Best Damn Food Blog

Crazy delicious thing I ate recently

2012-01-19T10:36:00.000-08:00

I recently came back from a business trip in Montreal, and my tongue felt leathery and dull after eating all the fast meals I had no choice but to participate in. When I came back, I embraced the humidity and the ubiquity of sushi joints surrounded by our majestic mountains. Oh Vancouver, how I missed you! The first thing I decided I wanted to do to cement my relationship with Vancouver as my home was to go have delicious Japanese food.

J and I went out to Hapa Izakaya in Kits recently, showing up without a reservation and happily taking the reservation of those who didn't come in time for theirs. (15 minutes late? Fuhgeddaboudit.) We ordered the goma-ae (fresh veggies at the time were spinach and baby bok-choy), gindara (miso-sake marinated sablefish), fish and chips roll (exactly what it sounds like - halibut tempura wrapped up in a cozy roll), and the cho wagyu.

Ohhhh wagyu. If you are not in the know, wagyu is a specific type of Japanese cattle that is predisposed to a fat dispersion in their meat called marbling. You might know it better as Kobe beef since the origin of the cattle is usually in its name, but it comes from different regions in Japan as well (Thanks Wikipedia!). There is also an American equivalent but depending what type of cattle and where it is sourced, it may not be exactly wagyu; just because it's called "Kobe beef" doesn't mean it actually comes from Kobe. But that's a different story.

The marbling in the meat results in an intensely buttery cut of beef that melts in your mouth. It's not exactly steak material, however. Trust me: I've tried to eat a wagyu steak before, and beside the fact that you probably need to mortgage the damn thing, it's over the top. I find that truly the most enjoyable way to eat it is in small slices, enough to savor each bite carefully.

At Hapa, they serve four creamy slices raw with a hot stone to grill it yourself, then to be paired with garlic chips, green onions, and ponzu sauce.

That's right.

Not pictured: the learning curve required to understand that your first slice will probably be a little bit too done, and then your second piece will be a bit underdone.

In either case, it's still delicious which way you hot-stone it.

Crazy delicious thing I ate recently

2011-12-27T10:54:00.001-08:00

I was looking for Japanese delivery recently and came across Ki-Isu. Unfortunately, it turned out that we were outside of delivery range (*shakes fist*), but remembered this place again when out and about looking for a tasty Japanese meal.

In their seasonal specials page of their menu are a number of very interesting items such as Dark Sweet.

According to their menu, Dark Sweet is: black brown rice, asparagus, tamago, lettuce, chopped scallop, tobiko, prawn tempura, drizzled with wasabi mayo and BBQ sauce.

Besides being one heck of a massive roll, it was really sweet, so not my kinda thing. With this mixture of ingredients (Asparagus? Two types of sauces? Black rice?) it also turned out to be rather mushy. Also not my kinda thing. It was definitely very interesting to try, though.

We ordered something else from the seasonal specials, which turned out to be the crazy delicious thing I ate recently.

On the table is the brown rice salmon cake: brown rice stacked with crunch, avocado salad, and tangy jalapeno salmon, garnished with kizami nori.

Oh man, you guys. This was wicked tasty.

The salmon and avocado were fantastically creamy and so much so that it complemented beautifully the crunch (which I assume are bits of fried tempura batter) and the chewy brown rice. The jalapeno was the real highlight here, with little bursts of spiciness permeating each buttery bite. It's a very different experience from eating spicy salmon which is salmon in a spicy sauce, making the whole thing fairly spicy. I love the hint of Mexican of the combination of jalapenos and avocados; on top of salmon sushi, it's a delicious winner.

Delicious nuggets of thought

2011-11-21T16:28:00.001-08:00

My friend Anna is a genius. I'm sure I've told her before, but here I am on the internet, validating her genius. With her permission, I am reposting her writing here as it is a completely brills diagnosis of the psychology of McDonald's, and possibly hits home to the psychology of the rabid enthusiasm and obsession foodies nurse into blogs.

The Id Burger
by Anna W.

I love McDonald's and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I know they "got me" when I was young. I know their beef is gross. I know that their fries have a week's worth of salt on them. But I can't help it, because McDonald's makes the most delicious food in the world. But I would argue that it's beyond food. It's on a whole other plain of existence. McDonald's is in a category of it's own, separate from mere mortal food. It's not that other food isn't enjoyable. Sandwiches, lasagna, green beans, fruit, even chocolate cake are all fantastically delicious. But they are still categorized by my brain as "food." McDonald's is pure pleasure. The sooner I stop thinking of it as food, the sooner I will be able to properly frame my McD's lustings and cravings -- they do not stem from hunger, but from the deep-seated voice, the id.

Initially, I thought that my cravings were socially learned. McDonald's plays three important learned roles in my life: as a treat, a reward, and a rebellion. McDonald's was marketed to be something special, a treat. A trip to the restaurant is supposed to be out of the ordinary, to either mark a special occasion, or "just cuz," making the meal itself the "occasion." Thus, McDonald's became exciting and desirable. Further, in our culture, using unhealthy food as a reward is very common and very dangerous. When you start rewarding yourself with unhealthy food, then it very quickly becomes something that you "deserve" when you've done a good job. Finally, McDonalds has always been a rebellion. Early on, in elementary school, it was a rebellious and "cool" thing to leave the school grounds at lunch to got to McDonald's. Now, with my wage-earning job and freedom of mobility, the act of rebellion in this form no longer holds any power. But as I get older (and lordy lordy, as I spend more and more time with middle-aged women working as admin assistants) I hear more and more the ever-pervasive guilt-reward slogan, "Let's be bad."* The rebellion is against the diet. However, while there is some truth to the socially learned cravings of McD's, I think the "treat," "reward." and "rebellion" rationalizations mask the true nature of the craving -- mindless mouth pleasure.

