"I Want to Send Your More Jerky!"

"I Want to Send Your More Jerky!" The subject line in my inbox caught my eye. Surprisingly, it didn't go straight to spam with a subject title like that. But no, this wasn't an advertisement for fake Rolexes or male enhancement pills, Jerky.com was launching a new product and wanted to send me a sample.

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I had previously received dried pineapple jerky from Jerky.com before, but didn't have a chance to try the beef jerky or their turkey jerky products. Actually, the Exotic Jerky Pack caught my eye in my first encounter with the website. I'm always a fan of game; buffalo, venison, ostrich, and alligator certainly fit the bill.

This time, Jerky.com offered to send me their new sweet and spicy orange and mango jerkies pictured above. I opened the bag and was hit by a wave of comforting meaty aroma (Is it bad to indulge in the smell of dried meat?). I preferred the orange flavor to the mango. The orange was much more subtle, with just a lingering citrus complement. It hit the beefy craving that manifested with that first whiff from the bag. The mango jerky had a much stronger spicy kick and was fruitier in composition. Fruity certainly, but I wasn't getting mango. If there was mango flavor, it was blocked out by the spice and the beef.


Mango on the left, orange on the right

I glanced at the ingredients list for the jerky and found some familiar items--beef, soy sauce, mirin, balsamic vinegar, wocestershire sauce, molasses, anchovy puree, liquid smoke, and orange and mango respectively. Since the brand touts its premium ingredients I wanted to check myself for anything extremely foreign. No glaring science experiment preservatives, which is a good sign when you're looking at something that should be naturally preserved.

Check out the site! Looks like they even have free shipping. And with a domain name like that, you can bet they know what they're doing.

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Philly Cheesesteak Showdown: Geno's Steaks vs. Pat's King of Steaks

(photo credit: Craig)

What better way to celebrate the birthdays of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln than with a cheesesteak taste comparison? Last weekend, I traveled by bus to a very unsunny Philadelphia for the authentic experience.

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Pat's and Geno's have been cross-street rivals since the 60s. I'm sure there are loyal fans on either side of the match-up, but to a tourist in Philly, they appear equally well-patronized. Luckily, the lines move fast. Geno's looks like the Las Vegas version of a cheesesteak purveyor. Apparently, all the neon signs light up at night, drawing both hungry Philadelphians and moths alike. I could do without the glare and glamor, but it doesn't detract too much from the restaurant. What is more of a detractor though, is the severely xenophobic atmosphere. Under the guide of patriotism, the sign in the window says, "This is America, When Ordering Speak English." Four years after Congress renamed its cafeteria sides, Geno's still serves "Freedom Fries."

Pat's on the other hand, has a much more understated confidence in its exterior. The Pepsi sponsored signs are a bit of an eyesore, especially when the PEPSI logo is almost as large as "Pat's Steaks." I got the sense the Pat's was resting on its laurels as the birthplace of the Philly steak sandwich. A sign displayed in the rear warned me not to "eat a misteak." Both eateries consisted entirely of outdoor seating, though the kitchens looked more than ample for what they served. Both places had two ordering windows, one for sandwiches and one for drinks and sides. Both had the aggressive ordering style. Make sure you know how to order and have cash in hand by the time you get up to the window. Name the cheese (whiz is more "authentic", provolone, American) and either "wit" onions or "wit-out." In this expedited method, a Cheese Whiz steak sandwich can be procured with no more than two words--"whiz wit."

Pat's claim to fame is that the original founders, Pat and Henry Olivieri, were credited with inventing the steak sandwich. According to Pat's, the brothers ran a modest hot dog stand near the present location since 1930. One day, they procured some chopped steak from the nearby Italian Market and fried it on the hot dog grill with some onions. Placed a top an Amoroso bread roll, the Philly steak sandwich was born. The history of the cheese becomes much foggier. Even the Pat's website is unclear, "As the years passed, both employees and customers alike demanded change...cheese was added." Nonetheless, the most common cheesesteak is topped with Cheese Whiz, though Geno's might actually prefer sharp provolone.


