Writing With My Mouth Full

Bun

143 Grand Street off Lafayette
212/431.7999
about $45 for two, with tip
♥

Update, 2008: Michael Bao has left Bun

I can only imagine how hard it is to work as a waiter/waitress in a city teeming with restaurants, but for everybody’s sanity, find another job if you can’t even put up with a simple request from one of your customers. I eat out a lot and I’d like to think that I know what I want when I’m ready to eat. There are things I expect when I pay for my food and one of them is some kind of service from the restaurant’s staff. Now, I’m not talking about waiting on me hand and foot; I just want the menu as soon as I sit down, the food I’ve ordered after a reasonable wait, and my bill, preferably with the correct total, after you’ve cleared the last plate from my table. I could even understand if you don’t know an ingredient off the menu (the cute waiter at E.U. during its opening week who told us periwinkles are cured meat) or if you’ve forgotten today’s specials (the waitress who touted the lamb shoulder as chops), as long as you don’t act like an asshole afterwards and try to make me the bad person because of your mistake.

We went to Bun, Michael Bao’s new restaurant on Grand Street, to show our support for a new Asian restaurant opening in the midst of multi-million glass condo buildings coming up in SoHo. It wasn’t a particularly busy lunch hour and we were able to score the table near the door as soon as we walked in. My friend and I were the only Asian-looking customers inside. We couldn’t but help notice the lacquered red stools at the bar and the canvas Asian prints on the wall. The prices on the menu are obviously set to pay for the restaurant’s decor: $6 for a summer roll, $9 for a bowl of pho, $12 for a hot pot.

To start, my friend ordered one salmon roll served with anchovy sauce. The sauce reminded me of the Filipino bagoong from the north. The roll is simply a Vietnamese summer roll, only with salmon was used instead of shrimps. Berkshire pork is touted several times on the menu, so I opted for the vermicelli noodles, the restaurant’s namesake, with a few slices of them tossed with shrimps. We both ordered the pho for our main course, even though we knew our lunch tab was already running up to $40 without drinks.

The chicken pho was bland and we were surprised that it was peppered with pieces of chicken skin, complete with the small goose bumps. It’s just like eating at home, said my Chinese friend, but we wondered how the non-Asians in the restaurant felt upon seeing them in their soup. They do not taste bad, of course, but I know people who would be put off with boiled chicken skin in their dish, if not for the looks of it, the jiggly fat underneath. My bun was the day’s saving grace. I can’t make sure that the pork was indeed Berkshire pork since it’s not as distinctively sweet as a Niman Ranch pork, but the sweet and sour sauce had just the right Vietnamese flavor. At Xe Lua in Chinatown, I always order the beef bun when I’m not craving their pho.

It was only after the bun came that I realized I’ve ordered too much food. I got our waiter’s attention to ask him to cancel my beef pho. The order was already put in, but I’ve made a mistake, and I know it wouldn’t be too hard to accommodate my request. Instead of going back to the kitchen, our waiter tried to convince me that I should take the pho to go. He only stopped insisting when I told him that I’m not going to eat reheated pho back in the office.

When our bill came, the $9 for my canceled pho was still there. I tried to get our waiter’s attention again, but he kept looking away whenever he saw me looking. Fed up of waiting, I walked up to the bar, assumed the only guy behind it without chef’s white was the manager, and asked him to please take off the $9 off my bill because I’ve canceled that order earlier. When I returned to our table with the correct bill and we were getting ready to leave a tip, our waiter finally made an appearance and told us, I don’t have control over the computer to change your order or the bill. I nicely reminded him that I, too, don’t have that access and that was why I expected him to do his job.

We still left a 20% tip because we didn’t want the other waiters at Bun to think their own efforts are not appreciated. But I hope the restaurant owners realize that only one ugly feather can make an entire plume look bad.

Cilantro-Stuffed Red Snapper Fillet with Asian Salsa

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was waiting for my coffee inside Starbucks on Crosby and I noticed this man next to me. He looked very familiar. I didn’t realize I was staring at him. I looked away and left with my coffee. I knew he was a chef, but my mind was drawing a blank. A few minutes later, while in the middle of starting my morning, his name came to me: Jean-Georges Vongerichten. I was staring at Jean-Georges! In Starbucks! That was almost five years ago.

I was reminded of that day when the new Jean-Georges cookbook arrived in the mail last week. Like with any new cookbooks, I saved some quiet time at home to leaf through the pages and look at the beautiful photographs of food. After perusing, I started over, this time armed with small Post-Its to mark the dishes that I would like to make someday.