When I eat a Big Mac, it is not meat, bread, lettuce and sauce. It is a single unit of mouth pleasure. It is beyond taste pleasure, it is "taste porn." I believe it awakens something deep within your base brain, your old brain, your animal brain. The sight of it, the smell of it, the anticipation. Completely without the input from your rational, conscious mind, your taste buds become aroused. The haze sets in, you fall into the mindless drone, an animal fulfilling its deep desires. Afterwards, when the world becomes clear again, there is no lingering satisfaction. Often there are pangs of guilt, or actual physical pain. But some part of you is satisfied, and that's the part of you that will always bring you back to the counter, again and again. I think that what we are truly experiencing is the powering down of our higher brain functions. This is made possible by eating a burger that speaks to our id. And after too many consciously crafted low-fat meals, the id calls again. And it says "An id burger please." "Would you like fries with that?" "You're damn right I do."

Sugar, fat and salt. You know what I mean:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3IgFsEEOik

*Oh god how I hate that phrase. Framing a meal at McDonalds with the phrase, "Let's be bad" is dangerous. So many different meanings can be derived from that one statement. It means: I feel societal pressure to look and act a certain way. It means: this pressure affects my life choices and life goals. It means: I engage in the guilt-reward cycle. It means: I have insufficient will-power to achieve my goals. To me, it is a public airing of weakness, a public airing of being "not good enough."

Big Lou's Butcher Shop

2011-10-28T10:00:00.000-07:00

I've heard a lot about porchetta sandwiches. The local food scene has been much ado about the crispy, fatty, porky sammiches, and I was late (as usual) to the scene.

I owe it to my mild OCD in loving to plan things, and I definitely planned this trip to Big Lou's. Probably not in the way you might imagine, though.

Big Lou's Butcher Shop is sort of in our neighborhood (actually, I don't believe we can claim that much in our neighborhood - what the hell is "Crosstown" anyway?), on the far edge of Gastown past Main.

It is, as named, a butcher shop, but there's also a sandwich shop divvying up freshly flamed meats into lunch servings.

It's all nouveau-retro-old-timey in there (there may be a term for that I don't know, I admit), and they have an old-fashioned-looking cash register on the counter which, as far as I know, is just for show.

Your sandwich comes rolled up in paper and tied with string like a pack of meat, and you can have the option of washing down your hearty meats with old-timey Boylan soda. In fact, this whole affair is rather old timey. If I had a handlebar mustache, it would definitely be bristling.

On the left is the pastrami, and on the right porchetta. The bulgogi chicken sounded per-retty tempting, but we decided to go with classics.

So I mentioned I had planned for this trip to Big Lou's, right? By which I meant I made sure to do a week or two of cardio before meeting my sandwich. It was a good idea, but it was not nearly enough.

LOOK AT THAT FATTY PORK. LOOK AT IT. You can almost feel its greasiness ooze through the computer screen.

Holy god that first bite was phenomenal. Second bite, also phenomenal. Third bite, beginning to wonder when angina will set in. I had a bunch more bites of delicious denial ("hey, that chimichurri sauce is green, right? Vegetables!"), taking liberal bites of pure fat until I actively decided that as a somewhat high-functioning adult person I should probably hold off on slowly diminishing the years of my life.

The bread was crusty with fluffy crumb, the chimichurri sauce was flavorful and tangy enough to make a comfortable acidic pairing with the fatty pork, and the sandwich was laced with bits of crunchy pork skin. This was one hefty hulk of a sandwich. I'm fairly certain I can only eat this once in my lifetime.

Stay tuned for a future post on another porchetta sandwich from another sammich establishment!

Sitar Indian

2011-10-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

Continuing on the presentation streak of "what there is to eat in my hood", J and I decided to go to the Indian place we've walked by numerous times (downstairs from the Diamond, across from Chill Winston and Six Acres... you know that spot).

It was pretty quiet on a week night. We sat at a table next to a brick facade with a decorative display of Christmas lights and a massive sitar.

J ordered the Sitar Dinner: Lamb curry, alugobi, tandoori chicken, dal, rice pillau, naan, papad and chutney. It was somewhere around $23-25 - J's eyes were swimming like a hungry wolf's and growing wide as dinner plates. "This is going to be a ton of food!"

I heard sizzling on the next table over and went for the tandoori fish.

Well.. it wasn't exactly a ton of food. It was, in fact, a somewhat manageable amount of food.

Everything was fairly alright and decently acceptable. Okay. -ish. I mean, for the price paid (I know it's Gastown, but still) is it ludicrous to expect so much food they'd have to bring it in with a forklift? I don't condone portion sizes the size of small countries (or ones that could feed small countries), but y'know... just sayin'. Coulda spent my dollar somewhere else.

Crazy delicious thing I ate recently

2011-10-25T13:39:00.000-07:00

I recently stopped by for one of the perogy nights at the Ukrainian Orthodox Church. But that's not what I wanted to tell you about (I had written about it once long ago, but the post has since been lost to the sands of internet time).

No, after stuffing our faces with perogies and sausages and cabbage rolls, we walked over to the Rumpus Room for a drink.

On the menu were deep fried Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Yeah.

You get three in a bowl - deep fried batter with melty chocolate and peanut butter inside. Dollops of whipped cream and what seems to be craisins sprinkled on top.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Gyo-O

2011-10-24T13:50:00.000-07:00

I've been dying to tell you about this place, but hesitant at the same time. I have a soft spot for Gyo-O, and being that it's already difficult enough to try to get a table on most nights, I'd rather not have more people to line up behind.

But I have to tell you. It's so good.

I found this place when I was searching for a decent chirashi. Chirashi is a bit of a strange craving, because it's essentially deconstructed sushi. Why wouldn't I crave sushi instead? Listen... it's different. It's akin to the difference of craving tacos instead of burritos. Sort of.

Gyo-O is a tiny cocoon of hustle and bustle. The place isn't large, it's cash only, but there's a certain harmony to the coming and going of people.

The walls are covered in Japanese, except for the huge mural on your left when you walk in.

The service is friendly and snappy, and the menu is pretty large - there are generally a lot of things I want to try when I sit down. But first... kaisen don (seafood on rice)!

For some of the rice bowls you can have them in mini size, so this was a smallish bowl perfect for me. Salmon maybe seems a tad skimpy - the difference between 2 and 3 slices is significant, for some arbitrary reason - but the portion was good for me.

Of course, I've been back a number of times. Oh yes. And I've tried a few more things on the menu.

The bukkake udon is one of their specialties. HEY! Mind out of the gutter!

