Best things I've had in my mouth (2012 edition)

This photo is unrelated to anything. I wish there really were a giant sized ice cream sandwich though...

Since I took ass-clown forever to write this post, I'm about two weeks too late to jump on the 'Best of' hash tag bandwagon. So just consider this a preview of posts yet to come... since I'm as backed up on posts as a geriatric who's lost their Metamucil. Anyway, as most of you are probably aware of, I did a pretty shit-tastic job of blogging this year. I'll admit it... my blog was about as successful as Betty White is sexy i.e. occasionally, but totally by accident. I posted maybe once a month and I have a backlog of unedited photos longer than one of Conan the Barbarian's legendary ass-hairs. That's not to say I didn't eat a metric ass-load of food (that's a real measurement), and that's not to say I didn't have my share of "oh wow, this needs to be made known bites." I was just lazy. Sorry. Without further ado... here's a list of five things that I consumed in 2012 that either 1. made me "turn my tighty-whities into frownie brownies" or 2. made me smile from ear to ear.

For the record, these aren't in any sort of order. I just randomly think of these things when I'm on the toilet. Actually, I guess you could say they're in the order I thought about memorable meals while on the toilet. I don't think anyone wants to think of it that way though.



1. Soup Dumplings at Nan Xiang (南翔小籠包) - Shit son. I like pork buns and I cannot lie. You other brothas can't deny. When a bun comes in with pork broth taste and a thin skin in my face I get sprung. Maybe not everyone's not like me. Maybe pork meatballs surrounded by a soup-laden bubble of carbohydrates isn't your thing. I say this with all due respect, but go eat a bundle of dicks. That should be everyone's thing. There are few things more glorious than the engineering marvels that are soup dumplings - from the dangerously delicate wrapper to the extremely volatile soup and meat suspension - these things defy logic. They are impossible structures of culinary masterpiece as well as literal flavor bomb. Nowhere in NYC will you find a better version than the one at Nan Xiang. Just be thankful that almost every asshat you come across will tell you that Joe's Shanghai is the place to go... it ensures the wait time here is shorter. Also get the deep fried beef scallion pancakes. Ermahgerd worthy.



2. Chahan at Naruto Ramen - As an Asian person, it's not often that I'm excited by something as plain as fried rice. I feel like I'm probably setting back stereotypes decades by saying this, but fried rice is part of my culture, I feel like I understand its most intimate desires, how it wants to taste, how it wants to clog my arteries with every grain of oil coated rice, how it should... be. As something of a fried rice connoisseur (note: holy shit, I surprised myself by spelling that correctly on first go...) Naruto Ramen does some next level shit when they decided to add 'chahan' to their menu. There's nothing complex about what goes into that pile of glorious starch and oil, it's a simple fried rice with roast pork, narutomaki, and scallions and eggs to finish. What I couldn't have expected was the depth of flavor such a simple mix would have over high heat. Fried rice is hard to fuck up for sure, but it's also damn hard to get this good. I feel like a dumbass for writing about fried rice, but this is some seriously dangerous shiz. Worth the trip up to the UES alone, and worth eating on its own as a standalone meal. Their ramen is good, but there's simply no point. It's a waste of carbs.



3. Fried potstickers at Tasty Dumpling - Woops. I fucked up. I admit it. Last year I might've told you that Prosperity Dumpling was the undisputed king of the dollar dumpling stores in Chinatown. I stand by the statement that at five for $1, that deal is something spectacular, but something happened this year. Something changed about them. For the first time in my life, I will go against the prudent economic choice and tell you that the best dumplings (according to this idiot at least) are five for $1.25. Yes. Even at a 25% premium on price, I'm telling you that Tasty Dumpling's dumplings are indeed the tits when it comes to pockets of meat. I'll eventually explain the full logic behind this statement in a post down the road, but for now - I feel like the fact that I'm willing to pay that much more per dumpling should be proof enough of Tasty's quality.



4. Sio Ramen from Minca - If you ask most people where the best Ramen in NYC is, you'll get a smattering of answers. Surely you'll hear Ippudo come up again and again, but honestly... waiting an hour plus for a bowl of noodles is pretty ridiculous in my opinion. Some will undoubtedly say Totto, Terakawa, or maybe Setagaya. I've been to all of them and as far as I'm concerned... none of their offerings can hold a candle to the sio ramen at Minca. Rich garlicy broth is mixed with springy noodles that stretch longer than a broken Stretch Armstrong doll. The crowning piece to this Pandora's box of flavor is the fact that they flame torch your bowl at the very end, bringing a slight and gentle charring to the char siu they lay delicately on top. The layer of rendered pork fat on top glistens in the soup acting as a mirror so you can see your own 'O-face' when you've taken your first bite.



