Fabulously artisan ice cream (Big Gay Ice Cream Shop)

If you've never used your tongue to gently undress a thin layer of crushed Nilla Wafers from the tip of one of Bea Arthur's milky cones... then you, my friend, have never truly lived. There are some dishes and places that every food blogger raves about. When you talk about fried chicken, it's pretty hard not to mention Bob White's and Pies and Thighs, when you talk about soup dumplings, Nan Xiang inevitably gets thrown into the mix, and if you ask about street meat, almost everyone will have something to say about the cart at 53rd and 6th (although I really don't think it's that remarkable). More often than not, they're chock full of mediocrity and disappointment, leaving me utterly confused as to why so many people I barely know would lie to me about food. Far less frequently, these places are downright spectacular and actually live up to the lofty expectations set by every assclown with a keyboard who sets out to write about food (that includes me!). Sometimes. The Big Gay Ice Cream Shop is one of those places where "the juice is worth the squeeze."

Big Gay Ice Cream Shop does a lot of fucking things erotically well. To a scary degree. Yeah, they have the 'Salty Pimp,' a chocolate, sea salt, caramel mashup that violently fists the line between salty and sweet, playfully toying with your mind while delighting your taste buds. They also have the 'Monday Sundae,' a brilliantly decadent sundae topped with dulce de leche and sea salt set atop a Nutella covered waffle cone. Pretty much all of their menu qualifies as 'the tits.' But there's one item that's a classic beyond all others, and that's the one and only... Bea Arthur.



This Golden Girl truly sets the gold standard here. I unabashedly admit I was a fan of the show growing up, possibly because my Grandmother would always watch the marathons of the syndicated episodes. Everyone always said that Betty White was the comic relief, that the mother provided the wit, and that Blanche was just a slut - but the true crux of the show was undoubtedly Bea Arthur's character. As I mentioned, there are some truly attention-grabbing items on the menu, but the one I always end up defaulting to when it's game time is the Bea Arthur. It's simple, nothing more than vanilla ice cream swirled with dulce de leche rolled in a generous helping of crushed Nilla wafters - the preferred cookie of the geriatric crowd (very apropos) - but that's all it has to be. The ice cream is appropriately consistent in texture, the infusion of dulce de leche brings the sweetness to a more intense level, and the crunchy, sweet yet mild flavor of the Nilla wafers mellows out both the feel on the tongue as well as complexity of flavor. Let's be honest, if you had to pick one of the Golden Girls to get it on with, it'd probably be ol' dependable, and you know it.



Maybe it's not as fantastic as an intense session of lapping up some sweet vanilla + Nilla wafer action as above, but the 'Choinkwich' is a pretty fun little ice cream sandwich. Admittedly they're pre-made and not quite as awesome as the soft-serve, but you can't really deny some bacon on chocolate on chocolate lovin'. The implementation isn't great (again, because it's pre-made, the ice cream is pretty brick-like), but the amalgam of flavors undeniably just works. Anyway, in closing - allow me to summarize the Big Gay Ice Cream Shop. I am lactose intolerant. When I eat even what most people consider a reasonable amount of dairy, I will probably be making sweet ass cheek love to the toilet that night. I will gladly pay that penalty if it means enjoying myself a Bea Arthur.

tl;dr - My body doesn't accept dairy well. I still shovel big quantities of gay ice cream in my mouth. My favorite is the Bea Arthur, possibly because my grandmother brainwashed me into liking the Golden Girls growing up.

Big Gay Ice Cream Shop
125 E 7th St, New York, NY 10009
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Ramen and char-siu nirvana (Minca Ramen)

While the ramen fad peaked in 2011 (or was it 2010?) and the world has moved onto things like cronuts, I haven't moved on yet. I don't like change. I like constancy. Or maybe I share some similarities to the Pokemon Slowpoke. Today, in the middle of this assclown ridiculously hot and humid summer, I'm going to tell you a secret that's utterly useless to you now. A secret I held near and dear to my heart for years out of fear that tourists and douches would ruin it if it got legitimately popular - stares in the general direction of Prosperity Dumpling. Today, I shall reveal to you my favorite Japanese noodle place in the entire world. Including Japan. Although I've never eaten ramen there (except in the airport), so that's somewhat of a bullshit claim. Whatever, I feel like I eat enough of a variety of noodles where I can claim some sort of demented expert status in this kind of thing. Anyway, while almost every blogger in NYC will prematurely ejactulate over Ippudo or touch themselves at the mere thought of Totto Ramen - I can't get behind that crap. I'm not prepared to wait 30 minutes for a bowl of noodles (up to an hour if you're unfortunate). Frankly, I don't care for the atmosphere either. I just want to shove my face full of fatty-ass pork, slurp up some noodles, and drown in a thick creamy broth. That's where Minca comes in.



