Jellied eels? As if they weren't slimy enough?
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/02/25/the-grossest-packaged-foo_n_467656.html#s69218
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Strip Malls and Sea Urchins
Food snobs may frown upon the strip-mall restaurant, but I have found some true culinary gems in such places. Maybe forgoing the high rents and mortgages of more aesthetically pleasing locations enables the strip-mall restaurant owner to pour its money into where it counts—service and food.
Wing Lee bills its fare as “authentic Chinese and Japanese,” and sits off busy Rte. 611 in Horsham, PA—in a strip mall that’s also home to a brick-oven pizza joint and a seafood restaurant, a cigar shop, and an adult video and novelties store. We—my husband and I—were intrigued for two reasons: The aromas emanating from within were heavenly, and there was a line forming—often a good sign that what’s inside is worth the wait.
It was still early on a Saturday evening, so we decided to wait out the line a little, and we strolled the strip mall’s promenade and peered inside a store that sells billiard equipment. Considering the weather and our basement’s propensity for flooding, we pondered whether they had one that floats. A pool table on pontoons, if you will.
By the time we returned to Wing Lee, the line had dissipated, and we were seated at a comfy booth right away. The menu is extensive, offering Chinese dishes showcasing vegetables or your favorite protein. Whole fishes, fried or poached. Hot pots with noodles and vegetables and tiny cuts of meat and seafood simmering in fragrant broth. Sushi, sashimi and tempuras rounded out the Japanese portion of the menu.
I know hardcore foodies would scowl at the thought of blending Chinese and Japanese cuisine in one sitting, but that’s what we did, unable to choose between the two.
We had our water glasses refilled twice in the 15 minutes we waited to order. By then, I wanted a beer. But Wing Lee is a BYOB establishment, and what that strip mall lacks is a State store. We watched, visibly annoyed I’m sure, as others were seated and their orders were taken before ours. There were two waiters and two waitresses on hand that evening, and the manager who was doing what managers should do—being jack-of-all-trades. He seemed to be in a constant state of motion, but didn’t visit our table. It should have been enough to manage the bustling restaurant, but on this night, the staff was having a hard time keeping up.
When our waiter finally came to take our order, we were absolutely ready to offer it. We chose hot tea all around; a cup of hot-and-sour soup for my husband, and miso soup for me. He ordered vegetable spring rolls, and maguro sashimi for the table. When I boldly suggested we try the uni (sea urchin) sashimi, too, he seemed hesitant. But I told him I’d seen an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s show, Anthony on a beach somewhere, and a local had cracked open one of those spiny creatures and served it to Tony raw, on the spot. Bourdain said that it was his favorite thing to eat, that there was nothing better. So my husband bought in, and we added uni sashimi to the order. I went with the classic moo shu pork with pancakes and plum sauce (if a place does a simple dish like this well, it’s a winner with me), and my husband went with the Szechuan Shrimp and Chicken—a house specialty—for his entrée.
Our soups arrived first. My husband was pleased with his hot-and-sour mélange of vegetables and tofu. My white miso soup disappointed, however; it came in a very small cup and was ice cold. I contemplated sending it back for a reheat, but it was such a small serving, it hardly seemed to matter.
The vegetable spring rolls were light and chock full of crunch. I’m not a big fan of spring rolls, for they’re often soggy with grease and bland, but these were not.
When our sashimi arrived, we were a little amused to see that something had been lost in translation. We’d meant for a single order (two pieces each) of tuna and uni. What we got was twice that, and we laughed when the waiter left our side. “I hope we LIKE this uni,” my husband said.
And we did. As you might expect from its sea-spongy appearance, uni is light and airy. That’s important to me. I’m not a fan of “dense, chewy, rubbery.”
It was reminiscent of a mussel or clam in flavor, but with buttery melt-in-your-mouth texture. Like a tender fois gras or one of those chicken livers my mother used to make me eat after she’d cooked them to death in chicken stock. The flavor was as Bourdain had described to me—it captured the briny essence of the ocean.
The maguro was flavorful, but was cut in rather large pieces—four of them. I prefer sashimi in more bite-sized proportions. My husband would argue otherwise, but I don’t have a big mouth. Also, the color had faded. I like it when tuna is blood-red and unmistakenly fresh.
Again time passed as we awaited our entrees. By then, the soup and the sashimi had filled our stomachs, and we hardly wanted our main courses. When they arrived, the waiter commented about the uni, and said, “Not many people like the uni. No one orders it.” We told him we enjoyed it very much, but when I reflected back on that conversation, I wondered how fresh it could have been, if it wasn’t necessarily an in-demand item for the Horsham clientele. No worries, though. That uni did not come back to haunt me.
My moo shu pork was okay. Not stellar. Not bad. It was a huge portion—enough for a small bit that evening and leftovers the next day. My only constructive criticism would be to prep the pork, cutting it in smaller pieces. Again, I don’t have a huge mouth. The pieces were cumbersome, required cut, and weren’t very tender.
My husband entrée was spectacular. The portion was generous, and there was no skimping on the large shrimp and thin, tender strips of chicken simmering in a mildly spicy chili and red-wine sauce. It was the perfect melding of tangy of spicy, and we agreed that it was the best dish of the night.
