tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43767751869648769022024-03-17T20:04:08.383-07:00Full Noodle FrontityAll the noodles you can shake a chopstick at.Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-25154918216615538472023-01-16T21:01:00.002-08:002023-01-16T21:54:09.118-08:00Mighty Joyoung to the Rescue II: Out of the Box and Into the Bowl<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ktRQaHIdO-slA3wYSsQfS0pfQFplbs7cb4E-W7SdJEksIMPYfPueTzABs53auk6KX5YJtbMA_0Y8t30d8UBlQhtnDqHDDkZrcsVV_lpf2J7fXcmpEk8EGbgg8Q0lNf1XwNkC3F8fX8QeOhjj3iznwAmTb5dNahw5vstT4uM5ieNPFU6kfY1B5C5v/s636/firstnoods.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="636" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ktRQaHIdO-slA3wYSsQfS0pfQFplbs7cb4E-W7SdJEksIMPYfPueTzABs53auk6KX5YJtbMA_0Y8t30d8UBlQhtnDqHDDkZrcsVV_lpf2J7fXcmpEk8EGbgg8Q0lNf1XwNkC3F8fX8QeOhjj3iznwAmTb5dNahw5vstT4uM5ieNPFU6kfY1B5C5v/w400-h320/firstnoods.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Lion's Head" Meatballs by Ju Ju</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><h1 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h1><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3eDuQG1MXee5sF-jTWMg8oljPYzU7rbY8Rdjok17gu8BE6Mlk_ibxoVSqJtKosSJi6Hvuf8iWlXtyuG1btmwJhL5YhQQDAsn6yJz8o36gnSUnPsNqryKA-kmnn42vX8HODwp_bID35aTaZ7jro3alEFK1lBMbUzhJRULxarKAHKAWJlKuPCKu9eNj/s572/deconstruct.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="540" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3eDuQG1MXee5sF-jTWMg8oljPYzU7rbY8Rdjok17gu8BE6Mlk_ibxoVSqJtKosSJi6Hvuf8iWlXtyuG1btmwJhL5YhQQDAsn6yJz8o36gnSUnPsNqryKA-kmnn42vX8HODwp_bID35aTaZ7jro3alEFK1lBMbUzhJRULxarKAHKAWJlKuPCKu9eNj/w189-h200/deconstruct.jpg" width="189" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>"But it's made in China,"</i> </b>said my Chef-partner Ju Ju (who also was made in China) when we unboxed "her" pricey Christmas present.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Where else," I retorted, "would you look for a 'military grade' Chinese noodlemaker but China?" Joyoung (Chinese name 九阳, more correctly transliterated as "Jiu Yang") is a dominant brand in home noodle makers, rice cookers, soy milk makers (including a $400 model), instant cookers, etc. throughout Asia. As I mentioned previously, I am lazy, and its main attraction to me was the degree of automation: water in one container, flour in another, push a few buttons and <i>voila! </i>noodles to eat. About the only thing that isn't automated is the cutting of the noodles. Have your kitchen shears nearby so you can snip the noodles at desired length as they come out of the extruder or you may end up with 10' long noodles (which might be appropriate for my next birthday). Easy to clean? I'm not sure if the brochure claims it is (they usually do), but I leave that to my partner, who doesn't trust my degree of fastidiousness. Mind you, you can't avoid some sticky dough clinging to various parts as you disassemble the business end of the machine. (Note that there is a "Clean" button on the console, but it refers only to cleaning the nozzle that distributes the water.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6J234XO53NVjtCEsZ49BxWHitzfWJM59s_wV_Bkj9UuReptd3bU5qULTKQo50rOeMIHZOKerkwA0YqRm6Uti0OHDchML6d6CYmsRVrHlad8isAAcEGisf2sKwBkn8WHzpaZ0MEUtdtn7aeRYhx6NOsgKLzNvf8h0QyZPo76bupMwU64KNyXIWbzZ/s546/parts.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="546" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6J234XO53NVjtCEsZ49BxWHitzfWJM59s_wV_Bkj9UuReptd3bU5qULTKQo50rOeMIHZOKerkwA0YqRm6Uti0OHDchML6d6CYmsRVrHlad8isAAcEGisf2sKwBkn8WHzpaZ0MEUtdtn7aeRYhx6NOsgKLzNvf8h0QyZPo76bupMwU64KNyXIWbzZ/w200-h199/parts.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><br /></div>A couple of caveats here: as implied, one of the most desirable features of the machine's degree of automation it its ability to precisely calculate the amount and timing and infusion of water in the dough making. It does this by weighing the flour on a built-in scale, so be sure to<i> </i>press the "Reset" button to zero the scale first. Also, when you select your noodle type, you'll probably want to press it twice for "Chewy Noodles." The single-press "Fast Noodles" seems to be desirable only if you plan to use them immediately. The "fast" noodles do not store well, caking under their own weight, while the "chewy" noodles refrigerate well and freeze well. The "Chewy Noodle" mode adds a rest period for the dough (indicated as "Rise" even though no leavening is involved).<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The photo at the top of this entry features a soup made by Ju Ju using noodles made with Mighty Joyoung's Udon ("spaghetti") noodle setting that were subsequently frozen.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">So who is Mighty Joe Young?</h3><div>Mighty Joe Young was the chimpanzee hero of the movie of the same name. my generation's answer to <i>King Kong.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><p style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4dX62Ut9t46RFUHclnTqWn5U7J9HebgDOUbgtrzNDOthq8hnlMEkLO23AjoUxhzypzoX1cczoPBbwM8PYzUMfPCYITsZ9PU4hCq4zenF2_00hh83KgWi9CQ9TQooT_8dCxL49xg_N-sz2rOv56WeZA3_fIBGiXpq4uiZ6d8UBHQde2Mg304Igw0oG/s679/mjy.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="679" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4dX62Ut9t46RFUHclnTqWn5U7J9HebgDOUbgtrzNDOthq8hnlMEkLO23AjoUxhzypzoX1cczoPBbwM8PYzUMfPCYITsZ9PU4hCq4zenF2_00hh83KgWi9CQ9TQooT_8dCxL49xg_N-sz2rOv56WeZA3_fIBGiXpq4uiZ6d8UBHQde2Mg304Igw0oG/w200-h130/mjy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><i style="color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><b>Mighty Joe Young</b></i><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">is a 1949 American</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_and_white" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Black and white">black and white</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fantasy_film" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Fantasy film">fantasy film</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">distributed by</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RKO_Radio_Pictures" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="RKO Radio Pictures">RKO Radio Pictures</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">and produced by the same creative team responsible for</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><i style="color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_Kong_(1933_film)" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration-line: none;" title="King Kong (1933 film)">King Kong</a></i><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">(1933). Produced by</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Merian_C._Cooper" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Merian C. Cooper">Merian C. Cooper</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">, who wrote the story, and</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruth_Rose" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Ruth Rose">Ruth Rose</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">, who wrote the screenplay, the film was directed by</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernest_B._Schoedsack" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Ernest B. Schoedsack">Ernest B. Schoedsack</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">and stars</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Armstrong_(actor)" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Robert Armstrong (actor)">Robert Armstrong</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">(who appears in both films),</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Moore_(actress)" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Terry Moore (actress)">Terry Moore</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">, and</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_Johnson_(actor)" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Ben Johnson (actor)">Ben Johnson</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">in his first credited screen role. Animation effects were handled by</span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Harryhausen" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Ray Harryhausen">Ray Harryhausen</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">, Pete Peterson and Marcel Delgado.</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-3" style="color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mighty_Joe_Young_(1949_film)#cite_note-3" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration-line: none;">[3]</a></sup><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-4" style="color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mighty_Joe_Young_(1949_film)#cite_note-4" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup><p style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><i>Mighty Joe Young</i> tells the story of a young woman, Jill Young, living on her father's ranch in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Africa" style="background: none; color: #0645ad; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Africa">Africa</a>, who has raised the title character, a large <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gorilla" style="background: none; color: #0645ad; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Gorilla">gorilla</a>, from an infant and year s later brings him to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hollywood,_Los_Angeles" style="background: none; color: #0645ad; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Hollywood, Los Angeles">Hollywood</a> seeking her fortune in order to save the family homestead. [Wikipedia]</p></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div>Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-79854407971524014732023-01-01T08:47:00.005-08:002023-01-01T13:59:41.641-08:00Make My Own Noodles? Mighty Joyoung to the Rescue.... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3wN86DvBkLMv3B2dOaRjItdCU3g-PrMK3b7tUu3wMDOyrxtATNST98SjVKISBZG6ohXNd_JTrOO1cIMFy0bvwrwyrnNsEyIUPEtR2q7PXHwQOKk7uvyjne-PlBrNshIre9NbZTU1xh3DGGV6nRkjkouolWDfAVj-Byyj-mXV3Le2aKgQO9DVTLhN/s1600/image.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3wN86DvBkLMv3B2dOaRjItdCU3g-PrMK3b7tUu3wMDOyrxtATNST98SjVKISBZG6ohXNd_JTrOO1cIMFy0bvwrwyrnNsEyIUPEtR2q7PXHwQOKk7uvyjne-PlBrNshIre9NbZTU1xh3DGGV6nRkjkouolWDfAVj-Byyj-mXV3Le2aKgQO9DVTLhN/w480-h640/image.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>....of this blog. </b>About three years ago, due to mobility issues, subsequently magnified by COVID-19 protocols, I put this blog in hiatus, since I was unable to continue the field work of seeking out the latest and greatest noshes that formed the core of Full Noodle Frontity's purpose at the time. But noodles have never left my mind nor my belly, with Mrs. Soup making life easier for herself and more pleasant for me by serving up her version of <i>yangchun</i> noodles, plain Shanghai-style noodles with (typically) "old hen' broth and toppings of the day about three times a week. On my back burners has long been the need (obligation?) to get more into the weeds of noodle manufacturing and variants, rather than just savoring preparations to slurp into my belly. I also have compiled info to share on obscure regional specialties which might end up deep in your Asian noodle bucket list. Where in China would you go for a cold "chitlin'-like" rice noodle dish? What and where are "Ba River" noodles?</span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_TbbQWX4jAiET69AlLowaI5pQVcMcrVmyZy2sTwJxk69W8m6RLyms8cny4WI1Jp4reeMpN1CPwMCDcpw5Nyn2zCuvJTZFM-4zoe_BkOpyKi8Ozpqe8Q3Ucksc_oXGifI5O1k1YWTwmdPIqKr8GVeZTZDIZmbR9bW5-A71xZSf1enVJM53jQINSRR2/s2803/20221209_125146.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2661" data-original-width="2803" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_TbbQWX4jAiET69AlLowaI5pQVcMcrVmyZy2sTwJxk69W8m6RLyms8cny4WI1Jp4reeMpN1CPwMCDcpw5Nyn2zCuvJTZFM-4zoe_BkOpyKi8Ozpqe8Q3Ucksc_oXGifI5O1k1YWTwmdPIqKr8GVeZTZDIZmbR9bW5-A71xZSf1enVJM53jQINSRR2/w200-h190/20221209_125146.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Mrs. Soup's DIY soup dumplings</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">Another trigger for my foray into noodle-making has been Mrs. Soup's recently developed passion for DIY making of more substantial Chinese wheatens, progressing from crafting plain <i>mantou</i> to stuffed <i>baozi,</i> even fearlessly venturing into the intricacies of <i>xiaolong bao</i> and s<i>hengjian bao</i> with surprisingly good results.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">If Mrs. Soup could make elegant versions at home of the dumpling delicacies that would cost us substantially more hard cash at the markets and restaurants, why were we still using store-bought versions of the humble noodles in our soup bowls? Thus my logic for springing for a good noodle-making machine.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Christmas was coming, and I wasted no time in researching noodle-making machines. I wanted an extrusion machine, not one that jut cut the noodles from pre-rolled dough. Home extrusion noodle machines range from approximately $90 to $300 depending on quality, capacity and degree of automation. Since the Christmas present was as much for me as for Ju Ju, I opted for the most automated (hence most expensive) version. When it comes down to it, I am lazy, and really didn't want to take myself beyond a couple of artisanal button pushes to make a nice batch of fresh noodles. Find out what I came up with in my next post.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2T3guUBFSAf7MrR6u0FauyWdf032AMsp8BZM81-BwgnV5EuInnMX2WRwXqzCA_W6caoTOeQ9nOq3NdYJctgJF_9o0Rq80N4lNkR4p8sOjmxhY6SDeuGJf2QDmiALgn4St2eRNMhgKkf04wuOnqS8AX1p90rwsLw60L2vT4MKJ7sl9L0HsLJqeMkF0/s748/mjyoumng.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="497" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2T3guUBFSAf7MrR6u0FauyWdf032AMsp8BZM81-BwgnV5EuInnMX2WRwXqzCA_W6caoTOeQ9nOq3NdYJctgJF_9o0Rq80N4lNkR4p8sOjmxhY6SDeuGJf2QDmiALgn4St2eRNMhgKkf04wuOnqS8AX1p90rwsLw60L2vT4MKJ7sl9L0HsLJqeMkF0/w133-h200/mjyoumng.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><b><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Upcoming: make, capabilities and first results of my Mighty Joyoung noodle maker, as well as an explanation of my nickname for my new best friend, for those of you too young to get it.</span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>We're baaaaack!</i></span></p></b><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p>Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0San Francisco, CA, USA37.7749295 -122.41941559.4646956638211535 -157.5756655 66.085163336178852 -87.2631655tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-29018669497457694002018-05-16T10:17:00.002-07:002023-01-01T09:11:59.210-08:00Ms. Koizumi Loves Ramen Noodles -- A Parable of Obsession<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIJW4elpGPdXLVog0ngYtXjJuQg8vysJPo3hOGJpBvuOmJCBmdBt8wLNA6jDhqkdg3Mg7cKAra3AOaZNCYbGKzOcndRgeD-edlsD8uNYsE7R5bwixNVLUW-Y-fYYhbXggmTu6bnyWaYw/s1600/kozumi1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="632" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIJW4elpGPdXLVog0ngYtXjJuQg8vysJPo3hOGJpBvuOmJCBmdBt8wLNA6jDhqkdg3Mg7cKAra3AOaZNCYbGKzOcndRgeD-edlsD8uNYsE7R5bwixNVLUW-Y-fYYhbXggmTu6bnyWaYw/s400/kozumi1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Ramen may not be the noblest of noodle soups, as I'm never shy about opining, but I have to admit it's got a lore you can't ignore -- and I am not immune. I've got a duly purchased copy of the landmark movie <i>Tampopo, </i>several ramen-themed T-shirts including four from Uniqlo's recent line, and I recently subscribed to Crunchyroll for long enough to keep up with an <i>anime</i> series about ramen love.<br />
