Masten Lake

Nov 30, ’11

285 Bedford Avenue between South 1st Street and Grand in Williamsburg, Brooklyn
718/599.5565
around $125 for 2, with 3 drinks, with tip
♥ ♥ ♥

I was talking to my friend Stacie about where we’ve both eaten lately and as we went through our list, she said, There really hasn’t been anything exciting since Momofuku Ko. I thought about this for a few seconds and I agreed. Sure, I’ve been to some good restaurants the last few months–August and Riverpark among them–but she was right: nothing has stood out. That is until I sat at the bar of Masten Lake in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

During my first visit, there was a generous piece of fresh and unadulterated mackerel served with sour tomatillos and sunchokes with a dusting of Japanese ground spices and a hint of yuzu. It made me get up and walk towards the open kitchen to ask who was cooking that night. It wasn’t a new dish, and any mortal can buy that spice from Sunrise Mart on St. Marks Place–I just haven’t had it that way before.

My second visit was a more wintry night and my companion and I split a comfortable bowl of pici with tripe. This is definitely hand-rolled, he said while pointing at the pasta with his fork. Of course, it is; an alumna of Lupa wouldn’t have it any other way, right? Its heftiness lent itself to the subtle offal taste of the tripe; the crushed tomatoes rounded the dish off. It was a little heavy on the salt, as heavy-handed as the tagliatelle with mussels during my first visit, though the burrata with the shellfish made it more palatable. There are other, shall I say, whimsical and lighter dishes to share, which change almost nightly, like the apples with sheep’s milk cheese and foie gras with smears of melon and mascarpone. You get used to sliding and passing ceramics back and forth, creating works of food art on plates and bowls. Order several wedges of cheese and a plate of thinly-sliced lardo to compliment the easy choices of wine and nicely-made cocktails.

The next time I visit, I’ll take Stacie with me and we’ll cover our palettes with smudges and smears of the day’s freshest ingredients.

Related post/s:
Masten Lake photos on Flickr
Kale and bacon salad from Lupa
Momofuku Ko in 2008

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Chicken with Caramelized Shallots in Sherry Sauce

Nov 15, ’11

I roast chicken for myself at least once a month because there’s always a lazy, quiet day that’s perfect for a properly roasted chicken. What I didn’t know until this past weekend is that I can roast one and serve it to dinner guests. I always want to impress when I invite guests to my home and have always thought that the more work I put into cooking, the better the food. And it has been for the most part; I just never thought chicken was something that would bowl people over. With this recipe, however, using sherry vinegar sauce and then served with other dishes that included apples, it made a whole autumn feast presentable. I saved so much time cooking chicken instead of my usual repertoire that I was able to make three separate vegetable sides plus a cake for dessert!

If you have a good butcher, ask them to debone the chicken and cut in half, but leaving the legs and wings intact. You may also buy separate chicken pieces; about 3 pieces will fit into a large oven-safe skillet. If you have an iron grill press, it’s good to use it to keep the chicken pieces flat. If you only have a Teflon frying pan (which you certainly can’t put inside the oven), you’re better off using the same baking pan you’re using for the shallots just so it’s hot before cooking the chicken–just remove the shallots after roasting to avoid burning them.

I also saved the rendered fat from the chicken and for leftovers the next day. I fried some white rice and added a blob of it (there’s no better way to describe it) to make a quasi-Hainanese chicken rice. It was so delicious and guiltily satisfying with some pickled cornichon to cut through the grease.

Ingredients:
6 pieces of chicken thighs and breasts
salt and pepper
10 shallots, peeled
a stick of butter
vegetable oil
1/4 cup of sherry vinegar
thyme sprigs

1. Preheat the oven to 425º. Season the chickens generously on both sides with salt and pepper. Set aside.
2. Place the 6 of the whole shallots in a small baking pan. Toss with salt and pepper, add a medium-sized knob of butter and pour in 1/4 cup water. Cover with aluminum foil and roast for 20 minutes. Uncover and roast for 15 minutes longer or until the shallots are tender and golden. Set the pan aside.
3. When you’re ready to roast the chickens, place two oven-safe skillets in the oven for 15 minutes. When the skillets are hot, carefully remove them from the oven and add vegetable oil to each skillet. Place 3 chicken halves in each skillet, skin side down. Roast for about 30 minutes,
checking halfway through, until the juices from the thigh run clear.
4. Remove the skillets from the oven and pour off the fat in a separate container for later use. Turn the chicken pieces over, skin side up and deglaze each pan with 1/4 cup of sherry vinegar, gently scraping the bottom to release any browned bits. Add another knob of the butter, thyme and 2 shallots to each pan. Return to the oven and roast for 3 extra minutes.
6. To serve, place a chicken piece, a couple of shallots and a bit of the pan sauce on each plate. Fry some rice with the chicken fat for an Asian flair. Garnish your plates with thyme sprigs.

