Monday, April 16, 2007
Noodlemania
It has become more and more apparent that every restaurant has its own pièce de résistance. For example, Oversea Asian has their Young ToFu in curry soup and the Momofuku restaurants have their pork. Some things just stand out.
There are also many ways to find out about these highlights. Much of the time, some skilled internet reading will have one anticipating certain dishes even before setting foot in a restaurant. Lately, however, I’ve been employing a different method. It combines an underused skill of mine with my interest in food: people watching… while they eat!
This method has finally proven to be wildly successful.
A few months back, I visited Moon House for the first time. This tiny restaurant is one of the two Shanghainese restaurants that flank the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory on Bayard Street. The other restaurant is Yeah Shanghai Deluxe, which is notable in it’s own right.
While my first visit to Moon House was decent (the food was not bad—the value was amazing), I noticed, right after we ordered our food, every other table in the restaurant was busily inhaling plates of ropey stir-fried noodles. The noodles themselves didn’t look outstanding; they looked like most decent plates of noodles, lightly glistening with a good amount of oil with a good meat/veggie to noodle ratio. The look on the faces of those eating the noodles, however, was more telling. They looked content and satisfied—the exact facial expression I would want to have after eating a plate of noodles.
Unfortunately, we did not order these noodles, which is why that first meal only qualified as alright. I did, however, keep yapping to my dining partner that there was something special about these noodles.
These mystery noodles at Moon House were mentioned on and off for a few months, and finally, we returned for sole purpose of identifying this noodle dish on the menu and eating them. Luckily, I was in the company of an individual who speaks Mandarin. He quickly described the noodles and we were directed to a dish with the inauspicious title of “Shanghai Lo Mein (with Pork)”.
The noodles were stir fried in combination of vegetable oil and pork fat, and beautifully coated with a deep brown sauce that was satisfyingly savoury, yet sweetly complex with every bite. Matchstick sized pieces of pork, finely chopped suey choy (AKA nappa cabbage), and the occasional sliver of Chinese-style pickled vegetables were distributed evenly throughout. It was all made better by the taste a hot wok imparts on food.
The noodles themselves were in a category that I’d never come across before—that category being “I’d beat up your grandma if she stood in between me and the noodles”. They were Shanghai-style wheat noodles, with the approximate dimensions of the pointed end of full sized, plastic Chinese chopsticks. The texture of the noodles were unforgettable: a cross between being elastic and al dente, they gave back a little of what you gave them with every bite.
These noodles will keep me coming back. They’re the type of thing I’ll daydream about (and drool over, in my weaker moments). And, the best part about this dish? It cost $4.95 (tax and tip, not included).
There are also many ways to find out about these highlights. Much of the time, some skilled internet reading will have one anticipating certain dishes even before setting foot in a restaurant. Lately, however, I’ve been employing a different method. It combines an underused skill of mine with my interest in food: people watching… while they eat!
This method has finally proven to be wildly successful.
A few months back, I visited Moon House for the first time. This tiny restaurant is one of the two Shanghainese restaurants that flank the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory on Bayard Street. The other restaurant is Yeah Shanghai Deluxe, which is notable in it’s own right.
While my first visit to Moon House was decent (the food was not bad—the value was amazing), I noticed, right after we ordered our food, every other table in the restaurant was busily inhaling plates of ropey stir-fried noodles. The noodles themselves didn’t look outstanding; they looked like most decent plates of noodles, lightly glistening with a good amount of oil with a good meat/veggie to noodle ratio. The look on the faces of those eating the noodles, however, was more telling. They looked content and satisfied—the exact facial expression I would want to have after eating a plate of noodles.
Unfortunately, we did not order these noodles, which is why that first meal only qualified as alright. I did, however, keep yapping to my dining partner that there was something special about these noodles.
These mystery noodles at Moon House were mentioned on and off for a few months, and finally, we returned for sole purpose of identifying this noodle dish on the menu and eating them. Luckily, I was in the company of an individual who speaks Mandarin. He quickly described the noodles and we were directed to a dish with the inauspicious title of “Shanghai Lo Mein (with Pork)”.
The noodles were stir fried in combination of vegetable oil and pork fat, and beautifully coated with a deep brown sauce that was satisfyingly savoury, yet sweetly complex with every bite. Matchstick sized pieces of pork, finely chopped suey choy (AKA nappa cabbage), and the occasional sliver of Chinese-style pickled vegetables were distributed evenly throughout. It was all made better by the taste a hot wok imparts on food.
The noodles themselves were in a category that I’d never come across before—that category being “I’d beat up your grandma if she stood in between me and the noodles”. They were Shanghai-style wheat noodles, with the approximate dimensions of the pointed end of full sized, plastic Chinese chopsticks. The texture of the noodles were unforgettable: a cross between being elastic and al dente, they gave back a little of what you gave them with every bite.
These noodles will keep me coming back. They’re the type of thing I’ll daydream about (and drool over, in my weaker moments). And, the best part about this dish? It cost $4.95 (tax and tip, not included).
Sunday, March 11, 2007
The Japanese branch of the noodle family
I'm a big fan of gorging myself every once in awhile. But, I've recently noticed that I can't recover from binging like I used to. Now I experience the “food hangover”, which includes symptoms such as general malaise, mild headaches, lethargy and bloating. Chronic sufferers of the “food hangover” may notice longterm bellyaches followed by gradual muffin top formation.
