Writing With My Mouth Full

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    • The New York Public Library Map Room

      I’ve wanted to visit the library on 42nd Street ever since the map room was renovated. I finally got a chance to stop by one Saturday. Past the security guard and to your right in Room 117 is the Lionel and Princess Firyal Map Division. The entire library is already quiet, but walking in the map room is a completely different experience. It doesn’t feel stuffy inside even though the room holds some 400,000 maps and at least 16,000 atlases, books, periodicals and CDs about carthography. The New York City collection alone consists of maps from the 16th century. Maps cataloged after 1970 are all accessible via the library’s online CATNYP.

      From a Henry Hope Reed book, I got the architectural details of the map room. The doorway is made of blue gray Fermosa marble from Germany while the perimeter of the floor is made of dark cream Hauteville with an inner band of Red Champlain ‘Oriental Variety’ from Vermont. The heavily-trafficked areas of the floor are made up of red Welsh quarry tiles. I have to admit that I didn’t even notice the doorway and the floor until I started reading about the room’s details because as soon as you walk in, the paneling strikes you. Eight patterns repeat in French walnut: satyrs, cherubs, lion heads, dog heads, birds, sphinxes, cornucopia and acanthus. The lowered plastered ceiling hides two east-west beams which allows for the six semi-domes around the edges of the map room. There are PL letters in gold on the domes for, what else, Public Library. The chandeliers are bronze with ornaments of acanthus, bayleaf wreaths with ribbons, bearded lions and carved scrollworks. There are shelves that hold a lot of books, but the long walnut tables dominate. The trestle tables are on pedestals decorated with the arms of the city of New York. The bases end in dolphin heads and rest on blocks of Verde Antique marble. Every little bit of detail is impressive. The librarian allowed me to take photographs as long as I kept my flash off.

      The New York Public Library is open everyday except Sunday from 11am to 6pm; Tuesdays and Wednesdays until 7:30pm.

      Related post/s:
      Map Room photos on Flickr

    • Himalayan Yak

      72-20 Roosevelt Avenue, Jackson Heights, Queens
      718/779.1119
      about $40 for two, with one beer, with tip
      ♥

      I was armed only with a Post-It when I dragged the Dr. to Queens to try out some Newari dishes in Jackson Heights. Ubin gave me some recommendations and I scribbled them on said Post-It. We walked in before the busy dinner time and had to adjust to how dark it was inside. There was only a small family sitting in the restaurant, so we felt it was odd to be seated at the long table in the middle of the room. While waiting for our food to come, we found out why: all the bigger tables were reserved for bigger groups. The waitress wasn’t kidding either. When we were finishing our meal, a band started to set up on the makeshift stage. All of a sudden, the restaurant was flooded by other Nepalis. In under ten minutes, almost every table was taken and the place filled with a language we couldn’t understand and with faces distinctly unique.

      Ubin had given me a Nepalese recipe last year. Even though I spent several hours making chataamari at home, I still wanted to try and experience the other kinds of food he likes. Preferring that someone else cook them, I badgered him to send me to one the restaurants he frequents.

      At the Himalayan Yak, we started with the gyuma, or the Tibetan beef sausages. They looked like blood sausages, but they snapped like crispy hotdogs. The waitress brought out four kinds of condiments, among them an avocado sauce and a very spicy dip the Dr. couldn’t stop eating even though it was “annihilating” his tongue. The chwela, a spicy Newari pork dish served cold, was boney but addicting. You put the knob of bone in your mouth and try to take apart the meat with your tongue, all while absorbing the peppery sauce. My favorite was the sukuti: Nepalese, jerky and perfect with a cold bottle of Taj Mahal. If I was eating it in Nepal, it would be prepared with buffalo meat. The spicy chicken was dry and hard to chew. It was the only thing we didn’t finish. The popular momo, or steamed dumplings, were stuffed with cabbage and helped alleviate the spicyness of the other dishes. I tried to order rice. Well, I ordered “whatever you guys eat with all of this” and was served the tingmo, or steamed white buns. They looked like a wimpy, used towel on my plate. It was too bad that our dishes didn’t have enough sauce because they would have soaked up any leftover juice from our plates.

