The Food Nazi

By the Servings @ Market Street

2007-07-24T22:55:00.000-07:00

Mei Heong Yuan (mei heong means "fragrant flavor") has become one of my favorites in my ongoing quest to find the best Asian dessert shops in Singapore; their peanut sweet soup, black sesame sweet soup, and steamed milk pudding are some of the best I've tried. Another recent venture took me to the Temporary Chinatown Complex where I sampled the black sesame and peanut soups at Dessert 115. Though not quite as impressive as the dessert soups at Mei Heong Yuan, 115 was good enough to earn an honorable mention.

This afternoon, I took a trip up Cross Street in search of more Asian-flavored sweets. Located on the first level of the new Market Street Car Park along Cross Street, among a handful of other exciting new eateries, is a trendy new dessert shop: By the Servings serves Asian-style desserts with odd names. A quick glance at the menu unearths such surprises as "Popeye's Pudding" (below right) is a spinach-flavored egg custard and "Bug's Bunny" (below left)--a popular carrot-raisin konnyaku jelly. (I have some morbidy curiosity about the spinach pudding, so it is very likely that I will return there again next week just to try it. )

For my first visit, I went for the most popular item on their menu, the "Wild Blossoms." The owner invited me to sit myself down at the counter while she ladled generous servings of the warm dessert soup into a ceramic bowl for me. The dessert soup arrived piping hot with lots of pieces of dried longan, wolfberries, ginko nuts, and red bean--just the way I like it! And, like any good Asian dessert, the sweetness of the soup was subtle, just enough to meet the requirements for being a dessert without becoming so excessively sweet as to overpower the nutty flavors of the ginko nuts and red bean. The natural flavors of the dried longan and the wolfberries brought an extra bit of sweetness to the dish--an earthy sort of sweetness.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I couldn't stop at just one bowl: I had to try more! The owner saw me eyeing the menu and encouraged me to try the "Purple Petals" which the menu describes as a "Hawthorn Roselle Nata De-Coco Jelly." Seeing as how I love the flavor of hawthorn berries, I decided to order one to go. I was also enticed by the "Black Oats," a new menu item listed under an assortment of all-day breakfast items: black sesame oatmeal with golden raisins sounded too good to pass up. So, I ordered that to take back with me as well.

With both the "Purple Petals" and "Black Oats" packed up to go, I hurried back to the office--I absolutely could not wait to taste them! I sampled the black sesame oatmeal first. After sitting in the container for so long, the raisins had already gotten fat and juicy--the way that raisins get in a nice warm bread or rice pudding. The flavor of the black sesame was wonderful, and with the consistency of the oatmeal, this dessert reminded me of a traditional black sesame dessert soup with the extra nuttiness of wild oats. The oatmeal's consistency was neither too thin nor too thick. This would make a wonderful breakfast or afternoon snack! (I am eager to sample their museli and granola some day as well.)

The hawthorn berry jelly was a great disappointment. After being told that it was one of their more popular items, I was expecting something truly remarkable. The dessert was nothing more than an unbearably sweet cafeteria-style jello with cubes of nata de-coco for added aesthetics. After having consumed both the oatmeal and the red bean soup (both of which were subtly sweet dessert items), I was disappointed to find my taste buds swimming in the artificial sweetness of hawthorn berry flavoring which was, suffice it to say, overpowering.

By the Servings is a dreamland for those Asian-dessert enthusiasts like myself who appreciate the subtleties of Asian-style desserts. But, a word of caution: this dreamland does contain a few jarring doses of syrupy-sweet reality. For the most part, you can't go wrong--just don't expect everything to be perfect.

By the Servings / Market Street Car Park, Cross Street - Singapore

Eden Cafe @ Club Street

2007-07-16T23:44:00.000-07:00

The slogan for Eden Cafe is, "...where it all begins." Sadly enough for me, Eden Cafe is where it all ends. Perhaps I'm overreacting just a tad, but this yuppy cafe has convinced me to boycott salads for the remainder of my trip in Singapore. The large part of the problem, of course, started with two meals I had at the California Pizza Kitchen along Orchard Road. I ordered the field green salad with carmelized walnuts and fresh mozzarella, as I usually do back home in the states. What came out of the kitchen was an unattractive pile of crudely cut iceberg lettuce (not mesclun greens) and a sprinkling of shredded mozzarella (not fresh) and a handful of plain walnuts (not carmelized or baked). And, being a man who rarely learns from his mistakes, I assumed this to be a freak accident by some newbie chef so I ordered the salad a second time aorund. This time was even worse! Not only was the salad browning (from obviously spending far too much time in a refrigerator), but the mozzarella cost an extra $2 SGD!

Eden Cafe has confirmed for me that, if you want yuppie cuisine (or just a decent salad), go to the land of the yuppies: try New Haven - they've got a pretty decent garden salad at Atticus Bread on Chapel Street. Anyway, that's just a foot note to all of this. Patrons at this institution were obviously yuppy expats (from the UK) looking to satisfy their yuppy desires with organics and whole wheat. Some were, from what I learned by listening into their conversations, frequent customers at Eden Cafe. One woman strutted right into the restaurant, walked right into the kitchen and placed her order (a burrito?).

To be fair, the owners at Eden Cafe have done a wonderful job of making the place inviting - I suppose for the typical yuppy expat, this cafe serves as a comfortable oasis far from the grime and dinge of local hawker centers and food courts. (Lord knows how "dirty" Singapore tends to be.) I too found it a bit refreshing to be in the yuppy embassy for a change. The minute you walk into the restaurant, you are greeted by a lovely dessert case full of exquisite desserts: rose petal brownies and orchid apple crumble and the like. I did not try any of these desserts because I was so obviously disappointed by the end of my meal that I refused to pay another cent, but I suppose I would (if asked) go back to try some of their dessert selections some other time. Their orchid fondue sounds interesting enough for a go.

Eden Cafe prepares cafe-style cuisine (soups/salads, finger foods, pasta) - for an added touch (and this is their signature), they garnish their dishes with edible orchids and rose petals. I'm not sure how these flavors actually infuse into the dish because the orchids used on my dish were purely garnish (they were not incorporated into the dish in any creative way).

To start, I ordered the fruit and vegetable summer salad which is served with, instead of vinagrette, a bit of yogurt and garnished with yellow orchids. The base was a mixture of unattractive iceberg lettuce and purple cabbage (which lent a certain bitterness to the dish that actually went horribly with the yogurt dressing and the watermelon/strawberry garnish). The dish was horribly inspired and actually hard to stomach (especially at $8.50 SGD). Any idiot could have made just as good (if not better) a salad at a college dining hall. What the dish really could have used was something to give the dish more meat and flavor since watery iceberg lettuce is pretty unremarkable as far as salad greens go. I would suggest a few slices of avocado to lend their characteristic buttery texture to enhancing the dish. I would also suggest substituting the yogurt for something a bit less tangy since the tanginess only seems to make the iceberg lettuce even less appealing to the palate.

I also ordered a plate of what the menu calls "Pie Tees." These are essentially wonton shells stuffed with a slice of lox, a basil leaf, tomato, and a dollop of American-style mayonaise (or was it Ranch dressing?). While this dish was slightly more appetizing, what was just as obvious was the fact that this dish could have been conjured up by anybody with half his wits. For $4.50 SGD, you'd be better off ordering 3 popiah rolls at a local hawker center. It's quickier and much tastier.

Long story short, don't go here unless maybe you want to sample some desserts....but do so at your own risk. Don't be fooled by the charm of this yuppy emporium - it'll take your money and your sense of pride.

Eden Cafe / 54 Club Street Singapore 069431 / 6536 1181

Togi @ Chinatown (Mosque Street)

2007-07-16T18:18:00.000-07:00

Back home, Sunday lunches were always Korean--no exceptions. My father, whose palate for Chinese cuisine and dim sum lunches, grudgingly went along with our weekly ritual. At Seoul Garden, lunch specials like seafood handmade noodles, grilled porgy, and soon du bu jigae were inexpensive but satisfying. The whole package was made even sweeter by an assortment of side dishes that came with every meal: garlic anchovies, chop chae, pickled radish, kim chee cucumbers, marinated fish cake, tofu/egg, and, of course, the requisite won bok kim chee. One of my favorite things to do at lunchtime was to mix some of the chili red broth from the tofu stew (jigae) and a few of the seasoned veggies into a bowl of steamed white rice, and give it a little stir to let the flavors marry with one another. The liquids from the soup and the veggies would give the rice a porridge-like consistency and an exquisite flavor of whole garlic and chili peppers. Smelling heavily of garlic and other things one should not eat before going out in public, every Sunday lunch would be followed up, of course, with a much-needed afternoon nap. Repeat as needed.