The takoyaki bukkake udon is a little bit slimy overall, though. It's topped with a sauna egg (hot spring egg?) that is like a runny white + runny yolk poached egg. It gets all over everything. Be warned, if you don't like goopy things. The takoyaki has a lovely color and texture on the surface and the batter mix is done really well. Sometimes the tako is hit or miss, but when you get a good piece it's a damn tasty takoyaki... and I don't even normally like the stuff!

If you order it on its own with the sauce and everything, it's tangy and crispy and chewy and fishy. Yum.

The above is one of the combos you can get on rice as well (a lunch special, I believe?). You can get an assortment of tempura items, chicken karaage, takoyaki... oh man. Deep fried goodness.

The tempura is done very nicely - a truly light tempura batter that doesn't taste greasy or have too much crinkly bits of batter all over. The prawn comes with some seasoning salt for dipping.

I've tried a whole variety of different things on the menu and keep coming back for more delicious surprises. There are a large number of smallish dishes that are very reasonably priced and of a very decent quality, and they work at a fast pace to keep up with the revolving door of hungry customers. Worth your time to check out one time in Richmond if you want decent Japanese fast food.

Oh, and another word of advice - don't watch the TV, because they almost always have eating competitions on and unless seeing people stuff themselves with 40+ hotdogs gets your appetite going, make sure you keep your eyes on your prize.

Dirty Apron

2011-09-19T10:49:00.000-07:00

One of my recent favorites: Dirty Apron. The hours are reasonable, and while the deli and shop are a bit compact, it's full of variety.

Popped in hungry one weekend afternoon to grab a sandwich. I had the roast beef, which comes snugly nestled in a delish chimichurri sauce, charred tomato salsa and watercress (according to the website... but it seemed like there may have been something like horseradish mayo in there too).

The online shop encourages corporate group lunches. If you work in the area, you should go for it!

Cafe Medina

2011-09-16T14:27:00.000-07:00

On one recent sunny Sunday morning, a few friends and I patiently waited our turn for Cafe Medina goodness. We watched from outside as crispy Belgian waffles made their way to the bustling tables inside the restaurant and the crowd of hungry breakfast patrons standing beside us continue to grow.

Most people have been to Cafe Medina before so I'll skip much of the description, but it's been vastly popular for a long time. Lineups on a weekend morning are always a given, regardless of weather.

We had a smooth, steamy latte each to start off.

I ordered La Santé - a soft boiled egg, tomato with olive tapenade, avocado, prosciutto, olive oil + balsamic, and grilled ciabatta. I also had some baba ganoush on the side.

The soft boiled egg is delicate and accompanied with some sea salt and herbs on the side.

The tomato was hearty and flavorful, and the tapenade wasn't bad. It takes a pretty punchy tapenade to wow me, however.

Post-massacre egg. Peek in the background: deep fried pita.

Belgian waffle with raspberry caramel.

I'm not crazy about Cafe Medina as some people are. It's nice, food's well presented, service is good, and the space is lovely, but it's not really my cup of tea. I feel that the food is a touch too oily and salty even with the sensible portion sizes. I've tried the cassoulet before and it's pretty great, but I just didn't feel so hot afterward. I didn't feel too hot after this meal either - the baba ganoush was a tad too smoky and the fried pita was probably too greasy for brunch. I also only had one slice of avocado as the other piece was too raw.

I don't find the waffles to be particularly exciting either. Maybe I'm missing something here that everyone else has honed in on? I find that being blasé about Cafe Medina usually elicits some strong feelings from diehard fans (e.g. outrage at my blasphemy) but I mean.. it's alright. Cafe Meh-dina. I don't see what the fuss is about. Well, whatever y'all like.

Canra Srilankan Plus

2011-09-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

Hey guys, first off: I'm undergoing a little behind-the-scenes tinkering, so if the RSS feed has gone all bork-bork-borken on you recently, I'm sorry. Now returning to your regular programming!

I've recently moved downtown and I've been exploring the five to ten kilometer radius around my apartment, scavenging for interesting eats and shops. The neighborhood is by no means unfamiliar to me before I moved in, but I began to notice small places in nooks and crannies.

The food court in International Village (also formerly better known as Tinseltown) is in one word: lackluster. For someone looking for a quick dinner on a weeknight, it's somewhat baffling. The food court's a pretty generously sized semi-circle with maybe ten or twelve stalls in total. What's puzzling is that coming here on any particular weeknight, say, past 6pm, there might be fewer than half in operation. There is really little to no choice here.

I was surprised to see this Sri Lankan stall in the food court, though.
I came to the food court a long, long time ago and still remembered to the right of this stall was a South African baked bun place - which, by the way, has been long gone. The Sri Lankan stall looked new to me. I had been told the dosas are pretty acceptable, so I gave the place the ol' college try.

Run by a Sri Lankan family, who are chatty and friendly, they explained to me some of the menu items. The one that caught my interest was the Kottu Rotti - a fried concoction of paratha rotti (chewy flatbread), meat of choice, and a smattering blend of herbs, spices, and vegetables.

I tried this the first time with lamb. I watched as they carefully assembled the dish in the kitchen and took it home to gobble on. It was a bit gamey, mostly fragrant, a pleasant mix of chewy and crunchy. I had seen it freshly assembled and cooked with some modicum of effort, and I really enjoyed it. The chewiness of the rotti was addictive, and beats the rice-iness of any other regular stir fried noodle in my opinion. Everyone I had spoken to at the stall was friendly, in particular the woman who might have been the matriarch of the family. The little boy who rang up my order was a real charmer, too.

I did go back for a second time and tried the chicken (pictured above). It was inconsistent with the last time I had it and to say the least, I was pretty disappointed. Everything had a general texture of gloppy mushiness that didn't allow for each of the elements to shine. J had picked it up for me and as I reported my disappointment to him, he replied, "Well, I think the boy cooked this one. He's such a sweet kid though!"

Yeah, he is. And it seems like a really warm family establishment. I can understand the hit or miss, and since I live next door I'll be back again, hoping for that delicious hit when they make a fresh kottu rotti that really sings.