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The series in question, <b>Ms. Koizumi Loves Ramen Noodles</b> <i>(Rāmen Daisuki Koizumi-san) </i>is about a mysterious and beautiful transfer student at a Tokyo high school who attracts the attention of her peers, especially other girls (boys apparently feel intimidated by her). Koizumi-san (her given name is never revealed) is very distant, one might even think autistic, and shuns all social contacts except in the context of eating ramen. She rebuffs all solicitations of friendship or companionship, though when the rquest is to follow her into the ramen shop she is headed to at the moment, she responds with "I don't care" or "Do what you like." Once seated at a ramen bar, however, she will sort of open up, robotically spouting her vast knowledge of ramen styles, ramen ingredients, and ramen shops.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxP0s2GvhvYGwlOrQ_YA8jzg_xIHPlJqEGyPa16S3c8q_Y-BMRKAEZrsVpZyxuiDgxy6jRKz1jolSRpAZ_SmTywe8NsKG6zSxXtP_E386PYmLNoWjZAJJVvoAzxySF6ThEhjXHbs8H5k/s1600/koizuni2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="337" data-original-width="439" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxP0s2GvhvYGwlOrQ_YA8jzg_xIHPlJqEGyPa16S3c8q_Y-BMRKAEZrsVpZyxuiDgxy6jRKz1jolSRpAZ_SmTywe8NsKG6zSxXtP_E386PYmLNoWjZAJJVvoAzxySF6ThEhjXHbs8H5k/s200/koizuni2.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
The main problem with the series is that there is no real plot. There is a glimmer of hope for one, halfway through the series when the boyish Yuu, who has a mad girl crush on Ms. Koizumi, finds her fainted on the street from hunger while waiting for a ramen shop to open. Yuu carries Koizumi-san to her apartment and revives her by cooking a variety of ramen-like soups of her own creation for her. Ms. Koiozumi expresses her admiration for Yuu's creativity, and we hope for a romance to blossom, but no such luck. Once her ramen withdrawal pains are gone, she becomes the ice queen once again.<br />
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What you will find in this series is what amonts to an animated tutorial on the state of ramen in Japan today, tailored to novice and intermediate ramen-heads alike. How about some euglena ramen? Or ramen that has a blizzard of fat back shaved into it?<br />
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You can now watch the entire series for free on <b><a href="https://goo.gl/FVcwv9">Crunchyroll</a>,</b> There are three segments to each half-hour episode, so you may find as many as three different ramen styles covered in a single episode. The list of episodes will give you an idea of what you are in for:<br />
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<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 1 – Garlic With Extra Vegetables / Maayu / Rich </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 2 – Hokkyoku / K-K-K-K-Koizumi-san </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 3 – Saimin / Flavor Concentration Counter / Instant Noodles </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 4 – Western Restaurant / Red or White / Convenience Store </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 5 – Tomato Ramen / Euglena / Huge Line </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 6 – Morning Ramen / Hiyashi / Museum </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 7 – Nationwide </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 8 – Local Instant Noodles / Iekei </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 9 – Mountain / Pork Guy / Back Fat </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 10 – Ramen With Unknown Flavor / Conveyor Belt Ramen / Accepting Challenge </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 11 – Tasty Ramen / Osaka </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-small;">Episode 12 – Nagoya / Reunion </span></li>
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I once read of a (possibly apocryphal) Japanese proverb thst reads "People suffering from the same disease have much to talk about." Whoever penned that may have had rameniacs in mind.Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-7039565070050354042018-03-23T19:53:00.002-07:002018-03-24T15:26:11.858-07:00Cambodian Legend: Dhmen Jay And [Not Exactly] The World's First Noodles<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container tr_bq" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJfRgxS-nr5UowyoVmTHVItI2nTAb1Rhu1fwxrkR5t7NOaelxjVNstfRsUMR3qDyZem0K2GNeEgdARoYSTjYL9qZiOMWYKaxAE7Q3NFPRTLMI5fzRsU1eiNNaWruxVXo6SV-iYgbfEC8/s1600/khmer-noodle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="720" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJfRgxS-nr5UowyoVmTHVItI2nTAb1Rhu1fwxrkR5t7NOaelxjVNstfRsUMR3qDyZem0K2GNeEgdARoYSTjYL9qZiOMWYKaxAE7Q3NFPRTLMI5fzRsU1eiNNaWruxVXo6SV-iYgbfEC8/s400/khmer-noodle.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Source: <a href="https://goo.gl/13VrvZ">Khmer Forums</a><br />
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If you know me, you know that I will shine my little light into the deepest recesses of the World Wide Web looking for useful insights into noodles. . You won't be surprised, therefor, that I found an interesting and informative piece on Cambodian noodles on Ricochet.com, which bills itself as "the leading place for civil discussion of the center-right and beyond."<br />
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The very civil post I found by member "LC", simply headlined as "<a href="https://goo.gl/QHTSx8"><b>The World's First Noodles</b></a>," recounts in detail the life of a legendary Cambodian "trickster" (hmm...), <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto slab" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Dhmen Jay, a young man who lived at the start of the Common Era in Nokor Phnom, the first unified Khmer kingdom (AD 100-500). To make a long story short, he was exiled to China, got himself in and out of trouble and eventually left China wealthy for having introduced noodles to China.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto slab" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Any claim for Mr. Dhmen to have invented noodles 2000 years ago, of course bumps up against science, since archaeologists have found a <a href="https://goo.gl/fpjeXZ">4,000 year old bowl of noodles</a> in Qinghai Province, China. It's possible, I suppose, he may have come up with the World's First Rice Noodles, or the World's First Fermented Rice Noodles to be specific, though to demo the making of such noodles he woiuld have to have traveled with more equipment than a rock band, judging from the must-see video in the middle of this post.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto slab" , serif; font-size: 16px;">After dispensing with the legend of Dhmen Jay, poster LC provided some truly useful info about Khmer noodles:</span></div>
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"The world’s first noodles or not, Khmers love <i>num banh chok</i>, which is the name of our noodles, and also the names of the dishes made with these noodles. Num banh chok is fermented rice noodles. First, the rice is soaked in water to soften the grains. The rice is then grounded into a liquefied batter with a stone mill. Afterward, the batter is placed in a cloth bag and a heavy stone is placed on top to squeeze out water, while the dough begins to ferment in the process. The drying dough is then boiled until it becomes soft, before being transformed into a smooth dough. The transformation process includes a lot of pounding and another boiling. After the second boiling, the dough becomes very hard. Next, it is pounded in a large stone mortar with a wooden pestle. After the pounding, the dough transforms from a hard ball to a smooth, elastic dough. It requires additional kneading by hand for some time. The dough turns snow-white; it looks almost like whipped cream cheese, and finally the dough is ready to be turned into noodles. The dough is spooned into a metal mold with a perforated bottom. Once the mold is filled, it is pressed down through the perforated bottom directly into boiling water. The cooked noodles are then rinsed in water until they’re completely cooled down. With the water squeezed out, the noodles are looped and coiled and they are arranged in a lotus or banana leaf-lined basket in concentric circles; the noodles are ready for the market or the table." </blockquote>
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<iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-uU2rikaVS0?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
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"There are four num banh chok dishes: <i>num banh chok samlor Khmer,</i> <i>num banh chok samlor kraham</i>, <i>num banh chok samlor kari,</i> and <i>num banh chok Kampot. </i>Num banh chok samlor Khmer is noodles with green fish gravy, num banh chok samlor kraham is noodles with red fish gravy, num banh chok samlor kari is noodles with red chicken and sweet potato curry and num banh chok Kampot is noodles with crushed dried shrimp tossed with pineapple fish-sauce dressing and topped with roasted peanuts and coconut cream.</blockquote>
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"Num banh chok samlor Khmer and num banh chok samlor kraham are served with a huge variety of raw vegetables such as banana blossom, cucumber, long beans, bean sprouts, papaya, young mango leaves, water lily stems, water hyacinth flowers, sesbania javanica flowers, some edible border plants, and countless herbs. The other two dishes require fewer adornments. Of course, these adornments also change with the season. Aside from these four dishes, num banh chok is served as an accompaniment to many other dishes as well.</blockquote>
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"Num banh chok samlor Khmer, also known by its other name, num banh chok samlor praher, is so ubiquitous and so loved that we simply refer to it as num banh chok Khmer. In Khmer cuisine, num banh chok Khmer is in a category of its own. We simply eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner or a 2 a.m. snack."</blockquote>
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If you live in the Bay Area, you are fortunate to be able to sample Khmer noodles and other classic Cambodian fare in a nostalgic environment (featuring 60's Khnmer rock and roll!) at Nite Yun's <b><a href="https://goo.gl/cqdMEf">Nyum Bai</a> </b>in Fruitvale.<br />
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<a href="https://goo.gl/cqdMEf"><img border="0" data-original-height="308" data-original-width="816" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvKRgxbao2NxL7DM8KqWu1-Vepdf6GsShi-qOs1mrK5G2mNL-048mqYyfhSp3-X6e5cxjDyqTLAeCt_SZ-I3dS3KXvLaj5VEbNii7xdLei1pzq-Yb_bUQZPOc7hTMtmFwLxtvStqhJtM/s400/nyumbai.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-68490217700849644272018-03-09T19:07:00.001-08:002018-03-09T20:05:52.395-08:00Half Nudel Frontity From Kim Kardashian<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9R_X9TzWU5Oso9LDuRPvbGOC1FlG90pfGU6uIx_2610detJZeOtN-w7nQOh_xbJjYgz_mLolJYVYZM30H_SfrIrgwsf3XEAOSwKnJbpBKIkJ8inVqB8eH_v0WMkBWyBHxoSHdj0h0NY/s1600/kimall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9R_X9TzWU5Oso9LDuRPvbGOC1FlG90pfGU6uIx_2610detJZeOtN-w7nQOh_xbJjYgz_mLolJYVYZM30H_SfrIrgwsf3XEAOSwKnJbpBKIkJ8inVqB8eH_v0WMkBWyBHxoSHdj0h0NY/s400/kimall.jpg" width="327" /></a></div>
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I don't know much about Kim Kardashian, other than she's apparently one of those people who are famous for being famous because she was on a reality TV show, much like our current President. Since I don't watch much on TV other than news, baseball and Seinfeld re-runs, she only enters my consciousness by occasionally showing up in my noodle content searches. She apparently likes noodles, particularly ramen, and recently emphasized the fact by posting an Instagram of herself eating noodes topless. Ms. Kardashian's breasts, or at least her nipples, were obscured by her chopsticks hand and her bowl-holding hand respecively, so it mat be a reach to call it a half nudal frontity pose, but Full Noodle Frontity applauds every effort to bring more exposure to the enjoyment of slurping down noodles. We're not about to knock her efforts, you might say.</div>