Pat's Contender

Geno's Contestant

Now for the taste test. It had to be the same sandwich of course, so I opted for the standard "whiz wit" from both restaurants. Same bread, same slather of yellow mess, onions all the same, the sandwiches are fairly indistinguishable. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I detected a hint of peppers in the Pat's sandwich that was absent from Geno's. But the real distinction lay in the steak. Pat's, following tradition, chops its steak, while Geno's serves it sliced. This seemingly minor difference actually might have been the crucial factor. The Pat's steak was simply...dry. Sigh, an overcooked steak destroys the sandwich no matter how much cheese product is deposited on top. The taste test victory goes to Geno's.

A note on the prejudiced signs at Geno's. While this type of behavior does disturb me, I didn't experience any overt discrimination that would be enough to deter me from ordering a sandwich. I won't go as far to boycott the place for their close-minded viewpoint, but it certainly is a negative point in Geno's column. Still doesn't beat a good cheesesteak though.

While the sandwiches are good, I'd argue that neither Pat's nor Geno's is unique to Philly. There are plenty of places outside of the city that serve excellent sandwiches. They might not be authentic, and I'm sure I'll have dissenters, but these places can go toe-to-toe with homegrown talent. For one, Jersey Mike's makes delicious cheesesteaks that are much more accessible. Oh, and if you're in the neighborhood and not feeling like cheesesteaks (though I can't imagine why) there's a banh mi shop right next door to Pat's.

	Pat's	Geno's
Year Opened	1930*	1966
Steak	Chopped	Sliced
Cost of Cheesesteak	$7.50	$8.25
Website	patskingofsteaks.com	genosteaks.com

They are literally across the street from one another at E. Passyunk Avenue and S. 9th Street.

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Amy Ruth's: My Secret Truth about Chicken and Waffles

Having been to Sylvia's back in 2008, I was determined to try Amy Ruth's to compare the two. Javier, aka Teenage/Glutster, was in town and tired of being told to try the ramen. Instead, we met up in Harlem for some Southern cooking.

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Soul food, a term typically describing cuisine associated with African Americans, developed in the 1960s. Much of its origins has roots in slave cooking, a combination of African techniques and ingredients and traditional throwaway foods of Southern plantations. As a result, much of the ingredients are untraditional and cheap, such as lard, chitterlings, pig's feet, collards, kale, and other offal. Since the food at the time needed to be calorically dense to sustain hard labor, soul food is commonly high in fat and sugar. This has led to some modern revision of traditional recipes with leaner meats and unsaturated oils. Personally, I'd rather keep the fatty hog jowls and lard and just cut back on the frequency of my soul food ventures.

When I glanced at the Amy Ruth's menu, I realized my embarrassing secret. Having lived in LA for five years, I had never gone to Roscoe's for chicken and waffles. I couldn't take it. For years I've had waffles and chicken, but never together. Even when the dining hall had instituted chicken and waffle night, I avoided the two combined. It seemed unnatural to me to combine them. I always had a natural aversion to eating breakfast foods outside of breakfast time, and I'd never eat fried chicken in the morning. To me, chicken and waffles would be like a tiger and lion fight. It would be interesting to see, but it would never happen because of the different habitats. Well here, at Amy Ruth's, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to make a stand here and get the fried chicken atop a crispy waffle.



We started with cornbread that would've been leaps better if it had been fresh or recently reheated. It's tough for me to eat cornbread before a big meal though. I like my cornbread with a tab of butter and a drizzle of honey. While great as a snack, the sweetness would deter my appetite. The cornbread at Amy Ruth's was good, but nothing special.

Javier was a tad more adventurous than me on the entree front. We shared his salmon croquettes with a side of steamed okra and collared greens. The croquette surprised me. I was expecting more of a crab cake, but got something more like a chicken nugget instead. Steamed okra, as you can imagine, was gooey and lacked much texture beyond slimy. I would've preferred it fried. The collards though, they were amazing. Stewed in what must have been smoked or salted meats broth, they carried a deep meaty flavor. If parents can't get their kids to eat their greens, just make them taste like green fatback.