There's a saying in software development that was made popular around the time Facebook started blowing up... "move fast and break things." Well Minca's ramen is delivered way fast, and wreaks havoc on my digestive system. So there's that. One of the huge draws is the fact that I literally don't have to wait for shit. I've never had to wait for a table (grabbing a seat at the bar is almost always an option), and within 5 minutes of ordering, there's usually a bowl of sensual flavors sitting in my face. Look at that photo, that guy is literally servicing 6 customers at once. No inefficiencies in this place.



Damn, their gyoza sure are pretty. To be honest, I feel bad paying for gyoza. Yes, they're innately different from the 5 for $1 dumplings in Chinatown - they're more delicate, less doughy, and comprise of more meat, but they're still a horrible value for what you're paying. That said, Minca's are pretty tight. They have a certain fragrance of pork that's just a cut above what you normally get with cheapo dumps. The skins are insanely thin, yet eerily resilient. They're like that kid in highschool that got picked on all the time and you thought would just fucking lose it, but doesn't. That kind of resilience.



But you're not there for the gyoza. You're there for this shit. There are few things that bring me more joy than Lord of the Rings lego sets, and their Minca Sio ramen is one of them. You like fine-ass noodles with snap and elasticity? Hell yeah they got that shit locked down. You like rich creamy pork broth heavy on the garlic and sesame oil? They got those too. You looking for tight as fuck roast pork that they freaking flame torch on the spot? They've got that in spades (and are probably one of the only ramen places in NYC that does it). The components all sound wonderful, but the amalgam of bits results in a bowl of soul soothingly smooth noodles that has character from start to finish. The first bites are almost overwhelming, but as you take bite after bite, the flavors mellow, the tastes meld, and the experience is indescribable. Each mouthful of noodles gets intercepted by bites of crispy pork, rendered fat, and crunchy seaweed. It's honestly a whirlwind of textures layered on top of in your face flavor.

I'm not terribly good with words, but this is one of those places I go to even during the summer. Even when I'm sweating up a tropical storm of perspiration, I have urges. Just like sometimes you gotta rub one out, sometimes I gotta get my ramen on. Minca is probably the only place that can settle my 'congeez,' as my Nigerian friend would say.

tl;dr - in an effort to keep assclowns from ruining my favorite ramen place, I've waited three years to reveal my go to joint. If Minca were a significant other, it would be sexual in all the right ways, and dependable in all those other boring ways. Their ramen is just short of god-like. Ippudo can suck it.

Minca Ramen
536 E 5th St, New York, NY 10009
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When dim sum feels wrong (Red Egg)

Note to self (and all): do not get the desiccated soup dumplings here

I think something that's come with me having a job, and by association not being a broke-as-shit graduate student, is that my perception of value has become skewed. When I first started writing 'My Inner Fatty,' I think there were few things that made it ever slightly more palatable than every other food blog on the internet. First - I was (and still am) a relatively huge idiot and this is kind of like one of those nature shows where you just know the gazelle is going to get fucked, but you keep watching thinking that maybe it'll outrun the lion... but it never does. Second - I was raised in an Asian household that valued holding onto money tighter than a sphincter during a Korean horror movie (hint hint... that's tight) so instead of being a mega douche-nozzle getting off sucking off the likes of Per Se and Daniel, I wrote about stupid shit like 5 for $1 dumplings. The last thing I had going for me was my stunning good looks, but only a select few of you know me well enough for that to be reason to read my blog. Kidding on that last one, sadly. Anyway, I feel like I should apologize. Back to the original point, I feel like my value per dollar is really messed up now that I have a job. I'm no longer championing sketchy ass sandwiches from drug-dealing delis, I'm taking fancy pants pictures of legit restaurants with grades like 'B,' sometimes even 'A.' Shit. That's messed up.

When I first started writing this post, I was going to talk about how pimp Red Egg's dim sum is - it takes a tried-and-true concept of classic Chinese afternoon dishes and combines that with booze, complete with a pseudo-fusion feel - but then I realized that, no... I don't like the model that they're trying to sell. They're trying too hard. I think most of it has to do with the fact that it feels out of place in Chinatown (with how modern the decor is...) and its location is kind of out of the way too, undoubtedly so the old school Asians don't flip a shit. Counter-intuitively, I give mad props to any restaurant that can stay afloat while dancing gently along the fine line that is hygiene, looking like absolute shit and mocking the DOH - Red Egg is basically the opposite of that. It feels as if they're selling me ambiance, not food. Regardless of how true that might be, first impressions are big, and that shiz don't gel with me. Plus I like the fact that those other places have old women that yell at me in Cantonese while pushing around little carts in those little apron numbers - that's kinda my thing. It makes it feel more homely and hectic (and erotic). You ain't gonna find that kind of sensual atmosphere at Red Egg. There will be no one yelling at you angrily to take their 'chicken feet' while eye-fucking you with the intensity of 1000 suns.