The week before I made my way to Singapore, I went back to Seoul Garden one last time. It would, I predicted, be the last Korean feast I would have in a long time (at least until the end of summer). You can imagine then how ecstatic I was to discover that, just a few streets down from my office in Chinatown was a wonderful little Korean eatery along Mosque Street (right across the street from one of Singapore's most well-known yong tau fu joints....I'll cover that in another post):

Togi serves up a wonderful selection of Korean dishes and, as with any Korean restaurant worth its weight in gold, the side dishes are delightful. As I waited for the kitchen to prepare my kim chee pancake and soon du bu jigae (tofu stew), I sipped on some warm brown rice cha (tea) which is sweet and so refreshing. To be honest, I actually prefer Korean rice teas over Chinese or Japanese or English teas. (Million Korean Restaurant and Sorabol back home used to give us complimentary glasses of ice cold sweet rice drink after every meal to cleanse the palate - the cool flavors of the drink did a good job of extinguishing the heat of a fiery Korean feast.)

As I waited, the waitress also came out with a tray of side dishes:

Kim chee tofu, won bok kim chee, seasoned anchovies, marinated fish cake, cucumber kim chee, and Asian chives with chilis were a few of the items served with my meal. (The only downside is they'll charge you for second helpings....which you'll pretty much end up BEGGING for after the first helping. But, whatever.)

Seeing as how I had an especially healthy appetite that day, I decided to order myself a starter: kim chee pancake ($4.50 SGD). Instead of one big pancake as in other Korean restaurants, Togi serves its pancakes in miniature form: one order gets you four mini-patties, which is fantastic since the smaller sized patties means you get to enjoy more of that amazing crunch you only get from the crispy exterior of the pancake. I must say that I have enjoyed many Korean-style pancakes before, but this one was one of the absolute best. The pancakes came out piping hot. The exteriors retained much of that fresh-out-of-the-frying-pan crunch while the interior was nice and sticky with a wonderful mochi-like texture. And, of course, all of this is made better by the fact that you can really taste the garlicky flavors of the kim chee used in this dish.

I had not even finished with my pancakes when the waitress came back carrying a pot of tofu stew ($8-9 SGD). The broth was served at a rolling boil in a traditional black iron pot--the way jigae should be served in a Korean restaurant. Curious as always, I put down my pancakes, took my soup spoon and began to stir the pot to see what treasures lay beneath its bubbling surface. This tofu stew is a real heavyweight in the world of Korean jigaes: it certainly does not skimp on any ingredients. In addition to silken soft tofu bathing in the flavors of this exquisite kim chee broth, you'll find whole clams, oysters, green onions, tomatoes, fresh shrimp, imitation crab meat, cilantro and chunks of fish meat. As much as I loved the pancakes, I could not resist the temptation to dive straight into the stew while it was still at a rolling boil--heaping generous portions of seafood and vegetables into a bowl, making sure of course to ladle a bit of broth over it for a little bit of that amazing Korean flavor.

If you're in the area, Togi should be a definite stop on your list of restaurants. With what little time I have left here in Singapore, I might even make a ritual out of it.

Togi Restaurant / 11 Mosque Street / Chinatown Singapore 59491 / Tel: 6221 0830

Guo Fu Vegetarian Restaurant @ China Square

2007-07-15T20:01:00.001-07:00

There is nothing quite like the experience of gathering around a traditional Chinese hot pot (also sometimes referred to as "steamboat." The Japanese have similar traditions of "shabu shabu" and, its slightly distant cousin, "yakiniku." The Koreans are also big on cook-it-yourself dining--Korean bbq famously leaves you reeking of charcoal smoke and whole garlic cloves. My family loves to set up a portable gas stove in the middle of the dining room table for our own version of Chinese hot pot--with some of the freshest ingredients from the local wet market. My favorite items for a good Chinese steamboat feast include fresh clams and scallops, Chinese broccoli, mushrooms (enoki, abalone, and shimeji), soft tofu, fish balls, konnyaku (Japanese yam) noodles, and, for a little local flavor, a few opihi (Hawaiian cockles).

The best part about Chinese steamboat is that the flavors are very clean. (If you're in the mood for a light salad, consider trying a Chinese hot pot for a change.) Obviously, everything is boiled or parboiled in a clear broth so the natural flavors of the items are left entirely intact from start to finish. This form of cooking truly allows you to really appreciate the freshness and purity of the ingredients themselves. This also means that poor quality ingredients have nothing to hide behind--unlike Chinese takeout, food items used in hot pots have no cornstarchy sauces or oily film to mask their nakedness. So, if you want to have a decent hot pot, you had better invest the time and money into finding high quality ingredients (unless of course you don't mind the acrid taste of freezer burn in your food).

Guo Fu Vegetarian Restaurant offers a wonderful ala-carte style steamboat buffet for lunch, which I happened across during one of my many lunch breaks. (Word to the wise: hot pots require time so, if you really want to savor the experience, you are probably better off waiting until you have a bit more time to spare.) Once you're seated, the waitresses will ask you to select from among their many varieties of broth (for those with a penchant for heat, they offer a few spicier broths). I opted for the herbal broth--strangely enough, there was nothing herbal about it (at least as far as I could tell).

While waiting for your pot to heat up over the stove, you order from an assortment of items which the waitresses will bring out for you in individual servings. I was a big fan of the ala-carte style buffet - I was especially grateful to avoid the messiness of buffets where you literally pile your plate up with raw food items and carry it back to your table (Imagine having a plateful of raw veggies mixed in with raw seafood and slices of raw beef/chicken....). Some of the more interesting items on the menu include: abalone/shimeji/enoki mushrooms, fish head, squid, yam noodles, black fungus, taro, and beancurd strips. And, of course, the popular favorites: fish balls, soft tofu, shrimp, and Chinese broccoli. You just CAN'T go wrong with fish balls and a Chinese hot pot (as evidenced by the fact I ordered five servings of fish balls). To be fair, the waitresses kept forgetting whether or not they had already given me my order of fish balls, so invariably they kept giving me extra orders just in case (suffice to say, I did not resist).

Every buffet also comes with a complimentary order of Shanghai-style dumplings (xiao long bao), pumpkin fritters, dessert soup (pumpkin, again), and fresh fruits. The xiao long bao were heavenly: one bite out of these juicy dumplings just to let the liquid encased in the center seep out, mix in a little vinegar and ginger, then slip the little treasure into your mouth and savor the savory aroma of pork meat and sweet broth. The pumpkin fritters were a pleasant surprise - crispy exterior like a croquette, but the interior was delightfully chewy and fragrant. Like pumpkin butter mochi....only better!

Yes, at $16 SGD the buffet is relatively pricey. But, you honestly won't regret it! If you have the time, this buffet is a wonderful indulgence. The ingredients are so fresh and the little bonuses only help to sweeten the package.

Guo Fu Vegetarian Restaurant - China Square Central #01-23/24 - Chinese Court Singapore 048422 / Tel: 6557 0906

Ivory Kitchen @ Clarke Quay

2007-07-02T23:04:00.000-07:00

There are a handful of food "genres" I get massive cravings for every now and so often: Indian food is one of them. And, having spent a considerable amount of time in New Haven, I'm used to indulging in cheap all-you-can-eat Indian buffets with all the fresh-baked naan bread your appetite can handle (which is, for me, usually a lot). To name a few: Royal India and Thali are two of my all-time favorites. The latter I usually reserve for special occassions because, although the food there is absolutely unbeatable, it is a bit on the expensive side (Click here to see the review I wrote up about the restaurant). My favorite part about Thali is the pilau rice (bits of raisin and slivers of almond give it a splendid texture) and the extensive dessert table. Royal India is out of the way, but definitely worth visiting for a quick-and-easy weekend bite. The owner there knows me well enough - he brings me tandoori roti instead of the standard naan bread (their roti is fantastic), he puts out some baigan bhartha (eggplant) for me even if it's not on the buffet line, and he always serves me a complimentary glass of mango lassi.