5. (RIP) Cake cuts at Hong Cafe - Yeah, I'm cheating here. This shit doesn't exist anymore, but that doesn't diminish how wonderful it once was (during 2012). What was once the glorious Hon Cafe - not just a restaurant, but an institution of brilliance and efficiency and the best source of cake cuts in the city - is now a lame-ass over-priced joint called Mottzar Kitchen. What the fuck is a 'Mottzar' anyway? Once upon a time, Hon Cafe used to take its cosmetically challenged cake nubbins and would bag them up in an orphanage of sorts. They'd slap a $2 price tag on each bag, each special... full of unique defects, and sell them in the front window. Most people walked by, disgusted by the non-homogeneity of these bags of freak cakes. Not I. I saw their inner beauty. I knew that those non-symmetric rings of cream, sugar, and flour were just as good as their supermodel cousins, but at a fraction of the cost. I would make it a point to save these 'B+' cakes, discarded in a harsh Asian 'tiger-mom' world and save them - eating an entire bag with each sitting. Alas, they are no more. If someone has any leads on cake cuts... I will pay you a king's ransom for that knowledge.

So what's going to happen in 2013? I'll start blogging again. As much as I hate to admit it, I like to write, and I like getting in random internet arguments with strangers. Yes, to some degree I'm an attention whore. Aside from that? Maybe I'll use my recently discovered non-allergy to seafood and take it for a test drive. Maybe 2013 is the year of shrimp. Lots of shrimp. Less pork. Ha, unlikely. Realistically this year will be more of the same. More artery clogging, more catching up on posts, not enough money.

tl;dr - here's a bunch of things that I was uncomfortably excited to have in my mouth in 2012. Number 5 makes me sad. If someone can help me find cake cuts in Chinatown, you will be my new best friend. Or if you don't want to be my best friend... go eat a dick. Seriously though, tell me.
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Cake cuts, may you rest in peace (Hon Cafe)

So I haven't been writing very much lately. Sorry to disappoint the few of you who actually read this shiz, but I most likely won't be quitting my job just so I can accelerate heart disease and live penniless as a food blogger. Plus, I kinda like the whole 'free food' thing at work. Anyway, I know what most of you are thinking: "I don't need to hear your BS excuses, dance monkey! Dance!" Yeah yeah, I'm getting to the part where I shove food in my mouth and write about how it arouses, and then exits, me for your super great enjoyment. Okay, let me ask you something... have you ever had cake cuts? No? How does it feel to have never lived, loved, and experienced life to the fullest? I bet it sucks. Now you might be asking yourself "what the fuck are cake cuts? That just sounds straight dumb." Well, jokes on you - cake cuts are the single greatest thing that could ever happen to (and disappear from) Chinatown in the history of forevertown.

Growing up... one of my guiltiest pleasure foods were those Swiss roll cakes that Chinese bakeries make - beautiful 10" logs of nothing more than porous sponge cake spread with a delicately thin layer of some sort of cream. Mmm - dat cream. I could easily kill two or three of those things in a single sitting (have I mentioned I was fat) without any ill effects. Shameful? Yes. Delicious? Also yes. The fact that they were so deceptively light meant it felt okay shoving slice after slice after slice in my mouth as if I were Zeus and I was just slaying bitches left and right.



That's besides the point. The point? When you roll up a cake, the ends inevitably look like retarded nubbins of browned bits. Not very aesthetically pleasing. Once you cut that shit off though - boom - your cake looks straight sensual again. But what of those cake nubbins... what happens to them? Hon Cafe (now replaced by some ass-clown generic Chinese restaurant) used to do something magical. Each unfortunate looking orphan cake butt would be set aside and placed in a bag along with its fellow rejected brethren. They would then sell these gigantic bags of deformed Swiss rolls for $2. What a deal. "Shut up about your bag of dumb looking cakes!" you say? I can understand why you might not entirely appreciate how spectacular a bag of cake is, and all I can say to that is... eat a dick. A whole bag of them. You don't understand what it's like to have something so special, so sensual, taken from you shortly after discovery. Some things in life. They are not fair.



Hon Cafe wasn't a one trick pony though - not that they really needed to be good at anything aside from collecting rejected cake cuts and selling them to me at drug deal prices - they were actually a full fledged restaurant, that did other things moderately well too.



