Writing With My Mouth Full

Ramen Setagaya

141 First Avenue between St. Mark’s Place and 9th Street
212/529.2740
about $30 each for three, with sake, with tip
â™¥

What shoyu, or soy sauce, ramen is to Rai Rai Ken is shio to Setagaya. Shio, or salt, ramen is the only type available at Setagaya, so you better like it more than you do your pork bone type, or tonkotsu, or fermented soybean paste, or what we all know as miso.

I walked in with two other friends who were craving a hot bowl of soup for dinner and I suggested that we try Setagaya. It was cold outside so the line that snaked around First Avenue when the restaurant first opened is now gone, but the cold air has moved inside with the customers. The glass wall does not help. We sat tucked in the corner by the kitchen bar, but every time someone came in, we felt a chill. We ate our dinner wearing our coats and sharing two small bottles of sake.

Setagaya follows the traditional shio broth recipe that includes boiling dried seafood, like anchovies and scallops, for hours at a time. In fact, all that saltiness comes from the ocean. The broth is not clear because it is also flavored with pork that’s been barbecued on a charcoal grill. It sounds good, but we all had the same complaint: the broth tastes too much of barbecue. The secret ingredient is reportedly Vietnamese salt, and boy, was it salty. I love shio ramen because it’s lighter than the other types, but the charred and salty flavors didn’t meld the night we visited.

The noodles, though, were perfect in texture and stringiness. I love my ramen noodles a little chewy and meaty, and Setagaya’s reminded me of those $5 giant bowls I ate in Tokyo’s ramenyas oh so many years ago. Stick with the regular size when you visit, though, because you can only have so much barbecue and salt flavor in your ramen.

Pressed Reuben Sandwiches

What to do with still the remaining homemade corned beef in the fridge? Reuben sandwiches, of course! They were actually the reason why I made my own corned beef in the first place because I’ve been curious about how they are made ever since I tasted a really good version from Gettin’ Hungry, themorning deli on Hudson Street with the giant wooden lion inside. The origin of the Reuben sandwich is still being disputed, but it is essentially a grilled sandwich made with corned beef, Swiss cheese, sauerkraut and Russian dressing on rye bread.

I also don’t eat a lot of sandwiches besides the Vietnamese kind, but when I make them at home, I like them to be elaborate. But there are two things I don’t stock in the kitchen: ketchup and mayonnaise. It was snowing outside, but I made the trip to the grocery store anyway to pick them up. In the same aisle, I discovered horseradish cream sauce from Kraft. It looked like mayonnaise, but I guessed correctly, a touch of dried horseradish was included in the mix. Reuben sandwiches require a Russian dressing that looks like Thousand Island, but I figure, I can get away with this ready-made type especially after already spending five hours making my own corned beef the other day.

Combine the following to make Russian dressing if you don’t want to use ready-made horseradish cream sauce:
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 1/2 tbsp ketchup
1 1/2 tsp prepared horseradish
1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
salt, pepper

Ingredients:
corned beef, shredded; thinly-sliced if not homemade
Swiss cheese slices
sauerkraut, excess water squeezed off using paper towels
8 slices rye bread
horseradish cream sauce
half a stick unsalted butter, softened in microwave for 15 seconds

1. Spread one side of each bread slice evenly with some butter. With buttered sides down, spread horseradish cream on four slices and with some corned beef, sauerkraut and equal portions of cheese. Top with remaining slices, buttered side up.
2. Place large skillet over high heat and melt a small knob of butter. Reduce heat to low and add sandwiches. Using an iron grill press, put on top of the sandwiches and press. Cook until browned and crisp on both sides, about 2 minutes a side. Transfer to a platter lined with parchment paper. Cut in half and serve.

Bacaro

136 Division Street between Ludlow and Orchard
212/941.5060
$50 each for five, with two bottles of wine, with tip
â™¥

I used to know someone who lived on Madison Street in the deep recesses of Chinatown five years ago, but I haven’t been back in the area since then. Before that, Good World on Orchard was the place to be among dot-comers. For the last four years, I’ve been working in and around SoHo and have grown to love Frank DeCarlo and John LaFemina’s Peasant on Elizabeth Street. Its downstairs space is one of the places I end up in when I don’t have a reservation nor a dinner plan.

When Bacaro started appearing in food blogs as DeCarlo’s latest project after splitting from LaFemina, I kept a note in my head to make it back to Division Street when I get the chance. That opportunity came a little earlier last week when five of us wanted to eat from small plates and share bottles of wine but had nowhere to go. I had to lend my cab driver my iPhone to show him where Division Street is located because he said he had never heard of it. I was dropped off in the corner of a very quiet and deserted street. If it weren’t for the few smoking outside, I would have thought my Google map was wrong.

