Brussel Sprouts: Where have you been all my life? November 28, 2009

Being Chinese, brussel sprouts never had the chance to sneak onto my plate as a kid.  I discovered them a few years ago, and am obsessed with these little mini cabbages.  Here’s my favorite way to prepare them:

1 bushel (10-12)of brussel sprouts, halved or quartered

Drizzle olive oil and half the juice of lemon (or balsamic vinegar)

Salt and pepper

Roast in an oven at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes (depending on your oven, check them every now and then so they don’t burn).  Pull them out when they are nicely browned.  You can retoss them in more olive oil if you like.  I prefer mine on the simple side.

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This Little Piggy Went To The Market, And Never Came Home September 22, 2008

Change is good, but rarely is it easy. Autumn is here, signifying the end of the long and lazy days of summer. It typically coincides with periods of transformation for me too. I walked through the San Gennaro Feast in Little Italy the other night for the first time in a long time. I generally avoid that area altogether, especially during these kinds of events. Interesting crowd of people walking around eating zeppoles (they looked good) and mystery meat from the sausage truck. The streets smelled of sugar, fried food and smoked meat. This was the smokiest stall on the street, producing thick clouds of porky smoke that drifted onto the street and into my hair.

First Pastrami Sandwich Ever, No Going Back Now September 9, 2008

I had my first pastrami sandwich from Katz’s Deli, down the street from where I live. It’s funny, I’ve walked past this place a million times and never had the urge to stop in. My friend Parry was visiting from LA this weekend, and we randomly went in on a whim. The guy behind the counter gave us a sample of pastrami and we were hooked. How can anyone walk away from that! We got a hot pastrami sandwich, on Rye with a smattering of mustard. The meat was so tender, it melted right in my mouth. A plate of half soured pickles completed the indulgence. I’m no meat aficionado, but I know good stuff when I eat it. I now understand why there are so many pastrami lovers out there. Viva!

Philadelphia August 3, 2008

I spent some time in Philly this weekend, visiting with stellargirl. We met up in Manhattan on Friday and went to David Byrne’s Playing the Building installation at the Battery Maritime Building downtown. It’s a fun exhibition showcasing one lone piano that is connected by myriad of wires to various parts of the building. Anyone can sit and play the piano, eliciting different sounds from the building. It’s free so if you find yourself in that neck of the woods, it’s worth checking out.

In Philly we had a great time eating good food and walking all around the city. We had brunch at Honey’s Sit ‘n Eat. I’m not typically crazy about brunch, but let me tell you, this was good. I had a simple plate of free range eggs with potato latke, and this lovely buttery biscuit with possibly the best blueberry compote ever. It was so fresh tasting and not too sweet and utterly amazing! And I was especially wowed by the ice cream at The Franklin Fountain – absolutely delectably delicious! It’s my favorite ice cream so far. Sorry Sundaes and Cones, you can’t even compete. I had the mint chocolate chip and Roz had the black raspberry with hot fudge. Mmmmm…ok, hers was really really good, maybe even better than mine. I’m getting that next time!!

It was a very short trip but I think I got a good sense of the place. It’s a great walking city where nothing seems too far. From what I could tell it seems pretty diverse and has a good mix of people. I saw a lot of ink and beards…what’s up with the lumberjack beards in this town, especially in the heart of summer? The tattoos – not only did almost everyone seem to have them – they were colorful sleeves of skin art. And on Friday night, Philly seems to get barraged by Southern New Jersey – I just can’t seem to escape the B&T crowd even in another city! All in all it was a fun trip but I feel like I’ve only skimmed the top so I look forward to my next visit!

If You Can’t Stand The Heat, Then Get Out Of The Kitchen June 15, 2008

Yesterday was a rainy day and I wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to have my own Top Chef Marathon. It was wildly entertaining for me, since my roots are firmly planted in food. Love, love love food.

I grew up in the back of a kitchen of a Chinese American restaurant in a blue collar city in the midwest. My earliest memories are surrounded by images of asian cooks and waitresses from various places abroad. Once in a while there would be the token caucasian – usually in the form of a waitress or hostess. Everyone else was from the fringes of society. Of course I did not realize this as a child. It only dawned on me as an adult, when I would go home and visit from my studies at the university. That was when I realized where I came from. I came from the womb of the restaurant world and I would spend the rest of my life trying to run away from it.

Instead of growing up playing with the neighborhood kids, most of my days were made up of hanging around the kitchen, prepping food and listening to the cursing and yelling of the cooks in a mixture of English and the various asian languages I was unfamiliar with. Sometimes my cousin Sophia and I would find a cook to pick on by shooting rubber bands or by sabotaging his take-out station. But most of the time we stayed out of the way or made ourselves useful by doing whatever needed to be done. I mean, what could kids really do in the kitchen? We ate shrimp chips and fortune cookies galore. We would remove the prefabricated fortune from the cookies and insert our own crude comments. We’d walk around and kill flies, keeping count and with a running tally for the winner. On hot days we’d hang out in the walk-in fridge until we got busted and sent back to work. We watched Popeye on a small black and white television in the closet. We’d make ourselves root beer floats. Not a bad place for a kid, really.

I remember doing work as soon as I was old enough to be told what to do. Some of my earliest memories are of making wontons with my brother and cousins in the back of the kitchen with my great grandmother. When I think about it, it was a great place for a family to be together, even if it was hard.