So, all of that is to say: whenever I can't magically transport myself to New Haven for good Indian food, I usually have to settle and find myself another place to feed my cravings. And, boy oh boy, do those restaurants have a lot to live up to. Not surprisingly, few often live up to my standards. Which brings me to the latest: Ivory Kitchen in Clarke Quay - elegantly situated along the river, keeping company with a host of other ritzy eateries at the quay. Sadly, the restaurant succeeds at putting on airs, but its food is lacking the excitement I get when I go to Thali or Royal India. Its atmosphere is inviting and the decor is lovely, but it is not enough to make up for the fact that its food is nothing remarkable.

That said, it wasn't BAD. It made for a pleasant meal which is pretty much a general rule here in Singapore. You can't really get a bad meal. You run into a few massive disappointments (CPK was pretty awful), but it's nothing a little ice kechang or peanut butter & kaya toast can't solve. All in all, I enjoyed the meal. The price ($25/lunch buffet, plus $8 for a mango lassi) was a bit steep, but the food didn't suck. Would I go back again? Probably not. But it was a fun little food adventure, nonetheless.

I started off by trying some of the salad options. Apart from a refreshing cucumber-jicama salad with fresh mango coulis, there was nothing particularly interesting at the salad station. Garlic broccoli, hard boiled egg salad, and picked onions were a few of the other options, none of which were memorable enough to write about. Word to the wise? Do not pass go, do not collect $200....skip the salad - head straight to the main course and dessert.

Ahhh, that's much better: chaat topped with puffed rice, lentils, cilantro, potatoes, and a sweet-sour tamarind sauce. I think of it as India's spin-off ofMexican nachos. The whitish sauce tasted almost like sour cream and it went awfully well with the tamarind sauce. The chaat (like tortilla chips) had a wonderful buttery flavor. I used the chaat to scoop up the generous portions of cilantro, sauce, and puffed rice. (Chef Prasad at Thali does a similar dish which he serves on curved spoons - making it easier to pop one in your mouth and just enjoy the entire in-mouth explosion of flavors and spices.)

The waiter also kindly brought me a basket of naan (which I was not amazed by) and a second basket of tandoori roti, pictured below. The naan was limp and devoid of the wonderful fluffiness you get with fresh-baked naan bread. Plus, the clarified butter (or ghee) was noticeably absent. I reckon the bread served with the buffet was probably leftovers from the previous night.....big surprise there. BUT, I can say that the tandoori roti was amazing! It came out nice and hot. I used both hands to tear right into it. (I tore off huge pieces of bread and used them to sop up the curry sauces leftover on my plate.) Mmmmmm, tandoori roti has never tasted so good. In fact, to their credit, this is the best tandoori roti I have ever tasted. The flavor of whole wheat was sweet and nutty - and the texture was sufficiently moist (unlike many roti breads which tend to be on the dry side). It makes you wonder why this fuss over whole wheat breads ever existed.....with wonderful whole wheat breads like this tandoori roti, giving up white bread would actually be easy!

Main courses included saag-potato (spinach-potato), goat fish curry, coconut cabbage, creamy cauliflower korma, paneer (indian cheese cubes), coriander leaf curry, tandoori chicken, mutton vindaloo, and more. The only real stand-out was the cauliflower korma which used a lot of heavy cream (I wonder if that's the reason why I liked it so much). The paneer was chewy, like a rubber tire, and lacked any real cheese flavor. The fish curry was not adequately spiced. Its blandness was made even worse by the dryness of the fish (which had been obviously overcooked). C'mon, people, how hard is it to get a decent piece of fish around here?! And, worst of all: the saag-potato tasted like smelly cabbage. It was the strangest tasting spinach puree I have ever eaten and almost made me wonder if they accidentally substituted Gerber baby puree for the spinach mixture. Ugh.

(Also, if you're into pilau rice, their pilau rice was nothing to be excited about. It lacked that characteristically-sexy aroma of coriander, cinnamon stick, and saffron you get with a good quality pilau rice.)

Okay, onto desserts: a few of the desserts were good enough to make this meal a wonderful finish (despite the obvious bumps and scratches along the way). One in particular tasted like a reinvention of the classic halwa (carrot pudding). Little orange beads with a texture reminiscent of goji berries tasted like pureed carrot. These were served warm with a creamy puree of ras malai and chopped pistachios, and slightly-saccharine rose water syrup. All-in-all, a very pleasant dish in small doses (I can imagine feeling a little sick from eating too much of this all at once).

But, best of all was the mango ras malai. (On your way there, be sure to pass on the brownie and the walnut dessert that tastes like treacle fudge. Save yourself ample room for the ras malai.) As with the cucumber-jicama salad, the restaurant does not skimp on using fresh mangoes for its dishes. This is evidenced by the wonderful fragrance of the mango ras malai. The aroma of fresh mangoes really makes this dish. The familiar texture of the ras malai (think of a soggy sponge) is taken to new heights with this dish. I enjoyed it so much, I went back for seconds!

I enjoyed the meal, but did I love it? No. There were some definite highlights. But, in the world of Indian food, Ivory Kitchen just ain't happenin'. I won't discourage you from going - after all, it's not all bad.

Maxwell Road Food Centre (Part I)

2007-06-27T00:09:00.000-07:00

The glorious thing about working in Singapore's Chinatown is that the best Singapore has to offer is literally at your fingertips:

One of these gems is the Maxwell Road Food Centre which is no more than two blocks from my office. Unlike Newton's Hawker (food court), this open-air venue, located in the heart of Chinatown, is far less of a tourist trap. You can pretty much tell, almost off the bat, just by looking at the prices that you are in for a treat - and if you need any more reassurance, just look around: no air-conditioning and plenty of locals! (Okay, so you're bound to run into a few wide-eyed touristy types during your time here, but far fewer than those at the hawker center in Newton.)

Today was my first visit to Maxwell, and I was absolutely overwhelmed by the number of food stalls they managed to fit under one roof. They have everything from stands selling Chinese beancurd (dou-hua) and soy milk (dou-jiang) to stands selling oyster/carrot pancakes to stands selling halal Muslim curries/biryanis and everybody's-favorite roti prata. There were even a few stands selling Chinese-style pastries - one stand, in particular, caught my eye with its mouthwatering cupcakes (fortunately, I avoided the temptation......for today, at least).

On the menu for me today was stall #77: Jin Hua Fish Head Bee Hoon. Most of its customers order the fish head bee hoon (fish head soup with vermicelli rice noodles).

Not feeling particularly in the mood for something starchy, however, I opted for the fish meat soup (#4, yu-rou tang). The fish makes a wonderfully savory broth to which they add a bit of milk - it gives the broth a creamy flavor that compliments the flavor of the fish quite nicely. The fish meat is lightly fried and, after you let it sit in the broth for a minute or two, the meat gets nice and soft, but manages to retain some of that satisfying crunchy exterior. A few pieces of tofu, some choy sum, and a garnish of seaweed and fried garlic completes this dish. (I ate the dish with a little bit of soy sauce with hot green-and-red peppers for an added kick.) -- #77 Jin Hua Fish Head Bee Hoon, Maxwell Road Food Centre ($4-5 SGD, $3-4 USD per dish)

For dessert, I scouted the food hall for signs of a queue. What caught my eye was a little queue forming outside of stall #57: Peanut Soup.

There is nothing I love more than Chinese desserts, especially sweet soups (usu. red/green bean or black sesame) served for dessert: peanut soup is no exception. Expecting something a bit thicker (like black sesame soup, zhi-ma hu), I was surprised to find that the peanut soup was thinner - with a consistency like soy milk. It tasted almost like a slightly sweeter version of soy milk made using peanuts (and there are whole peanuts in the soup too!).