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<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-64770559214299430542018-02-15T22:30:00.000-08:002018-02-16T00:14:18.993-08:00Two Roads To Laghman, Part I: Eden Silk Road <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha18PEcSiF5QDmREwGNOVuHTkwrLdEGz0nIRtnl3gk2FtmL9eztvVVfvuG9SmsGoSLSImDfGVEmlicsA5LbUmMGy4JlEMVhssrDe-DLYiMeLhAgYU3nk8SYIH-BiRa5e6_c51Nj_8DMwo/s1600/kashkar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha18PEcSiF5QDmREwGNOVuHTkwrLdEGz0nIRtnl3gk2FtmL9eztvVVfvuG9SmsGoSLSImDfGVEmlicsA5LbUmMGy4JlEMVhssrDe-DLYiMeLhAgYU3nk8SYIH-BiRa5e6_c51Nj_8DMwo/s200/kashkar.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laghman at Kashkar Cafe, Brooklyn</td></tr>
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I've been fascinated, if not always totally enthralled, with the traditional Uyghur noodle specialty known as <i>laghman</i> since first sampling it at Kashkar Cafe on Brooklyn's Brighton Beach Avenue nine years ago. It's a Central Asian noodle dish, popular with China's Xinjiang Uyghurs as well as the populations of neighboring "-stans"* generally. While laghman invariably starts with bouncy, muscular house-made noodles and colorful. toppings, the flavor profile it brings to the palate can sometimes be underwhelming. Here's a clue from the excellent blog <b><a href="https://goo.gl/LBU7RC">The Silk Road Chef</a>: </b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333a42; font-family: "noto serif" , "georgia" , "times" , serif; font-size: 15px;">[Laghman]... is noodles topped with a sauce of meat and vegetables. Basically anything is game – lamb, beef, chicken, green beans, bell pepper, bok choy, squash – whatever fresh vegetables are on hand. <i>However, there are a few common points: onion, garlic, tomato sauce, and bell pepper are almost always present </i>[emphasis mine].</span></blockquote>
Sound familiar? From too-timid hands, laghman can come to you tasting like under-seasoned spaghetti from too far up the Silk Road.<br />
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As happened with my side-by-side comparison of two relatively new self-serve udon shoips, my erratic scheduling afforded me the opportunity to do the same with two very different venues offering laghman, <b>Eden Silk Road</b> and <b>Silk Road Express, </b>this time with separate posts.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laghman at Eden Silk Road</td></tr>
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Eden Silk Road on O'Farrell St. in San Francisco's Tenderloin District (a.k.a. "Lower Nob Hill") is one of three similarly named Bay Area outposts of Xinjiang Herembag Trade Co., a Xinjiang-based empire of halal food venues. Eden Silk Road is a sparely but nicely appointed room that considerable thought and investment has gone into, and its managably-sized and well-focused menu offers many near eastern and Uyghur specialties that I will be eager to try. But first the noodles.</div>
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Eden Silk Road was nearly empty when I entered just after its opening for dinner service, understandably, since it was on the eve of Chinese New Year Eve. The restaurant closes for two hours after lunch service to prepare for dinner service, and prepared they were to hit the ground running, unlike some restaurants where my 5:00 entrance awakened a snoozing chef or two. </div>
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I ordered laghman with lamb (beef is the default but lamb is available for the same price) and a side order of samsas (two to the order). Being a halal restaurant the serve no alcohol, so I ordered tea. (I suppose I could have brought my own flask of vodkas, like the good ol' boys at halal Kashkar Cafe in New York.) My samsa arrived promptly, followed by my main dish after a suitable interval. Thanks to the alacrity of service, both dishes arrived piping hot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGAeHJUHvSerZFuNa0X8ByG9a_MfQhqs2FFojiG2KvSOrprkHR-t0LFS93K33rQ51nHLnrqkKfyd1nBPyDqYas1jAqQIchlIfBeK9qUDbjGa4cKwf1LeXLsImnb0BtVtecAvklkikUFE/s1600/ESRsamsa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGAeHJUHvSerZFuNa0X8ByG9a_MfQhqs2FFojiG2KvSOrprkHR-t0LFS93K33rQ51nHLnrqkKfyd1nBPyDqYas1jAqQIchlIfBeK9qUDbjGa4cKwf1LeXLsImnb0BtVtecAvklkikUFE/s200/ESRsamsa.jpg" width="200" /></a>If I were to describe my laghman at Eden Silk Road, it would be <i>healthy</i>. The saucing was devoid of oiliness (the same could not be said of the samsa), and even the sparse lamb chunks were lean, yet tender. The veggie matter was cooked to the right degree of crispness, and the hand-made noodles (so claimed by the menu) bouncy and bitey. Alas, the "secret" Laghman topping was a bit bland to my taste (and there was nary a chili pot on the table to sex it up with). The visible ingredients were primarily the obligatory tomato, onions, bell pepper and garlic (eith too little of the last). Only the presence of some chewy "wood ear" mushrooms gave a "made in China" stamp to the dish; the overall personality of the dish was sedately Mediterranean, with a very faintly spicy tinge. I don't know if they accommodate adjustment requests, but if I ordered it again I would ask for more spice heat, which would, in my mind, make it a very solid dish. As for the samsa, they were tastefully filled with a lamb and spinach-like filling, but distressingly oily. Next time I'll try the manti.</div>
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<i>Where slurped</i>: Eden Silk Road Cuisine, 572 O'Farrell St. San Francisco</div>
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*<i>According to <a href="https://goo.gl/iA71Jp">Wikipedia</a> it is especially popular in Kyrghistan and Kazakhstan, and also popular in Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, northeastern Afghanistan and in regions of northern Pakistan,</i></div>
Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-86859889935664928152018-02-01T23:29:00.000-08:002018-02-02T20:22:56.092-08:00Instant Gratification: DIY Snail Broth Rice Noodles (Luosifen) From Luobawang<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XLMn8g5O3Vteti5nQaWAtrYf4BiNAnGNAQ0_VqUlSK-297XrvsTV7Bj0onQRhen3Wk94C5psS9Tl9_OcI02GgsjuqaiSMKCm-daRC6720_ZrQUyM1ljFVSlylvc8myQC-Y7SzwTVjLk/s1600/LBWfinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XLMn8g5O3Vteti5nQaWAtrYf4BiNAnGNAQ0_VqUlSK-297XrvsTV7Bj0onQRhen3Wk94C5psS9Tl9_OcI02GgsjuqaiSMKCm-daRC6720_ZrQUyM1ljFVSlylvc8myQC-Y7SzwTVjLk/s400/LBWfinish.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is my first review of an instant noodle product, and it's a lulu (or maybe a 螺螺*). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvDXRdLvwUKOij9Xn9i9XbfQlljgWT7j2uPLF2i4Ag7q2TxdEZ1V65S5O8k8qAYAbXWErT6k_liIKLcaZK0dEwyaclsmf8EN1x1DTkwvggsgfO5ryOqKLzmSstbG4RMr-sg58F7VI6W8/s1600/LBWpackage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="800" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvDXRdLvwUKOij9Xn9i9XbfQlljgWT7j2uPLF2i4Ag7q2TxdEZ1V65S5O8k8qAYAbXWErT6k_liIKLcaZK0dEwyaclsmf8EN1x1DTkwvggsgfO5ryOqKLzmSstbG4RMr-sg58F7VI6W8/s200/LBWpackage.jpg" width="200" /></a>Several years ago I discovered Liuzhou Luosifen, a spicy rice noodle soup with a rich, tawny snail-based broth, thanks to <a href="https://goo.gl/8CbFao">Oakland's Guilin Clissic Rice Noodles</a>. Surprising as that discovery was, I was just as surprised to discover a DIY instant version, in the form a large packet from Liuzhou company "Luobawang" staring up at me from the sidewalk bin of a Chinatown grocer. I snapped one up, and after admiring it on my mantle for a few days and with my kibitzer-in-chief away for rhe evening, I steeled my nerves to tackle it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUO84diOf5wu7Qt36ojwyySrdvtW0EAh6ocaBwi-fsiLSvEyLuv5KrOd9cqYq3bdXbY0zYNHmBUrrXnUWStAjwfmHne4D21ZYCnDkTGTPk2fUxl5cq_MFZ07wyDA7_KmMxpuMq7l0bFo/s1600/LBWinside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="800" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUO84diOf5wu7Qt36ojwyySrdvtW0EAh6ocaBwi-fsiLSvEyLuv5KrOd9cqYq3bdXbY0zYNHmBUrrXnUWStAjwfmHne4D21ZYCnDkTGTPk2fUxl5cq_MFZ07wyDA7_KmMxpuMq7l0bFo/s200/LBWinside.jpg" width="200" /></a>This was no 10¢ packet of Top Ramen. The $2.99 package weighed in at 280g (10oz) and inside were eight separate ingredient packets. In addition to the packet of dried rice noodles, there were separate packets for the snail soup base, sour bamboo shoots, pickled long beans, chili oil, vinegar, peanuts and dried bean curd skin (the last two for garnish). Once I figured out which packets were which (there was no English on the small packets) the instructions (in English on the main packaging) were concise and clear: (1) Pre-soak the dried noodles for an hour in cold water, drain and set aside. (2) boil 500ml of water, add (in order) the soup base, sour bamboo, pickled beans, and the pre-soaked rice noodles. (3) simmer "until the rice noodle can be cut off by chopsticks" and (4) pour into a bowl, add vinegar and chili oil to taste, and garnish with the peanuts and dried tofu. </div>
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The trickiest part was the done-ness of the noodles, since cutting off noodles with chopsticks is not my forte; I used the bite test, testing continuously until I had them just right. The end product was a very tasty and filling bowl of noodles. I don't think the broth was as rich and deep as the restaurant versions I have had, but I made the mistake of adding some of the (very potent) chili oil before tasting the broth, so I can't fairly describe the subtleties its character. Overall, though, it was a good bowl of soup for three bucks, and I'll be buying more of the fixin's.</div>
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<i>Product:<b> </b></i><b>Luosi Rice Noodles</b>, by Luobawang</div>
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<i>Place of Purchase: </i>Komi Foods, 898 Stockton St., San Francisco</div>
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*Luo luo, "snail snail."</div>
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Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-8186753747222100612018-01-19T22:46:00.000-08:002018-01-20T19:06:02.906-08:00Self-serve Udon Slurpdown: Kagawa-ya Udon Noodle Company Versus Marugame Udon and Tempura<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://goo.gl/th7LHA">Image from Gurunavi -- learn about Udon the fun way</a></span></td></tr>
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With the arrival of a branch of Japanese mega-chain <b>Marugame Udon</b> (990 stores, including 786 in Japan) at Stonestown Galleria, San Francisco now boasts two "self-serve" udon restaurants, including the local independent <b>Kagawa-ya Udon</b> at 1455 Market St. (known to some as "The Uber Building"). The "Grand Opening" of Marugame (after a month-long "soft" opening) this week spurred me to catch up with Kagawa-ya, which had the bad taste of holding its grand opening last Spring while I was out of the country (slurping noodles in Shanghai) and atthe same time do do a quickie comparison between the two.<br />
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The two restaurants have several things in common, including, of course, "self-serve" (cafeteria-like) dining. This involves ordering your noodle choice (and bowl size, if applicable) and sliding your tray down the track to choose additional toppings/sides (mostly of a tempura nature) while your bowl is being prepared. Kagawa-ya offers seven different bowls of udon, Marugame 10. (I won't go into udon esoterica, not even to tell you about <i>bukkake</i> udon, but you can learn a lot <a href="https://goo.gl/th7LHA" style="font-weight: bold;">here</a>). Both have a variety of tempura (nine for Marugame, a"variety" for Kagawa-ya -- I didn't count them) including a potato croquette For additional sides, Marugame offers four varieties of <i>musubi,</i> plus <i>inari</i>. Kagawa-ya offers Spam musubi (reflecting the chef-owner's Hawaii origins) plus onigiri.<br />
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Both Kagaway-ya and Marugame specialize in <i>sanuki</i> udon (udon with a square cross-section), and both venues make them in-house.<br />
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<b>1. Kagawa-ya Udon Noodle Company</b></h3>
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First up was Kagawa-ya. An upside of being away when it opened, is that any opening day story I might have essayed would have ended up in the long shadow cast by the prodigious coverage by Japanese-American food blogger Foohoe (Sandy Wada). Read it and become her fan <b><a href="https://goo.gl/SpwGDX">here</a></b>. Note, though, as she acknowledged, her meal was comped.<br />
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Kagawa-ya was forlornly empty when I arrived, just before 1:45 on a chilly Tuesday afternoon and placed an order for the dish I hoped would be useful for comparison with Marugame's fare, <i>Niku </i>(beef) Udon (described on the menu as "Soy braised sliced beef, sweet onions, green onions, ginger and toasted sesame seeds"). As my noodles were being prepared, I slid my tray down to the tempura section and picked a shrimp tempura and a potato croquette as add-ons. Somehow I missed the step where I could have had the woman behind the counter add a soft-boiled egg, which would have made my bowl more comparable to what I was contemplating ordering at Marugame.<br />