      For my first restaurant experience with Tibetan and Newari dishes, Himalayan Yak was a good introduction. We walked out as soon as the band finished tuning their instruments. We almost regretted going too early and missing out on the real party.

      Related post/s:
      Nepalese chataamari recipe

    • Mamoncillo, Quenepa, Ginep

      Cameron calls the fruit guy on the corner of Spring and Sixth Avenue our porno fruit guy. He has signs that have adjectives on them like “extra big size cherries”, “beautiful nectarines”, “sweet beautiful pineapple” and my favorite, “all kind sweet apple”.

      I’ve bought cherries and bananas from him before. Today I walked by and saw these green little things. I asked him what they were and he told me they were quenepas and that they are “sweet and sawah.” (I love this guy!) This Puerto Rican girl sitting on a stoop came up to tell me they are from Puerto Rico and showed me how to eat them: you take a small bite to crack the leathery green skin, suck the juice, peel off completely and pop the plum in your mouth. You basically suck it until it’s dry. They are a little sweet and a little tart at the same time. After a few of them, you get a cotton-feel in your mouth because of the fuzzy texture of the fruit’s flesh.

      They’re known in the Caribbean as mamoncillo, or mamon, which is also an obscene word. (You’re going to have to email me to find out what it means.) This Jamaican girl from work calls them ginep. She said they grow all-year round in Jamaica although this is the first time I’ve seen them in New York City. According to Caribbean folk wisdom, girls learn the art of kissing by eating the sweet flesh of this fruit. (More than just kissing, I bet.) In Ecuador, my friend Vanessa told me, you eat them with salt.

      I’ve saved some of the seeds to dry them and I’ll be roasting them over the weekend. Tune in next week for the results!

      Update:
      So I put the dried seeds on a baking sheet and roasted them while I read The Times on Sunday morning. I remembered to take them out as soon as my mother asked about the funny smell in the kitchen. Thankfully, I didn’t burn them completely. When they were cool enough to handle, I cracked a few using a nutcracker. The quenepa seed meat was surprisingly tender, just like chestnuts. They were a pretty good snack considering they were spat out by co-workers. Now I feel like I have to tell the fruit guy that the little fruits make good tender, nuts.

    • Ada

      208 East 58th Street between Second and Third Avenues
      212/371.6060
      about $60 for two, without drinks, with tip
      ♥

      It was a new craving. It had to be Indian food but without the heavy curry sauce. It had to be seafood. Because I remember having such a seafood meal at Rasa the last time I was in London, it had to be cooked Keralan style.

      On the map, Kerala is on the Malabar coast of India. Historically, they have traded spices with all the merchants of the world. I had a difficult time finding Keralan cuisine in Manhattan, and because I had no means to head over to New Jersey the same night–where they say the good Keralan restaurants are–I ended up at Ada on the east side after finding one seafood dish that involved Kerala on the menu.

      The fish came in a thick orange sauce. I had to scrape it off to make sure there is fish under all of it. When I tasted the fish, it was bland. The lemon rice was more flavorful, so I ate an entire bowl to compensate. The goat sausages were better and disappeared easily with the mint-flavored nan.

      I’m not quite sure why Ada was empty on a Friday night. The hushed tone made us uncomfortable. The waiters hovered at the bar, perhaps itchy to close for the night. Back in 2001, William Grimes of The New York Times gave Ada two stars, so I was betting my Friday night on that one seafood Keralan dish. Unfortunately, times have changed since then. I’m off to New Jersey to find a better one.

    • P*Ong

      150 West 10th Street off Waverly Place
      212.929.0898
      about $145 for one tasting menu and two extra dishes, with two drinks, with tip
      ♥

      Where do you go on a first date? If you feel unsure about the other person, you may want to go to a small bistro where the fare would be safe and expected. If you’ve known the other person for a while and feel comfortable enough to eat with a very sharp knife, you may want to go to a steakhouse. If you want to be playful but still slightly impress, you might go to P*Ong.