The peanuts have been boiled in the sweet soup - long enough that they get nice and soft. To top it all off, the dish is served with a few pieces of Chinese donut (you tiao). The saltiness and greasiness of the donut (usually served in congee) offsets the sweetness perfectly, and gives the dish a wonderful savoriness that you don't find in most European desserts. It's mysterious and delightful, and not too sweet (I hate Chinese sweet soups that use too much rock sugar - it completely overpowers the natural sweetness of ingredients like black sesame, soy, walnuts, and peanut)! While you're at it, try their dou suan OR their red bean soup (both are dessert soups). -- #57 Peanuts Soup, Maxwell Road Food Centre (70 cents SGD per bowl....you may want to order two, if you've got a sweet tooth)

Food Nazi - Singapore Edition

2007-06-26T20:02:00.000-07:00

Back from outer space and in Singapore.......

The next generation of posts will begin shortly. I promise.

2006-10-07T21:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

I apologize for leaving this blog unattended for so long. Just to let you know, I have not abandoned this site at all, and will in fact be returning to it shortly.

I feel I owe you all an explanation -- one word: school started. Alas, this does NOT mean I have not had my fair share of food 'ventures. For one, I prepared a three-course dessert tasting for more than 80 students.

In the meantime, I want to leave you with a book recommendation: "Comfort Me With Apples" by Ruth Reichl is a gem of a book I picked up after reading her newest, "Garlic and Sapphires." While the latter was wonderful in its own right, Comfort is absolutely phenomenal. She has such a strong voice and a lovely personality that really comes through in her writing. She slips in and out of talking about food almost seamlessly - infusing her writing with a memoir that is food and life at the same time!

Best,
Justin

Le Bistro Paul Bert - Paris, France

2006-07-12T03:16:00.000-07:00

LE BISTRO PAUL BERT - There are two problems with your typical well-kept secret: first, it's a secret; and second, it's well kept....and for good reason, I might add. Therein lies any genuine diner's fundamental dilemma in Parisian dining. The average visitor to Paris stays no longer than a week or two at most, insufficient time for an aspiring epicurean to develop an adequate feel for the hidden gastronomic treasures of the city. Visit often enough and chances are, you might develop a bit of that second-nature approach to dining out that most Parisian locals have come to develop.....over a lifetime. But, for the time being, you're on new territory. What do you do?

To be honest, there is only one way to tap into the well-kept secrets of Parisian cuisine. First, you have to find out who keeps the secret. And, second, you have to learn the secret - that is, you have to find some way to de-secret-ize the secret. Are we getting a hang of this now, class? All right, I admit, all of this seems perfectly doable on paper. But, in practice, well-kept secrets are hard to break - untapped mines of exquisite culinary treasures.

How do you get around it? You don't. You happen across it. Of course, you can pick up a food guide (the more esoteric, the better), but even that will only do you so much. Want to tap into the real gastronomic goldmines? Don't plan on it. As with most amazing discoveries, their only incarnation is pure accident. You don't plan on uncovering Aztec gold mines, you stumble across them. For any visitor to Paris, accidents are your greatest asset so use them purposelessly.

But, even accidents can be guided to a certain extent, with a limited set of tools that will enhance the probability of you stumbling across one. For an archaeologist, those tools include a good sense of judgment and gut feelings, both of which come from years of experience and sold training. For an epicurean, a good "nose" is equally as important, in every sense of the word. Which brings me to my next point.....what should you look for when hoping to accidentally stumble upon a plum well-kept secret?

Here are just three considerations to add to your instinctual toolbox when on the hunt for a well-kept secret:

(1) Location: Restaurants located in touristy areas are less likely to have the same authenticity of a genuine well-kept secret. Tourist districts are all about turnover and meeting demand. The pure enjoyment of food takes a back seat to satisfying the numbers. Some signs of touristy areas include: Starbucks, McDonalds, Planet Hollywood, tour buses, menus translated in English or tourist menus, main streets/boulevards, generic signs (i.e. "Authentic French Food Served Here").

(2) Customers: Who dines here? Chances are, if you are surrounded by English-speaking customers, you have a problem. However, this is not a set rule. In Rome, I visited a very famous pizzeria which happened to have succombed to recent invasions by tourist groups. So, while this rule generally applies, there are exceptions, particularly in cases where originally well-kept secrets become public knowledge. Your best bet is, however, to focus on restaurants with a predominantly local customer base.

(3) Menu: The items on a menu are an important consideration when on the look out for a well-kept secret. If the restaurant is serving burgers alongside "authentic" Alsatian cuisine, you've got a serious problem, my friend. The question is, "Is the menu trying too hard to please?" A real well-kept secret has little regard for the vegetarians, vegans, and lactose intolerant members of society. Chances are, if you ask them for food along those lines, the proprietor will laugh you out of town. (Sometimes I ask just to casually assess a restaurant's level of seriousness about their food.) A well-kept secret is not a place you want to be taking your teenage daughter intent on maintaining her figure or your diabetic mother intent on keeping her cholesterol down.

Now, you might be wondering, where am I going with all of this? My point is this: well-kept secrets are hard to find, especially if you're looking for them. It was in not looking that I found my latest well-kept secret: Le Bistro Paul Bert, which is located along a street by the same name. (To support my previous point about the importance of location, this quaint bistro is located on a sidestreet off another sidestreet.)

As always, I arrived about an hour too early. Told politely by one of the servers to return at noon, I trekked down to the local supermarket to check out the produce. After buying off an hour's worth of time by meandering aimlessly around the area, I returned to the bistro to find that I was still the first customer.

The owner himself graciously escorted me to a booth looking out onto the street. As most of the French do, he assumed that I was naturally fluent in French and started to give the rundown of the day's formule menu (which was printed on a medium-sized chalkboard ushered directly to my table). Registering my incomprehension, the owner courteously switched to, what I was surprised to find, fluent English. Unlike most French restaurants where the inability to converse in French is looked down upon and leaves you feeling dumb if not totally incapacitated, the servers at Paul Bert showed no obvious signs of condescension toward a non-French speaker like myself (though what they were saying about me in the kitchen, I had no idea). They treated my linguistic handicap as nothing short of normal and made no mention of it apart from the initial registering of shock that accompanies most of the French population upon meeting a non-native speaker.

For lunch, I selected the more basic three-course formule menu. (In Paris, one of the glorious parts of dining is the fact that meals come in threes. Two courses are common, but single courses are rare though they are on offer.) While I waited, a few more patrons shuffled in: French-speaking senior citizens. Without delay, the waiter brough a large jug of tap water (refreshing since most restaurants eagerly push for the sale of bottled mineral water) and a basket full of sourdough bread. Unlike most restaurants who serve bread as a courtesy rather than any part of a serious meal, the bread at Paul Bert had a delightful chewy interior that exuded its fragrant sourdough perfume upon breaking through its crispy exterior with my bare hands. This was the kind of bread I would have gladly paid for outside of any restaurant.

While more native diners started pouring in, filling the room with a babble of rolling French syllables, my first course arrived: a fromage de tete et sa salade, which was, as the owner informed me, a rare house speciality. (The other option was the lardons with frisee but the owner seemed particularly radiant in his description of the salade that I had to concede.) Suffice it to say, I was pleased with my selection. A ham terrine was served atop a bed of salad and Italian parsley in a balsamic-oil vinaigrette. The terrine was cool to taste -- with soft delicate textures of the ham contrasted beautifully with the crisp textures of the gelatin layers. All of this was well accompanied by the tartness of the balsamic vinaigrette.

Having moaned with pleasure for quite some time over the bold and provencal flavors of the ham terrine salad, I reluctantly let the waiter take my empty plate away, which he graciously and promptly replaced with another basket of gorgeous sourdough loaves and another jug of ice cold tap water! While I waited for my entree, I took to watching the other tables. My neighbors had ordered a single dish for lunch: four whole small-to-medium sized sardines served on a ceramic platter alongisde a vegetable terrine of zucchinis and tomatoes. The fish had a beautifully, golden crisped skin garnished with herbs, making me almost wish deep down inside that I had ordered two entrees instead (to compensate, I ordered two desserts instead).