Mis Trucos

2011-09-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

Mis Trucos is tucked away up the stairs in a building that is indented a few steps away from Davie Street. Locally inspired mediterranean tapas are served in a posh, minimalistic space. There is apparently a patio out back. I've been to Mis Trucos a few times, and admittedly two out of the three visits with a groupon-type dealio. Two six-course meals for cheap - I can't resist! DX296GVZHXHQ

I enjoy the tapas here and without fail everything I have tried has been delicious. Below is from the last six-course meal I had recently.

Starting off with sangria in the background, it's the delicious answer to a hot day. Foreground: chilled gazpacho, with goat cheese on crostini. The gazpacho and goat cheese give off a hint of complementary sweetness.

Pancetta, fig and arugula salad with a side of blue cheese and topped with parmesan crisp.

The slick pancetta is not too salty and the fig is just sweet enough to go well with the bleu and peppery arugula.

64 degree egg with crumbled feta, artichokes and bacon bits. Kind of a gummier and less-runny poached egg in a slightly oily and creamy mixture, almost like mixing fresh mayonnaise in your mouth (cue mayonegg joke). A lot less disgusting than I make it sound; in fact, it's freakin' delish. I'm not much of a food poet. Sorry.

Marinated squid and chickpea salad. A generous pool of chickpeas and squid in a somewhat lemony concoction, with the occasional pickled onion floating by.

Short Rib with pasta shells and shaved parmesan.

Now that I've had the six course meal more than once, I can say that while it is freakishly delicious, the portion servings are a bit odd. The above pictures show five out of six courses (dessert not pictured), in chronological order. Starting with the soup and salad, they were both lovely, the egg was also delicious, but at the point where the marinated squid and chickpea salad was served, it was an unnecessary interval.

So, the first thing. Chickpeas are filling. The portion sizes of the courses prior to the chickpea salad were fairly decent, and while I enjoyed it, there was just... so much of it. Why on earth is that? This is probably the course I would preferably have the least of. By the time I got to the short rib, I was choking it down (granted, I'm not a big eater, but I tried). The short rib pasta was silky and had a rich truffle flavor to it, and I was crushed I was too full at this point to finish it. I asked to take it home (the ridiculous tablespoon-size amount left over) and definitely enjoyed it the next day.

The other thing about Mis Trucos is that for a night out, it's fairly expensive without the coupon. I'm perfectly fine with spending money on a good dinner, but if you share a few tapas with a friend, have a drink or two, it's at the range where it squeezes my wallet a bit too firmly. And maybe that's just what happens when you have tapas sometimes, maybe it's something to do with the portion size, I don't know. I do know that I'm rather consciously aware of the money that I spend whenever I end up at Mis Trucos, which can end up to be a tidy sum. I enjoy spending money on food - hey, that's why I write this damn thing! But when I settle my bill, there is a niggling feeling is in the back of my head after I peer at the numbers, and something doesn't settle quite right in my stomach, metaphorically speaking.

It's not everyday food, and it's not an everyday restaurant, so I savor each visit. On the same token, it's not a special occasions kind of place either. In any case, I look forward to another visit sometime in the foreseeable future to see what the new menu holds.

High tech grilled cheese!

2011-08-30T15:12:00.000-07:00

Link of the day: Flip Video Founder Takes Stab at High-Tech Cheese Sandwiches

Flip Video founder Jonathan Kaplan chats about his latest venture, a high-tech grilled cheese chain called The Melt, where orders are made via QR code, and cheese sandwiches are pumped out in less than a minute. It opens in San Francisco on Tuesday.

I imagined robotic arms working the grills, but this is pretty cool too.

Is this gross?

2011-08-24T12:30:00.000-07:00

From It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I present to you the Grilled Charlie.

What you’ll need: bread, cheese, chocolate syrup, peanut butter

Pre-heat stove to medium, then add frying pan coated in butter

Slather one side of a slice of bread with butter, and place it butter-side down on the pan

Add cheese slice (or 64—a future recipe idea!) to the bread and let it melt

Flip over (cheese down), adding more butter to both the pan and bread, and flip back again (cheese up)

Take bread off the pan

Repeat steps 2-5, but in place of cheese, use chocolate syrup

Combine the two slices of bread with the cheese on the outside and chocolate on the inside

Coat bread with peanut butter on the outside of the chocolate slice

Apparently some ignorantly courageous people have made this (for science!), from the TV Gourmet. Would you try this? I personally might go easy on the chocolate syrup. But y'know, maybe this could be transformed into a PB&J + grilled cheese...? Does that increase or decrease the gross factor? I don't even know anymore.

Food cart - The Kaboom Box

2011-08-23T10:48:00.000-07:00

Food carts are a curious novelty now all over the place (by which I mean mostly downtown Vancouver and uh, other places that I never see food carts in). A novelty because the street eat scene had been previously dominated by hot dogs, and curious because in a city clearly defined by its Pacific Northwest climes (read: soppy) for at least half the year. I suppose you can't stop the culinarily adventurous (and there are many of those in this city!) in trying all these mobile little kitchens have to offer, but personally I'm just not very good at the eat and walk or eat while standing up thing.

However, sometimes a busy lifestyle dictates the limits of when and where you can eat, and I guess a food cart strategically in your path fills that demand pretty well.

In a two block radius I had the choice of the La Brasserie cart, Nu Greek, and Kaboom Box. I first walked by Nu Greek and its alluring wafts of meat, but doubled back to the enticing appeal of La Brasserie. Unfortunately, L'Bra was just closing up shop as I walked over, so I chose Kaboom Box. (Cool story, bro.)

Previously called Fresh Local Wild, they serve up seafood items like the smoked salmon "salmwich" and oyster po' boy, as well as classics like fish and chips and poutine.

While my oyster po' boy was being fried up nice, K & I (and the friendly guys in the cart) diverted our attention to the man in the middle of Granville Street, who had pushed his dog into the midst of loosely flowing crowds... in a carriage. And who then proceeded to walk back a few paces, and took a picture. Of his dog. In a carriage. And then he wheeled his dog away.

I really should hang out downtown more often.