My plate came out. Here was the moment. But what was I supposed to do, pour the syrup on the chicken too? Luckily Javier saw the confused look on my face and told me to pour a little syrup on the chicken and try it first. I took cut off a piece of the fried chicken thigh. Nicely fried, not too heavy that you taste the grease, but still flavorful. But it was the moment I put the forkful of waffle into my mouth that I knew what Amy Ruth's was famous for. Their waffles was delicious, simply the best waffles I've ever had. As Javier described, you could taste the intricacies of the batter and the cratered syrup made me smile with satisfaction. I had way too much to eat for lunch. A side of coleslaw pushed me over the edge. If I came back, I'd stick to the waffles in hopes of living a little longer by avoiding the fried chicken.

Amy Ruth's
amyruthsharlem.com
113 W. 116th St. (cross: Lennox)
Harlem, NY 10026
(212) 280-8779
The Rev. Al Sharpton (Chicken and waffles) $9.75

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Le Bernardin avec Eric

There is something refined and high-end about seafood that can't be matched in fine dining. Even fancy steakhouses like CUT lack a sort of sophistication that comes with fish. Meat is best at its most primal, earthy and bold; while fish is best at its simplest and freshest, the delicate cooking techniques associated with aquatic critters requires a gentler touch. So when I want a truly elevated dining experience, I still look to seafood to fill that desire. In Los Angeles, that gap was filled by Michael Cimarusti at Providence, in New York, the honor goes to Eric Ripert and Le Bernardin.

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I was excited. This was the first time in months that I had treated myself to an expensive dinner. Settling back into a student budget has been a real burden, especially with a whole new city of eats to indulge in. When my friend Danny, aka KungFoodPanda, told me that I had to join him for at least one fancy dinner, I picked Le Bernardin out of Eleven Madison Park and Per Se. Sorry Chef Humm and Keller, my stomach and my wallet would go to Chef Ripert this time. Entering the restaurant, I was somewhat surprised at the size of the dining room. As usually the case, I somehow conflated quality with size in my head and imagined an immense dining room covering multiple floors and dozens of tables. But no, the main dining room, while large for a Manhattan restaurant, wasn't particularly spacious. It certainly felt comfortable though, with soft lighting against the wood paneling and scenes of tranquil fishermen along the walls.


Amuse Bouche
Crab and lobster salad with cauliflower soup

Danny and I sat down and decided to split both the regular tasting menu ($138) and the Chef's tasting menu ($185) for a total of fifteen courses between the two of us. The waiter brought out the amuse, a seemingly simple crab and lobster salad. I expected a cold dish, something refreshing to prepare the palate, but the waiter poured the cauliflower soup which swirled around the seafood and warmed the plate. Bringing the spoon to my face, I was hit be a fragrant aroma of crab. While I expected it to be thick, almost too creamy to imbibe in large quantities, the soup was thin but kept enough weight in flavor.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Tuna - Smoked yellowfin tuna "proscuitto"; Japanese pickled vegetables and crispy kombu

Le Bernardin Menu
Tuna - Layers of thinly pounded yellowfin tuna; foie gras and toasted baguette; shaved chives and extra virgin olive oil

On with the first course. Both menus served a tuna dish, though the preparation was so different they hardly resembled each other but for the ruby flesh of the yellowfin tuna. For clarity, I will label each the menu for each dish, but I will review the courses concurrently to compare and contrast. The smoked tuna had a firm texture, much closer to a medium-rare steak than I expected. The pickled vegetables, takuan, had a contrasting crunch. I preferred the thinly pounded tuna which resembled a large sheet of crudo. It was larger than I expected for a course, but the toasted baguette underneath the center of the fish was a fun discovery as you sliced your way through the tuna. First course goes to the Chef's menu.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Egg-Caviar - Poached pasteurized egg; ostera caviar; Marinere broth and English muffin