My entree arrived moments later: tartare de boeuf et ses frites mason. The Roman version of this dish would probably be the beef carpaccio. The tartare de boeuf is essentially a raw beef tartare served with crispy French-styled fat fries. The beef tartare was a colorful explosion of colorful reds, greens, yellows, and whites, composed of an assortment of bold ingredients: horseradish, capers, cilantro, parsley, and garlic. Flavors in this dish were equally as explosive as its initial visual effects. The horseradish, as horseradish has a tendency to do, sets fireworks in your mouth, supported well by the sweeter flavors of the raw beef. Beef, in its uncooked form, has a delightfully sweet and cool flavor, which in this dish created a delightful interplay with the bitter flavors of the cilantro and garlic, and hotter flavors of the horseradish. And, while I have a general tendency to abstain from fried potatoes of any permutation (namely fast food permutations), I enjoyed the role these frites played as an accompaniment to the beef tartare, providing a hefty base of starch and oils to counter the brighter and sharper flavors of the beef tartare. While most fat fries in the US tend toward the dense, greasy, and soggy, the frites at Paul Bert were perfectly crispy and golden on the outside, with a soft, steamy, starchy interior - everything perfect fat fries should aspire to be.

By the time dessert rolled around, I was quite full from having savored both the ham terrine and the beef tartare to their last edible bites (both being dishes, hallmarks of unaccomodating French cuisine, you might not want to prescribe for anyone subscribing to vegetarianism or any of the latest food trends, but perfect for the adventurous foodie). The first dessert was their tarte aux abricots. Its excessive tartness was a mildly disappointing conclusion for a meal of this caliber. However, seeing as how the major problem with most desserts is an understatement of natural flavors, it was refreshing to see that this dish was bold enough to draw upon the natural essence of the apricot, perhaps a little overstated in its expression. Its shortcoming was the overzealous reversal of a predominant flaw in most desserts today, a fact which can be easily corrected by slightly toning down the tartness of the apricots in this dish.

My second dessert gave this meal a strong finish. The glace maison au fromage blanc, or white cheese ice cream, was a pleasant reminder of how simple flavors can be mother to more intricate pleasures. The white cheese lent a savoriness and a mild tartness to this dessert, giving the ice cream a flavor almost similar to Greek yogurt. The sweetness of this dish did not try to compete with the other flavors, but complemented them with a pleasant subtlety. The chef clearly abides by the following principle: desserts do not need to overcompensate with sweetness to remind its audience that they are in fact deserts; bold flavors are sufficient.

Its willingness to play with bold flavors, work with natural, if not unusual, ingredients, and the fact that it fails to see a need to apologize for doing so, makes Le Bistro Paul Bert a truly worthy well-kept secret. And perhaps with time, its emboldened flavors will grow into a well-balanced maturity. But, as with all well-kept secrets, its secret is secrecy itself. Finding your way there? Well, I'll just leave that to you.

LE BISTRO PAUL BERT

Atmosphere: **** (4/4)

Food: *** (3/4)

Service: **** (4/4)

Value: **** (4/4)

Address.....alas, that's a secret!

The Golden Baguette Award - Paris, France

2006-07-11T01:14:00.000-07:00

What kind of bread are you? There are two things I have concluded about carbohydrates over the course of my life as a genuine foodie: one, carbs really aren't the devil - people who villainize them are; and two, we all have a personal bread type. No, your eyes do not deceive you, I did in fact say "bread type," not "blood type." Bread type? Yes. Let me explain:

For example, my friend, Miss C, would happen to be a brioche. Of course, being an aspiring pastry chef, she has a indiscriminate love for all members of the baked goods family. But, if one were to boil her down to her absolute essence, she would undoubtedly be a brioche. One of those quaint loaves of buttery goodness.....a beautiful, golden French brioche. For the longest time, Miss C has been convinced that I too would love the brioche as much as she does. During one of my weekend stopovers to the bustling metropolis of New York City, she convinced me to try a prized brioche at one of her favorite bakeries. Sadly, to this day, even after a few feeble attempts at breaking into the "brioche scene" in Paris, I have yet to develop a genuine fondness for the quaintness of these buttery baked morsels.
Picture: Brioche from Moulin de la Vierge
I am clearly not a brioche man. But, what bread am I? I know for a fact that my younger sister is white bread. My father is anything whole wheat. My classmate is bagels all around. But, what am I? I have a deep-seated love for breads like Jewish challah with honey, Indian naan, Malaysian roti chanai, white chocolate-sour cherry loaves from Great Harvest Bakery, Hokkaido bread from Panya, popovers from Mariposa's at Neiman Marcus, and cranberry-walnut bread from Chabaso Bakery in New Haven, CT. But, these are not my essence.

My essence is the baguette. The baguette: that all-too-overlooked bread sold en masse at local groceries. Plain, yes. Simple, maybe. But, for me, the baguette -- its crackly exterior begging to be torn apart with your bare hands, a smattering of tiny bread crumbs, only to reveal its chewy and satisfyingly dense white-bread interior -- can hardly be eclipsed by other French-style breads. Give me my loaf and don't expect to do any sharing.

What is a baguette man to do in Paris except to hunt down the very finest? One of my most vivid memories of Paris was not the Champs d'Elysses or the Musee de Louvre, but the sight of seeing handfuls of Parisians pouring down sidestreets and alleys like little toy soldiers with rifles of baguettes tucked under their arm in militant-fashion. If baked goods could be wartime propaganda, the baguette would be Mao's little red book.

I am happy to report that I do believe I have found what I consider to be the best baguette in Paris. For those of you who prefer other kinds of breads, I have included a few other categories for your enjoyment. Suffice it to say, I will always be a die-hard baguette man, but even a great brioche has the power to turn my head just for a moment. Let's face it, bread: it's a powerful thing.

THE GOLDEN BAGUETTE AWARD

Winner: Moulin de la Vierge

This boulangerie is located quite a way's off from the center of town, particularly if you're trying to hit up all of Paris' touristy spots at the same time. But, if you're as passionate a foodie as I am, you probably won't mind taking a little time off from sightseeing to track down this well-kept secret. And, the good sign is? No tourists. The average tourist satisfies himself with grocery-store baguettes -- after all, it's still French, right? But the passionate foodie knows: you've got to work to get the good stuff. Then again, what's a little work for a little gastronomical satisfaction?

Moulin de la Vierge is a little oasis for those of us who relish a little respite from the chaos of commercial tourism. Buy a loaf, find a park bench, savor and enjoy for the next hour or two. It's a recipe for success that is sure to satisfy your tastebuds....and your wallet!
I personally had a bit of trouble finding the bakery, namely because my limited skills of geographical orientation led me in the completely opposite direction. But, the effort spent in trying to find the bakery (granted, it was entirely my fault) was rewarded handsomely. The shop is a handsome affair with stately rows of baked goods lining walls and cupboards from top to bottom. But, I had one objective: to secure the baguette.

By this point in time, my handle on the French language had progressed quite a ways. "Un baguette," I said, gesturing confidently to the stockage of baguette rifles behind the clerk. She (another French-speaking Asian storeclerk) nodded, reached behind her for the nearest basket containing a bounty of fresh-baked loaves, and handed me a thin narrow baguette loaf wrapped only in a sheet of waxy butcher paper around its midsection, not uncommon for most baguettes sold in Paris.

My eyes hungrily scoured the shop until it found another victim: a brioche. As I said earlier, I have tried to convince myself (rather unsuccessfully) that I am capable of being a brioche man. I decided to give it yet another shot. "Un brioche," I stated. The Asian woman nodded again and handed me the brioche. I paid for my purchases and scurried off in search of the nearest park bench which was just a stone's throw from the shop.

Sitting down, I unwrapped the brioche first and tasted. The buttery flesh practically melted in my mouth upon contact. Its interior was much more eggy than most other brioche I've tried in the past. Its textures were marvelous - a gorgeous lightness and springiness. The crust was thin and flaky, oozing butter from its every pore. And, for a moment, I was hooked.

That was, until I took a bite of the baguette.....Its perfectly consistent and crispy exterior crackled like a fine brittle candy, giving way into a moisty, chewy interior that was not too dense which had a fragrance of fresh-baked bread. And, in that instant, I could think of nothing except how perfect it was to be here on a summer's afternoon basking in the flavors and textures of absolute genius. I'm a baguette man, remember?