      It’s hard not to think about desserts as soon as you step inside P*Ong. The first whiff you catch is of a bakery’s. From the red wall down to the glossy paper used for the menu, the Dr.’s first reaction when we sat down was, “Are we eating precious little things?” He was skeptical and he was hungry.

      I went over the short menu and bravely ordered the suite which consisted of ten savory dishes. They are adventurous, yet well thought out. No one lackadaisically combines the ingredients like chef Pichet Ong does at P*Ong. Who else would think of a stilton soufflé encrusted in crushed walnuts and then pair it with a basil-arugula ice cream?

      A fava bean and sugar snap pea dish sprinkled with thinly-sliced almonds and dusted with Parmiggiano reminded me of summers in Vermont. The sweet Maine crab with tarragon, lemon and chives was matched with green apple mousse, while the shrimp ceviche was flavored with Thai chili and mango purée. They were my two favorites even though I could have used more of the natural taste of the shellfish. Both were bright and cooling on the tongue. The bigeye tuna was overpowered by the olive dressing. I wanted to taste more of the fattiness of the tartare. The Wagyu carpaccio was biting with the arugula and the maldon salt gave it some extra texture. I barely had room for the goat cheese and the peaches served on a bed of smooth ricotta and brittled aloe vera. I was full and drowning in whimsical adjectives in my head.

      The Dr. selected two dishes a la carte after the kitchen allowed us to order only one tasting menu. He loved the smooth polenta covered in a generous serving of morel mushrooms. A foie-gras brulée started off beautifully and interestingly until the smell of burnt sugar reminded him of something else in the hospital. Unfortunate and unpleasing, I know, and not to be blamed on the kitchen, but this was when the watermelonade cocktail worked its magic.

      The Dr.’s skepticism dissipated as it got late and the house music was upped one level. P*Ong is certainly not the place you take your father to, but if your companion thinks stilton has some sexiness to it, you may just have to go out on a second date.

    • Grilled Nectarines with Honey-Balsamic Glaze

      This recipe came from Bon Appétit Magazine. The original one uses creme fraiche, but I decided to skip it to make the nectarines stand out. Nectarines are bountiful in the summer and they don’t really need any accompaniment–they’re bright and juicy on their own–but the glaze makes for a prettier presentation. A dollop of good vanilla ice cream doesn’t hurt, though.

      Ingredients:
      3 firm but ripe nectarines, halved, pitted
      1/4 cup honey
      a few jigs of balsamic vinegar
      1/2 tsp vanilla extract

      1. Heat stove-top grill while making the glaze. Whisk 1/2 cup honey, vinegar and vanilla in small bowl. Brush glaze on nectarines.
      2. Grill nectarines until heated through, about 3 minutes. Gently turn over and grill the other side. Drizzle remaining glaze before serving.

    • Golden Beet and Fennel Salad

      The heat is on! There were some beautiful golden beets in Whole Foods the other day but I was too lazy to cook. This recipe doesn’t require much work, but it does take an hour or two of your time to cook the beets. The good thing is you can just put them in the oven and leave the kitchen to avoid the heat. Cameron served this at her apartment when the Dr. and I came over with a dozen and a half of blue crabs. We covered her table with the Sunday Times and had a very nice summer night dinner. I made my own salad later and matched it with a pan-fried branzino.

      Ingredients:
      1 bunch golden beets, tops trimmed, thoroughly washed
      1 fennel bulb
      1 tbsp cumin seeds
      lemon juice
      olive oil, salt, pepper

      1. Wrap beets in foil and put on a baking sheet. Broil on high for about an hour and a half. When done, let completely cool. Gently peel off the skin using your hands. The skin should come off easily. Chop in small chunks.
      2. While beets are cooking, slice fennel thinly and set aside in a bowl sprinkled with fresh lemon juice. The lemon juice will keep the fennel from turning dark. Cover with plastic wrap and store in the fridge until ready to assemble the salad.
      3. Using a small pan, toast the cumin seeds. Ground using a mortar pestle. In a small bowl, whisk oil and some lemon juice with the grounded toasted cumin. Season with salt and pepper. Toss with the rest of the ingredients.