The Chef's menu had eight listed courses compared to the Le Bernardin menu with seven. This egg dish was the odd-one-out. Poking into the white of the egg, watching the yoke swirl out into the plate, I was reminded of the quail egg at Torihei in LA. The English muffin toast (not pictured), was more like a toast stick, small and narrow. Dipped into the egg yolk, the combination of the cheesy toast and the egg reminded me of breakfast.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Langoustine - seared langoustine; mâche; wild mushroom salad; shaved foie gras' white balsamic vinaigrette

Le Bernardin Menu
Octopus - Charred octopus; fermented black bean-pear sauce vierge; ink-miso vinaigrette; purple basil

My personal history bias has given me distaste for black bean sauce as memories of my dad serving Chinese canned fried dace with rice for dinner. Instantly, the octopus dish loses this course. But besides the black bean sauce, the octopus was braised and then charred, which gave it an unusual texture more akin to skin than octopus. It wasn't tough at all, tender enough to be cut by a butter knife. The langoustine (a type of Nordic miniature lobster) was one of my favorites of the night. Oh foie gras, how I'd missed you.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Monkfish - Pan-roasted monkfish; hon shimeji mushrooms; turnip-ginger emulsion; sale broth

Le Bernardin Menu
Skate - Nori crusted skate; poached oysters; braised winter lettuce; ponzu vinaigrette

I'm not sure of everyone else's affinity for ray fishes, but skate always creeped me out. I have nothing against monkfish for being ugly, but skate are just too weird for me. The monkfish had a crispy skin full of flavor that stayed with me throughout the dish. While the ginger-sake broth added something in the form of layers, I don't know if it added that much to the fish itself. The skate had an interesting "skin" of nori. I'd say the most interesting component of that dish however, would be the oysters. Small, sweet, the oyster bore pearls of flavor. I noticed there were quite a few Asian components to this course. I loved the shimeji mushrooms on the monkfish, but frankly ponzu is overused (as is yuzu for that matter).


Chef's Tasting Menu
Black Bass - Crispy black bass; braised celery and parsnip custard; iberico ham-green peppercorn sauce

Le Bernardin Menu
Striped Bass - Baked wild striped bass; corn "cannelloni"; light Perigord sauce

The celery-parsnip custard came separately from the black bass. I tried eating it alone. I tried pairing it with the fish. Either way, I didn't see the need for the custard. It resembled more of a parsnip foam than a thick custard. The peppercorn sauce had a velvety texture that started to form a skin two minutes after being poured into the plate. For this course, I preferred the striped bass of the regular menu. While the fish was good, but plain, the corn cannelloni, which resembled a tamale, added some welcome sweetness.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Lobster - Baked lobster on a bed of truffled foie gras stuffing; brandy-red wine sauce

Le Bernardin Menu
Surf and Turf - Escolar and seared Kobe beef; sea bean salad and eggplant fries; Mr. Kaufman's pesto and anchovy sauce

Looking at the descriptions of what I'd called the main course of each menu, it's hard to pick between the two. The surf and turf is separate from the lobster. In fact, the "surf" part is actually a whitefish escolar, commonly mislabeled as butterfish. I didn't care much for the fish, but the Kobe beef was probably the best Kobe I've ever had. This rich butter beef can possibly only be served one small sliver at a time so as not to overwhelm the beef receptors in your mouth. Also, I enjoyed the Japanese eggplant fritters, a style of preparation I've never seen. Now I think I might always have to eat my nasu breaded and fried. The lobster wouldn't go down without a fight though. The description is opulent; three of the fine dining heavy hitters all present: lobster, truffles, and foie. Putting all three elements together however didn't allow any one ingredient to shine. Worse yet, they were all covered by the sauce. Great dish, but not as good as the surf and turf.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Chèvre - Creamy goat cheese spheres; concord grapes; candied walnut; black pepper

Le Bernardin Menu
Mascarpone - Mascarpone cream in a crisp coffee shell; almond-cocoa pain de Gênes