THE BRIOCHE AWARD

Winner: Moulin de la Vierge (see above)

THE PASTRY AWARD

Winner: Poilane - Apple Tarte

Located on Cherche Midi, just off of Boulevard Raspail, Poilane has long been an institution of French baking. Every Parisian knows about it and every tourist has heard of it. And while both the renowned baker and his mother have since passed away, their legacy lives on in the spirit of their timeless breads and pastries.

A foreign service officer and fellow Yale alumnus, Mr. M, recommended this bakery to me when I mentioned my plans to travel to Paris for the weekend. For nearly an hour and a half, he recounted to me his many wonderful memories of being in Paris as a recent graduate working in the American Embassy. His favorite haunt was the original Poilane branch on Cherche Midi. He'd stop in at his favorite bakery every morning for a loaf of white country bread. The woman behind the counter, Poilane's mother, would offer him free French lessons upon every visit. His progress in learning the language would be handsomely rewarded with a butter cookie, one of Poilane's more prized creations. More notable achievement would be rewarded with two or more cookies. Mr. M's eyes seemed to wax over with nostalgia as he recounted, a fondness for the delicious memories of a time since past, and I secretly vowed to return from my visit with a bag of these precious butter cookies.

To be honest, finding yourself at the storefront to Poilane is like finding yourself at the doorstep to a sacred Buddhist monastery. The setting is so serene, so untouched. I watch as patrons pass through these doors like austere taoist monks in bowed reverence. And you know, the minute to set foot into the shop, you are on hallowed ground.

But, as with any sacred place, there is a great comfort in finding yourself within its walls. Shelves are stacked with round tire-shaped rustic loaves. The store windows are decorated with rustic soccer balls, bagged butter cookies tied with silver twist ties, savory tarts and colorful pies. It exudes the same warmth I have come to appreciate about bakeries, a kind of good-natured warmth that fills you from the inside out.

The clerks eyed me from behind the counter, on which rested a larger wicker basket full of fresh butter cookies. I eyed the rack of fresh baked tarts and pointed to the apple tart. "Apple pie," said a kindly looking French clerk who had somehow snuck up on me while I was gawking at the assortment of goodies. "Un," I said, indictating it as well with my pointer finger. She took a tiny square of wax paper and picked up one of the apple tarts, placing it in a white paper bag with elegant green print. "Un croissant," I indicated, pointing at a flaky crossaint near the shop window. She nodded again and added the croissant to the bag.

I paid for the two pastries and made off for the nearest park which, just my luck, happened to be near the intersection of Raspail and Cherche Midi - an enclosure of tall shrubs separating the moving traffic from a tiny plot of grass and a few lime green park benches.

The apple tarte was simply divine. Its luxuriently flaky crust encased the savory apple filling. One of its most pleasant aspects was its natural sweetness. Most pastries using baked apples tend to reflect an artificial sweetness completely alien from the natural sweetness of fresh apples which, if actually given the chance to express itself on its own merits, has the ability to intoxicate the senses with the taste of summer orchards. I was delighted to find that the filling for this apple tarte was full of natural sweetness from baked apples which were cut just large enough to extend their velvety textures to the flakiness of the pastry crust and the creaminess of the apple filling.

The croissant was less impressive, though hardly a disappointment. I suppose my taste buds were too enthused by the taste of fresh summer harvests from the apple tarte to respond very well to the more modest flavors of the croissant. Suffice it to say, the croissant was unduly eclipsed by the apple tarte.

In a later visit nearer to the end of my trip, I returned to Poilane for another apple tarte and a slice of flan. The flan was baked with a custardy interior in a thin pie crust. The interior was dense and rubbery, completely unsupported by the discrepantly thin crust. To add to its unappealing textures, the flan had flavors reminiscent of a cold tire.

Yet, while the flan clearly fell short of the unreasonably high standards set by Poilane, the apple tarte continued to meet its dues, if not overcompensating for the inconsistency of the rubbery flan and unremarkable croissant combined. It is truly deserving of this title for "best pastry." Unlike most others in its class, this apple tarte defies the general misconceptions of pastry by marrying natural, pure flavors and beautiful craftsmanship to create a delicacy that is both simple and elegant.

THE DESSERT AWARD

Winner: Gerard Mulot - Tarte Lait Chocolat

Welcome to heaven! And, nothing says "bonjour" like a pyramid contructed of assorted macaroons. Similarly, nothing says "please marry me" like a tart filled with molten dark chocolate so pure and a butter shortbread crust so decadent. For nonfoodies and foodies alike, Gerard Mulot is nothing short of spectacular, if only just for the sheer visual spectacle that is sure to leave anyone breathless (especially diabetics).

Walking into the store, I was completely taken aback by the expanse of the Mulot empire. The room was essentially divided into three parts. The section farthest from the entrance was completely inhabited by breads of all shapes and sizes. The middle section was devoted to macaroons of any variety. Macaroon-lovers will be certain to visit just to pay homage to the macaroon pyramid that sits like a golden idol in the shop window. The section closest to the entrance is a counter completely populated by chocolate truffles, chocolate pastries and tartes, and just about everything you could possibly imagine.

And nothing screams Mulot more loudly than his chocolate tarte. Generally I am of the school of thought that completely rejects entrusting popular opinion to influence my decisions as pertains to food (an opinion reflected quite strongly in my horrific experiences at Sadaharu AOKI several days prior). But, with a reputation that utterly screamed to be embraced, I could do no wrong by entrusting my appetite to the consent of many respectable foodies before me: I chose the tarte.

Did I regret it? You bet I didn't! Determined to find a cozy park bench, I trekked for nearly half an hour trying to find one until I finally gave in. With pastry box in hand, containing one single chocolate tarte, I resorted to stopping at the closest avaiable park bench. And a good thing too because, as I peeled open the lid of the box, I discovered that nearly half of the luxurient chocolate filling had already begun to spill out into the box. Picking up the tarte gently between two fingers, I could almost smell the richness of the chocolate and the buttery decadence of its shortbread crust.

One bite was enough to seal my decision: absolute nirvana. The molten chocolate with the decadent shortbread crust set my sweet-o-meter on total overdrive. The crust did not suffer from the fate of most other chewy or stale shortbread crusts, but instead maintained a fantastically consistent texture that married well with the silky chocolate.

Lending to its overall charm, the chocolate filling was sweeter than your traditional dark chocolate but had mysterious bitter notes that gave it a satisfying finish that appeased the dark chocolate lover in me. Milk chocolate afficionados will be satisfied to know that it had the characteristics of milk chocolate, while dark chocolate lovers will also be appeased by its darker undertones. Topping it all off was a crumbly pecan shortbread cookie, an elegantly simply finish to this beautifully elegant dessert.

At only 3 euros, this dessert is definitely worth its price in gold. For those of you with less of a sweet tooth, Mulot offers a wide selection of other items that will be sure to satisfying your indelible cravings. And, if you're just in the neighborhood and feeling surprisingly full, it's always nice to fill up on the visual thrill that Mulot offers, especially with that amazing macaroon tower!

THE INNOVATOR AWARD

Winner: Sadaharu AOKI (See previous post)

HONORABLE MENTION

Pierre Herme - Carrement Chocolat Individule, Macaroons

Au Levain du Marais - Baguette

Laduree - Macaroons

Sadaharu AOKI - Paris, France

2006-07-10T00:50:00.000-07:00

My recent trip to Paris was completely and utterly shameless. Determined to get as much out of my time there, I spent five days eating not three, not four, but often more than five or six meals! (My concept of a balanced diet when travelling to exotic destinations goes completely out the window.)

Essentially, my tunnel-vision quest to find the BEST baguette in Paris led me down winding roads and narrow streets, usually the ones untainted by Japanese and American tourists (who I utterly despise for their uncanny ability to turn perfectly beautiful areas into commercial infestations). I sampled tarts to pies to bread to pastries to everything in between. It was nothing short of indulgence sans Dr. Atkins.