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The ingredients promised by the menu came in a slightly, but not offensively, sweet (dashi?) broth, whose sweetness appeared to come from the onions. The coarsely shredded beef was the weakest part of the dish, being overly chewy and not particularly flavorful. The restaurant's headliner, udon noodles, were nearly perfectly chewy, though teetering a bit towards over-cooked, perhaps due to the lateness of my lunch hour. The two pieces of tempura I selected were as expected, though the potato croquette was peculiarly limp, as if underdone.<br />
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A bit of sticker shock will hit you at the register at Kagawa-ya; my bowl of noodles and two pieces of tempura came to $17.20 before tax & tip (there <i>is</i> a tip jar). Had I found and added the egg I craved, it would have been over $20 with tax, steep for lunch (unless you happen to be part of the gray hoodie target market).<br />
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<b>2. Marugame Udon and Tempura</b></h3>
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Compared to the loneliness of Kagawa-ya on a Tuesday afternoon, Marugame Udon was a veritable happening upon my Friday visit. Arriving at 2:25 PM, I joined a serpentine line outside Marugame's new digs at Stonestown Galleria, not in the food court, but at street-level between Olive Garden and Chipotle. The vast majority of the cheerfully anticipatory crowd were college-aged (and some high school-aged) Asians. </div>
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Thirty-five minutes after getting in line, I was able to place my order for a large bowl of <i>Nikutama</i> Udon ("Served with Sweet Flavored Beef, Soft Boiled Egg, and Kake Sauce." and proceeded to the tempura station where I selected, as I had at Kagawa-ya, a shrimp tempura and a potato croquette. Once you've paid for your order, there is another station with free toppings, such as spring onion, cilantro, wasabi, ginger and tempura flakes. I added sparingly from this bar because I wanted to appreciate the flavor as prepared by the chef.</div>
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Marugame, unlike Kagawa-ya offers two bowl sizes,"regular" and "large." For comparative purposes, the "large" Marugame bowl appeared to be larger than the Kagawa-ya bowl, if only marginally so. The contents turned out to be quite different, particularly the "sweet" beef in Marugame's bowl. It was sliced much thinner than that of Kagawa-ya's and, as advertised, was sweet, <i>very </i>sweet, cloyingly so, as if it had been candied. Oddly, the broth itself did not seem to pick up this sweetness, as it seemed less sweet than the broth in Kagawa-ya's niku udon. Other than the difference in sweetness, the broths seemed similar, perhaps both were of the <i>Kansai</i> dashi variety (hey, I'm learning!). The noodles themselves were perfection, chewy without being overly firm or mushy. The "soft boiled" (actually poached) egg was an additional blessing.</div>
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Cash register comparison? Not even close. My beef noodles <i>with</i> an egg and two similar pieces of tempura came to $13.60 before T&T at Marugame.</div>
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An<b><a href="https://goo.gl/V89HeV"> Eater Los Angeles article</a></b> proclaims that "Marugame Udon Might Be the Most Authentic Japanese Restaurant in LA" in the sense, I suppose, that McDonald's might be the most authentic American Restaurant in Tokyo. You might, in fact, get the impression that you are actually in Japan, especially if, like me, you've never been there. </div>
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<i>Where slurped: </i>Kagawa-ya Udon, 1455 Market St., San Francisco; Marugame Udon, Stonestown Galleria, San Francisco</div>
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Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-62785144842249442452017-12-31T20:59:00.003-08:002017-12-31T21:56:46.196-08:00A Soba-ring NewYear's Eve Nabeyaki at Dojima-ann<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Clever wordplay, eh? Actually I was sober as a judge when I downed the <i>nabeyaki soba </i>at <b>Dojima-ann</b>, and expect to be in the same state long after Anderson Cooper's last giggle of the evening takes air. The eating of <i>soba</i>, the nutty-flavored buckwheat noodles, is a New Year's Eve tradition in Japan, but as far as I know has nothing to do with lining one's stomach for a night of hard drinking (something Japanese salarymen are alleged to do every night).<br />
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In doing my research (a.k.a. Googling) for the best places to eat soba, I came across Dojima-ann, one of those places that flies under the radar because it's right under our noses (at O'Farrell and Powell Streets). Dojima-ann's menu offers 15 hot noodle soups (and another 6 cold noodle dishes), each with a choice of udon or soba noodles. It being close to dinner time when I arrived there, I decided to go for the nabeyaki, a meal in itself, along with a side of <i>gyoza.</i><br />
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Nabeyaki (a.k.a. nabe-yaki) is a form of hot pot, a one-dish meal served in an iron pot or clay pot on cold winter days. It's more commonly found with udon noodles than soba, but that goes out the window on New Year's Eve. In Dojima-ann's version, chewy soba noodles are served in a rich miso broth, along with (as specified on the restaurant's menu) chicken, egg and vegetables topped with shrimp tempura. The chicken came in tender, not over-cooked shreds, accompanied by scalloped carrot slices, mushrooms, Beijing cabbage, nori (seaweed) and various greens. The raw egg was broken onto the top of the broth which already contained the chicken, leaving no doubt as to which came first on this occasion. The single large shrimp tempura was as tasty as it was decorative, and the miso broth's savoriness was multiplied by the contributions of the ingredients that essentially "cooked" in while I waited for it to cool to a slurpable temperature.<br />
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The six gyoza in my side dish, though on the smallish side, were intensely flavorful, and a well-recommended protein add-on. I wanted to try the potato croquettes, but judging from the menu, they are only available with the curry udon or as a bento box item.<br />
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Dojima-ann, from all accounts (including my own limited sample) serves decent Japanese fare at reasonable prices, and is very conveniently located once you know it is there. I'v probably passed it a hundred times on the Geary bus without noticing it, obscured as it is by throngs of tourists in the street. I'll definitely return to vet the udon, as well as to enjoy some non-noodular menu items.<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>Dojima-ann, 219 O'Farrell St. at Powell St., San FranciscoGary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-9034710589020810132017-12-29T10:08:00.000-08:002017-12-30T12:19:25.263-08:00A Bay Area Treasure Lost: Wenzhou Fish, Noodles & More.... Is No More.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipdzxpLLgp_5dySXUzftHuuagdcBY1LyiDMNrLGt2RsPY0pHZj8ir6i1-hWH3eN9gUR_M6Zfz0SEbVfD7v4J2IJT1-EQ-50bDg_d_Le05JEF5DqTvLtpPfSQOSzHGkl4by_85rA5os-So/s1600/Wenzhoulift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipdzxpLLgp_5dySXUzftHuuagdcBY1LyiDMNrLGt2RsPY0pHZj8ir6i1-hWH3eN9gUR_M6Zfz0SEbVfD7v4J2IJT1-EQ-50bDg_d_Le05JEF5DqTvLtpPfSQOSzHGkl4by_85rA5os-So/s400/Wenzhoulift.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knock Knock, who's there? Knocked Fish Noodle Soup.</td></tr>
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As I write this, I know of only two restaurants in the U.S. serving the cuisine of Wenzhou, China. Golden Corner Noodles in Flushing, Queens, New York, and <b>Wenzhou Fish, Noodles & More</b> in San Jose's Japantown. By the time you read this, most likely, one of the two will be gone; alas, it will be the one in San Francisco's neighbor to the South.<br />
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Wenzhou is a Chinese city in Zhejiang Province, which is immediately south of Shanghai. Located in a coastal enclave, it was historically isolated from the rest of China, and thus developed a distinct sea-food based culinary culture, as well as a dialect of the Wu language that is unintelligible to even its nearest neighbors. Wenzhou's significance in the context of Chinese food, a well as the rarity of its cuisine in the Chinese diaspora are well documented by an <b><a href="https://goo.gl/rpb9vC">article by Jacqueline M. Newman in <i>Flavor and Fortune</i></a>.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYYyUNfjiz7G78ToarDtfeCDDN4O7rp_dvFtVNecGHjwpwjZTYCBG4OLKipO0T8kqZx5yKuqPpszbGVb2W8C3bGwnMzaWneRhI2mOjvYhMM-lDwbO37b2yVBZS53fZdlgqGIxdG-9CC0/s1600/wenzhoustore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="534" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYYyUNfjiz7G78ToarDtfeCDDN4O7rp_dvFtVNecGHjwpwjZTYCBG4OLKipO0T8kqZx5yKuqPpszbGVb2W8C3bGwnMzaWneRhI2mOjvYhMM-lDwbO37b2yVBZS53fZdlgqGIxdG-9CC0/s200/wenzhoustore.jpg" width="133" /></a>Wenzhou Fish, Noodles and More* was opened in late 2016 by the husband and wife team of Max Soloviev and Carol Chen <a href="https://www.mercurynews.com/2016/09/12/san-jose-restaurant-breathes-new-life-into-historic-japantown-landmark/"><b>after sinking $2 million into renovating a historic building in San Jose's Japantown</b>. </a> I filed this intelligence in my memory banks for possible future action then forgot about it, understandable because downtown San Jose is a place I had visited perhaps twice in the 50+ years I have lived in San Francisco. Visiting the restaurant became a matter of some urgency, though, when news came through a couple of months ago that the restaurant would be closing at the end of the year. I am carless (and not even a driver), so when my daughter arrived in town for a Christmas visit we rented a car and trekked to San Jose (combining the restaurant visit with a visit to the San Jose Museum of Art, which had an exhibit she wanted to see.<br />
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At Wenzhou Fish, Noodles and More, I ordered two iconic Wenzhou dishes, "Wenzhou Silky Knocked Fish Noodle Soup" (温州敲鱼面) and a "Wenzhou Style Stuffed Pita With Dried Vegetables & Ground Pork" (梅菜干麦饼) to share with my daughter who, being somewhat averse to wheatens, ordered a more conventional fried rice dish for herself. The "Knocked Fish" is so-called because a "dough" of fish flesh scraped from the skin combined with a little potato starch is knocked into a thin, flat mass with a wooden dowel, lightly pan fried, rolled up and cut into into translucent ribbons with bits of fish visible. <a href="https://goo.gl/z5FiWk"><b>This slow-loading (but worth waiting for) video</b></a> shows a woman in Wenzhou making the "knocked" fish noodles.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OSdQ0zhRAYG86RSpFtbElBaIolu5PXYJGbnGSI8ou_KP7_qqHrUI2KOMUxSnThrmdb0h9XX3-npTkKXtMD7r-i-B9gteyBdNiHvuT3GGKy58FXn82498TAnEME_t2O4bAkxiit325lQ/s1600/Wenzhou+Bing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="800" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OSdQ0zhRAYG86RSpFtbElBaIolu5PXYJGbnGSI8ou_KP7_qqHrUI2KOMUxSnThrmdb0h9XX3-npTkKXtMD7r-i-B9gteyBdNiHvuT3GGKy58FXn82498TAnEME_t2O4bAkxiit325lQ/s200/Wenzhou+Bing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
In Wenzhou FN&M the fish noodles are combined with some fresh conventional wheat noodles and vegetables in a savory fish-based broth. I found this dish refreshing, almost addictively so, and a good counterpoint to the fiery Sichuan and spicy Xi'an soups I have taken to in recent years. The Wenzhou "pita" is. I discovered, a common street snack in Wenzhou. The dried (actually pickled) vegetsbles in the rendition we were served did not overwhelm the ground pork as it might have, and both I and my daughter (who is far from the committed carnivore that I am) both enjoyed this.<br />
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While we were dining, co-owner Carol Chen was conversing with a woman at the next table in the Wenzhou dialect. I can normally pick up on Shanghainese and other Wu dialects almost instantly, but even straining to listen to the conversation, could not recognize a single word in the <i>Wenzhouhua.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPkRvm6OEYd-ILzt2MSX3V9JrHTdhmvPbDr99Kjo5J_28_LrtDT9RISgsjX2dhtCrAqNqeVnBJoOQc_VnAY1CkYE3V0pHH7i-nTcfm4Rust1gkll6XM9o-wjBkpWIGnyXN4QEGGa57gYU/s1600/wenzhoucarol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPkRvm6OEYd-ILzt2MSX3V9JrHTdhmvPbDr99Kjo5J_28_LrtDT9RISgsjX2dhtCrAqNqeVnBJoOQc_VnAY1CkYE3V0pHH7i-nTcfm4Rust1gkll6XM9o-wjBkpWIGnyXN4QEGGa57gYU/s200/wenzhoucarol.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Co-owner Carol Chen</td></tr>
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I talked to owner Chen afterwards about the closure. She said business was good, but not good enough to support the overhead of such a labor-intensive operation as her restaurant. She and her husband are not throwing in the towel, though, and are looking for another suitable venue. She mentioned that someone in San Francisco had inquired about operating a franchise, and they had begun to think in terms of a central kitchen to support more than one location.<br />
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Will opportunity knock more than once for knocked fish noodles in the Bay Area?<br />
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<i> Where slurped: </i> Wenzhou Fish, Noodles and More, 625 North 6th St,, San Jose<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>*I suspect the comma is an unintended intruder; most Chinese restaurants have fish and noodles, but very few have fish noodles.</i></span><br />
<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-19406252608610024382017-12-15T23:09:00.002-08:002017-12-15T23:32:57.007-08:00Yangchun Noodles, Shanghai's Practical Gift To A Harried Chef Ju Ju<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yangchun noodles with "pocket" eggs and ham slices from the fridge.</td></tr>