They do all the standard HK diner type dishes, including a savory guilty pleasure of mine... 乾炒牛和 a.k.a. beef chow fun. Look at that shit. By shit I mean oil. This motherfucker is so greasy I can see my reflection in the noodles, which is the only way I want to eat chow fun. Now I've explained this dish so many times already that I've lost count, but it's worth reiterating. The complexity of this dish is non-existent. You stir-fry marinated beef, onions, bean sprouts, and rice noodles together in a wok over a giant fire, you coat that shit with more oil than the Exxon Valdez, and boom - the combination of high heat, integration of fat, and the Maillard reaction happen. Non-enzymatic browning of carbohydrates. Tell me that phrase doesn't turn you on in the least. No? You're a goddamn liar. Science is sexy.



Rice noodles don't get you all greased up and hot and bothered? That's chill. Hon Cafe also made one of my favorite 'burgers.' I put quotes around burgers because I'm sure some dickweed will call me out on it not being a true 'All-American beef burger with lettuce cheese and tomatoes.' It's true, the Hon Cafe cheeseburger isn't that... instead, it's a wonderful concoction built on a light seeded bun (which is kinda a bummer since they used to use a spongy white Chinese bun thing baked in house which was delicious in its own right) that has a patty concoction formed by a mix of beef, pork, sweet soy, garlic, and onions - which gave it a sweet garlic-laden aftertaste that can only be described as similar to a five-spice meatloaf. Marry that to a slice of American cheese and a layer of lettuce and tomato and you get a non-generic 'burger' that I don't think will be replicated by any other restaurant anytime soon. This is honestly one of those cases in which the subtle differences overcome the simplicity and generic nature of a food. Short story, it is dope. It tastes like China.

What's the point of this post? What are the five stages of emotions you deal with after trauma? Denial, check. I saw the metal door down once and thought those peeps were straight chillin'. Gonna fuck up some more cakes to give me the next day. I was wrong. Anger, check. I was furious at myself for not going every day after work to pick up a bag of glorious cream cakes. Bargaining, maybe not this one. Depression, hell to the yes. Tears were shed. Does that make me less manly? Fuck you. I love cake. Acceptance? Yeah not yet. This post is supposed to be for me to vent. Hopefully I can come to terms that something I had fallen so hard for (so fast) is gone forever. I know that feel bro.

tl;dr - Hon Cafe, you were the shit. You made my life infinitely better by collecting orphan cake rejects and selling them for well below market-value. While most people probably didn't see them for their worth because they were unfortunate looking, I knew that each and every one of them was special. Special enough to be shoved in my mouth rapidly. Also, you made really good beef chow fun and a weirdly sugary burger. I miss you. Goodnight... sweet prince. You were a gargantuan amongst men. By which I mean bakeries.

Hon Cafe (closed)
70 Mott St, New York, NY 10013
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Mooncakes, I eat them (Kwong Wah Cake Co)

Know what those bitches are? Of course you do. Those are fucking mooncakes. Look at that shit... there's two of them gettin' all intimate on that plate. Goddamn. You might be wondering (if you're not Asian) - "what the fuck are mooncakes?" Let me lay down some truth on you. They're only the greatest thing to happen to Asia since fireworks, paper, and possibly even Mulan too. So check it, Chinese people like putting things inside of things: pork inside of dough, carbs inside of carbs, meat inside of egg , rice inside of squid... holy shit those bitches will put anything inside anything ಠ_ಠ . Some bro-dude in the olden times decided that it'd be a dope idea to put some egg yolk inside of some sweet-ass paste inside of some golden brown crust for some legitimately sensual three-way action. Apparently then they made up some wack-ass reasons to eat them to beat up on the Mongols. Not that I care. It just gives me an excuse to buy boxes of this stuff without being judged.



Pure sex. All yellow and loaded with cholesterol and other good shit. Fuck.

Look at that. Starting with the outside, you have a hella flaky layer of what's basically pure lard and flour. Mix that shit together and bake till golden. Brush it with egg... or something. Aww yeah. Then you have a thick layer of lotus paste (or whatever your heart desires really). That's basically nothing more than ground up beans mixed with sugar. Also more lard. Can't have enough lard. What would a mooncake be without a core of solid yellow egg yolk. Shitty. That's what. Combine all parts of the equation and you get a puck of culinary brilliance. A celebratory cake that actually tastes good (unlike those nasty fruitcakes white people send around at Christmas).

The only problem is... these bitches are expensive as hell. Chinese people are shrewd business people - possibly as cunning as Jewish people. They know that every year, without fail, there will be a steady stream of old ladies rampaging their doors asking for mooncakes like Godzilla raping Tokyo with morning wood. Demand dictates price, and with essentially infinite demand, they can charge whatever the hell they want. Sometimes you see boxes of four cakes going for $50. Who do they think they are? Ladurée? Bitch please, I'm not made of money. I can't pay $12.50 per mooncake no matter how delicious it is. Solution? Go to Kwong Wah Cake Co. They sell them individually there, and even the "super deluxe lotus seed with egg" option - yes that's really the name - is only $4.50. To be honest, they're not that far off from the super classy stuff I had in Taiwan when I was a kid. Not too bad for under $5.