At 7pm, the four in our party were at the bar waiting for a table. We witnessed as other groups were seated as soon as they came in. It became worrisome that once another group showed up, we’d have to leave to find another restaurant, unless we wanted to wait for another hour. The bartender was nice enough to seat just the four of us–he made a smaller group move to a smaller table near the door just to accommodate us–and let us order food and wine while we waited for our fifth.

We started with duck prosciutto and some pear slices. Salty and tougher than the prosciutto I’m used to, the pears were still a good match. The braised duck leg that was served when our party was complete fared better, although it was still on the salty side. I assumed the octopus would come in vinaigrette just like they have them in Peasant, but they were fried in batter like calamares, which I’m not a fan of. It was amusing to find lemon peels and yellow bell pepper covered in batter, too, but I just thought the dish didn’t belong with the rest of our food. I also thought the meatballs were going to be gigantic like they have them at Ã¡pizz, John LaFemina’s second venture but without DeCarlo, but they were so small I could have eaten twenty more of them. The polenta salad was the most interesting because it was topped with a small chunk of cod. At Bacaro, everything I thought was a salad did not come with any leaves. The cod whet our appetites and prepared us for the gnocchi cooked in brown butter with mushrooms and the pasta with anchovy sauce–one warm and hearty, the other difficult to split among five.

Homemade Corned Beef with Cabbage and Potatoes

It’s feeling a lot like the holidays outside and all I’ve been drinking, besides wine, is Guinness draft. And what else matches with a full-bodied glass of Guinness? Corned beef, cabbage and potatoes! (Besides oysters, of course.) This recipe involves a lot of planning. In my case, I made sure I went straight home after work on the 10th day so that the brisket wasn’t going to sit in brine another day. But once you start cooking, it’s really a no-brainer. I set the timer of the stove an hour at a time once I started to slow-cook the brisket to remind me to check. After three hours, the vegetables took another half an hour.

If you can’t find ready-made pickling spices, you can easily combine the following and make your own:
2 cinnamon sticks, broken
1 tbsp mustard seeds
2 tsps black peppercorns
1 tsp whole cloves
1 tsp whole allspice
1 tsp powder ginger
4 dried bay leaves

Ingredients:
1 fresh beef brisket, about 4 pounds
1 small head of cabbage, cut in small wedges
6 medium red potatoes, halved
3 ribs celery, cut in 2-inch pieces
2 cups of baby carrots
2 large onions, cut in wedges
5 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsps whole grain mustard
3 tablespoons pickling spices
1 1/2 cups kosher salt
1 cup granulated sugar

1. Using a large Dutch oven, make the corned beef brine. Combine about 10 cups of water, salt, sugar, mustard, spices, and 3 cloves minced garlic. Bring to a boil over high heat. Remove from heat and set aside to cool. When cool enough, add the brisket. If necessary, add more cold water to cover the beef. Using a heavy bowl, weigh the brisket down so it will stay submerged in the water. Cover the pan and refrigerate for up to 10 days in the refrigerator.
2. When ready to cook, discard the brine and rinse the brisket well with cold water. Return to the Dutch oven and cover with cold water. Add the celery, onions and the remaining garlic. Bring to a boil and skim off impurities. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover and simmer for 3 hours.
3. Add the potatoes, carrots and cabbage. Continue to cook in medium-low heat until vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes more.
4. To serve, remove corned beef from liquid and slice in small chunks. Add cabbage, potatoes and carrots on the side. Drizzle some of the liquid on top of the corned beef and all over vegetables.

Smith’s

79 MacDougal Street off Houston
212/260.0100
about $45 each for two, with tip
â™¥

I’ve been wanting to go to Smith’s since it opened, but every time I would remember to walk by, they always give me an estimated hour-long wait. One Monday night, I was able to get a table for two on short notice. The place was full, but when I asked our waitress if we can chill with our drinks first before ordering anything, she told us we can stay as long as we want because it wasn’t going to be a busy night. I was so glad to hear that, too, because I was losing faith with restaurant servers due to most recent experiences. Our waitress continued to be attentive and pleasant the entire night.

When we finally started to feel hungry, we ordered several small plates to share. I loved the squid, charred with lemon, olives and pancetta bits, and I thought it was a good match with the heavier, more substantial artichoke pasta with black truffles. A steamed egg with Gorgonzola and polenta was a sophisticated dish even though I feel like foams have come and gone. The Portuguese sardines were butterflied and were quite tasty with tomato confit, but oh, is that more foam? I loved how crunchy the fish was but the small bones were cumbersome in my mouth. One even pricked my gums and I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom to pull it out.

Either we were getting more drunk as we sampled dish after dish, or that our choice of sparkling wine really matched everything we ordered. Even the roasted beets became more interesting–I love beets, don’t get me wrong–but with creamy horseradish and a nutty flavor, it was a nice complement to the corzetti pasta and earthy mushrooms.

I loved Smith’s for its location and coziness more than the food itself, but that strip off Houston is so unexciting otherwise I’d definitely come back to make sure it gets a share of my business.