With all that said, it's pretty clear that I'm biased against this place. With that said, they do make pretty bitchin' cuisine. Since I'm something of a Chinese food connoisseur/moron - it's probably for the best for you to make up your own mind on whether or not you want to go.



Oh hai! It's shumai. Admittedly, it is hard to fuck up shumai, but theirs were tight. Sometimes you find places with pushcarts that keep their steamers on top of low heat for so damn long that the shumai skins get mushy, the meat starts sweating, and weird flavors from other dishes leech onto the small delicate flower of pork. While mixing of dim sum flavors sounds like an absolutely heavenly premise, it actually sucks - and their shumai suck. Not Red Egg's. Theirs are springy like an rubber band (but without the chemical taste!), with each squishy bite carrying unadulterated pork porn (at this point, I guess I should have realized why my blog keeps getting flagged for adult content, but I never seem to learn).



I actually have no clue what the fuck these things are. While they look like boring bricks of lightly browned rice cake, the glistening skin really hides a center of pork. I think a good rule of thumb in an Asian restaurant is - "if you have no clue what something is, the center is probably some combination of pork, shrimp, msg, and other shit you don't want to think about." Anyway, these discs of oil and meat are basically dumplings with uber thick rice flour skins flattened into a short and stout cylinder. The filling is as you would expect - that is to say, porcine - but the skin is actually pretty special. There's a certain snappiness to the texture, and a very deliberate sweetness that you don't get with the 'dead flour' you normally use for wonton or dumpling skins. Long story short, while these things look all pasty and white like Newt Gingrich, they taste all dark and sensual like a Barry White. That's not racist, you're racist if you think that's racist.



I'm not going to justify why I got these. Shit, I got two orders of this. Why? Because every roast pork bun is a good roast pork bun (and because I finished one of them myself). Admittedly, some are better than others, but Red Egg does pretty well here. The bun is pillowy soft and the roast pork is crispy, yet moist. Add in a generous helping of maltose syrup and it's pretty much game over. Know all those stupid Snickers commercials where they say people get cranky when they don't have a Snickers? Well I feel like if you gave Kim-Jong Un a roast pork bun from Red Egg, he'd mellow the fuck out too.



Cheung fun is another one of those dishes that you can't really go wrong with. You steam rice noodles, you wrap some delicious-ass junk inside, and boom - you have a culinary masterpiece that delights on texture and also flavor. Sometimes I wonder if I actually like eating rice noodle wraps, or if I just use it as an excuse to drink the sweetened soy sauce mixture that they bring out to the table. Then I realize it doesn't really matter. That last bit was a good story, I'm sure.



These fuckers are so good they don't even need to be filled with meat. That's coming from me, so you know that's gotta be true. Some people don't like cilantro (I've been told it's because it shares the same active chemical as is used in modern soap production) - that's totally cool. If you don't, this shit probably isn't your jam, but if you enjoy munching on bars of Irish Spring as much as I do, you'll fucking love this dish.



My friend showed up with a vegan. I'm sorry, but if you're vegan - dim sum is basically a huge Jackie Chan "mind is full of fuck" kind of thing. Why would you even bother rolling out of bed to go to a place where everything is probably rolled in pork fat before being brought to the table? Seriously. If you're curious how these tasted - the honest to god answer I can give you is, I have no freakin' clue. I go to dim sum to eat pork, not steamed grass. Anyway, I think what you should probably take away from this post is - Red Egg makes good food, that is undeniable. I hate the premise on which Red Egg operates - that it's hip, caters to non-Asians, and tries way too hard to be modern... and has good hygienic practices. You should go if you want to drink with your dim sum. You will never find me there. The End.

tl;dr - Red Egg is a dim sum restaurant that serves booze and is clean. That feels wrong, weird, and counter-intuitively... dirty to me. Their food is pretty sick though. Also, don't invite vegans to dim sum. It really brings down the mood all around.

Red Egg
202 Centre Street, New York, NY 10013
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A generically good burger (Lure Fishbar)

As I sat down to right this post, I had one of those "who the hell am I?" moments. I realized I haven't had a legit burger in weeks, and I haven't written about one since I had that oh-so-sensual encounter with In-N-Out months ago. As someone who used to live, sleep, and breathe burgers - this just feels weird. Anyway, I was watching the Oprah interview of Lance Armstrong today (because obviously Oprah's expertise of bike racing comes in as only a close second to her knowledge of mac and cheese), and something dawned on me - Lance ruined the sport of cycling just as gimmicky fusion burgers topped with everything from foie gras to chocolate has ruined the classic burger. Every burger we eat nowadays, you expect it to be doped to the gills with some ass-hat stupid combination of toppings. Everything not covered in a mountain of crap is instantaneously boring. Now I'm not saying there isn't a place for candied bacon on a burger (I'd be the last person to tell you otherwise), but in no way should that define how good a burger is. A good burger should be able to stand on its own: meat, bread, and optionally cheese... nothing else.