The oyster po' boy had a delightful and fresh panko crunch giving way to dense, meaty oysters. The slaw nestled in the fibrous bun was fresh and not overwhelming, and was a pleasing punch of vegetables with a hint of sweetness. The not-overwhelming nature of the slaw cannot be understated as it's also easy enough to make gross slaw. A satisfying much-smaller-than-a-meal-yet-bigger-than-a-snack. Whatever you would call that. (My third lunch.)

The food cart was bright red and covered in a lot of scribbly handwriting. I commented on the graffiti and the guys in the truck told me they were signatures of happy customers, so I quipped whether they only gave out sharpies to the friendly ones.

And then I spotted this one below the counter. It says "Mmm... venison". I wouldn't say that's necessarily a glowing review, but I don't know. Maybe it's like a magic eye or something.

Freaky Friday

2011-08-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

Fellow friends, it's Friday! Thank heavens. It's about time for a bevvie.

What's new in the TV food world? Oh, not a whole lot, just Paula Deen looking creepy as usual:

... and telling Anthony Bourdain to mind his own beeswax.

Speaking of, did you guys know that Anthony Bourdain is coming to Vancouver on October 29? You're welcome. Me, I like the guy, but not nearly enough to pay that kind of moolah to see him talk.

Enjoy the weekend, y'all!

L'Abattoir

2011-08-19T10:00:00.000-07:00

Happiness is French food - you can hardly do better to please me than taking me out for a nice French dinner. One place I've been craving and anticipating is L'Abattoir in Gastown. Fellow foodie Jonathan has sung its praises so many times, I knew I was in for a treat when I was brought there one recent July evening.

I'll go easy on the mushy, but you know your boyfriend loves you when he takes you out to a French restaurant you've had on your wishlist (yes, a restaurant wishlist) for oh-so-long. He slyly hinted that he was taking me somewhere that I could "cross off my list". He knows me too well.

Peering in from the front door it seems a tad cozy, but we were led through a narrow corridor to a chic, greenhouse section in the back of the restaurant, lined with a modern upholstered bench, spaced out tables and signature porcelain chairs in organic patterns.

Our menus were one page (watermarked, I think I noticed) clipped to a rather sterile metal clipboard. The menu is pretty basic, but making a decision was still difficult. In fact, picking a drink was possibly the most difficult part. L'Abattoir is known for its cocktail prowress and so we considered carefully our first weapon against sobriety.

On the left is the Donald Draper: Buffalo Trace, Pineau De Charentes, Abricot de Rouillson, Peychauds bitters, Absinthe. On the right, El Camino.

El Camino: Watermelon infused tequila, Aperol, fresh lime, agave nectar, grapefruit pop, salt rim.

As I was sipping this and inconspicuously snapping photos of the drink description on the menu, surmising how to recreate the drink at home, I wondered how to infuse tequila with watermelon. Coincidentally, I wasn't looking for this but stumbled upon this Urban Dig blogpost detailing the how-to for this thirst-quenching summer cocktail.

Each sip was more addictive than the last - it was a truly enjoyable cocktail. And it really should be, for $11. It was well worth the price, considering I've paid at least $9 for a drink not nearly half as good or last half as long as that one.

As we murmured our appreciation for our cocktails, our food arriveth.

Dungeness crab and chickpea toast: Toasted brioche, light crab custard, carrot pickles.

A daunting monolith of an appetizer, I (very artfully and masterfully, I might add) cracked it open for a quick biopsy. The toast and light crab custard were airy, contrasting with the density of the chickpeas and crabmeat. J enjoyed this a lot but I personally thought a smidgen more dungeness crab, and a hair less chickpea would've suited me perfectly.

J had the roast leg of lamb and stewed shank with mint pistou and potato fritters. The lamb was springy on the molars, and a sublime combination with the mint pistou. The potato fritters were good, but baffling to J; he stumbled for words to describe them. So I popped half a fritter in my mouth, and proudly proclaimed: "Hey, these are like a cross between yorkshire pudding and tater tots!" We laughed at the realization of how strangely accurate the analysis was.

I had the pork shoulder cooked in milk with turnips and salsa verde. A puzzling pick: pork cooked in milk? Turnips? Salsa verde? It sounded almost all wrong put together. Oh, but this was by far the best combination of the evening yet! As I'd have assumed from the suggestion that it was cooked in milk, the pork was beautifully tender and such a dream to enjoy, forkful after pillowy forkful. The earthy crunch of the tiny turnips and beans were a welcome undertone of bitterness, and the salsa verde had an ever-so-slight tartness (I think it may have been the capers, too) to cut the rich, fatty pork.

Ohhhhh yum.

As I held my stomach grappling with the delicious pain I eagerly inflicted upon myself, J looked me squarely in the eye and promptly announced that it was time to order dessert.

Fine, you generous fascist.

"Anything you like," he said.

So we shared the apple and olive oil cake with honey ginger ice cream and green apple granita. Dotted with bits of what seemed to be honeycomb and candied apple, the warmth of the olive oil cake was spiked with the cool crunch of granita and slivers of granny smith. It was hot and cold in every bite and was every bit as exciting a dessert should ever be. Quel difference! It's not the kind of sugary cement that will hold your system hostage after your meal, but instead, giving your tastebuds that last hurrah after a satisfying long-haul marathon of flavor. It was still more on the sweet side of the spectrum, but in a wholly nutritious honey-sweet kind of way.

To think, this boy hadn't even tried French cuisine before we met each other. Can you even imagine the depths of the abyss from missing out on a meal like this? If you get the opportunity, do try L'Abattoir. When I get the chance I will definitely go again in hopes they might tickle my tastebuds the same way as this night. Bravo.

Don't tase me, bro

2011-08-15T10:22:00.000-07:00

You guys, there's a grilled cheese food stand on the corner of Main and Terminal just outside Pacific Central. It's called Taser - as in, y'know, don't tase me, bro.

J works nearby and he's been regaling me with stories of the convenient grilled cheese he'd pick up after work. "You love grilled cheese sandwiches! You have to try it!"

Well, you don't have to remind me how much I enjoy eating melty cheese. Honestly.

On the chalkboard menu scrawled just above the holy sandwich radiating like a sun, there was listed a daily special with grilled chicken in it (from what I fuzzily and inaccurately recall) that sounded appealing and unique. Unfortunately she was sold out for the day, leaving the standard fare. Tarnation! Damn you early grilled cheese eaters.