On that note, I’m excited to report that I’ve visited Sobaya a couple times now, and found that, regardless of the amount consumed here (ginormous is one word I would use to describe the food volume that went into my body), I have not been plagued by the hangover. I highly recommend this restaurant, where soba and udon noodles are handmade on the premises. Naturally, noodle dishes feature prominently, and are supplemented by a large appetizer and sake menu.
I’m a fan of their pickle platter, lightly pickled assorted vegetables, including daikon and bamboo shoot. Also, I recommend the dish with yam cake, which had a pleasing texture, jellyfish-like, but with a gentler crunch.
If you are looking for something more luxurious, the Berkshire pork belly with poached egg will satisfy any craving (see photo on the left). This dish is soya-saucy yet not too salty or overpowering, and should be eaten by dredging the quivering hunks of belly through the yolk, so that every piece has a velvety egg/sauce coat. I think I just drooled on myself while I typed that.
Noodles, oh, noodles. They are excellent here, and I’ve had the Nabeyaki Udon and the Chirashi Soba noodles. There’s a photo of the Nabeyaki Udon, which is a sort of noodle soup casserole/hot pot, and contains shrimp and yam tempura, chicken, fish cakes, vegetables, and yet another poached egg. Delicious, but this definitely came in a solid second after the Chirashi Soba noodles, which happens to be part of the seasonal menu. The Chirashi contains deep fried tiny shrimp, bean curd skin, fish cakes, and quite possibly crack. And I mean that in the best way possible.
If you still have room, or even if you don’t, I suggest some dessert. After all, most of the dessert selection is ice cream, which is designed to melt and fill in the cracks between the other pieces of food in your stomach. We ordered the green tea, back sesame, and the honey wasabi ice cream. I’d been eyeing the honey wasabi for a while, and boy-oh!-boy, it did not disappoint. Creamy and cold, with a quick, sharp wasabi bite, this ice cream is rounded out with wispy honey finish. I could definitely eat this ice cream ALL day, it was that good, and the flavour combination was a revelation. I shit you not. I also really enjoyed the strawberry tofu pudding, which had a more complicated name/ingredient list that I can’t recall now.
So if you think I can’t rave about Sobaya anymore, think again. The service here has been great and the environment is friendly and relaxing. I am seriously in love with this place. And if you are still wondering whether you should dine at Sobaya, let me tell you that the toilet seat in the ladies’ room is heated—and has a dual spray angle bidet function, with water pressure control. You can feel fresher than ever after an amazing meal.
I’m not even commenting on the sake… I don’t want to embarrass myself now.
On that note, I’m excited to report that I’ve visited Sobaya a couple times now, and found that, regardless of the amount consumed here (ginormous is one word I would use to describe the food volume that went into my body), I have not been plagued by the hangover. I highly recommend this restaurant, where soba and udon noodles are handmade on the premises. Naturally, noodle dishes feature prominently, and are supplemented by a large appetizer and sake menu.
I’m a fan of their pickle platter, lightly pickled assorted vegetables, including daikon and bamboo shoot. Also, I recommend the dish with yam cake, which had a pleasing texture, jellyfish-like, but with a gentler crunch.
If you are looking for something more luxurious, the Berkshire pork belly with poached egg will satisfy any craving (see photo on the left). This dish is soya-saucy yet not too salty or overpowering, and should be eaten by dredging the quivering hunks of belly through the yolk, so that every piece has a velvety egg/sauce coat. I think I just drooled on myself while I typed that.
Noodles, oh, noodles. They are excellent here, and I’ve had the Nabeyaki Udon and the Chirashi Soba noodles. There’s a photo of the Nabeyaki Udon, which is a sort of noodle soup casserole/hot pot, and contains shrimp and yam tempura, chicken, fish cakes, vegetables, and yet another poached egg. Delicious, but this definitely came in a solid second after the Chirashi Soba noodles, which happens to be part of the seasonal menu. The Chirashi contains deep fried tiny shrimp, bean curd skin, fish cakes, and quite possibly crack. And I mean that in the best way possible.
If you still have room, or even if you don’t, I suggest some dessert. After all, most of the dessert selection is ice cream, which is designed to melt and fill in the cracks between the other pieces of food in your stomach. We ordered the green tea, back sesame, and the honey wasabi ice cream. I’d been eyeing the honey wasabi for a while, and boy-oh!-boy, it did not disappoint. Creamy and cold, with a quick, sharp wasabi bite, this ice cream is rounded out with wispy honey finish. I could definitely eat this ice cream ALL day, it was that good, and the flavour combination was a revelation. I shit you not. I also really enjoyed the strawberry tofu pudding, which had a more complicated name/ingredient list that I can’t recall now.
So if you think I can’t rave about Sobaya anymore, think again. The service here has been great and the environment is friendly and relaxing. I am seriously in love with this place. And if you are still wondering whether you should dine at Sobaya, let me tell you that the toilet seat in the ladies’ room is heated—and has a dual spray angle bidet function, with water pressure control. You can feel fresher than ever after an amazing meal.
I’m not even commenting on the sake… I don’t want to embarrass myself now.