While I did enjoy several sit-down meals at some French bistros, I spent most of my trip visiting (and often revisiting) acclaimed bakeries. Which brings me to my next point: One thing to keep in mind, for those of you planning a trip to Paris, sit-down meals consume (pardon the pun) a lot of precious time. Restaurants rarely open until noon and usually close at 3 PM. That doesn't seem so bad, you might say. But, bear in mind that Parisians have a very interesting approach to dining: they WILL spend all three of those hours at their table, sipping coffee and nibbling on their entrees or desserts with no pressure to finish any time soon (and the surprising part of this phenomenon is that waiters don't feel any need to rush their customers out).....which essentially means that, should you fail to GET a table by 12 noon, don't expect to get a table. (It is comforting to know that there exist places in the world where waiters aren't so unduly fixated on restaurant turnover.)

There were days when I did summon the patience to camp out in front of a restaurant and secure myself a table for a three-hour long extravaganza of sit-down dining.....but, for the most part, I was contented with satisfying my appetite with baked goods from local boulangeries. So, in the next few posts, I will try to recreate some of my experiences (and impressions) of various eateries I frequented on my trip to the magical city of Paris......

SADAHARU AOKI - The Japanese have engaged in a lifelong love affair with the French. A healthy love affair, mind you; not one of those unsightly, bloody affairs you find in the weekly Hollywood tabloids. My induction into this intimate transcontinental relationship began at home back in Hawaii with one of my favorite local bakeries, Fujipan. Fujipan opened its doors in the early 90s, billed as a French-Japanese bakery acclaimed for its fresh loaves of white and cinnamon-raisin bread. For my parents and I, it was a favorite afternoon haunt: my father would stop off to pick up a loaf of white sandwich bread for tomorrow's breakfast (I ate it open-faced with thick spreads of chunky peanut butter) while I would drop in for an afterschool snack of gravalox and egg salad sandwiches (crust off, mind you). My mother, the bargain hunter, would make sure to hit the 5 PM rush for the discounted pastries (half-off for assorted baggies of day-old pastries in the discount bin). On special occasions like birthdays, we would order Fujipan cakes. My mother requested the chocolate ganache for hers; I preferred (though not by much) the Japanese cheesecake, which had a refreshing lightness and citric tartness not found in your traditional New York Style Cheesecake.

The Japanese intrigue for French culture is hardly surprising given its reputation for extolling the virtues of posh culture. Japanese tourists are infamous for their strange obsession with Gucci handbags and Versacci anything. One can expect to find hordes of Japanese tourists in posh districts of any metropolitan destination swarming over overpriced European handbags and jewelry to the sheer delight of local proprietors. I only wonder what they do with their stockage of designer purses once they get back to Japan: regifting?

All of this is to confirm my point: the Japanese-French relationship is perfectly organic in a perfectly commercial sort of way. Capiche? So, when I found out about this "posh" pastisserie in Paris by the name of Sadaharu AOKI, you must realize that I was absolutely ecstatic. Doing some initial research into their operations, I discovered that the patisserie most recently branched out to include a sister branch in Port Royal. However, my philosophy that the original is always better prevailed, and so I decided I would visit the branch on Rue Vaugirard (despite my geographical proximity to the former).

Finding the branch on Rue Vaugirard is hardly difficult as it is located (as most of the well-known bakeries in Paris, sans baguette deity Moulin de la Vierge) just a little ways off of Boulevard Raspail. The shop was a lot smaller than I had envisioned, tucked away in a little enclave on this rather nondescript sidestreet. But true to its reputation for being an embodiment of posh Eurasian culture, Sadaharu AOKI does not fail to disappoint. Greeted "warmly" by trendy glass sliding doors, you make your way into the Sadaharu showroom where rows upon rows of artisan pastries are on display like seasonal Gucci purses! And priced accordingly, I might add.

So, here I was, confronting a spread of gorgeous looking pastries, plagued by my habit of indecision (see previous posts). The Japanese store clerk behind the counter looked anticipatingly in my direction, having just finished helping the customer in front of me. She started to pelt me with an onslaught of French to which I summoned up a feeble "bonjour" (the only phrase in French I learned up until that point). Her face registered some mild confusion at my inability to speak the language. Great, I thought, maybe I'll just point my way through this one. (I've found that there exists a fairly significant Japanese population in France that speaks fluent French and Japanese but understands nary a word of standard English.)

Fortunately for me, the storeclerk was not one of those. Having recovered from her intial shock of having discovered me for the imposter I was (and still am), she started to communicate with me in rather comfortable English. Granted, this only made me feel mildly worse at having now become this woman's linguistic pity project. But, I reminded myself, I'm doing this all for the pastries, putting personal dignity aside. "No eclairs?" I inquired. She shook her head and explained that desserts are on a rotational basis - I would have to come back another day for the black sesame eclairs I had been looking forward to.

I decided on the two pastries I had been eyeing for quite some time now: the Flan Sesame Miel, a substitute for the absence of sesame eclairs, and the Duomo Macha Azuki. "Sur Place," I informed her in my botched French, indicating with my hands that I intended on eating in-house. (I hear that the French are more cordial towards foreigners who are willing to squeeze a few phrases of French into conversation. Though, in my case, I'm not sure if that meant a few good phrases of French or a few botched phrases of unlearned French.)

I was graciously invited to take a seat in one of the two dine-in booths located in the shop. The store clerk, it seemed, had taken a sudden warmness to my being there. I soon discovered why. "Tea?" she asked me, gesturing to a menu she had put in front of me. I shook my head politely no. "Tea?" she asked again, following this question with an explanation of their formal dine-in policy: dine-in customers are required to order a beverage with their desserts. Doing some quick calculations in my head, I realized that this would bring me past the 10 euro mark. Slightly annoyed but realizing that this could substitute for a more adequate lunch, I decided to go ahead and order the house-special Melange Tea, since I had already comfortably colonized the tiny dine-in booth.

I waited another fifteen minutes or so for my pastries to arrive at my table, though I'm not quite sure why it took so long since it was apparent upon their delayed arrival that the clerk had done little if anything as far as presentation was concerned.

While I waited, I indulged in my mandatory cup of melange tea. Despite my initial opposition to the fact, the tea was quite pleasant. Its orange notes were remarkably prominent and blended seamlessly with the underlying herbal notes from the green tea. It was the perfect tea for a dessert house since its flavors were not unbearably thick and dark as with most other herbal teas intended for consumption with more significant main dishes as a counterpoint to meaty and savory flavors.

Having found some state of sweet nirvana in the melange tea, I was happy to find that the pastries had finally arrived, presented simply in tandem upon an elegant glass plate. The flan sesame miel (bottom left) was delightful. Its black sesame flan cradled by the flaky pate choux crust made a beautiful pairing. I am personally of the opinion that the use of black sesame in any dessert should respect the integrity of the fragrant flavors of black sesame. Most Chinese desserts tend to succeed in this regard, while others tend to abuse the flavors of this delicate ingredient by oversaucing or cloying sweetness. I am happy to report that Sadaharu AOKI was of the latter school of thought: the flan sesame carried the natural flavors of the black sesame elegantly and simply, though I wish the flavors were emboldened just a tad bit more. A surprising finish to this dish was the sprinkling of dried nori and white sesame, though I was not sure whether or not any of these flavors lent anything to this dish apart from pure shock value and traditional Japanese flavor that was both quaint and visually stimulating.

The duomo macha azuki was nothing short of remarkable, however. The smooth flavors of the cool azuki filling were ecnased in a light green tea shell, married well with a chocolate paste and a baby green tea macaroon. The dish was a whimsical reinterpretation of the French-style macaroon - its flavors bold and brassy but light and refreshing to taste. It definitely follows the model of most French-Japanese desserts, which is to say that they are stylistically intricate but do not leave you feeling heavy at all. This is one dessert I could eat over and over again. Suffice it to say, this dessert has most certainly won its place on my list of desserts I would willingly walk a mile for in the freezing cold (fortunately for me, with the glorious summer heat, I didn't have to).

Prior to my Monday night departure, I made it a point to revisit Sadaharu for a chance to catch their black sesame eclairs before returning to London. It was my lucky day! Not only did they have their famous black sesame eclairs, they also had their opera cake as well! So, what is a foodie to do except to order them both?

This time around, I definitely fit the role of older but wiser, namely because I had spent an exorbitant amount of money over the week and was reluctant to spend any more than I had to. So, when offered the chance to eat "sur place," I politely declined and asked to have my pastries wrapped to go (ala "sur cheapo," or something to that effect).