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Although I've been away from chasing down exemplary Asian noodles for the blog, I haven't deprived myself of noodles -- far from it. My partner and personal chef Ju Ju's work schedule has left her with less time for cooking, and in a pinch she falls back on her (and my) favorite time-saver, <i>yangchun</i> noodles (阳春面), which I've been enjoying up to three times a week .</div>
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What are yangchun noodles? You can find varying descriptions, even recipes, but to Shanghainese the name invokes the simplest possible noodle preparation: fresh thin egg-less noodles served in a broth based on soy sauce and spring onion, with optional chili oil or chile flakes for heat (an option I've always exercised). They can be served as is (for breakfast, typically) or topped with whatever you have on hand, either something left over from last night's dinner or something you can cook up in no time.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chef Ju Ju</td></tr>
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Since Ju Ju is usually whipping up my yangchun noodles for dinner, she loads them up with protein, which might be leftover soy sauce chicken leg(s), red-cooked pork cutlets, lion's head meatballs, etc. but almost always includes a couple of "pocket" eggs (荷包蛋). "Pocket" eggs are basically over easy eggs fried in a wok. My guess for the "pocket" is that it alludes to the fact that one edge of the egg often gets folded over in the flipping, forming a little flap.</div>
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As for the name? Although "yangchun" literally means "springtime," the 10th month on the Chinese calendar, roughly October, is referred to as "Little Springtime" (akin to our "Indian Summer"?). Based on this, "yangchun" in colloquial Shanghainese refers to the number 10, and since the original street vendor price was 10 <i>fen</i> (cents) the noodles came to be known as "yangchun" noodles. This explanation probably seems less convoluted to a Shanghainese than it does to you and me.</div>
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Spring noodles or fall noodles, they won't lead to my winter of discontent.</div>
Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-32299843548842419942017-10-20T23:35:00.000-07:002017-10-20T23:43:04.581-07:00Long Island City's Mu Ramen. Nu?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Even in noodle blogging quasi-semi-retirement, there was no way I could get through a road trip to New York City, upstate NY and Vermont without a noodle joint screaming for my attention, if not necessarily my approval. The EAT ME! in this instance came from <b>Mu Ramen</b> in Long Island City.<br />
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Mu Ramen, of course, is the enterprise that Pete Wells <a href="https://goo.gl/MvsM4e"><b>put at the top of his New York ramen list</b> </a>when it was but a pop-up inside a bagel shop, and it kept the plaudits coming after becoming (quite literally) a brick-and-mortar establishment. Were I a rameniac, which I am not, this would have drawn me to the place in a New York minute, but a second, more practical reason conspired to draw me there: Mu Ramen is a mere 5 minute walk from my daughter's railroad flat where I was staying.<br />
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There was a fifteen-minute wait for seats at the communal table on a Wednesday night when we arrived at 7:15. As expected, they were out of their limited-production house ramen. Rachel ordered the tonkotsu and I the spicy miso ramen. We also ordered a "Okonomiyaki" which was actually four slices of a conventional pancake topped with foie gras-infused maple syrup and trout. The chef worked under Thomas Keller at Per Se and likes his quotation marks.<br />
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My daughter's tonkotsu ramen (above) came with fine, straight noodles in a smooth, satisfying broth, and hog jowl instead of the more familiar melt-in-the-mouth chashu, a variant I, for one, appreciated (she gave me a sample bite). My spicy miso came with thicker, curly noodles and pork which had hacked (but not minced). The broth wasn't particularly spicy, but the use of red miso added to the complexity.<br />
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I liked Mu Ramen. If I were to reach for a superlative, I'd say it was probably the loudest ramen bar I have ever been in, with jazz and pop music bouncing off the brick-and-mortar walls and the joyful noise of conversation trying to rise above. No faux contemplative-ness to the noodle slurping here. Perhaps the no-reservation and cash-only policies have also served to de-hipsterfy the experience at Mu, leaving it one of simply enjoying the fare, which is as good and inventive as that of any ramen-ya I have visited.<br />
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Now, if one only could pick up some bagels on the way out. <i>Nu</i>?Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-46329499039892932772017-08-17T22:34:00.001-07:002017-12-20T09:21:06.206-08:00Kunming Classic Small Pot Rice Noodles At Chongqing Xiao Mian<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I waited patiently with my Portsmouth Square homies for the weather to heat up enough to fully appreciate a cold noodle dish I've been dying to try, "Sichuan Soba" which is on the menu at Pot & Noodle, but no dice. So I went around the corner to sister restaurant Chongqing Xiao Mian again, for another research project.<br />
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In the upper right-hand corner of CQXM's picture menu is shown another dish I've been curious about, "Single Cooked Noodle Soup." Would this be a soup featuring a single very long wheat flour noodle such as can be found in Shanxi restaurants? Hardly -- the noodles were rice noodles, and had been cut into what appeared to be 4" pieces. This made me uneasy intially, but I figured that if there was at least one noodle for each year I have lived plus a few extra, I'd be okay, and so it appeared.<br />
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The Chinese name for Chonqing Xiao Mian's "Single Cooked Noodle Soup" is 小锅米线 (<i>xiao guo mi xian</i>) or Small Pot Rice Noodle. A little research revealed that this dish is a Yunnan dish, and a specialty of Kunming. CQXM's "Single Cooked" probably refers to the fact that this is a one-pot dish, wirh noodles and toppings cooked in the same broth in a single pot. The pot is tradionally a small copper pot, and if the picture at the left from a Shanghai Yunnan restaurant is a guide, the dish is sometimes served in the same pot. (No such luck at CQXM, though.)<br />
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My bowl of small pot rice noodles was spicy (<i>ma la</i>) enough to earn its chili pepper symbol on the menu, and the one-pot cooking process rewarded it with a richness and depth of flavor that the spiciness couldn't mask. It wasn't a particularly meaty broth, though some shreds of beef lurked in its depths, along with bell pepper tomatoes (possibly), cabbage, peapod (or edamame) tips, leeks and spring onion. Atop the broth and noodles swam a couple of large chunks of winter melon, a novel touch. Beyond visible ingredients, the broth was infused with plenty of chili, garlic and probably other spices, and overall was the star of the show, as I found the rice noodles a little too soft.<br />
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<i>Where slurped</i>: Chong Qing Xiao Mian, 915 Kearny St., San Francisco.Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-49444173184190695122017-07-19T22:02:00.001-07:002017-07-19T22:22:57.564-07:00Not-So-Classic Guilin Rice Noodles At Chong Qing Xiao Mian<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I headed out to Pot & Noodle for Round 2 (Vetting of the Sichuan Soba) but found them closed for some sort of maintenance (installation of the noodle machines, perhaps). A hand-written sign outside (in Chinese, but I knew what it said) directed me to sister restaurant Chong Qing Xiao Mian around the corner, where I was lucky to find a seat at the communal table at 6:30 in the evening.<br />
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CQXM doesn't have Sichuan Soba on the menu, so I opted for the Guilin Rice Noodle Soup. I hadn't had Guilen <i>mifen</i> since my last trip to Classic Guilin Rice Noodles in Oakland; in fact I hadn't even ventured out to my favorite Guilin <i>mifen guan</i> on my recent trip to Shanghai. There was also a mystery to be solved, too. The Wu-Du chain (see me last post) tends to cut and paste the picture menus between their stores, and the depiction of Guilin Rice Noodle Soup specifies that it is served with beef, peanuts and quail eggs. However, a fellow noodle maven had just tried the version at Pot & Noodle and reported it had pork and a tea egg instead of beef and quail eggs. What would I be getting?<br />
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My Guilin Rice Noodle Soup arrived, with (<i>voila!) </i>beef an quail eggs. The beef was, I believe, beef plate (the cut with the white membrane you'll usually find in what the Cantonese call "beef stew" noodle soup). The beef was tender, even the membrane, which can sometimes be too chewy. The (2) quail eggs were masterfully cooked, as good as any ramen joint <i>onsen </i>egg, with fully-cooked but silky whites and runny yolks inside. (I found myself trying to picture a tiny egg timer). The rice noodles, unfortunately, were a little on the soft side, and the soup, while a nice meaty broth, was not as interesting as the milder but more complex, slightly medicinal traditional broth served at Classic Guilin Rice Noodles across the bridge in Oakland.<br />
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With my noodles, I ordered a cucumber salad appetizer. The cucumber chunks in a slightly spicy "vinaigrette" coated with sesame seeds made for a less complex version of this dish than found at other Northern Chinese restaurants in town, but was very refreshing and one I will order again.<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>Chong Qing Xiao Mian, 915 Kearny St., San FranciscoGary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-60953160970091368442017-07-12T23:45:00.001-07:002017-07-13T11:57:22.018-07:00Wu-Du Team's Pot & Noodle Brings Another Noodle Option To Chinatown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wuhan Hot Dry Noodles at Pot & Noodle</td></tr>
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Pot & Noodle, which just opened in the Jackson St. space vacated by ABC Bakery and Cafe, is the eighth Sichuan-styled restaurant venture (including the now-closed Pot Sticker) by Jiayi (Jenny) Wu and Ziwen (Truman) Du, who met when she was a server and he a chef at Z&Y Restaurant across the street.<br />
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Although the noodle-centric menu is similar to their other restaurants, including two in Chinatown (Spicy King and Chong Qing Xiao Mian), Pot & Noodle provides additional benefits both on the retail side and the chain's operational side. For its potential customers, Pot & Noodle hooks into a couple of recent fads, offering $16.95 "Mini Hot Pot" options (hence the name) as well as a fresh juice bar. From the operations standpoint, the new facility offered up a spacious basement. Wu and Du will use this space to install state-of-the-art noodle making machines which they ordered from China. Pot & Noodle will, thereupon, become a central noodle-making kitchen for the whole chain. It's likely too that Pot & Noodle will capture overflow patronage from its sister restaurant Chong Qing Xiao Mian around the corner on Kearny St., which is usually slammed at meal time.<br />
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The Chinese name of Pot & Noodle is <i>Chong Qing Xiao Mian</i>, identical to the Kearny St. facility's name, but since I had already reviewed the namesake noodle dish at the latter, I decided to try the "Wuhan Hot Dry Noodle" (<i>reganmian).</i> It was the first Stateside version of this dish I have had, and the first since before I began blogging, so I have nothing within memory to compare it with. <br />
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<b>Time Out Beijing</b> has provided a<b> <a href="https://goo.gl/pVoTP4">pragmatic description of reganmian</a></b>, which can have many variants in toppings:<br />
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As far as Chinese food-lore is concerned, regan mian (热干面) is relatively straightforward, avoiding the customary historical quagmire that usually accompanies iconic dishes of Chinese cuisine. Regan mian, or 'hot dry noodles', unequivocally hails from Hubei's capital Wuhan... There is some local variation, of course, but all regan mian can be divided into three parts: freshly cooked wheaten noodles, pickled carrot and occasionally minced pork, and a thick sesame paste-based sauce. The sauce can either be drizzled over and tossed with the noodles or allowed to pool in the bowl for the diner to mix.</blockquote>
My meatless reganmian came with a minimum of carrots (which was fine with me) and a plenitude of scallions (ditto); and, as a local variation, apparently, whole peanuts. the sesame paste was very viscous, perhaps too viscous, as the noodles, though properly cooked, tended to clump together even after a very vigorous mixing, courtesy my server. It was a huge portion (an attribute Wu-Du restaurants are known for) for $7.95 and tasty, if not particularly spicy (nor was it expected to be, not being a Sichuan dish).<br />