Like I said, people want to buy into these ass-clown gimmicks. I know I did. Just like people wanted to believe some dude could beat up on cancer and then come back with one testicle to waffle-stomp a bunch of other dudes in spandex (no matter how much you want to argue the aerodynamics of a full set of nuts vs. a single nut), adding random shit on top of burgers isn't normal. Sure it might not taste like absolute asshole, but that doesn't mean it's done the right way. The moment you mask the unadulterated flavor of beef with a cranberry-infused garlic aioli, you've missed the point. Lure Bar gets this. When every other brunch joint is pushing their mozzarella stick covered freak-burgers, all they're going to pimp is a plain cheeseburger... an absolutely spectacular specimen of a cheeseburger.



Oh hello there [/George Takei voice]. If you're uncomfortably excited, it's okay. On visuals alone, Lure Fishbar deserves some slow clapping. A proportionally balanced combination of a semi-sweet brioche and a 6 ounce block of Pat LaFrieda blend bound together with a slice of sharp cheddar glistening with meat "love juice" looks its weight in gold. This is a veritably beautiful burger. An Audrey Hepburn looking burger. This is the type you would take home to your mother because it's so fucking classy you don't even understand why you're smitten with someone you just met.



Now Lure Fishbar saw all that they had made, and indeed, it was very good! There's a certain art to executing a proper burger. Step one, buy the right bread. Check... their brioche was porous, soft yet crusty, and had a subtle hint of buttery sweet richness. Step two, pick the right meat. Check... pretty hard to go wrong with the Pat LaFrieda blend. Step three, don't fuck it up. Good job Fishbar, all three of these - you did. See that patty? See how the fringe isn't grey? Getting a medium-rare correct is probably harder than it seems - cook to 135 Fahrenheit and let it sit for 5 mins on carryover heat. Except 90% of places either leave me with a mush that's cold in the center or a blob reminiscent of grey matter. Fishbar killed it. Then they put cheese on it, which is always the correct thing to do (coming from someone who's lactose intolerant). If you've ever played Dynasty Warriors, this is like a 150+ hit combo success with a special move to finish off the stage boss: historically accurate, but with a modern interpretation.



Also, there's fries. They're good fries, but they're standard fries. Like McDonald's fries. Which is actually probably the highest praise I can give considering my love for McDonald's fries. There's nothing that'll make these stand out, no duck-fat rendered crunch, no ginger ketchup condiment pairing, just plain old fries. Nothing to detract to detract from the burger, this is likely the best thing they could've trotted out on the plate. Again, bang up work Fishbar.

Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm trying to convince you of here. When I started writing this post three days ago, I think I was annoyed at Lance Armstrong for being a massive ass-schnozzle in his interview. Then I forgot about it somewhat and had to tie it into a burger. Then I got angry at how burgers are now bastardized with everything short of ape shit. Then I got mildly aroused reliving the Lure burger. So I'll end things here in cliff-hanger fashion.

tl;dr - I have ADD and can't finish a single post with a cohesive theme. Lure Fishbar makes a really good plain cheeseburger, which is awesome, because everyone else seems to be focusing on making ass-clown burgers with 50 ingredients piled on top. Something about Lance Armstrong too.

Lure Fishbar
142 Mercer Street, New York, NY 10012
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Non-Asians and dim sum (Nom Wah Tea Parlor)

There's that saying, that you should never judge a book by it's cover. Like Twilight... which has a stupid-ass cover, but holds the depths of literary achievement like the world has never seen or experienced before. Kidding... or am I? Anyway, I generally feel like if an Asian restaurant is being frequented by a plurality of non-Asian folk, I should probably mosey the fuck on outta there. Not that I don't like a good serving of General Tso's chicken - I just don't want that when I'm seeking on legit homestyle shiz. Now, I realize this isn't really a fair generalization (when are generalizations ever fair anyway?), as there are a handfull of non-Asian food bloggers who clearly know their shit when it comes to cuisine from the Far East, but this as a general rule is pretty good to follow. Sometimes... there are exceptions. Nom Wah is truly a case where the number of white people isn't indicative of how authentic the food actually is.

Just a few years ago, Nom Wah was a true hole-in-the-wall type dim sum joint where the old guy in the back cared more about playing mahjong than service. By no means am I suggesting this is an awesome customer service model, but goddamn it was some OG cuisine. I knew whatever that bro pimped from his kitchen would be delicious and of questionable preparation methods. That's the kind of place I'm all about. Turns out... not everyone likes that style of management. The original establishment basically ran itself into the ground. In order to stay afloat, some random young guy stepped in and breathed new life into Nom Wah i.e. it "sold out" and transformed into a hip English-friendly establishment. I should be outraged... I mean, this place traded Asian street cred on account of greed! Yet I'm not. Why?

Because some of their food is actually pretty dope.



