cia – Page 147 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Radishes, Japanese Turnips, Delfino, Coriander Root

During a recent visit to the farmers’ market, there was an abundant choice of root vegetables. I had this conversation with Cameron before where we had to draw on the office whiteboard what we thought were radishes and turnips. Filipino radishes are long and thick like white carrots, while American ones are the size of pink golf balls. Filipino turnips are bulb-looking things with a tough light brown peel, while the American version sometimes has a pink shade to it. Then there are the parsnips that don’t even exist in Filipino vocabulary but look more like our radishes. Cameron now thinks Filipinos are just weird. It gets all convoluted. I’m sure the terminology is interchangable, but a trip to the farmers’ market sure was a nice lesson.

These were called radishes even though they were the size of small thumbs–the shape is Filipino, the color American. They definitely tasted more like the American radishes with that sharp bite at the end. A jig of really good balsamic vinegar can balance out that kick. Chop them in small pieces and they make a good substitute for pretzels when you’re drinking beer.

These were called Japanese turnips, with a smooth peel, and sweet, fleshy meat inside. I liked eating these raw and they matched well with some spicy arugula.

And then I got these two things because I couldn’t stop myself from smelling them. I find it curious when people tell me they hate cilantro in their food, but then don’t mind ordering an Indian dish sprinkled with coriander seeds. Not too many people know they’re the same; I just know the cookbooks I’ve purchased in Europe always refer to them as coriander, while American markets always use cilantro on labels. The leaves of the bunch I bought looked like frisÃ©e. They’re called delfino, a more aromatic cilantro version.

Vermicelli Ground Beef Salad

Hungry when I woke up one Sunday afternoon with a developing cold, I searched for leftovers in the fridge to nourish myself. There was a bowl of fried ground beef. The folks love making their own tacos at home so I’m bound to find ground meat at any time during the week. And when they’re too lazy to buy salad greens from the farmers’ market, I also find iceberg lettuce from the neighborhood grocery store in some sad plastic bag in the fridge. I thought about Buddhai Bodai in Chinatown, where they have this one dish I always order called Lettuce Song. Using the leftovers, I tried to replicate that taste even though I probably came up with a whole new salad recipe. It was still a delicious dish and it put the already-cooked ground beef to good use. If you have fresh bean sprouts, they add nicely to the crunchiness of the lettuce.

Ingredients:
1/2 pound of ground beef
half a small head of iceberg lettuce, cut into strips
1 pack of vermicelli noodles
half a bunch of cilantro, finely chopped
1/2 cup fish sauce
juice from 2 limes
1 tsp brown sugar
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 shallots, finely chopped
2 tbsps peanut oil
1 tsp sesame oil
red chili flakes

1. In a frying pan over medium heat, sautÃ© garlic and shallots in hot peanut oil. Add ground beef and brown. Stir and scrape the bottom of the pan ocassionally to avoid from sticking and burning. Remove to a salad bowl.
2. In a small bowl, dissolve sugar in fish sauce. Whisk in sesame oil. Add chili flakes to taste.
3. In the meantime, boil a pot of water. Add noodles and cook for less than 5 minutes. Drain and let cool with running water. Using a fork, separate noodles to avoid from sticking and forming into clumps.
4. When ready to serve, add the noodles to the ground beef and pour over dressing. Toss with the lettuce to combine.

Suckling Pig Brooklyn Style

I spent my Friday afternoon at Kam Nam in Chinatown buying the necessary tools: plastic pail, check; cleaver, check. I perused my Fergus Henderson book for a brine recipe but I had to make a few adjustments because I didn’t have juniper berries on hand. The Dr. cut Rog in several sections to make him fit in the pail. Twenty-four hours later, he was ready to go to Williamsburg. (The Dr. went, too.)

When I first ordered Rog, I immediately thought of Chef George Weld of egg. I knew he would appreciate it and I knew he would want to partake in eating a suckling pig. He’s a busy man but he made time over the weekend to cook and welcome us to their home in Brooklyn. The head was cooked with carrots and celery. One of the legs was pan-fried before hitting the oven. The loins, well, they were just roasted to perfection. By the time we sat down to eat, we’ve already consumed two bottles of wine. We made my Brussels sprouts with bacon salad, added a bowl of nice turnips and radishes and opened two more bottles of red.