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I chose Couple's Delight (<i>fu qi fei pian</i>) as an appetizer. Though not as elegantly thinly sliced as the version at Z & Y across the street, it seemed meatier, with a higher ratio of beef (flank?) to offal. It was nicely balanced between <i>ma</i> (numbing) and <i>la</i> (spicy) and also saucier than other versions I've had. This proved to be a side benefit, as I doled some of the excess sauce into my noodles which helped separate them while adding some zing. Like the noodles, it was an absolute steal at $4.95.<br />
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Keep it up, Wu & Du!<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>Pot & Noodle, 650 Jackson St., San Francisco Chinatown,<br />
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<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-46605269765095466612017-05-26T23:03:00.002-07:002017-05-26T23:17:44.586-07:00Slurping Shanghai: The 25th Anniversary Noodle Tour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've just returned from my eleventh trip in Shanghai in 25 years, this one overlapping the 25th anniversary of my first visit in April and May of 1992. They weren't all noodle-focused trips, to be sure, though noodles were always lurking in the background, but this time I had little else on my mind. My strategy was not to chase down noodle destination in this city of 50,000 restaurants, but to wander and let the noodles find me. Slurp randomly found noodles I did, from fine bean thread noodles to bedsheet-sized <i>biang biang</i> noodles, topped with pork, beef, lamb, clams, tofu and even donkey meat, mostly in the Zhabei neighborhood where I was staying. Without further ado, here are some tour highlights, in chronological order:<br />
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<b>Lamb with hand-pulled noodles (Y<i>ang Rou La Mian</i>) at Xi Bei Niu Rou Mian </b>- classic Hui Muslim style noodles at the first <i>mian guan</i> I came across wandering down Pingxingguan Lu toward Zhabei Park. Thin slices of meat (in this case lamb) garnished robust hand-pulled to order in a subtle clear broth. I was home, I felt.<br />
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<b><i>Saozi Mian </i>at Yu Shan Fang (dry version) </b>- Yu Shan Fang was my big find of the trip, a spare and cheerful Xi'an food outpost just two bus stops from my apartment, good enough to make me forget Xi'an Famous Foods. Vegetables, tofu and a bit of ground pork sauced with a now-familiar sour Silk Road flavor which is as much Mediterranean as Chinese topped linguini-like noodles in an exemplary Qishan saozi mian.. </div>
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<b><i>You Po Che Mian</i> at Yu Shan Fang</b> - I couldn't, and wouldn't wait to return to Yu Shan Fang for what is perhaps my favorite of Xi'an noodle dishes, spicy you po che mian. This dish, like the one above, is presented as a thing of art, but must be stirred vigorously to coat the noodles with the toppings (and some underlying chili oil) before consuming.</div>
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<b><i>Biang Biang Mian</i> "4 Ways" at Yu Shan Fang - </b>Xi'an restaurants typically have house special combinations of 3, 4, or even 5 toppings YSF's, if I recall correctly, were pork, tofu, bean sauce and tomato & egg. Like the two dishes above, the topping were meant to be stirred into the bedsheet-sized biang biang noodles (some heavy lifting there!).</div>
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<b>Hong Shao ("Red-cooked") beef hand-pulled noodles at Hong Shao La Mian - </b>tearing myself away from new best friend Yu Shan Fang, I found this gem of a hole-in-the-wall on Yanchang Lu, opposite the entrance to Shanghai University's Yanchang campus. More of a Taiwanese style than a Lanzhou style, it featured high-quality beef in a very beefy broth.</div>
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<b>Clam <i>Ban Mian</i> from Gourmet Noodle House (Raffles City branch)</b> - Gourmet Noodle House (家有好面 in Chinese) is a popular Shanghai chain that may or may not be related to the San Francisco noodlery of the same name. Although parts of the menu are similar, I couldn't resist this "tossed" noodle dish featuring a small mountain of shelled clams, not found in San Francisco. Even in the tacky Raffles City mall venue, GNH lived up to its reputation for good noodles with this dish.</div>
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<b>Qishan Saozi Mian (wet version) at Yu Shan Fang </b>- having initiated my romance with Yu Shan Fang with the sauced version of <i>saozi mian, </i>I of course had to try the soup version and was not disappointed.</div>
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<b>Lamb Noodles at Muslim Boutique Beef Noodles (Luochuan Lu)</b> - sparkling clean and, yes, a bit boutique-y in appearance, this place had the lowest prices and possibly the biggest menu of any <i>mian guan </i>I encountered. The lamb here was of much higher quality than the standard Hui brotherhood places.</div>
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<b>Curry Beef and Bean Thread Soup at Hutu Shengjian</b> - A bean thread soup with either beef or tofu is a traditional accompaniment to an order of Shengjian bao, and the version at Hutu was by far the best of three I tried. Not only did it have the desired beefy flavor, its garnish even included a couple of hard-boiled quail eggs.</div>
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<b>Donkey Noodles at Donkey Daddy (Lu Ba Ba Lu Rou Huo Shao) - </b>It took a bit of research to find donkey noodles in my neigborhood. Donkey Daddy didn't have the Henan <i>hui mian</i> version I was looking for, but I was able to pair it with my first donkey sandwich (<i>lu rou huo shao) </i>of Beijing fame. I found the donkey meat blander and a bit sweeter than beef, and distressingly soft in texture. <i> </i></div>
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<b><i>Liang Pi</i> at Yu Shan Fang</b> - A 100° day sent me back to Yu Shan Fang for a cooling <i>liang pi </i>accompanied by a large bottle of pineapple fruit beer (lurking in the background). I can recommend the former much more heartily than I can the latter.</div>
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<b><i>Ji Dan Hui Ma Shi </i>("Cat's Ear" Noodles with Tomato and Egg)<i> </i>at Yu Shan Fang - </b>my last go at Yu Shan Fang. The combination of cat's ear noodles (elegantly translated by my <i>Waygo</i> application as "Orecchiette") and the tomato-based silk road flavors of this dish gave it a particularly Mediterranean character, almost like a <i>minestrone</i>.</div>
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<b>Niu Rou La Mian at Muslim Boutique Beef Noodles - </b>Back to the "boutique" for one last classic Lanzhou style soup with clear broth an better than usual beef -- all for 9 yuan ($1.35).</div>
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<b>Yellowfish Wontons at Gourmet Noodle House - </b>Wontons may not technically be noodles, but I have to pass along a recommendation for this one. It's a spectacular dish, and one that I hope the San Francisco Gourmet Noodle House copies.</div>
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Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-5086933638608662592017-04-05T22:16:00.003-07:002017-04-05T22:27:32.906-07:00A Respectably Fiery Chongqing Classic From A Shanghainese Noodle House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gourmet Noodle House's version of Chongqing Xiao Mian</td></tr>
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My favorite SF noodle houses of recent vintage are <b>Chonqing Xiao Mian</b>, which flies the flag of Chongqing's signature dish of the same name high, and <b>Gourmet Noodle House</b>, which is so thoroughly Shanghainese it would fly the flag of Yellow Croaker Noodle Soup if it had a flag. It never occurred to me that the two noodle cultures would sometimes intersect, so it came as a surprise to me when I headed to Gourmet Noodle House to recalibrate my tastebuds for an upcoming trip to Shanghai and found that <i>Chongqing xiao mian</i> (the dish) had been added to the menu.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqDg7867CyVwOkaLFJMDjmeo09YrosOleZrYiLKgcJTj_nB2mtvCFV7bYIIwwMvcVzRzlTARIDhML2HhUMA0ZflHrbtEUBp6x0C-zsR-5Tyi2gO4mmVFv1CbjvkprhZRFN4mAd78wJEc/s1600/GNHmalatou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqDg7867CyVwOkaLFJMDjmeo09YrosOleZrYiLKgcJTj_nB2mtvCFV7bYIIwwMvcVzRzlTARIDhML2HhUMA0ZflHrbtEUBp6x0C-zsR-5Tyi2gO4mmVFv1CbjvkprhZRFN4mAd78wJEc/s200/GNHmalatou.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I'd already had most of the Shanghai noodle classics on Gourmet Noodle House's menu, so I decided to take a flyer on the CQXM to see how it stacked up to the version at its namesake restaurant. Quite well, I can report. The noodles were fresh and springy, and the broth was respectably fiery; any fear I might have had about them dumbing it down was not justified, though I did notice a not displeasing difference in the <i>ma-la</i> balance between the two versions. Gourmet Noodle House's version seemed a trifle more <i>ma</i> (numbing) and a trifle less <i>la</i> (spicy), but with no distance between the two broths in terms of their ability to please a spice-lover's palate. One structural flaw, if such it be, was the ratio of broth to noodles; the copious leftover broth was a bit too oily and spicy to down as soup. Nonetheless, it had a side benefit; there was too much to discard, so I brought home a sufficient quantity to add some cooked-up noodles and make my own Chongqing xiao mian.<br />
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Since Gourmet Noodle House only offered the plain version of Chonqing xiao mian (no toppings other than garnish), I added a side order of <i>malantou</i> (a finely chopped mix of dry tofu and the tart, slightly bitter herb-like vegetable know as Indian Aster). This cold salad dish made my meal undeniably Shanghinese, as well as adding the desired protein to my early dinner. It was as pleasing a version of the dish as I've found.<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>Gourmet Noodle House, 3751 Geary Blvd. at 2nd Ave., San FranciscoGary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-7147089334469881312017-03-24T20:13:00.001-07:002017-03-24T20:28:08.062-07:00Ducking High Noodle Prices At Yin Du Wonton Noodle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ__FxUEsWv9BqB_ATG3NQxt3LzFR14-9ORDLFQ6_btrFQjGUZw7nAgMkTIiv9NOI_KYnen4lspGf2peDfdlETeciSa9gBVdQZFzzt7PCwKsCuD9yxC6_-Lo8eVX4atTG42_zJvm3i0jI/s1600/YINDUduck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ__FxUEsWv9BqB_ATG3NQxt3LzFR14-9ORDLFQ6_btrFQjGUZw7nAgMkTIiv9NOI_KYnen4lspGf2peDfdlETeciSa9gBVdQZFzzt7PCwKsCuD9yxC6_-Lo8eVX4atTG42_zJvm3i0jI/s400/YINDUduck.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I was tiring of stratospheric noodle prices like $16 for chicken ramen at the latest name-dropper ramen-ya or $14 for a bowl of Taiwanese beef noodle soup at China Live (where they raised the price two bucks after I convinced them to add more broth to the bowl), so I decided it was time to return to more proletarian-priced renditions of The People's Food. Where to begin?<br />
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I have the bad habit of ignoring places in my own back yard, but a couple of metaphorical taps on the shoulder sent me to <b>Yin Du Wonton Noodle</b> on Pacific Avenue, which I hadn't been to since it replaced a middling walk-away dim sum shop four years ago. The first nudge was its inclusion in a <a href="https://goo.gl/frWery">sina.com article</a> recommending an array of Bay Area noodle joints, and the second was my reaction to an attractive picture on Yelp showing duck wonton noodles at Yin Du. As you know, "Duck" is my middle name.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYOIFC_5mnOcAiEE5JmJ3r7FKo7JdIc4ak8HhrZw_5cjG0eDciX4KyDWuPJFGl95e42mqK9MsneQ2Cbg93qC5J7nBReEiEdT_qQAr1eMG1S8vpIbhJv_xBKTVCDVcvqEI8dpUvFwNurU/s1600/YINDUfront.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYOIFC_5mnOcAiEE5JmJ3r7FKo7JdIc4ak8HhrZw_5cjG0eDciX4KyDWuPJFGl95e42mqK9MsneQ2Cbg93qC5J7nBReEiEdT_qQAr1eMG1S8vpIbhJv_xBKTVCDVcvqEI8dpUvFwNurU/s200/YINDUfront.jpg" width="157" /></a>My #9 Roast Duck Wonton Noodles included about five five irregularly-shaped, bony pieces of duck flesh, not the neat, thicker slices found in some of the Yelp photos (perhaps because it was late in the day). There was enough skin to add a duck-fat sheen to the broth, but not enough meat to add any ducky intensity to it. The broth, which came a couple of shades hotter than lukewarm, was overall on the bland side, so I used a little soy sauce and black pepper to kick it up, as no other suitable condiments were available. The wontons were the best feature: plump, with some shrimp crunchiness, The noodles were ample in quantity, but as I've written before, I'm not fond of the traditional fine "dragon's beard" noodles, which make me feel like I'm chewing on someone's hair. I think there was an option for substituting <i>fun</i> noodles, but I generally try to stick to traditional forms the first time around.<br />
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I probably could have gotten a more sumptuous and well-endowed bowl of wonton noodles for a bit more at ABC or Washington Bakery a couple of blocks over, and pound-for-pound my bowl of wonton noodles at Yin Du brought nowhere near the gut-busting value of Chonqing Xiao Mian's $7.95 namesake noodles around the corner on Kearny St., but at $5.75 before T & T it was probably the cheapest bowl of noodles I will have all year.<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i> Yin Du Wonton Noodle. 648 Pacific Avenue, San Francisco<br />
<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-10703526566241811552017-03-02T10:16:00.000-08:002017-03-02T10:35:49.372-08:00A Good Start For China Live's Taiwanese Beef Noodle Soup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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China Live is basically in my neighborhood, so I couldn't resist stopping by to visit the grand opening, and once inside, to vet their only noodle soup offering, <i>Taipei Braised Beef Noodle Soup</i><br />