      Related post/s:
      You can use golden beets to make a beautiful summer terrine, too
      Or simply use the red kind of beets with fennel
      I found this salad perfect with branzino fish

    • Searching For a Good Taco: Staten Island

      For non-New Yorkers, here’s a quick lesson about my city. New York City is made up of five boroughs: The Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan and Staten Island. In my quest to eat more often outside of Manhattan, Staten Island is the least represented on this site. Although it has the most suburban feel in all of the five, it has been experiencing a large growth of Mexican immigrants in the last 12 years.

      The Mexican community–documented and undocumented–have contributed to the diversity of Staten Island, especially on the north shore. Staten Island has historically been known as the “whitest” borough in New York City, but now, almost 2% of its entire population is composed of Mexicans. According to the 2000 Census, Mexicans were the second largest foreign-born group in Staten Island. Besides more affordable housing, the mighty Verrazano-Narrows Bridge helps connect the borough to Brooklyn, Long Island and New Jersey, so a lot of contractors seek out workers there to fill jobs.

      I visited to seek out the best taco. I started this food project last year and it’s gotten hot enough outside to warrant a continuation of my search, so I enlisted Staten Island locals Sean and Jane, and of course, Cameron’s stomach, to help me find the best tacos in the neighborhood. I had a few stores in mind from a few Google searches, but we let them walk us to the neighborhoods where the Mexicans live and hang out to find the more authentic tacos. When available, we always bought the chorizo because it was the easiest to compare. I’ve had so many chorizo tacos in the last year and a half that I think I know a good one when I taste one. When the offal kinds were on the menu, though, I gravitated towards them since I didn’t have a lot of them the last three times I went around Manhattan.

      My favorites were the longaniza and chorizo from La Conchita, the suadero from Tacos La Abuelita and the cabeza from Tulci-Mex.

      Here’s the complete rundown:

      1. Taqueria El Gallo Azteca, 75 Victory Blvd., 718/273.6404

      We were famished when we arrived in Staten Island via the free ferry ride from downtown Manhattan. We walked past the Taco Bell and made our first stop in St. George. (Who is by the way, not a real saint, but someone who was treated like one because he bought all the land the community at the time needed.) Even though we knew we had to make room for a lot of tacos, we still ordered one apiece from El Gallo. With the semi-chewy bistek, the spicy and salty al pastor and two of the lengua, or tongue, we were off to a very good start.

      2. El Campesino, 718/447.1215

      The cecina taco was the best. Cecina is a traditional cut of beef in Mexico, sliced thin, salted, and then laid out to dry under the sun. It’s like their version of jerky, really. We also had the lengua, the overdone bistek and of course, the chorizo. Everything was deliciously salty which is why I love simply-prepared tacos–they bring out the Filipino in me.

      3. La Mixteca Poblana, 104 Victory Blvd.

      They only had the al pastor kind here which is skewered in a vertical rotisserie. Like any gyro store, it slowly spins while cooking. The meat is seasoned with adobo and sometimes pineapple or avocado. What I liked was their brown tomato sauce. It added a toastier taste to the tacos.

      4. Tulci-Mex, 108 Victory Blvd., 718/720.1221

      They had the most offal selection here, but no one spoke English so it was hard to get a translation. I ended up ordering the only ones familiar to me. The cabeza was a favorite, or the head, because the gelatinuous stuff melted in our mouths. We had the orejas, or the ears, which had some crunch to them. Oh, those little earlobe bones!