If we’re grading on flavor, I’d give the meal a solid B+, the uni surprise and the house specialty really saving it from ho-humdome. But it was marred by the wait—to order, for our sashimi, for the entrees. We’re more patient than most patrons, I’d imagine. We don’t mind sitting and enjoying one another’s company and conversation. Dining out should be an event.
But even with our patient disposition, our nerves began to wear here, and we credited the delays with the server’s need to offer a “show.” They were weighed down by serving carts that they had to maneuver around the tables, stopped to serve the dishes personally—drizzling hot oils and sauces on steaming hot pots and griddles; showing patrons how to de-bone fish. My waiter even wanted to roll my moo shu pancakes for me. I told him, “No, thanks,” and he seemed put off by that. I didn’t mean any disrespect, but I was capable of doing it myself, and he had more important matters to tend to, like serving other customers and keeping our teapot filled.
Maybe this particular Saturday was an off night? I’d be willing to try it again; I’m always inclined to give a place like this the benefit of the doubt when I’m intrigued by the food. And it was reasonably priced, just like a strip-mall restaurant should be.
Wing Lee
537 Easton Road (Rte. 611)
Horsham Plaza, PA 19044
Monday-Saturday: 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.
Sunday: Noon to 9:30 p.m.
(215) 442-1688
http://www.wingleecuisine.com/
Wing Lee bills its fare as “authentic Chinese and Japanese,” and sits off busy Rte. 611 in Horsham, PA—in a strip mall that’s also home to a brick-oven pizza joint and a seafood restaurant, a cigar shop, and an adult video and novelties store. We—my husband and I—were intrigued for two reasons: The aromas emanating from within were heavenly, and there was a line forming—often a good sign that what’s inside is worth the wait.
It was still early on a Saturday evening, so we decided to wait out the line a little, and we strolled the strip mall’s promenade and peered inside a store that sells billiard equipment. Considering the weather and our basement’s propensity for flooding, we pondered whether they had one that floats. A pool table on pontoons, if you will.
By the time we returned to Wing Lee, the line had dissipated, and we were seated at a comfy booth right away. The menu is extensive, offering Chinese dishes showcasing vegetables or your favorite protein. Whole fishes, fried or poached. Hot pots with noodles and vegetables and tiny cuts of meat and seafood simmering in fragrant broth. Sushi, sashimi and tempuras rounded out the Japanese portion of the menu.
I know hardcore foodies would scowl at the thought of blending Chinese and Japanese cuisine in one sitting, but that’s what we did, unable to choose between the two.
We had our water glasses refilled twice in the 15 minutes we waited to order. By then, I wanted a beer. But Wing Lee is a BYOB establishment, and what that strip mall lacks is a State store. We watched, visibly annoyed I’m sure, as others were seated and their orders were taken before ours. There were two waiters and two waitresses on hand that evening, and the manager who was doing what managers should do—being jack-of-all-trades. He seemed to be in a constant state of motion, but didn’t visit our table. It should have been enough to manage the bustling restaurant, but on this night, the staff was having a hard time keeping up.
When our waiter finally came to take our order, we were absolutely ready to offer it. We chose hot tea all around; a cup of hot-and-sour soup for my husband, and miso soup for me. He ordered vegetable spring rolls, and maguro sashimi for the table. When I boldly suggested we try the uni (sea urchin) sashimi, too, he seemed hesitant. But I told him I’d seen an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s show, Anthony on a beach somewhere, and a local had cracked open one of those spiny creatures and served it to Tony raw, on the spot. Bourdain said that it was his favorite thing to eat, that there was nothing better. So my husband bought in, and we added uni sashimi to the order. I went with the classic moo shu pork with pancakes and plum sauce (if a place does a simple dish like this well, it’s a winner with me), and my husband went with the Szechuan Shrimp and Chicken—a house specialty—for his entrée.
Our soups arrived first. My husband was pleased with his hot-and-sour mélange of vegetables and tofu. My white miso soup disappointed, however; it came in a very small cup and was ice cold. I contemplated sending it back for a reheat, but it was such a small serving, it hardly seemed to matter.
The vegetable spring rolls were light and chock full of crunch. I’m not a big fan of spring rolls, for they’re often soggy with grease and bland, but these were not.
When our sashimi arrived, we were a little amused to see that something had been lost in translation. We’d meant for a single order (two pieces each) of tuna and uni. What we got was twice that, and we laughed when the waiter left our side. “I hope we LIKE this uni,” my husband said.
And we did. As you might expect from its sea-spongy appearance, uni is light and airy. That’s important to me. I’m not a fan of “dense, chewy, rubbery.”
It was reminiscent of a mussel or clam in flavor, but with buttery melt-in-your-mouth texture. Like a tender fois gras or one of those chicken livers my mother used to make me eat after she’d cooked them to death in chicken stock. The flavor was as Bourdain had described to me—it captured the briny essence of the ocean.