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A couple of caveats here, including the obvious: it was China Live's first night open to the public, without even a a soft opening other than a single benefit preview event, and thus it would be unfair to hold the restaurant to any standard of perfection. In addition, I can't claim to be a good judge of Taiwanese beef noodle soups, having had fewer than a dozen versions so identified, though I have a fair grounding in Chinese beef noodle soups generally, going back to my first bowl at California Beef Noodle King USA in Shanghai 25 years ago.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZBQfyf6jDXa4jpkCNYLZTMrs2dsVCa29lHoSxfsXQpjyirbSObpDKPS-ZOhMEIbfpwItI3w5t4T2uBWh5DEV-ERCO2xI2EbkUNFc8brwKtnEjMh1MusZ7FHv2Z7pLkuNzmNoxW2pzlg/s1600/CLIVEsign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZBQfyf6jDXa4jpkCNYLZTMrs2dsVCa29lHoSxfsXQpjyirbSObpDKPS-ZOhMEIbfpwItI3w5t4T2uBWh5DEV-ERCO2xI2EbkUNFc8brwKtnEjMh1MusZ7FHv2Z7pLkuNzmNoxW2pzlg/s200/CLIVEsign.jpg" width="200" /></a>Since I arrived at the opening bell, I had no trouble getting a seat at a two-top table in the large, warren-like dining area (though it was quite the scrum by the time I left). All of the cooking stations were in operation, though there was only table service, i.e. no service to bar stool seats at the counters surrounding each station. (This may be SOP at dinner, as one is likely to order from multiple stations at that time.) I ordered the above-mentioned beef noodle soup, a side of <i>shengjian bao</i>, and a glass of the house "China Live" beer formulated by Marin Brewing Company.<br />
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"Taipei Braised Beef Noodle Soup - Brisket/tendon, Red Broth" as it is described on the menu is one of many varieties of "Taiwanese" beef noodle soups (a Taiwan-published cookbook I have lists 20). It weighs in $12 a bowl; in light of the understandable priciness of the China Live venue, this seem almost an absolute bargain to those of us sadly inured to double-digit noodle soup prices by trendy ramen joints.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmnjEv7CAnuEF2BlsVQLYnNpvdGPHpM2X8hQqgRnA07g0dxGBHBGkX_0oxi7igW3I6cNfn4KKSQwZLGr5snZ78xTxFeMuw2k5EM1Rkb3aVp-ojyHzCl-RSIo4RP4IYZLwYil480XHms04/s1600/CLIVEbeer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmnjEv7CAnuEF2BlsVQLYnNpvdGPHpM2X8hQqgRnA07g0dxGBHBGkX_0oxi7igW3I6cNfn4KKSQwZLGr5snZ78xTxFeMuw2k5EM1Rkb3aVp-ojyHzCl-RSIo4RP4IYZLwYil480XHms04/s200/CLIVEbeer.jpg" width="133" /></a>Overall, I would pronounce my bowl of beef noodles at China live a success, with some correctable (and maybe even overlookable) flaws. The good news is that they seem to have the hard parts down -- good broth, chewy noodles and mouthwatering beef. The broth was deep, rich and beefy, without medicinal or, somewhat surprisingly, very noticeable star anise overtones. It was savory enough nonetheless. The medium-thickness wheat noodles were pleasingly <i>al dente</i> with a little snap to them, just the way I prefer, and the beef was fall-apart tender but....<br />
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The major fault I found with my bowl of soup was the noodle-to-soup ratio, or, should I say, the soup-to-noodle ration. There was a respectable serving of noodles in my bowl, but a serious (IMHO) lack of broth; it's a <i>soup </i>dish after all, not a semi-dry noodle offering. Another failing, less serious, was that the tendon appeared to have been cooked too long, perhaps in search of a <i>guilao</i>-friendly consistency. To me it was too jelly-like, and lacking a satisfying chewiness, But different strokes...<br />
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Lastly, not really a flaw but irksome to me, was the way the brisket was cut -- uniformly sliced across the grain, like so many pieces of <i>chashu</i> atop some ramen noodles. I would have preferred larger, irregular hunks. But then again, there wasn't enough broth for them to lurk in.<br />
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As for the <i>shengjian bao</i>? They were pricey at $9 for four pieces and, to use an <i>Irish bull</i>, weren't as good as I expected, but I didn't expect they would be. They were nicely browned on one side, and had a good texture, partly chewy and partly soft-shelled, but the filling lacked flavor and <i>grease</i>. Unlike <i>xiao long bao</i>, the "soup" in <i>shengjian bao </i>should have less collagen and more fat, but in the Bay Area we are just too damn health conscious. In Shanghai, when I eat <i>sanji mantou</i>,<i> </i>as the locals call them, I'm aware I am throwing nutritional caution to the wind; why can't I cut loose here once in a while? <end rant=""></end><br />
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Finally, My China Live Beer ($7 for a 10 oz, glass) was crisp and refreshing, a bit like an amber ale and more tart than hoppy, greatly appreciated by us non-IPA lovers.<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>China Live, 644 Broadway, San Francisco Chinatown.Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-4434496634955021332017-02-26T22:12:00.003-08:002017-02-26T22:31:15.070-08:00Back At Full Noodle Throttle With Wan Za Mian At Chongqing Xiao Mian<br />
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My diet regimen finally ran aground, due to a failure of due diligence, so I decided "To heck with it, I'm going back to full noodle throttle." This decision arose out of a fit of blind envy: my TV teased me mercilessly with flickering images of Anthony Bourdain (whom I cannot abide) and his bro Eric Ripert downing all manner of great-looking noodles and other fare in Sichuan and Chongqing, and I cracked. Why should those guys have all the fun?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://goo.gl/z4VIQU">Chonqing xiao mian in Chongqing</a></td></tr>
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My first order of business was to return to Chongqing. Chongqing Xiao Mian the restaurant, that is, not the Chinese Municipality. Not because Messrs. B. and R. had been yucking it up in the latter, but because I had unfinished business with the restaurant. After my first visit at Chongqing Xiao Mian when I greatly enjoyed the namesake dish (which I knew to be a hallmark of Chongqing), I wondered about the provenance of the other noodle dishes, some of which I knew were not particular to Chongqing. Then I stumbled across a fascinating article on the Roads and Kingdoms website about one Li Jieping, "<b><a href="https://goo.gl/z4VIQU">Chongqing's Number One Noodle Obsessive</a></b>." Josh Friedman, the <i>guilao</i> Chongqing noodle novice assigned to follow him around and sample many, many bowls of Chongqing xiao mian, concluded his favorite was the one known as <i>wan za mian</i>. That particular dish, I recalled, was on Chongqing Xiao Mian's menu, and immediately jumped to the top of my bucket list.<br />
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Chongqing Xiao Mian was packed on a Sunday afternoon at 3:00, with all the tables occupied except for the central communal table, where I gladly took a seat. I pretended to study the menu, but I was already aware of the restaurant's portion sizes and passed on appetizers, ordering omly a bowl of <i>wan za mian, </i>listed on the menu in English as "noodles with peas and meat sauce," and a pot of hot tea.<br />
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Chnoqing xiao mian noodle dishes typically involve a range of toppings choices over noodles in the same broth, typically a spicy one (milder options are usually available). My choice, Wan Za Mian, features yellow peas and marinated ground pork as the main toppings, The yellow peas, also found in Burmese cuisine, are similar to chick peas in texture and flavor, and not at all "mushy."<br />
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When my bowl arrived, piping hot and fragrant, I was not disapponted. It was what I would call semi-dry, heavily sauced, but not really a soup. The Mount Emei of noodles sat in an honestly spicy broth, redolent of Sichuan peppercorns and chili oil. There was a generous amount of yellow peas and ground pork on top. The yellow peas had a slightly crunchy texture, and the ground pork was at once sour and salty; additional garnish was provided by green onion tops and a couple of slivers of Shanghai bok choy. I'm not sure if the broth was less spicy than the straight Chongqing xiao mian noodle dish from my first visit, or the additional flavors of the marinated ground pork and the blandness of the yellow peas attenuated it more than the noodles alone would have. In any event, the overall effect was more pleasing and multi-dimensional than the naked CQXM of my first visit, and I would choose it again over that version.<br />
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Where slurped: Chonqing Xiao Mian, 915 Kearny St., San Francisco<br />
<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-52007725542008378502017-01-31T22:00:00.000-08:002017-01-31T22:18:31.929-08:00Terra Cotta Warrior Reboot: Xifu Biangbiang Spicy Pork Noodles Have Silk Road Written All Over Them<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was a bit dismayed last summer when Terra Cotta Warrior closed temporarily "for innovations" even though they promised to reopen "under new management" on a specific date. They did indeed reopen on schedule, and I became warily optimistic when no "downhill reports"surfaced, yet was somehow hesitant to revisit. Then came the news from an <b><a href="https://www.hungryonion.org/t/terra-cotta-warrior-temporarily-closes-will-reopen-under-new-managment/5232/5">impeccable source</a> </b>that David Deng, apparently still the owner, had spent the hiatus beating the bushes in Shaanxi for new recipes for his menu, followed by some blurry Yelp photos of TCW's new menu indicating that he had added some new noodle options, including the missing link on his 2014 menu, <i>biangbiang mian</i>! Needless to say, I was <b>on</b> it, like white on rice<i>.</i><br />
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A comparison of Terra Cotta Warrior 2.0's menu with the original fare indicates a significant fattening out of the "Restaurant Special" portion of the menu, with a dozen items added. There's a new "pita bread" (<i>paomo)</i> option, Hulutou paomo with pork intestines -- no dumbing down there. There are now seven "burger" (<i>rojiamo) </i>compared to the previous three and, best of all, six new hot noodle options, including three in the <i>biang biang </i>category.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwJKjbGo86dDE6GTrBTx277AMOrsxCKxYrWH29sGiDe3ijrRQEBVdq5b7-0hvZq_aSTKkkT90-1b_gtvojhzYVzndJw2W0svsTG6PtXXRrFtW09tU0HpsliW0Rhl1zW2HTZuzjLnURCzg/s1600/TC2xfbianglift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwJKjbGo86dDE6GTrBTx277AMOrsxCKxYrWH29sGiDe3ijrRQEBVdq5b7-0hvZq_aSTKkkT90-1b_gtvojhzYVzndJw2W0svsTG6PtXXRrFtW09tU0HpsliW0Rhl1zW2HTZuzjLnURCzg/s200/TC2xfbianglift.jpg" width="200" /></a>For my first shot at Terra Cotta Warrior's biang biang noodles, I chose "Xifu Biangbiang spicy pork noodles," 西府裤带面 in Chinese, literally "Xifu trouser belt (kùdài) noodles." This is a semi-dry (sauced) noodle dish served in a bowl. A generous mass of robust, irregular "belt" noodles sat in a thick sauce, topped with thick shards of smoky roast pork (reminiscent of Hunan roast pork), spring onion tops and cilantro. The sauce, red from tomatoes and containing bits of scrambled egg, was more smoky than spicy and slightly sweet. It had a definite Silk Road quality to it, similar in flavor profile to the sauce used in Xinjiang <i>laghman</i>. So thick was the sauce that it tended to glue the noodles together, making lifting them a chore, like lifting weights. The noodles themselves were properly cooked and toothsome enough, and I found myself wanting to taste them in a thinner sauce or a more naked form (the noodles, that is). That said, the dish was tasty enough that I would repeat it, in rotation, to be sure.<br />
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If you think tomato and egg seem odd in a dish from the interior of China, you have another think coming. Another dish added to the menu, "Fufeng minced pork noodles soup," according to my server, contains tomatoes, potatoes, tofu and egg." I'll get to that one, sooner rather than later.<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>Terra Cotta Warrior, 2555 Judah St. at 31st Ave., San FranciscoGary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-40364107596383574512017-01-15T21:34:00.000-08:002017-01-15T21:34:07.355-08:00Something Fishy About The Ramen At Hinodeya Ramen Bar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I dashed over to Hinodeya Ramen Bar in Japantown to reward myself for besting my pound-per-week 2017 diet goal for two consecutive weeks. It marks my quest for noodles out of the house in 2017, not counting the two types of noodles served with out hotpot New Year's Day dinner at Dragon Beaux.<br />
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Hinodeya is the first overseas venture for a 130-year old Japanese restaurant group, and is modeled after a Tokyo restaurant noted for its innovative <i>dashi-</i>infused broth. Dashi is a soup base made from dried, preserved Skipjack Tuna and other seaborne ingredient. I've long been a fan of fishy soups, and have written here about <i>Assam Laksa, </i>a couple of Vietnamese <i>Bun Mams</i> and a whole flotilla of <i>Mohingas</i>, s well as a couple off other SE Asian fish-based soups.<br />
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Thanks (or not) to my Muni connections being exceptionally expeditious, I arrived at Hinodeya 25 minutes early for its 5:00 dinner service on this crisp Winter day. I was first in line, but the queue that formed behind me filled the restaurant once the doors were opened.<br />