I’ve never seen a nicer plate of pig. Rog’s meat was very succulent and tasty–the product of just eating acorns in the farm where he came from. His meat was naturally flavorful and because the chef gave his full attention, his skin was golden and crispy. We had a few servings of each part. The loin was everyone’s favorite, of course, but we had a stab of the neck meat which was definitely more substantial and bloody-tasting, and the leg which was more lean. We thank Rog for letting us enjoy him the way he’s supposed to be enjoyed. We believe he served his ultimate purpose.

Prune

54 East 1st Street between First and Second Avenues
212/677.6221
about $75 for three, without drinks, without tip
â™¥ â™¥

Prune’s selections are influenced by different cuisines and that’s exactly what I liked about Chef Gabrielle Hamilton’s style. The tripe is a must-try even though you don’t like tripe. In Barcelona, I ate a lot of tripe. Prune’s version is Milenese, topped with a delicate dollop of pesto and shredded cheese. It’s light but beefy at the same time. I only wished it was served with country bread so I can scoop up the sauce. The skate wing comes with capers; simple and understated. Now, can we talk about the roast beef? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything as good. It’s soft, it’s bloody and just so damn tasty. Both dishes came with potato slaw sprinkled with Hungarian peppercorns. You crush them with each bite and then there’s that burst of spicyness which gives the side dish its entire personality. We made room for the thick homemade apple pie with buttermilk ice cream. It was the perfect way to end a nice long lunch. The golden-brown sugared crust was such a treat.

I’ve always wanted to go to Prune but could never make myself walk over to the east side when I’m deciding where to go for dinner. I also don’t wake up early enough to make it downtown for a weekend brunch. When they announced that they are finally serving lunch during the week, I had no excuses left. I’ve seen a line outside Prune during warmer nights, but it was quiet when we walked in on a Friday afternoon. There was ample natural light which makes you just want to sit back and stay. Prune was the chef’s childhood nickname, but I can easily call it Home.

Updated, 2007: There was a long line for Sunday brunch even though it was almost 3pm. We decided to wait for 15 minutes next door with our iced coffees. We walked back to check if we can finally get a table, but we were told that we have to wait another twenty minutes. I was grouchy and hungry, so I told the Dr. that I can’t wait any longer. We started to walk away from Prune when I heard the maitre d’ call my name. She said she was going to seat us in the next five minutes and asked us to wait just a bit more until they clean the table that just emptied. I appreciated the fact that the maitre d’ just didn’t let us walk away. She could have easily picked any of the other couples waiting outside. We were lucky to be squeezed in and so we celebrated with bloody marys, stewed chickpeas, lamb sausages and a ham and cheese sandwich.

Boqueria

53 West 19th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues
212/255-4160
about $100 for two, with a few drinks, without tip
♥

Arabella and I discussed dinner options and cravings one evening: I am Frenched out for the moment (her) and Can we keep it chill? (me). Tapas, an eating concept from the Basque Country, could be anything bite-sized on a small plate. It’s not French and it’s definitely the most laid-back way I can think of in terms of eating dinner, so to Boqueria we went. I am still reeling from my Catalan vacation and because I had lunch at the boqueria three times while I was in Barcelona, eating pintxos (pin-chos) was an easy pick.

The quail egg was fried and served on top of a sausage sliver and a crispy baguette. It needed a good drizzle of olive oil. I liked the idea of a date stuffed with almonds wrapped in bacon, but then again, I like anything with bacon. The squid was served with a handful of limp mixed greens; perhaps stewed chick peas could have made the dish more lively.

The consolation, however, was the service. The place got crowded as it got later but our bartender-server made sure she gave us her attention. She was very patient with the mixed crowd: one actually opened up his laptop at the bar and another kept screaming for a Syrah until she politely explained that he was in a Spanish bar. Men in suits kept bumping our backs with their obnoxious laptop murses, so she made us stay by comping a glass of white and a glass of sangria. Although the space is very sleek and the buzz infectious, the food at this Boqueria could be a little more inspired.