but beware the hot red chili lurking within!

Bakcang beras – You’ve probably seen this pyramid of bamboo leaf-wrapped, glutinous rice (beras = rice) in Chinatown where it’s known as zongzi and filled with an assortment of savory tids and bits. In addition to pork, this one contained mushroom and preserved egg yolk. (After steaming it, I decimated the pyramid so you could see its inner workings.) Served with a sambal.

Empal – Sweet and spicy shredded beef. Typically the meat is boiled first along with aromatics and spices, then cut into lumps and pummeled just enough to loosen the fibers, then often fried. This version has taken its lumps and been beaten beyond recognition into shreds although there are a couple of chunks in there so you can get the idea. I found it perfect with rice or in a lettuce leaf wrapper with sambal oelek.

Ikan salmon asem manis – sweet tamarind salmon (asam = sour, manis = sweet, asem manis refers to tamarind). These fried bits are off the charts delicious, especially with the nasi kuning (rice with coconut milk and turmeric) that I made as an accompaniment. Yes, it’s oily, but so good.

Kerang – The word can refer to clams, scallops, mussels, or pretty much any bivalve. This dish of green mussels is very spicy and very good, here served with plain white rice.

Udang Balado – Udang means shrimp and balado refers to the method of preparation: a tomato based sauce with lots of chilies and in this case potatoes. This rendition had more shrimp heads than shrimp which provided a tremendous amount of flavor and yes, can be eaten. I’ve also seen this dish prepared with stink bean (aka sataw, petai, peteh, bitter bean, and smelly bean, a vegetable common in Southeast Asia and nowhere near as nasty as it sounds).

Ayam kaki – chicken leg. I didn’t get the ingredients or even much of an explanation, but it tastes like it’s been marinated forever in sweet Indonesian soy sauce with perhaps some garlic and ginger and then probably barbecued. The tofu (tahu bacem or tempeh bacem to the left of the sambal) that came with it was amazing (probably marinated in the same stuff). The sauce only looked like sambal oelek but wasn’t as fiery and had a chickeny component.

Time for dessert! Martabak manis: “pandan special mix” was good, but unusual. Murtabak (with a “u”) is a pancake wrapped around a variety of savory fillings usually including meat and egg that’s found in Malaysia and throughout the region. Martabak (with an “a” and found only in Indonesia) can be either the savory snack or a sweet one like this. It’s completely unlike its savory cousin: even the pancake is of a radically different texture – more like a crumpet. This one was flavored with pandan and the layers encased chocolate, peanuts, grated fresh cheese, and sweetened condensed milk. I warmed it up a bit and served it with coconut ice cream, which was the icing on the…well, you know.

Indo Java
85-12 Queens Boulevard
Elmhurst, NY
718-779-2241

Ethnojunkie

Turning people on to ethnic food…one story at a time.