About ten minutes and at least one confused man later ("What do you mean, you're a grilled cheese stand? You don't have hot dogs?" you really should have seen that look of consternation on that man's face), we got our ooey gooey sammiches, hot in the hand.

The above is the So Gouda: Bacon, Apple Slices, Raisins, Havarti Gouda Cheese with Hot Mustard. The bacon was dee-lish.

I had the Jelly Veg: Jalapeno Soy Cheese, Red Pepper Jelly, Tomato on Sour Dough. Surprisingly melty and satisfying cheese, for soy. Red pepper jelly a surprisingly appealing addition.

Sammiches were like, $5 a pop. They were the first thing I ate that Saturday morning. It was a primary contributor to the feeling of I-think-my-heart-just-stopped from the greasy goodness. That bread was killer - if you didn't hold your sandwich facing upward, I'm pretty certain with the amount of butter lathered on it would slip straight out of your fingers like a bar of soap. I only got vegetables in mine for posterity.

Next time I'm totally going to go earlier during the day to see if I can catch a daily special of sorts.

La Belle Province

2011-08-12T13:38:00.000-07:00

A near-and-dear to my (now artery-clogged, probably) heart flashback to living life in Montreal: La Belle Province (the restaurant chain, not the actual province), a true Quebecois dedication to steamies, late-night poutine, gyros, and those ridiculously mushy and greasy fries.

A fuzzy phone picture from my recent business trip to Montreal, having stopped at a classically kitschy LBP after coming out from a meeting. Missing from the panorama - an Elmer hunting a Bugs Bunny on the far corner, plus some other miscellaneous cartoon characters next to anthropomorphized poutine.

Battle of the Brunches

2011-08-11T17:00:00.000-07:00

What's the best place for brunch in Vancouver? A real loaded question, and one posed to me by a reader (one out of all five of you, probably) way back in April.

Oh, there are so many places! I chirped happily in a reply, frantically trying to keep a manageable "to-try" list for out-of-towners. Topping the list was Cafe Medina, a surefire crowd-pleaser (me, I'm not that fussed about the place, but that's definitely in large part due to the ever gargantuan lineup), but the list also had some off the radar, rarely recommended places that were my picks. After the reader's visit to Vancouver, she mentioned Cafe Medina was indeed a great recommendation, but have I tried Little Nest just off Commercial Drive?

Well, no, I hadn't. So shortly thereafter, I found myself in the neighborhood, and sitting in a sunny spot next to the window inside Little Nest.

As you may or may not have gathered from the name, it's a kid-friendly sanctuary for neighborhood mom and dads to come with their kids to have a bite together.

I can't really comment on how kid-safe it is, but I'd assume that since the tables were laid out spaciously and there weren't sharp daggers coming out of table corners, parents are happy to show up to socialize with other parents, and to leave the kids to their own devices.

There's an almost homey 60s feel to the interior, and on the same token, it's got a homey "help yourself" approach.

I don't know how frequently the menu changes, but it seems they have things freshly chalked up on the board for consideration.

The juices we got were in disappointingly squat glasses. I know that wide glasses can deceptively hold a decent volume, but we sucked that juice back fairly quickly.

J had the eggs of the day: poached w/ baked polenta, caramelized pearl onion, roasted portabellini mushrooms and herb goat's cheese + toasted baguette $12

I went for the Plough's Hand Lunch: smoked applewood cheddar, Moccia salami, apple, fig jam, maple roasted hazelnut, crostini, baguette $11

We weren't ravenous but decently hungry, and we were surprised to see what we were given for the price we paid. For the price paid, the quality was laudable but the quantity was laughable. We're not particularly big eaters, but the portions were on the side of anemic, if not disproportional. The plough's hand lunch (or is it the plough-hand's lunch?) was not very lunch-like - with an oddly generous portion of hazelnuts (who honestly wants to eat half a jar full of hazelnuts, as deliciously maple-y they are?), waifish and border-line cracker-like bread, and the most elegant knifework I've ever seen on the smallest slices of apple, it was mind and gut-boggling. What was I supposed to do with the paper-thin slices of apple? Place them over closed eyes to de-puff eyebags? Why on earth was there so much fig jam? It was baffling.

So we swallowed that bitter feeling of slight resentment and still tickling hunger, and ordered a large zucchini soup to share.

Well, it was really good. It was deliciously hearty, skimming the edge of the feeling that it was too rich but at the same time, packed a full punch of vegetable purée reassuring you that you are eating something wholesome. The lemon whipped cream and dill had that perfect punctuated piquant over the denseness of the soup, and we had it with a fluffy multigrain baguette on the side. A yummy save on what could have been a disastrously hungry end.

The following day, we found ourselves skimming south Main on a sun-drenched Sunday morning looking for a place to grab a bite. We walked by Latitude, never having seen it before, shrugged, and promptly plopped our hungry heinies into chairs on the patio.

Wait.. wait.. Latin American? Brunch? COMBINED? Oh lord help us.

J had the The Hangover: layered corn tortilla, cheese and black bean chilaquiles, scrambled eggs, red salsa and sour cream, hashbrowns $12

I had the Shortrib Hash: poached egg and braised pulled shortrib on potato succotash hash, with hollandaise, rocket, whole-grain toast $14

So, how was it?

Uh, yeah. Based on preference (because I like delicious, awesome things) Latitude had won this Brunch round hands-down, face-down, chair-on-back-down, Mexican-wrestling-style-down. Oh god, it was so good. I gotta go back there. Soooo good.

Stoked about Chronic Tacos

2011-06-25T10:02:00.000-07:00

J and I met for lunch on a weekday - a rarity - and in the short time we had, we turbo'd over to Chronic Tacos for the first time.

The lunch lineup on an overcast Friday afternoon was still formidable; we anxiously fidgeted in line for our turn to order. The Californian skater ambiance didn't help with our perception of its efficiency either.

But 'lo, we got to the Subway-fresh-style counter, and ordered to our stomach's content (soon to be our stomach contents). It was hard to not pick everything on the menu considering how much both of us love Mexican, how there was a variety of other interesting things ordered before us to entice us, and how our hunger had multiplied in waiting.