Pearly balls of mochi. That's what the chèvre reminded me of. As a fan of goat cheese, I was looking forward to this pre-dessert course. However, I didn't expect the consistency of the spheres to be so soft. They were chilled, very delicate to the touch. Unlike regular goat cheese, which is often thick and weighs you down, this cheese was almost liquefied. Mascarpone apparently is not really a cheese at all. Instead, it is cultured crème fraîche. You'd probably be most familiar with it as a main component in tiramisu. This dish presented the mascarpone creatively in a tubular sugar shell with three drops of dipping sauce. Of these two pre-desserts, I'd narrowly prefer the chèvre though.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Corn-Praline - Caramelized corn custard; hazelnut praline; brown butter ice cream; popcorn tuile

Le Bernardin Menu
Pear - Cinnamon caramel parfait; liquid pear; smoked sea salt; fromage blanc sorbet

Spherified liquids, a constant in molecular gastronomy, always captures my attention. At Providence it was gin and tonic. Here, Ripert prepared pear juice in a thin skin that burst in your mouth. Combined with the parfait and a dash of the sorbet, this dessert hit the spot. The corn custard and hazelnut praline had good component parts, but nothing that came together to form an experience.


Perhaps my favorite set of mignardises I'd ever had, it could have only been better if there was a macaron or two in there. From left to right, pistachio cherry cookie, chocolate hazelnut cup, lemon beignet, pomegrante gelee on coconut. Smallest beignet I'd ever seen, but when do you need that much beignet unless it's paired with chicory coffee. The chocolate cup had a cold molten center, as if that oxymoron is possible.



We got to walk back to the kitchen and meet Eric Ripert before the meal. He was heading out at the beginning of our reservation, so we were lucky to catch him before he left. I told him I watched his toaster oven videos; he seemed surprised anyone had even heard of them. The staff was friendly and knowledgeable, as you'd expect from restaurants of this caliber. When we asked for a copy of the menu at the conclusion of the meal, they gave us each a complimentary copy of Le Bernardin personalized 2010 Zagat guide. A nice touch, showed that they always had marketing in mind. This was certainly the best meal I've had in New York thus far. I highly recommend the restaurant; and if all the other reviews I've seen are any indication, they consistently keep that quality up.


Chef Ripert, Kungfood Panda, Me

Le Bernardin
155 W. 50th St.
Midtown, 10019
(212) 554-1515
le-bernardin.com


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Old School Brooklyn Pizza: Di Fara

Plastered on the walls of the smoky interior of a little pizza joint in the Midwood neighborhood of Brooklyn are years of praise lavishly bestowed on Domenico DeMarco, proprietor and still principal pizza preparer. Since 1964, DeMarco has stood guard over the gargantuan oven with dough in hand.

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So why is the joint called Di Fara when it has always been DeMarco as the stalwart pizza maven? His original business partner was named Farina, and a portmanteau of their names became the famous Di Fara.



Now most people who pride themselves on NY pizza perspicacity will have much to say about Di Fara, but outside the NY circle, large as it may be, Di Fara has not reached the fame of some of the other pizza places. I theorize that this has nothing to do with the quality of the pizza, but rather on the refusal for DeMarco to scale up his operation. The pizza procuring procedure is Byzantine at best, and arriving with a guide is not a bad idea. After waiting the requisite wait in the line that forms outside the restaurant at all hours, make your way up to the counter and choose from the $5 slices or opt for a ~$30 pie. Someone, likely one of DeMarco's children, will write up your order on a scrap of paper and simply call you when it's ready. The additional wait for the pizza could take quite awhile, but you should make sure you return in time, lest your pizza be presented to another patron.



$5 for a slice of pizza. Expensive, yes, but Di Fara doesn't fail to bring in the crowd. Since I didn't make the trip out to Brooklyn too often, I had a slice of the thin, a slice of the deep-dish, and another thin crust pie. While utterly delicious, the pizza was undeniably oily. And though DeMarco might be making each pie himself, there were issues with consistency. Some crust comes out burnt, some too soft. The ingredients are tossed on capriciously by hand, though I'll admit there might be some sort of strategic topping placement that I didn't perceive. As you can see, the pizza is not much to behold, and from experience, I can tell you that next morning cold Di Fara's isn't nearly as appetizing.