      5. Las Jarochitos, Port Richmond, 718/876.9090

      Finally, a barbacoa kind, or goat! Like any goat stew I’ve had, this one was stringy and gamey. Unfortunately, tiny sharp bones were included. They are really difficult to separate when you’re stewing a goat for several hours and everything falls apart. The cecina and the chorizo were included in our order but they took a while. Thank goodness for cold Coronas.

      6. La Conchita, 244 Port Richmond, 718/448.0154

      In the Philippines, we use longaniza and chorizo interchangably, but both were available here. We didn’t really care which was which because both were the best we’ve had all day even though at first look, all you can see was cilantro. They were crunchy and the tips were a little burnt, which made a lovely snack when Mexico scored a third goal against Paraguay.

      7. Tacos La Abuelita, 229 Port Richmond, 718/273.4648

      The tacos here were a dollar each but they had the “especiales” for $2 and $3. We didn’t ask what made them special but the dollar ones tasted good enough. We ordered the buche, or the stomach, the cueritos, or pork skin, and the suadero, which is like stewed beef with all the fat included. The buche was a little unnerving to some of us because it obviously looked like chopped up intestine. The pork skin wasn’t as cripsy as I would have liked, but the suadero reminded me of lechon paksiw without the sour taste.

      The best part of this trip to Staten Island? Ralph’s ices after all those tacos!

      Related post/s:
      Background on finding the best taco in New York City project
      The Community Resource Exchange’s report on Mexican Immigration in Staten Island

    • Asparagus-Stuffed Branzino

      I was in the mood for fish after eating too many tacos, so I stopped by the Whole Foods in the Time Warner Center to buy one. It was getting late on a Sunday. I didn’t want to deal with the Fairway crowd and there was not enough time to go to Chinatown. I knew I had no choice but the expensive produce and the long lines in Whole Foods. Their stock was low that late in the day, but I managed to find a whole branzino. I like branzini–in plural form–because of their fleshy, flaky, white meat. They remind me of the Filipino bangus, or milkfish, without the perseverance requirement to pick on small fish bones. Branzino is essentially a Mediterranean sea bass, or to the French, loup de mer, and farm-raised. I also like that they come in smaller sizes than black sea bass or red snapper; perfect for one serving.

      I walked over to the vegetable section and found some nice bundles of asparagus. I’ve been eating them grilled lately–watch out, smelly pee!–since they are so easy to cook. If I didn’t end up making a light sauce with them to go with the fish, I thought I’d use them as stuffing. Almost 15 minutes standing in the checkout line led me to go the easier route when I got home.

      Ingredients:
      1 branzino, butterflied, deboned
      4 pieces of asparagus, cut in short pieces
      1 shallot, sliced thinly
      olive oil, salt, pepper

      1. In a large wok, heat some olive oil. Sauté onions and asparagus until onions caramelize a bit and asparagus pieces are tender, about 10 minutes. Remove from wok and set aside.
      2. Lay the butterflied branzino on a chopping board. Season the inside with salt and pepper. Scoop some of the asparagus-onion mixture and stuff the fish. Using kitchen twine, close the fish to keep the stuffing inside. You can either use a giant kitchen needle or just gently wrap the fish with the twine to hold the butterflied pieces close together.
      3. Using the same wok, heat some more oil. Add the fish and cook one side until golden brown, about 8 minutes. Using a heat-resistant spatula, gently turn the fish over and cook the other side for another 5 minutes. Remove to a paper towel-lined plate.

      Related post/s:
      I also like frying farm-raised trouts
      Why does your pee smell after eating asparagus?

    • Blue Hill Restaurant

      75 Washington Place between MacDougal and Sixth Avenue
      212/539.1776
      about $300 for two tasting menus and matching wine, with tip
      ♥ ♥

      The Dr. assured me that he passed his two-day long board exams. He won’t find out for sure for another three weeks, but I decided to prematurely congratulate him anyway. He’s always been curious about Blue Hill Restaurant and I’ve wanted to make another visit after a flying roach dropped on my bread plate in the middle of eating my main course. Two years ago, I could have given Blue Hill a four-heart review, but the insect cost them the other half. I know that other people wouldn’t even consider a return if they had the same experience I did. But the food is exceptionally good, inspired by local produce from the Hudson Valley and their own farm up in Stone Barns. I don’t care what people call it–water bug or a super roach–any insect has no place on my plate unless the insect itself is the food. (Hello, memories from eating beetles in Ilocos Sur and chapulines in Oaxaca.)