What's the point of this post? I'm not really sure. I ate some mooncakes on Monday to celebrate this bootleg holiday that I know nothing about, and I just thought that I'd share how delicious these things were with the world. Actually, you know what you should do now that the mid-Autumn festival is over? Go buy yourself some cheap-ass mooncakes. They're delicious regardless occasion. Do it.

Kwong Wah Cake Co
210 Grand St, New York, NY 10013
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Pumpple cake (Flying Monkey Bakery)

Does anyone else remember that show "Pimp My Ride" in which the cultural hip-hop icon Alvin Nathaniel Joiner IV (better known as Xzibit) would take sorry-ass excuses for vehicles and pump them full of electronics worth well more than the sticker price of a brand new car? Yeah, that was some quality television. Perhaps the one good thing to come from that show was this awesome meme where Xzibit puts stuff inside of stuff so you can do stuff while you do other stuff. I wrote that and I'm not even sure if it makes sense. Why is this even relevant to food? Well... somewhere along the line, someone decided that Americans weren't fat enough. The solution to this grave injustice? Yo dawg, I heard you like to eat pie so we baked a pie in your ca... yeah I won't even bother... it's a pumpkin pie baked inside of a chocolate cake stacked with an apple pie baked inside of a vanilla cake frosted with vanilla buttercream that gets covered with rainbow sprinkles. Bitches love rainbow sprinkles. That's about as America as you can get.



what wonders lie inside this magical box?

Disappointingly, what I got was not pumpple cake. Apparently pumpkin puree is crazy expensive outside of Fall (screw you simple economics), so they make seasonal variants of their layered monstrosity. For Spring/Summer they substitute out the pumpkin pie for strawberry pie. So it's really a "strampple" cake? I don't know. I don't care. All that really matters is that the only thing standing between me and 1800 calories of cake-pie mashup is a flimsy cardboard box. I like those odds. Cardboard... ain't... shit.



A slice of pumpple/strampple... whatever you want to call it... will run you $9. Most people aren't as cheap as I am, and I realize how much prep work and time goes into making each one of these things, but goddamn. That's a lot to pay for a single slice of cake. That's the equivalent of 3 doughnuts from Doughnut Plant (or as a lot of my female friends call it... DP facepalm) or even crazier... something like 15 doughnuts from Donuts Plus! Do you know how much pleasure 15 French crullers can bring me? Unspeakable pleasure. Peep this, I'll quantify it for you. This cake is 1800 calories per slice. That is 200 calories per US dollar. If an average French Cruller has 250 calories, 15 doughnuts has 3750 calories, or 417 calories per US dollar. If there is a strong correlation between calories and deliciousness in baked goods (and I suspect there is), the cost efficiency of pumpple/strampple is less than half of that with doughnuts. In other words... this cake had to be tantalizingly delicious. With that kind of price tag, expectations... are basically impossible to meet. But I've been surprised before so...



For the first half of the equation, the strawberry pie/chocolate cake combo. I'm not the biggest fan of strawberry. Something about all those seeds sloshing around in my stomach just isn't kosher with me. Plus it just all seems so slutty. All the other fruits are perfectly okay with keeping their privates hidden inside, but nooooo... Ms. Strawberry has to go around giving up the goods prior to purchase. Strawberries... they are morally defective. Also they're kind of tart and not as sweet as other fruits so I don't find them as palatable in pies. Flying Monkey's was okay. The crust is nice and moist... slightly dense, but not unappetizing. The cake? Super heavy in chocolate flavor with a rich darkness that stayed around for a while after eating. Put together, this half was pleasantly mellow on flavor. Just a nice smooth mixture of sweet and tart.



The other half? It's a standard apple pie with vanilla cake. The pie itself is pretty generic. It uses the same crust (unsurprisingly) as the strawberry pie. The filling is pretty tame on the sugar, so you actually get a fairly distinct apple flavor rather than overly sweet cinnamon. The vanilla cake is much like its darker cousin. Rich, moist, and pretty subtle on flavor - it's really just there to act as a container for the pie. Nothing more, nothing less. When you slap the two halves together with freshly whipped vanilla buttercream, you get a fairly distinct dessert. Is it delicious? For sure. It's 1800 calories I definitely don't regret eating. Is it worth the price tag of $9? No... but keep in mind I'm a tight-fisted cheap-ass who hates spending more than $5 for lunch.
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