Asian Flavors of Jean-Georges is a culmination of what the chef learned from the year he was sent to Bangkok to be the chef de cuisine at Louis Outhier’s restaurant in the Oriental Hotel to his own kitchen adventures in opening Vong, 66 and Spice Market in New York City. I’ve never been to Bangkok, but some of the recipes easily reminded me of summers in the Philippines with plenty of sweet and sour flavors in our food. There were green mangoes dipped in fish sauce and shrimp paste; grilled fish drizzled with ginger and chiles; pieces of deep-fried pork belly tossed in vinegar and shallots. I could go on, but my mouth is already watering with the memories of enjoying a meal while wiping the sweat off our brows. It’s the taste that David Chang and his Momofuku empire have been presenting the last year to the many New Yorkers who are now asking themselves, how come I’ve never tasted this flavor before? It’s always been around: in Chinatown and in Flushing, and at Vong back in 1997. It may have just taken a funky Japanese name for people to realize that they’ve been eating and tasting the same flavor all along.

One recipe that stood out was Jean-Georges’ “Barbecued” Red Snapper, Thai Style on page 128. I wanted to eat fish after a quick trip to Asia Food Market on Mulberry. I bought the fresh herbs I needed and my pantry is already stocked with the usual Asian condiments, so this recipe was easy to re-create. All I really needed was fish fillets from the market.

The original recipe suggests using a food processor to make the cilantro mixture and the tomato salsa. I didn’t because I like chunks in my food–the texture actually made this dish less intimidating and look more homemade.

Ingredients:
3 red snapper fillets
1 bunch of cilantro, thoroughly washed
1 small can of crushed tomatoes
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 shallot, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
Thai fish sauce, or nam pla
fresh lime juice
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
1 stalk of scallion, chopped
1 fresh Thai chile, seeded, chopped
grape seed oil

1. Prepare a bowl with water and ice cubes. Boil some water in a pot, then add cilantro. After less than a minute, drain and transfer to the ice bath. Squeeze water off the cilantro with your hands and roughly chop. In a bowl, toss cilantro with half of the garlic and a jigger of fish sauce.
2. Stuff fish fillets with cilantro mixture by making small slits in the fish using a sharp knife. Put on a plate, cover and keep in the fridge until ready to cook.
3. In another large bowl, make tomato salsa. Combine tomatoes, sugar, shallots, lime juice, vinegar and a couple more jiggers of the fish sauce with the remaining garlic. Add more fish sauce to adjust taste. It should be sweet and sour with just the right amount of saltiness. Set aside.
4. When ready to cook the fish, heat some oil in a large skillet. Fry the cilantro-stuffed fillets on one side for about 4 minutes. Using a heat-resistant spatula, gently flip and cook the other side for another 4 minutes. Remove to a serving plate. Serve with tomato salsa and sprinkle with scallions and chile.

Marinated Cucumber with Orange Zest

I’ve changed the name of this dish from Jean-Georges’ original recipe, Cucumber Marinated with Orange Peel, because I only used the orange zest to sprinkle on the dish before serving. What I kept was the marinating juice, Chinese-style. This was a great appetizer to another Jean-Georges recipe using fish.

Ingredients:
1 cucumber, peeled, cut into strips
1 tbsp sugar
3 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tsp sesame oil
1 fresh Thai chile
orange zest
2 tsps salt

1. In a bowl, toss cucumber, salt and sugar, and let stand for 20 minutes.
2. Toss in the vinegar, sesame oil and rice vinegar, and marinate for another 30 minutes.
3. Sprinkle with orange zest before serving.

Subanik, Guatemalan Stew

Who’s in the kitchen? I asked the bartenders in La Lancha restaurant after only my second meal during my trip to Guatemala. Ezekiel, they said. He’s been the chef here at La Lancha. I wanted Ezekiel to know that I liked what he had been serving the past two days. While traveling Central America, I’ve had the same fried fish, roasted chicken, rice and plantains in every country. There’s nothing wrong with an honest meal, of course, but it was refreshing to eat something traditional that was executed so well. I was checked-in a resort, but the food did not taste like something for a corporate meeting and the menu certainly did not come with the word “fusion” in it.

I’ve had Ezekiel’s rolled-up tortilla with ground pork and beef and smothered with tomato salsa. I’ve had his chiles rellenos, or stuffed peppers; his fish fillet with coriander sauce was equally tasty and flavorful. It was during the third night that I ordered what Guatemalans call subanik, also known as “God’s meal” in the La Lancha menu, simply because it is a bowl of everything. It was the perfect bowl of hot reddish-orange broth, made better with the rice I mixed in. I couldn’t help but order it again for my last night’s dinner.