We settled on tacos, and were happy with our choices. We had crispy carne asada, crispy al pastor, soft corn Baja and soft corn beer battered fish taco. All were near impossible to eat with any shred of dignity, and they were tasty enough to justify getting taco all over your face and shirt (whatever was lost to my shirt, I wistfully mourned).

The crispy tacos were best, and surprisingly manageable even though they don't hold their structure after one bite. Everything was freshly put together, and we were surprised to see the for the Baja it was fresh fish grilled before our eyes. The fish was dense and meaty, but both of us preferred the beer battered version since the grilled was a bit too fishy for our liking.

Looks like Chronic Taco's success has led them to open up a new shop in kits, and I heard one on Granville was in the works as well. For this location, competition is coming soon at a block down on Cambie and Broadway, where La Taqueria is slated to open soon. I could still remember how difficult it was to get a decent taco anywhere in Vancouver, and it's very promising with the advent of more Mexican food in town that's actually affordable (I like Las Margaritas and Cobra, but I'm not about to eat there everyday because $$, y'know). This is so exciting!

Friggin' Foodcarts

2011-05-27T15:52:00.000-07:00

Spied yesterday on Scout Magazine: the Grillenium Falcon, a foodtruck that just opened up in Arkansas.

Hot dang! That makes me think of being in Portland for the first time ever this past long weekend, which is a city famous for the ubiquity of an explosive plethora of foodcarts. A conversation cropped up between me and my travel buddy about the predominance of foodcarts over a fledgling beginner city like ours: why can't we have weird, awesome things in Vancouver?

Credit: flickr user drburtoni

If you've ever been to Portland (or watched Portlandia, which is the essence of Portland irony condensed into collections of skits) you would have seen KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD downtown. And that's what foodcarts are: they're weird. Portland is populated with spatters of these colorful, entrepreneurial microcosms, and it slowly dawned on me as I wandered around the city I would not even have a chance to sample even half of the choices that would cover one city block.

Beside the archaic and overly bureaucratic city policies that formerly allowed foodstands to serve hot dogs and really not much else, there seems to be a marked difference between the acceptability of eating food on the street over there and over here. Without even mentioning the permittance of weather, food culture seems to revolve around the restaurant and going-out experience in Vancouver. People who like eating out in Vancouver always make a thing out of it; in contrast, hanging around the street, sitting on the sidewalk and eating food that has the potential to get all over your shirt is somewhat less appealing.

But you know what? This city is way too vanilla. Mayor Gregor Robertson knows what's the deal. Even in a bid to expand the foodcart industry and push these crafty little kitchens onto the streets of Vancouver, he cites Portland as an inspiration in policy to seed their future expansion in Vancouver.

Why are our streets so empty sometimes? Where does everyone go? Foodcarts are a very different and unique way of exploring the use of public space in a city. Let's hope that we can maybe get Vancouver even a third as weird, because not only would that be thrilling, it would really nudge Vancouver into becoming a truly cosmpolitan city, instead of the world-reknowned big town it actually feels like sometimes.

Sakura afternoon tea

2011-05-07T23:09:00.000-07:00

What month is it now? I'm actually not entirely sure I'm perceiving time passing anymore. I've been a bit MIA of late for a number of things, not just writing, and I've really been hermiting pretty badly. My mysterious absence of late is due to being swallowed up by dense fog of work (business-y business, what? Yes, day jobs are good for... y'know... money.), and then washed away by pools of neverending Vancouver-signature rain. Oh good ol' Vancouver rain, you make my life so soggy and so grey. Inspiration is lost and diluted by that horizon of gloom.

Something blah blah brings April showers, that's how the saying goes... right? Well whatever the proverb, retroactively looking back on the month of April there were bursts of blossoms beaming at us from every corner. I love the cherry blossoms winking at me and sashaying gently back and forth on nimble branches. It looks like poetry and feels every bit like spring. It makes my heart flutter and float like the petals that slowly peel away and lightly land all over the ground. And unfortunately for the first time in my life, spring also makes my eyes and nose feel like the fiery pits of itchy hell. Hardly poetic when you have to keep blowing your nose. But unrelentless and misdirected anger aside, the beauty of the blossoms still excites me.

There are a number of events that celebrate the cherry blossom explosion every year and one of which is the Sakura Afternoon Tea at the Urban Tea Merchant.

Origami bloom / Pink, delicately folded / Pretty like haiku.

Afternoon tea does not equal high tea, but that doesn't mean it can't also be snooty and a great time for you to sip your tea with your pinky sticking out. People are certainly dressed well for afternoon tea at the Urban Tea Merchant, which can be completely embodied by the word lovely. Yes, it was absolutely lovely. Use London accent for emphasis.

We were well tended to; from milling about in the store waiting for the last in our party to arrive and being offered macarons to pass the time (why, I never! Of course I will love a macaron, imported straight from Paris! How lovely! Oh sorry, I'm gushing.), to the unbearably patient explanation to all our incessant questions about the million types of tea that existed on the menu (how is that possible?), our service was attentive, if not particularly speedy. But you know, it's a sunny Saturday afternoon, and we were there to look good and drink tea.

In case you arrived to tea with any heathen lingering tastes foreign to your normally virgin tastebuds, you can be sure to exorcize them with a frosty strawberry palate cleanser. Only then can you truly begin to worship your hot leaf water and little bites.

Since I am the most boring and unimaginative person alive, I picked a variant of Earl Grey. I was pleased to see it arrive in the most futuro-retro of cups, as if it vindicated my very unrebellious choice.

We decided to get three sets of afternoon tea amongst five people and it was a very generous spread. The above is the Sakura Afternoon Tea which has a Japanese inspiration to the assortment.

The West Coast Afternoon Tea is full of BC style.

Finally, the Signature Afternoon Tea, with finely crafted petits fours, open faced sandwiches, and other sweet and savory delights.

As we nibbled away on dainty bites we were awash with graceful, whispery melodies from a live harp performance in the corner of the room, bathed in sunshine coming in from the windows. In the background, on one wall was an installation of a hierarchy of teapots pouring from one on the top down to another below and to another below. The tea room was not large, but the small details enhanced the entire experience.