      Why the two hearts again with this review? I’m smiling as I type this: our table was visited by yet another flying roach. I will take responsibility for the fact that I requested, like the last time, to be seated in the back garden instead of the main dining room. Before our tasting menu began, I was already a little wary that it will happen again. The Dr., in his usual composed manner, assured me that it won’t. Sure enough, during our second course, the insect started buzzing around the room. This time, the other diners were also aware of it. It landed on the wall next to me. I stood up, trying to contain myself, and it flew away. Convinced that that was it, I sat back down to try and finish my fish. And then, plop! The insect was inside the Dr.’s wine glass. It fluttered for a second and it flew away again. It never came back, as if it was really just saying to me, Hello, nice to see you again. This time, the other diners saw what happened and complained to our waitress before we did. The Dr.’s wine was replaced and the rest of the night wiled away without incident.

      Oh, and the food? Still fresh and delicious, if you can take your mind off the roach story for a minute. We opted for the farmer’s feast which included one appetizer, two main courses and two desserts. The bean salad was delightful, on a bed of purslane and sprinkled with pistachios, made warm with “this morning’s” pullet egg. This was matched with a refreshing Plantagenet Riesling from Australia. A beautifully-done rouget was perfect with some Stone Barns greens tossed in arcuri garlic. Flawlessly-cooked fish just makes me so happy. Another white from Bruno Giacosa in Piedmont was its match. The Berkshire pork tasted a little like offal to me. Maybe because it was too fresh–if there is such a thing. I had to ask for a steak knife to slice through it. It wasn’t tough in an overdone sense; it just didn’t fall apart. The artichoke that was served with it was stuffed with zucchini and ricotta cheese, a quite lovely side I would want to eat again and again. A tempranillo and mazuelo blend was heftier, but kept the buzz in my head going. And mmm, the last two courses were our favorite types of desserts: a fromage blanc sorbet with fresh blueberries and a strawberry granita and sorbet with red and black raspberries. Both were sweetened with a Pineto from Brachetto d’Aqui.

      Blue Hill keeps their two hearts from me because I was still impressed with the food considering the circumstances. I will definitely come back a third time, but I’ll make sure I’m far away from the garden.

      Related post/s:
      My first Kafka-esque episode at Blue Hill
      A Blue Hill recipe favorite

    • Goblin Market

      199 Prince Street between MacDougal and Sullivan
      212/375.8275
      $150 for three, with four drinks, with tip
      ♥ ♥

      I’m pretty sure that when the poet Christina Rossetti wrote Goblin Market, she didn’t imagine a restaurant team to be inspired by it. There was something tempting, almost lustful, about the magical fruits the goblin-men were selling. The weak suffered, but one girl stood her ground and kept the evil fruits at bay. The restaurant itself is less creepy than the poem, but the menu is quite persuasive.

      We started with a couple of glasses of Cava while we chatted over the menu. They were out of octopus and the charcuterie, so I picked the mahi-mahi ceviche to satisfy my seafood craving. The apple jalapeño vinaigrette had the right spike, and although creamier than the ceviche I’m used to, I could have ordered a larger plate of it. The watermelon panzanella didn’t fare so well. The sun-dried tomato emulsion was interesting, but the taste too powerful for at least one of us.

      It was before July 4th and I was saving myself for the next day’s barbeque fest, but the only seafood dish available was the salmon. A bed of peas, bibb lettuce and mushrooms in a delicate lemon-flavored sauce sounded delicious, if not risky, because how many times have I ordered salmon and it was overdone? My companion encouraged me to give the restaurant a chance. I was glad I did–the salmon was flaky and moist at the same time. The peas and the greens needed to be there; I couldn’t help but scoop up some of the lemon sauce all over my plate.