If you have more time and feeling like you need a challenge, why don’t you try to prepare your own chicken suprême, or a semi-boneless poultry breast half with the wing joint still attached? A new iPad app from Inkling called The Professional Chef has amazing videos and photographs from the Culinary Institute of America. Unlike cooking demos on TV, you don’t get bogged down by the screaming obnoxious white-haired guy–you can just concentrate on the cooking matter at hand with the calm narrating voice guiding you at every step. You may buy each chapter for $2.99 (Chapter 16: Fabricating Meats, Poultry, and Fish) or the entire app for less than $50 using the link below.

Related post/s:
The Professional Chef iPad app from the Culinary Institute of America

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Where to eat in Bangkok, Thailand: Damnoen Saduak Floating Market

Oct 29, ’11

My Bangkok trip this past summer was a reunion for me and my old friends from my first high school. (I say first because I moved to the States to start sophomore year.) The last time I was in the Philippines was almost three years ago when my older brother got married. I saw my good friends then but have not been back to Asia since. When the opportunity came up to visit a mutual friend living in Bangkok, we all knew we had to make our separate flights and meet there. They schlepped from Manila and I made the long trek from New York City via Frankfurt and Singapore.

You know when people say good friends just pick up where they’ve left off even after it has been a long time since they’ve seen each other? This was true with Krisan, Ria and Pat–we chatted, laughed and squealed like it’s only been a week. Sure, Facebook has made it possible now to keep each other updated, but nothing beats gathering around a table, eating and drinking in a new country. I love my girls, and this post is dedicated to all three of them.

One of the most touristy things I did during my four-day stay in Bangkok was the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market, but it was also the only thing on my list that I knew I had to experience. We were already eating pretty well, visiting public markets, tasting everything that looked good and trying out several restaurants that were recommended by other friends. At the floating market, I was like a child on Christmas morning. I couldn’t contain myself every time I saw something I haven’t tasted before. I was overwhelmed with the choices, so I ate everything.

While on a slow-moving boat that squeezed through the narrow canals avoiding collisions with other vessels, I pointed at every seller that looked like they were cooking and selling something interesting. Most of them were! Each point was followed by a vendor who rowed towards us or hooked their long canes to our boats to bring us closer and to keep us both steady so we could do some business. We spoke English and they spoke Thai, but we all understood the language of food.

I expected prepared goods to be on sale, but I didn’t expect boats outfitted with kerosene gas tanks deep-frying vegetables and hot coals grilling skewered meats. There were boats filled with fruits I grew up with but haven’t had a chance to eat again since I left Asia: balingbings or star fruits, lanzones, rambutans, atis or sugar apples, chicos, mangosteens and guavas. I also didn’t expect the best coconut ice cream from a boat with its own creamery on board. There were boats selling Pad Thai noodles that don’t even compare to the laughable version they have here in America, vegetable salads sprinkled with the most fresh and fragrant basil and mint leaves, sprouts and spring rolls up the wazoo with killer Thai chiles in different kinds of dipping sauces, sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves you eat by cupping it with the small palm of your hand… I could go on, but my mouth is watering just trying to remember how my stomach grumbled at every sight of food, mysterious or familiar.

You can only imagine how hot and humid it is in Thailand during the month of August. It was sweltering when we visited and we were drenched in sweat while trying to keep up with all the food around us. The vendors were mostly covered in straw hats and long-sleeved shirts, but funnily enough, with caked-on makeup to look good (or scary) in photographs.

The heat didn’t stop me from buying hot soup from the lady who expertly chopped duck meat off a carcass and assembled bowls after bowls in less time than I could set my camera to shoot. Indecipherable Thai was thrown from vendor to vendor and everyone efficiently served those of us with bottomless stomachs. You’d order from one lady and walk around with your camera to take more photographs, and in a few seconds, she’d motion for you to come and sit down to eat even if there were hundreds of other people there ordering at the same time. Thai baht were exchanged as if in a rowdy stock market, but I always somehow got the correct change.

The entire market was a blow to all my senses and I mean that in the best way possible. Thai food will never be the same for me ever again.

Related post/s:
Damnoen Saduak Floating Market photos on Flickr

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Where to Eat in Singapore: Golden Mile Food Centre

Sep 22, ’11

Okay, let’s divide and conquer. As soon as Ari said those words, I immediately knew I was with the right people to eat with at Singapore’s Golden Mile Food Centre. I had done my online research before I flew to Singapore fron New York City and noted the stalls that were must-visits and the dishes that were must-tastes for several bloggers. Without prior knowledge of the Centre’s floor plan, Golden Mile could be overwhelming. It was during lunch hour and the place buzzed; queues sometimes stretched 10-people deep, which is pretty long for a stall that could only fit one or two cooks inside. For such a minimal staff, though, they worked like efficient conveyor belts setting up bowls after bowls and distributing just the right amount of each ingredient with precision.

Past the altar with incense burning and plates of food being offered to Hungry Ghosts for the month of August, my friends saved a table as I doled out assignments: Hainanese chicken rice from Stall B135 to Ari, beef noodles from Stall 01-89 to my brother and lormee from Stall 01-100 to Thalia. I owned the fried fish with bihon from Stall 01-101. We had char siu and kway teow on the list from Stalls 01-70 and 01-91 respectively, but both stalls were closed. To make up for those dishes, we tried the Indian-Muslin sup tulang on the basement level. To wash everything down, we drank the ubiquitous Tiger beer and tried the fresh sugar cane juice.