When I checked out of my room the next morning, the man himself, Ezekiel, stepped out of the kitchen with the recipe written on a piece of paper. I translated his notes out loud to make sure I understood and he showed me how the peppers that are crucial to the subanik broth look like. He showed me a large dried black pepper and a skinnier one that was dark red. They looked familiar to me because I have seen them in the Spanish aisle of my neighborhood supermarket. I couldn’t wait to buy them and try the recipe at home.

Back in New York, I found and bought guaque and ancho chiles in $1.50 packets. Guaque chiles are larger than jalapeÃ±os but have the same level of spiciness. Poblano chiles are slightly spicier than bell peppers and become the more familiar ancho, or wide, when dried because of its new shape. I had some leftover dried pimento peppers in the cupboard, so I decided that adding a third variety can’t hurt. They key to subanik broth is to simmer the chiles with tomatoes and tomatillos, those green tomatoes that come with an onion-paper skin. Toasted sesame and pumpkin seeds only add to the smoky flavor of the soup.

Feel free to add almost anything to your version. For my first, I used chicken and leftover turkey meat and skipped the vegetables. For my second, I skipped the meats entirely and just added the vegetables towards the end. I’ve tried both kaffir and mint leaves and found either worked well, as long as you have fresh lime juice to serve.

Ingredients:
2 dried ancho chiles
2 dried guaque chiles
2 dried pimento peppers
4 tomatillos
5 red tomatoes
1 tbsp sesame seeds, toasted
1 tbsp pumpkin seeds, toasted
1 zucchini, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
2 stalks of celery, chopped
2 pieces of chicken breast, sliced in small chunks
1 cup of stewing beef chunks
1 cup rice
fresh lime juice
half a bunch of cilantro leaves
mint leaves
salt

1. In a large Dutch oven, boil 10 cups of water with the chiles and the tomatoes. When the water boils, turn the heat down to a medium simmer. Add the cilantro, mint leaves, sesame and pumpkin seeds and cook for about an hour, uncovered. The tomatoes will swell and eventually soften. Gently smash them with the back of a spatula. The broth will be almost black when it’s ready.
2. Using a slotted spoon, scoop the chiles and tomatoes into a food processor and purÃ©e. Strain the remaining broth to another container to remove the chile seeds. Return the strained broth and the purÃ©e to the Dutch oven and continue to simmer.
3. Add the rice to the tomato-chile broth. Stir occasionally to cook the rice. After about 10 minutes, add the carrots, celery and chicken. When the vegetables are halfway done, add the beef and the zucchini. Cook until zucchini is tender. Ladle into bowls and serve with a squirt of lime juice and a sprinkle of sesame seeds.

Reflecting on Tikal, Guatemala

Jesus Antonio told me to look down and walk slowly right behind him. We were on Central Acropolis in Tikal and my guide was getting ready to show me his biggest surprise yet. Now, look up. I raised my head and was immediately in awe.

We’ve been walking through Tikal National Park and we’ve seen Complex Q and Group G. I was already impressed, but nothing prepared me to the sight of the Great Plaza from the top of Central Acropolis. Temple 1, also known as the Temple of Ah Cacao or Temple of the Great Jaguar, was on my right, Temple 2, or the Moon Temple, on my left. Right in front of me were structures I’ve only seen in books and magazines. Antonio showed us a dated postcard of Temple 1 to show how it looked before most of the excavations began–how amazing would it have been to follow the reports about a few protruding bricks, and then digging and discovering that they were at least 60 meters deep (that’s 200 feet up if you work from the bottom) and as old as the 4th century. And imagine that only a fraction have been excavated after decades of archaeological work!

Everything was covered by brush and trees then, except for the tops of the towers because vertical structures did not support the local plant growth. Tikal is so different from Mexico’s Teotihuacan, where there is no tree in sight to shade you from the sun. From Tikal’s Temple 4 and Temple 5, we sat on the platforms and saw the tops of the other buildings, as if floating among green clouds.

I climbed around Temple 1 and 2 to take photos of well-preserved stairs and view the excavated masks. The entire site had been estimated at 23 square miles. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, this largest of the ancient ruined cities of the Mayan civilization protected 100,000 to 200,000 people. It gave me goose bumps when I was there, and it’s giving me goose bumps as I write this now.

The Lost World, Mundo Perdido, was equally stunning, with its three-stairway pyramid now off-limits to traffic.

We saw coatimundis roaming around digging for food as we walked through the causeway in the forest. Howler and spider monkeys played with each other on tops of tall trees. A couple of toucan birds sat above us as we ate a La Lancha-prepared lunch of chicken sandwich, fruits and chips and salsa outside the visitors’ center with a cold bottle of Gallo beer I requested before we left the hotel.

I remembered that it’s Thanksgiving Day back in New York City. I know I have so much to thank for–being at Tikal, being in Guatemala, being able to travel on my own.