At first glance these might appear to be normal beef meatballs, but if you thought that... then you've been Chuck Testa'd. These are some next-level shit meatballs with a tofu skin wrapping. I've never understood why, but dim sum meatballs all have a certain citrusy flavor infused. Anyway, their version were decent - and I did enjoy how elastic and chewy these were - but we didn't order them. Not sure if someone fucked up, but we didn't get our order of beef cheung-fun. I would be pretty pissed if these weren't ape-shit delicious.



And some of these! I don't think anything I say about scallion pancakes is actually worth a fart (I guess you could argue that about anything I've written on my blog), but theirs weren't fantastic. It's not that they tasted bad or anything - they were hot, crispy, and as my ass-clown Korean friend in LA would say "it tastes like scallions" - they were just really generic. Almost like the ones you get from frozen packaging. To be fair, I ate most of them, probably with a shit-eating grin on my face the entire time, but I wasn't wowed. Let's put it this way... I could've stood up while wearing sweatpants because there'd be no boner to hide.



Their egg rolls are supposedly their signature dish... and I'd be lying if I said they didn't taste good. The problem here is honestly that I have no fucking clue what's inside of them. If you're expecting the "traditional" egg roll from an Americanized take-out joint - roast pork, lots of cabbage, lots of bean sprouts, and carrots - your mouth is going to hate you. I think there was hints of tofu, more than a couple slivers of mushroom, and possibly even egg (cray, I know), but I might be making that all up. The mish-mash of flavors simply works even if it is unmemorable as a whole. If you like knowing what you're putting in your mouth, then you should probably steer clear. If you're a tastebud slut who'd swallow anything without question - it's actually worth a try. Uh, for people who don't fall into either of those categories... you're on your own.



As an aside, do you know why I hate writing about dim sum? Never mind the fact that "all dim sum is good dim sum" to me. Look at the turnip cake above. Looks delicious right? Fuck yeah it does. All crispy and Maillard reaction'd up. The problem is, it's the same as every other dim sum place. It's a block of gelatinous turnip that's pan fried. No one can screw that up. No one. Not even me. I've made that shit before and it was premium. You wouldn't it was from Nom Wah if it weren't for that tacky-ass table spread. Whatever, end rant. Their turnip cake was good.



Not sure why we bought a giant plate of fried meat, but you really don't need a good reason to ever do that. Nom Wah's deep-fried rib tips are confusing to me. Most spare-rib tips are drenched in a sauce comprised of soy, honey, and maltose syrup - so their unadulterated offering just feels... wrong? But it's not. It's eerily reminiscent of salt & pepper chicken (if you're Taiwanese, you know what I mean, otherwise - think of popcorn chicken that's seasoned with pepper beyond belief), and offers up a reasonably flavorful bite of fat and crispy pork. None of that sounds bad. Unless you're vegetarian, you should at least try it.



Oh look, it's sticky rice with strips of egg. I don't like ordering this shit at dim sum. You know why? Two reasons... I always feel like my OG grandmother could make a better version at home and in larger quantity, and also because I feel like it's a waste of carb real estate that can be saved for better things. Better things like...



Giant buns of roast pork. If I were in charge of the cafeteria at my office, every meal would begin, and end, with a roast pork bun. While I can safely say nothing else at Nom Wah truly makes me 'moist,' they fuckin' kill it on this one. Considering how many places you can get this shit, that's high praise. Their offering is a huge bitch - with a bun the size of a small plate and stuffed to the gills with deliciously fatty cancer pork. Also, it's pretty cheap... so my two real scoring criteria are both fulfilled.

I feel like I've come full circle with this post. I can't find it now... but I vaguely writing a post in which I basically said that an Asian restaurant full of white people was the ultimate red flag in bootleg. That it basically meant I should run far and fast away from the land of lo mein and egg rolls. With Nom Wah - while it's certainly not the pinnacle of... well, anything - I've realized that isn't 100% canon. There are lots of non-Asians inside, and their food is actually pretty decent. Where am I going with this? I'm not sure. I should probably stop being prejudiced now.

tl;dr - Nom Wah sold out big time, now caters to tourists and non-Asians. Someone made me go, and I've seen the light. Their food is not bad. Their roast pork bun is arguably great. I'd go back, but probably not make it a destination.

Nom Wah
13 Doyers Street, New York, NY 10013
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Claypot Rice (Noodle Village)

Driven to the brink of insanity and frostbite at home (my dad is very Asian in case you didn't know), I'm making my triumphant return to food blogging - if only to reap the heat being emanated from my laptop's keyboard - to tell you about a glorious bowl of rice and beef, whose flavor can only hope to be contained by an enormous ceramic bowl that is so hot that you'll inevitably burn yourself. Anyway, having recently graduated from college (sort of), I have a certain nostalgia for cooking my meals - start to finish - in a rice cooker. While part of that was due to my laziness and another part was due to sheer ineptitude, there was still something fantastically magical about shoving a bunch o' junk into a blazing hot metal pot and being presented with a debatably edible meal after a bit of entertaining myself (wink wink nudge nudge). It's like the tides, you can't explain that. While I certainly didn't die of malnutrition from my escapades in culinary brilliance, nothing I made was ever all that impressive or flavorful. Usually the meats would come out bland, the vegetables overly mushy, and the rice inconsistent. The premise was solid, the execution was shitty. That is... until I came across Noodle Village late last year. Those bros execute to fucking perfection.