Are you sitting down? Check out the photos below and try not to lick your screen.

Lor mee
A complicated-looking bowl of soup that includes flat fried dumplings, fish cake and hard-boiled eggs in a thick and starchy gravy made out of cornstarch. The lor mee, or the yellow flat noodles, actually get overpowered in this dish, and to me, the sauce was much better with white rice.

Fried Fish with Bihon
No one at our table was excited about this dish as much as I was. When I was in line waiting for my order, the lady asked me, Meer? I didn’t understand her until she pointed to the can of evaporated milk on the counter. (Throughout my stay in the country, I had problems understanding the locals’ English with Chinese and British intonations.) I asked her if she recommended milk and she poured just enough in the broth to make it cloudy. The fish pieces were airy and crisp, and the bihon, or rice stick noodles, were a good addition to the lightness of the soup.

Beef Noodles
Don’t be fooled by its boring name. The soup is not as thick as the lor mee‘s, but the pieces of thinly sliced beef made this so nice and hearty. The fried fish balls with the crumbled peanuts and chives completed the look. It’s a beauty:

Hainanese Chicken Rice
If I have access to this good of a Hainanese chicken rice here in New York City, I wouldn’t mind eating it everyday, but I don’t. The Nyonya restaurant version in our Chinatown is bony, and the rice tastes and looks like chicken bouillon was involved instead of cooking the rice in a master stock. In Singapore, the rice is oily–as it should be–and the flavor has more depth.

Sup Tulang
The bright red-dyed mutton bones that gained notoriety on TV after Anthony Bourdain sucked the marrow out of them using a straw. I prefer getting the marrow out by holding a bone with my left hand and then tapping my wrist with my right. But then again, I also prefer my marrow served with finely chopped red onions and parsley on a nicely toasted baguette.

The Golden Mile Food Centre is at 505 Beach Road and is open from 10am until 10 at night. You must go on an empty stomach.

Related post/s:
Golden Mile Food Centre in Singapore photos on Flickr

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Braised Rabbit with Cornichons and Shallots

Aug 17, ’11

Seventeen miles later, I had everything I needed to replicate this recipe from Gabrielle Hamilton of Prune, one of my favorite restaurants here in New York City: one whole rabbit from Ottomanelli and a pint of cornichons from Fairway. I had woken up very late that Saturday, so after I decided that rabbit was going to be the night’s dinner, I biked to the butcher in the upper east side after a loop around Central Park to make up for my non-day. Ottomanelli’s unfortunately did not have cornichons, so I had to nervously cross town and go to Fairway where I knew a tub of cornichons is always available. I almost got doored on York Avenue and a turning cab cut me off on First that by the time I reached the west side, I was just glad to be alive. The adventure continued as my bike bag flew off its clipping on 125th Street and a guy in a Zip car had to tell me about it. Biking back to where my bag landed, a man helped me put it back on my bike rack. It was heavy and he just had to ask, What’s in there? I laughed and said, A rabbit.

Rabbit legs pre-ordered from a reputable butcher works best for this recipe, but if you can only get a whole rabbit, make sure it’s already been cleaned. The skin under the belly was a little gnarly even for me, so I sliced it off and cleaned off the innards that were kept intact. Chopping the whole rabbit into large pieces was easy with my new Santoku knife sent to me by Wusthof. Not only was it very sharp and made slicing through the rabbit’s tiny bones easy, its new blue handle is lighter yet still hefty for fast cutting. A row of beveled ovals on the edge of the blade prevented the meat from adhering to it and minimized the drag that most cleavers have; butterflying the front part of the body was so easy and so was separating the hind legs from the rest.

Ingredients:
1 whole rabbit, cleaned, thawed if previously frozen, chopped in large pieces
salt
pepper
olive oil
4 large shallots, thinly sliced
1 pint of cornichons including brining juice
1/4 cup white vinegar
3 cups chicken stock, or as needed
4 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces
a handful of parsley, finely chopped

1. Pat the rabbit pieces dry and season with salt and pepper. Heat some oil in a large Dutch oven over high heat. Brown the rabbit pieces on both sides. Transfer to a plate.
2. Reduce the heat to medium-low and add the shallots to the pot. Sauté until tender, but not browned, while gently scraping off the browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
3. In the meantime, heat oven to 350º. When onions are tender, add the cornichons, brine and vinegar and let simmer. Return the rabbit with the accumulated juices. Add enough chicken stock so that it’s within 1/2-inch of covering the meat. Bring to a boil and then turn off the heat.
4. Cover the pot and braise in the oven until the rabbit meat is tender and the leg joints bend easily, about 30 minutes. Transfer legs to a plate and keep warm. Skim cornichons and shallots from the sauce and set aside.
5. Return pot to medium-high heat, and boil until sauce is reduced by about half. Whisk in butter a piece at a time and adjust salt and pepper to taste. Return rabbit, cornichons and shallots to the pan until just reheated. Stir in parsley.

Related post/s:
Buy Gabrielle Hamilton’s book

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