Given the long wait, hassle of ordering, cost, and inconsistency, I can see why Di Fara is often a hit or miss for pizza pilgrims. Still, if you're comparing the best pies in town, you can't leave out Di Fara as a contender.

1424 Ave J
Brooklyn, NY 11230
(718) 258-1367
difara.com

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Niagara Falls: Elements on the Falls Restaurant

For those of you who don't know, I moved out of Los Angeles in June. You can read my farewell Los Angeles entry I posted back shortly after leaving. I took a month long trip through Southeast Asia, which I just recently finished chronicling. Now I am based on New York City, but I went on a quick trip up to Canada before settling down. The above picture is from my visit to Niagara Falls, where I ate at the Elements on the Falls restaurant.

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The restaurant is on the Canada side of Niagara Falls. My family and I drove up through New York to get to the U.S. side. I did in fact go on the Maid of the Mist boat tour that Jim and Pam took on the wedding episode of the office. After getting out of the water, I had lunch with a wonder view overlooking the horseshoe falls.

Elements was the nicer of the dining options at Niagara Falls next to the water. The town itself is a tourist trap, but it's still a thrill to see the waterfall. Food was mediocre, but the view made a pleasant lunch. Also, the large viewing windows allowed some great lighting for the food.


Spinach, artichoke, asiago dip with garlic rosemary flatbread - CAD$12.95


Pasta primavera - CAD$16.25


NY sirloin steak, button mushrooms, fries - CAD$19.95

Even if the food lacked much substance, the presentation was nice. You pay for the view, the falls and the food, and that's worth the money.

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Turkey Leftover Congee Recipe

Wait! Before you throw out that turkey carcass from the Thanksgiving massacre, there's something delicious and detoxifying that you can use. Annually, my mom would take the leftover bones from the roasted turkey and make a Chinese style congee for the morning after Thanksgiving. It's clean, healthy, and best of all, it doesn't weigh you down like the dinner from the night before.

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Since this was the first Thanksgiving I spent away from my family, I had to deal with the turkey leftovers myself. I called my mom, and got a cryptic and rather sparse answer for making turkey congee. That said, I will try to elucidate it as much as possible, but the truth is, there are so many varying factors that need to be considered. Plus the recipe is hard to mess up, and easy to tweak to your preferences.

It all starts with Thanksgiving dinner. In my family, there are always turkey leftovers. Carve out most of the turkey meat leaving the bones and whatever meat is stuck and not worth pulling off. You can either freeze the entire turkey and make the stock in the near future, but our family always makes the congee for the morning after. Put the turkey bones into the biggest pot you can find. This year, the turkey actually protruded out of the pot, but it's no big deal. If you can, fill the pot up with water to the level of the turkey. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer for 1-3 hours depending on the size of your bird body.

I simmered my turkey stock uncovered out of necessity, but I don't think you need a lid anyway. Eventually, the connective tissue broke down and I was able to break up the bones enough for the entire body to go into the stock. I don't give a specific cooking time because it really comes down to taste. You know you're ready when the turkey umami permeates the stock. Don't salt the stock yet though.

Put a few cups of rice into another pot. I used two cups this year which made 2-3 servings. Ladle the stock into the rice pot and bring to a simmer. Making congee is much easier than making rice; when in doubt, just add more water. Just keep in mind what the ultimate consistency should be like, and just cook the rice until it reaches that certain al dente. Chinese congee can range in the degree of viscosity. Just add more stock as the rice soaks up the liquid. I also picked through the bones for bits of meat with a big pair of chopsticks. At this point, everything was falling off the bones. The turkey was finished, completely unrecognizable.

As the rice finishes, you can decide to add more stock if you'd like. But this is the point where you add salt to taste. Spoon the congee into bowl and serve your grateful family. Usually we garnish we some white pepper and eat it simply. After all, this is a detox from Thanksgiving dinner. But this year, my congee was a little Japanese inspired and we garnished with an umeboshi pickled plum, shichimi seven spices and nori sheets of seaweed. Sesame is also an option, but congee is a blank canvas. Add whatever you'd like.

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