Look at this shit. Are your nipples hard yet? Is that just me? Maybe it's just because my house is currently 36 degrees... I don't know... I'm not a doctor and I can't tell you these things. What I can tell you is that some facet of my current arousal is due to the photo you see above. A bowl of pure sensuality. A veritable quartet of quartet of flavors - tender, rich, and fatty slices of beef splashed with a hint of sesame oil and soy sauce, a few florets of broccoli and scallion pieces to make it look all healthy and add texture, a blend of lap cheong, mushroom, and fried onions to add another layer to the flavor, and some fluffy-ass rice with an edge so crusty you'd swear it has a sexually transmitted disease. Mmm. Dat bowl. Blend all that shit together and you have a flavor profile so clean yet so complex that you simply can't comprehend why it tastes so good. The components are bland on their own, but when put in a clay pot and fired under pressure, it becomes a masterful piece of culinary work.



For some assclown reason, my brain thought a giant bowl of rice the size of a wall clock wouldn't be sufficient to satiate my hunger... so I also ordered scallion pancakes. When they brought this nonsense out, I was ready to flip some tables. What the fuck is this noise? WHY DID YOU BRING ME A DOUGHNUT YOU CRAZY WOMAN?!?



Apparently this is just how they do scallion pancakes there. Is this Cantonese style or something? I dunno, I felt uncomfortable with this unexpected twist in my meal. What I wanted was thin and crispy layers of dough dotted with scallions, fried in the fattest of fats. What I ended up with was a pseudo-doughnut with weirdly textured uncooked dough in the middle. Did I finish eating it? Of course - I would never waste carbs. Did I enjoy it? Of course - I enjoy all carbs. That said, I probably wouldn't order it again. It's weird. Stop doing that Noodle Village, shit is cray.



This has nothing to do with nothing. I just think it's incredible that Noodle Village has some sort of dessert called 'INFINITE CREAMY ICE.' That's a bold-ass promise. Nothing in this world is truly infinite, so the fact that a random Chinese breakfast joint is promising a shaved ice dessert with an infinite amount of creaminess is suspect. Next time I return, I shall try it, for you - the readers, and maybe... just maybe, their infinite creamy will make me cream infinitely. Until next time, sweater monkeys.

tl;dr - if you like rice, you should go to Noodle Village. They have a big bowl of crispy rice that comes with meat that is es muy delicious. If Roger Ebert rated things I do, it would probably be worth three tits. Maybe three and a half.

Noodle Village
13 Mott Street, New York, NY 10013
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Good Ol' Fashioned The (Donut Pub)

Oh shit, it is October already. It has been forevertown since I last posted, but fret not sweater-monkeys, this second-rate food poet has returned. Today, I will tell you a tale about a friend of mine. Some people are addicted to alcohol, some people are addicted to drugs, some people are addicted to sniffing markers back in grade school when they had cherry scented white erase ones (oh lord the cherry ones were the best). My friend Tia, she is addicted to DP... by which I mean doughnuts... from Donut Pub. Being addicted to doughnuts is not so different from the other three - the debilitating reliance upon a substance to give you that thrill of 'feeling alive,' the constant reminder about how long it's been since the last time you used, and the withdrawal you go through when it's not there. It's all really the same. Now this post isn't me being judgmental of my friend's choices, actually the opposite, the first step to recovery is to admit that you yourself have a problem - well here it is: I too am addicted to DP. By which I mean Donut Pub.

I've been in CA for the past week - it has been eight days since I last used, and I am currently in withdrawal, feelbadman.jpg. You're probably wondering - "Why don't you just go to Dunkin' Donuts or something and eat some doughnuts?" With all due respect, eat a bag of dicks. How dare you compare Dunkin' Donuts, Tim Horton's, or any other chain doughnut restaurant with Donut Pub? How dare you. Sure NYC has Doughnut Plant (another kind of DP), which is pretty great in its own right, but kinda tries too hard, and also Peter Pan Bakery, which is assclown far out in Greenpoint - seriously, not going to wait on the G for that one, but none of them have the same OG goodness that Donut Pub possesses. Plain and simple, if you want old fashioned and cheap wads of fried dough smothered in sugar, then there's no other option than to go to Donut Pub. It is one of a kind, irreplaceable, a crutch in my day-to-day function.