All in all, what made me the happiest were the magnificent and well groomed cherry blossom trees in the garden behind the restaurant. The whole afternoon tea experience was as calmly organized as a zen garden, and was almost meditative in its presentation. It wasn't simply satisfying for epicurean enjoyment, but for aesthetic appeal too. So while the delicious sandwiches and nutty macarons have long since been digested, the blossoms and the sunny afternoon are always there for me to be relished in memory.

Twisted Fork Bistro

2011-04-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

I'm what you call a pretty busy person, or at least have the semblance of one. If I didn't have anything better to do, I'd probably have a more well-tended food blog. Or not.

But you know, my to-do list is really long. And on that to-do list is a neverending turnover of restaurant after restaurant. In this city, even supposed giants fall one day. I was so surprised to hear a while back that Lumière was closing down (and subsequently did). Looks like I'd better get to my wishlist quick!

Oh, and I did try. I had heard a lot about Twisted Fork Bistro from all corners already, and it's all positive. Brunch is my favorite meal, and I make it my duty to explore as many different brunch places as possible; it's not nearly as ubiquitous as I've always thought it to be.

Twisted Fork isn't a place that's hard for me to get to; on weekend mornings I have the option of walking over to try my luck. Try my luck I did, not once, not twice, but three times. The first time it was a hurried "hey, let's do this!" spontaneity that led us with hungry bellies to Twisted Fork, only to be left aghast at how long the lineup in front of us already was. Our heads droopy and our tummies still hungry, we Charlie Browned our way out of there, only to show up a second time defeated in pretty much the same way.

Friends who were veterans of the T-Fork (by which I mean people who have been at least once, which was at that time more than me) had suggested we should go bright and early, right when it opens. Then we can't possibly fail! Right?

So we got to the door, just a hair shy of 10:30am on a Saturday, and the entire place was already seated. I hate all you savvy people who got there 5 minutes before us.

As I shook my fists angrily, we slunk away to Blenz to wait out our ultimate goal. By the time we came back around 11, we waited another fifteen or so minutes as a table was finally cleared and we earned our thrones at the castle of brunchy foodstuffs.

Oh kingdom of tasty things (presumedly), I will conquer you.

A very classic eggs benny for B.

An omelette for S.

And for me, gruyère baked eggs.

All the plates were escorted by pillowy sourdough toast, which seems to be a very T-Fork thing. I enjoyed it a lot, but I'm not sure I really needed half a loaf on my plate.

The gruyère baked eggs looked rather unassuming, but baked into a slightly crisp top, breaking into moist and fluffy eggs strewn with expertly melted cheese, the only complaint I had was that it was too hot to eat at the rate I was intent on scarfing it down at. I could not stuff my face nearly fast enough after the longest brunch blue balls of my life.

You're probably not going to believe me if I said I didn't have astronomical expectations of this place, because I swear I didn't! Alas, the rest of the plate was disappointing, especially the rosti. It tasted exactly like the time I made rosti at home... and failed miserably. It just wasn't any good. It was grey, and had a mushy starchiness to it that I felt was the antithesis of what a potato pancake should ever be. Don't you tell me this is a matter of "preference". That's bullshit. There is a singular truth to potato pancakes, and this rosti does not abide.

All in all, I ate until I clutched my stomach in helplessness. It was a rewarding brunch, given all the build-up to this moment. Let me tell you, sticking to my guns and making sure that I had that brunch was a good decision. Not wearing pants/tight clothing around the waist was also a good decision.

Thank you, Chowhound

2011-03-27T14:48:00.000-07:00

... for yet another detailed explanation of a burning question I've had on my mind for a while.

What is the difference between heavy cream vs. whipping cream?

According to one poster from Canada:

It depends on where you live. Here in Canada, heavy cream does not exist in supermarkets. I use whipping cream (35%) when heavy cream is called for. Heavy cream would have a slightly higher butterfat content than whipping cream.
Although there are no additives in our whipping cream, one must read the carton carefully to ensure that it's not UHT (ultra-pasteurized). The organic brands are the best bet when looking for pure, unadulterated, cream.

The best part of this thread is the link to this gem: a chart of milk products and production relationships. Whee-hee! Some serious food nerdery here!

Chiffon Patisserie

2011-03-25T09:30:00.000-07:00

Ohhhh no. Oh no. I'm in trouble. As if it weren't enough that I seem to be in the terrible grips of my sudden onset of pastry madness, I have stumbled upon a sugary fix just mere steps away from my office. This isn't good, you guys.

I say stumbled upon, but Chiffon Patisserie has just recently been open for a year (they celebrated their one year anniversary on Wednesday, with balloons and everything). I've stepped in a couple of times looking for lunch but never lingered around too long. I finally went in a while ago and decided to linger a little, to stake out the good ol' neighborhood cafe. I didn't really have a favorite to speak of anyway, so it's high time I scoped it out!

It's brightly lit, well spaced, and has cheesy walls.

Like any other cafe in a two block radius, they've got your typical offering of baked goods and lunch items. Upon closer inspection, the baked goods aren't wrinkly and crusty; they are switched up and what appears to be baked fresh daily. I've been in a few times and have been drawn in by them.

But really, the cakes and pastries in the next display case were magnetizing. Hypnotizing. Salivatizing!

Ooooh.

Ahhh!

Mmm...

Hmm.. interesting! Purple yam bar? Baby, you're coming with me.

So I ended up getting the coconut purple yam bar, nibbling on it during work, wondering to myself how it was so good. Slightly sweet purple yam filling, sandwiched by a soft crumble layer on the bottom, and a coconut pudding layer above, all topped with a little bit of fresh cream and toasted shredded coconut. How divine! How sublime! The portion size was quite generous, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

So I went back the next day. Yeah, really.

And picked up this gargantuan serving of croissant pudding.

This thing was monstrous, and was one of two pudding choices: chocolate + strawberry + banana, or blueberry+coconut. I picked the latter. Oh my goodness, so yummy, and so massive. That was my dinner that day, and some more.

And then I went back again another day. Yes, I'm nuts. I'm also a fan. I also really have to figure out a way how to wean myself off of the goodies until my waistline can breathe again.

You can follow their Twitter or Facebook if you're into that kind of thing.