With my arsenal of afternoon goodies tucked under my arm in a quaint carrying box, I made my way to the local park near the Pompidou Center to savor my latest purchases, though I found it difficult to keep myself from attacking them head-on while riding on the subway....I proudly managed to restrain myself. Upon arriving at the park and finding myself a seat alongside the main road, I tore open the packaging to gaze admiringly at these two gems, tempting me with their luxurient, calorific goodness:

But looks can be very deceiving. And, in this case, they were disappointingly so. The black sesame eclair I had heard so much about was a disappointment from the very first bite: a soggy pastry shell. The filling had a notable black sesame flavor, but could have definitely used a lot more. Unlike the flan sesame miel I had tried previously, the black sesame filling in the eclair seemed almost timid at best, as if afraid of its own black shadow (and all its sesamey goodness). To further the problem, the eclair also had an unnecessarily cloying iced topping that only served to mask the natural pungency of the black sesame interior. I wonder if the pastry chef resorted to using the iced topping as campy compensation for the otherwise dull flavors of the eclair....or so it would seem.

Even more disastrous was the "much-acclaimed" opera cake, which was in essence a layered mess of melty chocolate ganache and not-so-satisfying hazelnut cream. The flavors of this dish worked against each other, creating a dessert-style warfare for the senses that left me feeling utterly shell shocked. And, to make matters worse, the cake suffered from the same disease that plauged the sesame eclair: cloying sweetness. I'm of the impression that the pastry chef (probably suffering from a hangover as a result of previous night's festivities) hoped to mask the inadequacies of these creations with a cloying sweetness, hoping that the average audience would be too imperceptive to notice the difference. That's giving him the benefit of the doubt.

But, in spite of my negativities, I would remind myself of the more positive experience I had the first time running: the well-married flavors of the duomo macha azuki, the wonderful fragrance of the flan sesame miel, the enchanting melange tea. I would give this place the benefit of the doubt by concluding that even great patisseries are capable of having a bad day or two. Yet, I would also do well to remind myself (and others) that it is important, when sampling flavors of new restaurants or bakeries, that the best thing to do is follow your gut, not popular opinion.

SADDAHARU AOKI

Atmosphere: *** (3/4)

Food: **** (4/4)

Service: ** (2/4)

Value: ** (2/4)

35, rue de Vaugirard 75006 / Tel : 01-45-44-48-90 / Fax : 01-45-44-48-2911: 00 am to 7: 00 pm

56, boulevard Port Royal 75005 / Tel : 01-45-35-36-80 / Fax : 01-45-35-34-138: 00 am to 7: 30 pm-closed on Sundays

The Regime Explained

2006-07-07T05:22:00.000-07:00

FOOD NAZISM runs the gamut. The original term “Food Nazi” was coined in reference to my father, who continues to epitomize what I call the right-wing Food Nazi regime. His regime consisted of tight oversight of food consumption: not food as pleasure, but food as economy and efficiency. My father forbade the excessive consumption of raw seafood, red meats (especially well-marbled cuts), and the use of oils. Salt was frowned upon, oyster sauce was outright banned, and spicy foods and fried foods were taboo by the very nature they were (as the Cantonese call it) “yeet hay,” which literally means hot air though its real meaning implies the unhealthy imbalance of hot chi to cold chi. And, sweets were definite no-no's. After-dinner snacks were limited to fresh fruits, namely citrus (my father has an obsession with citrus fruits which he believed could cure every disease known to man).

Having lived under my father’s right-wing regime for quite some time now, my mother and I have started to develop our own distinct counterculture: the left-wing regime. As left-wing Food Nazis, my mother and I support the same degree of oversight with respect to food consumption, but for reasons that run completely counter to my father’s. As left-wing Food Nazis, our goals are purely indulgent. We eat what we love and shun what we find distasteful. Our food is, to put it plainly, of the people, for the people, and by the people—in essence, our food extremism is definitively democratic.

But, the stakes are high nonetheless, as my father continues to rule with an iron fist, particularly in our home kitchen. Fortunately, my mother and I, however, are growing accustomed to it. And, knowing the odds we are up against, we have come up with ways to circumvent my father’s right-wing oversight. On evenings when my father has the night shift, we usually relish in tucking away beautifully marbled cuts of New York steaks or juicy oven-roasted lamb shanks. And, an extra pinch of salt or a dab of oyster sauce when my father isn’t looking usually does the trick.

The only real problem with having clashing food regimes in one family arises in the eating out. My father has an annoying tendency of regulating what we order and what we don’t at every single dining establishment. “You sure you want that?” My father will interrogate me for minutes on end, implicating his general disapproval for my particular choice of entree. This occurs most when ordering meat dishes, raw seafood, or spicy Korean food. He persists with his interrogation until finally you are left with two options: stand your ground or concede defeat. The problem with the former option is that you often run the risk of potentially order an unpalatable dish only to be met with a string of “I told you so’s” from the right-wing Food Nazi—suffering utter humiliation for the left-wing front.

Lately though, the left-wing regime has seen an increasingly higher success rate while standing its ground in the face of severe right-wing oppression. Regular trips to my sister’s and my favorite Korean restaurant, generally vetoed on the spot by the Food Nazi, have somehow found their way into several monumental instances of favorable compromise. Suffice it to say, there is a glimmer of hope. Who says democracy doesn't win in the end?

Picture: "No soup for you!" - Soup Nazi from Seinfeld

Getting Started / My Philosophy

2006-07-07T02:58:00.000-07:00

GETTING STARTED: So, for those of you who actually care, I've had this blog set up for about half a year now. Unfortunately, my sense of personal initiative has often been precluded by my innate sense of procrastination. But, I recently felt that it was only fair that, as a heavy consumer of other people's food blogs, I should be accountable for producing one of my own. So here it is at last!

MY PHILOSOPHY: When it comes to food, I can often come across as a pretentious asshole. In fact, when extolling the virtues of Italian gelato to the crap they serve at college dining halls, my friend dubbed me the unofficial "food snob." Can I help it that I won't willingly concede my body as somebody's waste disposal system?

That aside, I quote a passage from Mr. Steingarten's book The Man Who Ate Everything: "...modern science has shown chubby people to be more discriminating and discerning than our skinny neighbors, at least at the dinner table. If you take away their food for twenty-four hours, skinny people will breathlessly devour whatever you put in front of them. We, in contrast, will still pick and choose, eating only food we normally enjoy and rejecting what we normally find distasteful. One reason for this is that chubby eaters are rarely truly hungry. We simply have abnormally generous appetites" (p. 121).

Therein lies my (and every other foodie's) dilemma. Unlike the majority of people who willingly shovel any slop put in front of them as a means of satisfying their hunger--hunger as some default, biological mechanism--I eat to satisfy something more personal. Hunger for most people is an obstacle to their day to day lives. For me, hunger is something that my appetite opportunistically seizes as chance to indulge itself. Hunger demands food, my appetite savors it. Suffice it to say, my appetite usually outlasts my hunger which is, in essence, my greatest weakness.

But in my weakness also lies my strength: my ability to discern between what I will eat and what I won't eat. I eat because I want to eat, not necessarily because I need to eat. My desire for food is not controlled by my body, but by my mind........

This leads me to one obnoxious habit I have that often annoys the hell out of my parents and friends: I tend to contemplate every meal with exactitude. I am often plagued by my own indecision, turning the simplest task of choosing what to eat for breakfast or where to eat for dinner or whether or not to get a cappuccino versus an espresso into an hour long (sometimes more) ordeal.

For the most part, I keep my obsessions to myself. But, once in a while, I cannot help but interfere with the laxity with which a friend or acquaintance approaches his next meal. It pains me to see my friends subjecting their appetite to gray meats, limp veggies, and boiled hot dogs with plastic cheese sauce. The appetite begs for something grand, something indulgent, something beautiful.....and they stifle it with some greasy black mush you could scrape off the back of your tire (I am reminded of beef wonderbites served by my high school cafeteria which gave me the worst case of indigestion).

Picture: Nacho "cheese"??? I don't think so!

But, what you eat is your decision. And what I eat is my decision. Don't like the fact that I reject your dining hall crap for something more palatable? Deal with it.

(Of course, I mean that in the nicest way possible.)