Remember how I wouldn't shut the hell up about Donuts Plus (another DP? Is this some sort of fucked up joke I'm missing?) back in Philly? Well Donut Pub is like that and more. Also it's in Chelsea so I'm less likely to get mugged.



Like I said, simplicity is the name of the game here. Most places do a standard glazed doughnut, with a plain sugar coating. Donut Pub doesn't deviate far from that design, but their plain glazed doughnut is actually dipped in a combination of honey and syrup. The end result is the tits. A marvelous blend of pure sweetness with a subtle hint of honey that stays moist even hours later, the glaze is literally the perfect mate to the pillowy soft fried dough it's draped on. While people always praise how Krispy Kreme doughnuts yield to biting and melt in your mouth, Donut Pub hits that perfect consistency where the resilience of texture is balanced by the softness of the dough matrix. If it sounds like I'm getting a stiffy just by writing about this ring of pure sensuality - you'd be right. My pants are little bit tight now. Mostly due to the weight I've gained by shoving these in my mouth, but partially because I'm flavoroused right now.



"That's too plain" you say? You're 100% wrong, but I respect the fact that you're entitled to your own dumbass opinions. Well maybe the Boston Creme is more your thing. Same concept applies here - a simple implementation that doesn't deviate from the expected, but is done so well that you'll feel a certain kind of warmness when you bite into it. A certain kind of tranquility that everything around you is okay, along with a slightly accelerated and painful heartbeat. This doughnut will get your blood pressure up, for better or worse.



They don't really fuck around all stingy like most doughnut places do. More often than not, a Boston Creme doughnuts are incredibly sad creations - half-filled and on the brink of collapse. Not theirs. Built upon the same fantastically chewy dough platform, they do nothing more than a simple dip in honey syrup, a heavy-handed application of chocolate glaze, and a ridiculous piping of creme that would shame everyone in the porn industry. They stuff that shit with way too much creme, and top it with way too much chocolate glaze, but that's part of the appeal of Donut Pub.



"But I need my daily fill of fruit and junk so I don't get Scurvy!" This is actually a concern for some people I know. No worries, Donut Pub has you health nuts covered too. In the form of their oh-so-scintillating jelly doughnuts. Not that it really needs explaining, but this is the exact same doughnut shell, but this time stuffed to the point of explosion with grape jelly and then dusted with just enough powdered sugar to make it look like you have a cocaine addiction, to distract people from the shameful fact that you're actually addicted to something like doughnuts.



Remember the "Whitest Kids You Know" skit about the Grapist? Their jelly doughnut is just like that. It'll grape you in the mouth, and leave stains all over your shirt. And you'll like it. There's really nothing special about the jelly here, but when combined with the doughnut and with the glaze, something magical happens. The synergy of sweet upon sweet upon tart makes for a refreshing departure from their other offerings. I don't normally like fruits in my desserts, but when I do... it's at Donut Pub.

So now you know my shameful secret. I am addicted to this hole in the wall doughnut joint. I go there late at night so people don't see me buying a half-dozen at a time to eat in my office with tears of ecstasy and regret streaming down my face. It is both the greatest doughnut place I've found as well as my greatest weakness. My only hope is to drag all of you into this same situation so I'm less embarrassed at my reliance on fried rings and pockets of dough. Sighs all around.

tl;dr - I love DP. Which again - in this context is referring to Donut Pub. They don't make fancy pants doughnuts containing Foie Gras or anything, they just make doughnuts. Their doughnuts are the tits. It has ruined my life in ways I cannot describe.

The Donut Pub
203 West 14th Street, Manhattan, NY 10011
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Cambodian sandwiches and dolphin rape (Num Pang)

For those of you who have been waiting with bated breath for me to kick the inevitable bucket from heart disease... sorry. I'm still around. Just so busy with work and shiz that I haven't really been able to spew nonsense from the second butthole that is my mouth to your ears (and by extension, from my fingers to your eyes). Anyway, a couple of months ago... Tia, Danny, and myself convened at Num Pang, this tiny little Cambodian sandwich shop near Union square, for lunch. Sandwiches and pleasantries were had, but we also discussed a topic that most of you probably aren't aware of yet - a gross injustice in this world that's been overlooked and ignored - I'm talking about... dolphin rape. Imagine this: you're swimming so carefree in the sea, when suddenly... a biker gang rolls up... except, instead of badass bikers with crazy beards and names like "Moshpit" and "Bartholomew," you're accosted by dolphins. What do they want? Fuck if I know what their motives are, but instead of frolicking around like you always see in the movies, you're quickly whisked away to their secret underwater cave where you're emotionally and physically violated by something you always thought of as friends. Fuck you Flipper.