The maguro was flavorful, but was cut in rather large pieces—four of them. I prefer sashimi in more bite-sized proportions. My husband would argue otherwise, but I don’t have a big mouth. Also, the color had faded. I like it when tuna is blood-red and unmistakenly fresh.
Again time passed as we awaited our entrees. By then, the soup and the sashimi had filled our stomachs, and we hardly wanted our main courses. When they arrived, the waiter commented about the uni, and said, “Not many people like the uni. No one orders it.” We told him we enjoyed it very much, but when I reflected back on that conversation, I wondered how fresh it could have been, if it wasn’t necessarily an in-demand item for the Horsham clientele. No worries, though. That uni did not come back to haunt me.
My moo shu pork was okay. Not stellar. Not bad. It was a huge portion—enough for a small bit that evening and leftovers the next day. My only constructive criticism would be to prep the pork, cutting it in smaller pieces. Again, I don’t have a huge mouth. The pieces were cumbersome, required cut, and weren’t very tender.
My husband entrée was spectacular. The portion was generous, and there was no skimping on the large shrimp and thin, tender strips of chicken simmering in a mildly spicy chili and red-wine sauce. It was the perfect melding of tangy of spicy, and we agreed that it was the best dish of the night.
If we’re grading on flavor, I’d give the meal a solid B+, the uni surprise and the house specialty really saving it from ho-humdome. But it was marred by the wait—to order, for our sashimi, for the entrees. We’re more patient than most patrons, I’d imagine. We don’t mind sitting and enjoying one another’s company and conversation. Dining out should be an event.
But even with our patient disposition, our nerves began to wear here, and we credited the delays with the server’s need to offer a “show.” They were weighed down by serving carts that they had to maneuver around the tables, stopped to serve the dishes personally—drizzling hot oils and sauces on steaming hot pots and griddles; showing patrons how to de-bone fish. My waiter even wanted to roll my moo shu pancakes for me. I told him, “No, thanks,” and he seemed put off by that. I didn’t mean any disrespect, but I was capable of doing it myself, and he had more important matters to tend to, like serving other customers and keeping our teapot filled.
Maybe this particular Saturday was an off night? I’d be willing to try it again; I’m always inclined to give a place like this the benefit of the doubt when I’m intrigued by the food. And it was reasonably priced, just like a strip-mall restaurant should be.
Wing Lee
537 Easton Road (Rte. 611)
Horsham Plaza, PA 19044
Monday-Saturday: 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.
Sunday: Noon to 9:30 p.m.
(215) 442-1688
http://www.wingleecuisine.com/
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Vietnamese Pho
There’s nothing better than a hot mug of soup on a bitterly cold day. Here in the mid-Atlantic, we’ve had our share of those lately. On one such day, I broke out my stock pot and made Vietnamese Pho. You can find plenty of recipes online for this classic one-bowl meal, but through trial and error over the years, I’ve come to rely on a few essential Asian ingredients and tend to alter it from there, depending on what add-ons I may have in the refrigerator at the time. With pho, it’s all about the broth. Start with a good stock, and you can’t go wrong.--GAP
Ingredients
1 lb. (approx) of your favorite meat (chicken, pork, beef)—for this recipe I chose beef spareribs from our local Asian market
2 cartons of organic chicken stock (about 7 cups worth)
½ package of ultra-thin Japanese noodles (can substitute healthier whole-wheat angel-hair pasta, but use only a third of the box)
½ cup soy sauce (low-sodium preferred)
2 tablespoons of vegetable oil
4 tablespoons of freshly grated ginger
2 heaping tablespoons of red chili paste (more if you like it extra spicy)
1 tablespoon sesame oil
3 cloves of garlic, diced
¼ cup of organic granulated sugar
1 large red onion, diced
3 julienned carrots
1 cucumber, sliced
1 large bunch of cilantro (de-stemmed)
1 bunch of scallions, chopped
3 limes
Preparation
Coat bottom of stock pot with vegetable oil, bring up to temperature over medium-high heat; add meat and cook until browned.
In large bowl, mix together approximately six cups of the chicken stock with the soy sauce, ginger, chili paste, sesame oil, garlic and sugar. Once meat is browned, pour this mixture over it and allow it to simmer on medium-low heat until meat is tender (nearly falling off the bone, if you’ve chosen bone-in cuts). Depending on thickness and cut, this could take as little as a half hour, or as long as two hours.
Skim off any fat that rises to the top, and add water or a little more chicken stock if it seems that it has reduced down too much. Bring back up to a slow boil and add the diced red onion and carrots, allowing them to cook until al dente (you want a little texture and crunch). This takes just a few minutes
Once the freshly added veggies have been cooked through a bit, drop in a handful of the Japanese noodles and boil on high for three minutes. Remove from heat.
Ladle soup into bowls and garnish with the freshly chopped green scallions, cilantro, cucumber slices, and the juice from ¼ of a fresh lime. The cucumber will quell the spice a bit and adds nice texture.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Get it while it's ... room temperature.
I'd heard there was a global oversupply of red wine. Great news for consumers!
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/17/dining/17napa.html?th&emc=th
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/17/dining/17napa.html?th&emc=th
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