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Once inside, I took my seat at the bar and ordered the house special Hinodeya Dashi Ramen, a side order of Crispy Fried Yam and a Sapporo Beer. Service was efficient and friendly if noisy, with greetings and orders in Japanese shouted cross the room in what I assume is traditional fashion, and I soon had my crispy yam pieces with the first bowl of the establishment's house ramen following soon after.<br />
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If I expected a revelation from the dashi ramen broth, I was a little disappointed. The soup, a chicken-bone broth infused with a soup base made from kelp, dried bonito flakes and small sardines, according to <a href="http://www.sasala-group.com/hinodeya/"><b>Hinodeya's Japan website</b></a>, was perhaps a little too subtle for my untrained ramen palate. I tried to detect a forthright fishiness to it, but could only suss out a faint tuna-y taste, and if you grew up with tuna salad sandwiches as I did, you don't really associate tuna with fishiness. It left a bit of a cloying aftertaste, like the miso broth it much resembled. The toppings, while well prepared, seemed a bit stingy for a $14 bowl of noodles: a single thin slice of <i>chashu</i>, half a soft-boiled egg, a few sticks of <i>menma</i>, a single piece of<i> nori.</i> I couldn't help noticing that the "extras" section of the menu consisited only of more of what was already in the ramen (no corn, alas). The noodles may have been the best thing about my bowl of ramen; curly and of medium thickness, they held their chewiness to the end.<br />
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My side order of crispy fried yam was tasty, mouth-pleasing (the crispiness refers to the interior, not the coating) and came in a nice tangy sauce. Again, though, it was pricey: $8.00 for five chunks of edible tuber. The Japanese woman next to be ordered <i>kar-age</i>, which looked to be a better value -- a quantity of protein approximately equal in volume to my carbs for the same $8 price tag. I guess I should be thankful my bottle of Sapporo was only $6; I had paid $9 for a bottle of beer at Mensho Tokyo.<br />
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I'll be writing more about ramen (because it is there) and the more elegant and healthful <i>pho </i>this year as I fit them into my diet regimen. They both are typically lighter meals than my beloved Chinese <i>la mien.</i><br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>Hinodeya Ramen Bar, 1137 Buchanan St. (in the mall).<br />
<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-13978546744116765232016-12-02T22:29:00.001-08:002016-12-03T08:32:42.847-08:00Is Ramen the Mercedes-Benz of Asian Noodle Soups?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://goo.gl/dXQTJU" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTclAJu2LmbawbWcXj5G1fUnLShRXLlZaUKmZXU4Twjrua1t6k9qpoxNT5B-O5Q5o41b7nWOvgS_vjF8EgeumoOaYkRKS81mMBeQBZ5sBBrNkYY_wKy4_q0x08ZbuYLwWD7sod3i9ZHk/s400/Benzramen01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ramen of Mecedes-Benz (RocketNews24 photo)</td></tr>
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According to the online journal <b><a href="https://goo.gl/dXQTJU">RocketNews24</a></b>, Mercedes-Benz is selling ramen in Tokyo, at a cafe attached to their Roppongi showroom. They feature both surf ("Umi") and turf ("Riku") versions.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://goo.gl/VB140j">$18 Tori Paitan Ramen</a></td></tr>
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I stumbled across this bit of culinary knowledge shortly after <b><a href="https://www.hungryonion.org/t/san-francisco-hayes-valley-nojo-ramen-tavern/7419?u=soupermanhttps://www.hungryonion.org/t/san-francisco-hayes-valley-nojo-ramen-tavern/7419?u=souperman">a review of San Francisco ramen-ya Nojo Ramen Tavern</a></b> in the Hungry Onion food discussion forum indicated that a Tori Paitan Shoyu Ramen there cost $18. Although Nojo Tavern's chicken ramen bowl contained a whole chicken leg, which is more protein than one can reasonably expect in a bowl of ramen, some forum participants (including me) found this a startling price. Steep as it is, though, this pricing is not to be totally unexpected; another forum participant found another $18 chicken ramen in town, and in another instance, a local hipster entrepreneur (who shall remain nameless) was so enamored by his own chicken ramen creation that he attempted to get $28 for it. His business was short-lived.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://goo.gl/YjCnPg">$6.99 Michelin-starred Ramen</a></td></tr>
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My views on ramen are well known to regular readers of this blog (in short, I consider it one of the less noble forms of Asian noodle soups), but even leaving out qualitative considerations, I consider ramen to be overpriced in general. For a hearty bowl of Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai or Korean noodle soup, a sticker price of less than $10 is still the rule rather than the exception, whereas it's nearly impossible to find a bowl of ramen in the single-digit range, and most menus start at least a couple of bucks north of an Alexander Hamilton. And when branding kicks in, people will wait in long queues fo the privilege of paying a Mercedez-Benz price for what the Japanese consider a Daihatsu food. (Tokyo ramen shop Nakiryu was recently awarded a Michelin star; the bite for a bowl of its signature Dandan noodles is US $6.99.)<br />
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So much for Mercedes-priced ramen; as far as Mercedes-Benz's own Tokyo ramen goes, that'll be US $10.60 for either the Umi (with scallops) or the Riku (with duck "ham") ramen.<br />
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<i>Tori paitan ramen photo by <a href="https://www.hungryonion.org/"><b>Hungry Onion</b></a> poster "Mr_Happy." Others by <a href="http://en.rocketnews24.com/"><b>RocketNews24</b></a></i>Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-72808592158058119372016-11-16T10:21:00.002-08:002016-11-18T08:48:32.427-08:00Year Of The Phở? I'm Ready Pho It!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_htHh4hyphenhyphenNbM6ehb7yXUeg6JecAgS6UXk0b_hp9eSmpByqZFNYbWYy9SD6Q2HY0-2_QSSPHqU-Qz5_dmEjHbJX5XkOKJJRxrYTq-TifMLW7zfLhkfY-ewA_DJi8eCOf426RJKuyCCUv4/s1600/phocuposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_htHh4hyphenhyphenNbM6ehb7yXUeg6JecAgS6UXk0b_hp9eSmpByqZFNYbWYy9SD6Q2HY0-2_QSSPHqU-Qz5_dmEjHbJX5XkOKJJRxrYTq-TifMLW7zfLhkfY-ewA_DJi8eCOf426RJKuyCCUv4/s400/phocuposter.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
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<i><b>Phở</b></i> , the Vietnamese soup that is healthier, more complex, and more widespread than ramen, is about to get its due. First came a <a href="http://luckypeach.com/announcing-the-pho-issue/"><b>Lucky Peach special</b></a> (and look what LP did for ramen). It may not be quite "all you need to know" about pho, but it'll give you a giant head start. Early 2017 will also bring a couple of notable events, the publication of what will undoubtedly be a landmark of Vietnamese cuisine, <a href="https://goo.gl/KirFgc"><b><i>The Pho Cookbook</i></b></a>, by Andrea Nguyen. Who better than Andrea, author of Into the Vietnamese Kitchen, Asian Tofu, Asian Dumplings and The Banh Mi Handbook to expand our knowledge of this delightful noodle soup? It's due out February 7, 2017 and you can pre-order <i>now</i>.<br />
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Around the same time as Andrea's book is published, hopefully, we'll see a documentary about pho by Freeman LaFleur titled, yes, <i>Phocumentary</i>. It's a Kickstarter-financed project which I supported and have been following since its inception, and you can keep track of by the <a href="http://phocumentary.com/">film's <b>website</b></a>. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXYTu6K2Gs0bregMe1DLd6iEGBlvOmEIet8WogvhVhgKIc5bOpEB4Me2KTCyXJd5qY8Bli2zy0Af5plR2D4RfEbkqjE3JrmJUpmTnJ9UaZMmAGfvYLKFhNcetMqbM07C2GYb3G9lKKvg/s1600/andreapho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXYTu6K2Gs0bregMe1DLd6iEGBlvOmEIet8WogvhVhgKIc5bOpEB4Me2KTCyXJd5qY8Bli2zy0Af5plR2D4RfEbkqjE3JrmJUpmTnJ9UaZMmAGfvYLKFhNcetMqbM07C2GYb3G9lKKvg/s200/andreapho.jpg" width="177" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">As you can tell from this post (d'oh), Full Noodle Frontity's hiatus has ended. I don't know if I just became un-bored with my own words, am trying to turn my back on all things political, or am just getting jazzed about The Year of Pho. Look for less ponderous posts and more noodle small talk. I've even made it easier to call up: simply type <a href="http://noodles.guru/">noodles.guru</a> (he said modestly). Since I'm fortunate to live in the city with <a href="http://www.phofever.com/directory.php"><b>the most pho joints</b> in the US other than Houston</a>, I expect to spend more time expanding my pho consciousness.</span>Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376775186964876902.post-47429383987988288202016-07-07T21:19:00.000-07:002016-11-18T08:51:24.468-08:00Mongolian Food In Oakland That's Not Mongolian Beef: Lamb Stew Noodles at Togi's <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOybc84KXvk99AjHieJR4BXYQuwEIMQx59eiBItqxcFKDAobtffogn3vz2TJM9GCa7KMbn-GARsztk5YZ1HtIVxuO7Gp8OwALYgC6xjokmsJ_-Q9bEjGaWr5h446jBMf_1kGG_DxKGK5Y/s1600/TMClsnbig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOybc84KXvk99AjHieJR4BXYQuwEIMQx59eiBItqxcFKDAobtffogn3vz2TJM9GCa7KMbn-GARsztk5YZ1HtIVxuO7Gp8OwALYgC6xjokmsJ_-Q9bEjGaWr5h446jBMf_1kGG_DxKGK5Y/s400/TMClsnbig.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;"><strike><i style="color: red;">[Note to my fellow noodlers: with this post I have suspended </i><span style="color: red;">Full Noodle Frontity </span><i style="color: red;">to focus on some research projects, not all of them food related. I will also be returning attention to my legacy blog, </i><a href="http://geezericious.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #990000;">Geezericious</span></a><span style="color: red;">, </span></strike><i style="color: red;"><strike>which will include coverage of foods other than noodles, cuisines other than Asian, and even topics other than food. See you there!] </strike> </i></span></b><br />
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A few weeks ago <a href="http://goo.gl/I8V1us">I wrote about a stealth Mongolian cafe in San Francisco</a> named Let's Jam (which has since come out of the closet as Mongol Cafe), and today I visited a similarly situated venue in Oakland, Asian Grill, <a href="http://goo.gl/8bbp9a">which is soon to be renamed "Togi's Mongolian Cuisin</a>e. It's located in Downtown Oaklad at 14th and Webster, and as of this writing still identified as "Asian Grill" in its signage, though its menu (in English and Cyrillic characters) offers only Mongolian Food. (Yes, Goulash is a Mongolian staple, adopted from a dated Soviet Union culinary canon.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSIl-xOH3krS1DEE2iWTymTY1jZcHRG4KGPlReYyFqweNFfnKJjjaATJLiylwBs3iphGKZMhOIDu5yKIdUlYH2h1UKlfFSuEHPCVYSoEemiEicwZiVqTu4FKaQHcLU6Kux1XjL_j5R60/s1600/TMCmilktea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSIl-xOH3krS1DEE2iWTymTY1jZcHRG4KGPlReYyFqweNFfnKJjjaATJLiylwBs3iphGKZMhOIDu5yKIdUlYH2h1UKlfFSuEHPCVYSoEemiEicwZiVqTu4FKaQHcLU6Kux1XjL_j5R60/s200/TMCmilktea.jpg" width="200" /></a>True to this blog, I ordered one of the two noodle dishes on the menu, Lamb Stew Noodle Soup, made with house-made traditional Mongolian steamed noodles (蒙古焖面). (The other noodle offering, <i>"Tzu-van," </i>is a dish I tried on my San Francisco Mongolian food excursion, though I'm eager to try Togi's version as well.) The steamed noodles (also known as stewed noodles) are cooked by placing the raw wheat flour noodles on top of the other ingredients, which may be partially pre-cooked, in a covered pot over low heat. Along with my noodles, I ordered a traditional Mongolian milk tea as a beverage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjYVI11R41EKvw3NxEuo6BrQVZbGuZJWRJTw34kC1Il90Yq_kyy71xg8-SWeBCsMUmCSYDSoUkne0jp7wmdbhWHDxyyRgLhAnFiiQ8dK-CiWA8iKmwHb2tREhpJGhvIww_eFqN1xWj_Q/s1600/TMClsnSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjYVI11R41EKvw3NxEuo6BrQVZbGuZJWRJTw34kC1Il90Yq_kyy71xg8-SWeBCsMUmCSYDSoUkne0jp7wmdbhWHDxyyRgLhAnFiiQ8dK-CiWA8iKmwHb2tREhpJGhvIww_eFqN1xWj_Q/s200/TMClsnSmall.jpg" width="200" /></a>My stew arrived in a heavy stoneware vessel. All the noodles were on top, so at first glance it looked like just a bowl of noodles. I'm guessing the noodles were all on top because they wee cooked in the came vessel they were served in, with the soup added at the last minute. Lurking beneath the noodles was the stew of finely slivered lamb, carrots, various greens including (ugh) broccoli, and what appeared to be ginger. It was served piping hot, too hot to sip at first, and the heavy stoneware vessel kept it very hot, forcing me to savor the soup and its treasures slowly. Remarkably, the robust noodles kept their chew to the very end. The broth was familiar, slightly fatty from the lamb, and comforting, a bit like a Scotch broth or pepper-pot soup though less peppery. It was the perfect lunch for a chilly July day, as it happened to be.<br />
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I have to say I was not a fan of the Mongolian milk tea. It's an approximately 50/50 mixture of tea and extra-rich milk (possibly condensed milk) heavily salted and with a slightly medicinal flavor. It's definitely an acquired taste, one which I am in no hurry to acquire. The good news is that Togi's has applied for a beer and wine license.<br />
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<i>Where slurped: </i>(Soon to be named) Togi's Mongolian Cuisine, 354 14th St., Oakland<br />
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<br />Gary Souphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14369447585874623111noreply@blogger.com1