      For the one who wanted nothing but meat, the Angus steak was perfectly done. There wasn’t a trace of the potato purée on her plate when the waiter took everything away.

      It’s rare when a restaurant in New York City has a lot to say but makes so little noise. Goblin Market was certainly in the news when it first opened, but it took me a while to actually visit and taste for myself. Thanks to tourists lining up for anything Mario Batali–they gave us a two-hour wait at Lupa–we walked over to the more quiet Sullivan Street without so much fanfare. I just wished I went sooner.

      Related post/s:
      Salt is on MacDougal
      And so is Provence

    • Nobu 57

      40 West 57th Street between Fifth and Sixth
      212/757.3000
      about $650 for omakase for six people, 60% comped, with drinks, with tip
      ♥ ♥ ♥

      You know when people say it’s all about who you know? I realized what that truly meant last week when I was invited to join a friend’s family for a birthday dinner at Nobu 57. The birthday boy works in the omakase kitchen, so it was just appropriate that he took his family to work to celebrate. The Dr. and I were lucky enough to be included. We joined the celebration a few minutes late. The night was young and already, the restaurant was loud and buzzing with celebrities. Blistered peppers and grilled fava beans were on the table when we arrived. I rarely see fresh fava bean pods in the market, so I was thrilled to see them as appetizers. The kitchen continued to send plate after plate to our table for the next three hours. The celebrant was all too familiar with the dishes because they make at least 500 of the omakase orders a night from the time the restaurant opens for lunch until it closes around midnight. His friends in the back surprised him a few times with new specials.

      They started us with the yellowtail sashimi with jalapeño peppers and the fluke in ponzu sauce. Both were so light I was led to believe that the rest of the night was going to be manageable. But then the presentation began–the kitchen staff trying to impress one of their own. The tuna with spicy cucumbers was served in a martini glass and topped with microgreens. The lobster and shiitake mushroom salad, a popular Nobu dish, became one of my favorites. The lobster was so succulent. The mushrooms only highlighted its decadence. A tofu and mussel salad was more mellow, served in trendy foam made of miso. Although impressive, it was probably the least memorable.

      The rock shrimps were served with a spicy cream sauce. I could have done without the creaminess, but apparently, Scarlett Johansson loves them the way they were. The soft-shell crabs were lightly deep-fried and cooked to perfection. I loved them even more because they were served with small chunks of watermelon. Cubed fish was served next on lettuce leaves meant to be picked up with our hands. They were topped with fried phyllo dough that looked like dried noodles. We could have ended our meal there, but the food kept coming. The arctic char was delicately sweet, so grilled cauliflowers and puréed cilantro sauce were the perfect complements. At this point, I was unable to move, but I had to force myself to keep eating because the beautiful lamb chops came in. These lamb chops made up for all the bad lamb I’ve ever had in my life. Redemption is oh-so-sweet. I could have eaten a few more if only my stomach didn’t beg for me to stop. I had no choice but watch as the rest of the table picked up the sushi pieces in front of me which included a salmon lookalike ocean trout and seawater eel.

      Thank goodness the drinks kept pouring. The beer and the wine flowed freely. Two carafes of cold sochu, one pomegranate, another lycheee flavored, disappeared immediately. We were too paralyzed to eat the desserts, but we happily picked on three kinds including the Nobu beer ice cream served with a white peach and jasmine soup and the whiskey milk ice cream with coffee crumble. One by one, the kitchen staff came out to greet the birthday boy. They brought with them a warm chocolate cake with green tea ice cream and a plate of fresh cantaloupe with a flickering birthday candle.

      I’m not as young as the celebrant, but I had no reason to complain as we achingly walked out of the restaurant to digest. Happy birthday indeed.

      Related post/s:
      Japanese food minus the noise and the celebrities
      Asian food without the $600 tab