What in the shit does this have to do with Num Pang and Cambodian sandwiches? Well, not unlike the heinous crime that is... *dramatic pause*... dolphin rape, the fact that Cambodian sandwiches haven't been pimped harder, and have largely been kept a secret in the past, is a serious injustice. These combinations of bread, meat, and vegetables are synergistic boners for your tastebuds and deserve every bit as much praise as most assclown food bloggers nutted over banh mi a few years back. I mean, goddamn, just look at their menu. Five-spice glazed pork belly sandiwch? GG for everyone who loves pork.



Just look at that glaze. Dat glaze *bites lip*. At first, I kept thinking "fuck this, why am I paying close to $8 for this sandwich when I could easily get two of the aforementioned banh mi from Banh Mi Saigon...?" That was shortly before I bit into the magical creation you see above. Sometimes quality transcends cost (this is not a universal truth, just for things under $10), and in a case like the five-spice pork belly sandwich from Num Pang... it's definitely true. While I won't haul my ass downtown just to have one - ninja edit, yes I would - if I'm in the area? I'd be perfectly okay with spending $8 on this shit. Dope as hell. "Shut up about your thriftiness! Just tell us about this sandwich" you say? Prepare to cream your pants.

Built on a bready and crunchy baguette from Parisi Bakery, you get a thick slab of pork belly on top which is remarkably crunchy for something so high in fat content. On the outside of this bacon on steroids is a sweet and savory glaze that's built upon hoisin sauce and flavored with hints of five-spice. Then on top they lay the standard accouterments... cucumbers, pickled carrots, cilantro and chili mayo, but wait... there's more! As a nice finishing touch, they stack on a sliver of Asian pear, which adds a nice crunch to the texture as well as a bit of sweet tartness that only something as healthy as a fruit could provide. Listen, I'm normally the first person to tell you why fruits and healthy things suck, but it works. It really works. Is Num Pang all that it's cracked up to be? I'm not sure, but the two sandwiches I had would make me feel that way. Also, while I'm still not entirely sure how to describe how Cambodian sandwiches are supposed to be different from banh mi (clearly I'm be the best person to be listening to on this subject) - the fact that banh mi got so much ass in the Summer of '09 and no one's globalized the term num pang is fucked up. Seriously. Do your part to correct this injustice and go have a Cambodian bacon sandwich yo.

tl;dr - be extra careful when swimming in the sea (or I guess freshwater rivers too, if you're in china) you never know when a gang of biker dolphins will arrive with plans to "show you a good time." Equally scary is the fact that a lot of people don't know how sick Num Pang's sandwiches are. Almost as sick as dolphin rape.

Num Pang Sandwich Shop
21 East 12th Street, New York, NY 10003
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Bacon, mac & cheese, and pancakes (Shopsin's)

The other day I came across this video - don't ask me how or why - of Evgeni Plushenko's exhibition performance from when he won the gold medal at the World Championships in Vancouver. For the women who have just watched that video, you're welcome. For the men, you are now probably gay. No, but seriously... what I actually took away from that performance is that when you're the best at what you do - you can do whatever the fuck you want and get away with it. And it will be good. Now the parallel I want to draw here is that, when it comes to food, Shopsin's is Evgeni Plushenko. Kenny Shopsin can basically do whatever the fuck he wants, and I will 99% likely be impressed.

Why do I say this? Because some assclowns take issue with way Shopsin's runs his joint - strict hours, specific policies about seating, and a generally curt attitude when it comes to ordering. Listen, if you're pimping out the most delicious of delicious dishes, then as far as I care... you can be as big a douche as you want to be to me. Good food is good food. I can respect talent regardless of personality. Dumbasses need to understand this.



I know what you're thinking. "The fuck is this shit? How can I get my hands on one?" Let me drop some truth on you. This is the "Mo'Betta." It is the illegitimate lovechild of two mac & cheese infused pancakes that are all moist and shit, crispy-ass thick-cut maple bacon, and a whole buttload of scrambled eggs that are buttery as fuck. Basically, it's like Viagra for your mouth, which sounds inappropriate, but it's okay... because it has all the parts of a balanced breakfast. Almost as if it were healthy, almost. This is a combination of things that I love with zero moderation built into it, and it is glorious. If you're thinking that you could probably assemble something similar at home... you'd be wrong. Usually I talk about things in which the final product exceeds the sum of the parts, but unlike those lame-ass Power Rangers - always getting their asses beat down when they're by themselves - with the Mo'Betta... that's simply not true.



Also this shit. "Blisters on my Sisters." Now, I'm not entirely clear on why the sister has blisters (I'm sure the back story is 100% fucked up), but it really doesn't matter once you shovel some of this junk in your mouth. It's the combination of a couple of fried eggs, cheddar cheese, rice, beans, greens, and corn tortilla underneath. Basically it's a breakfast burrito that's been spread out super slutty-like for everyone to look at. You can order it in a variety of levels of spicy, but unless you're itching for your asshole to burn, I'd keep it to a 7 or below. Not much to say that you probably can't deduce from the list of components, but I will add that this basically makes Chipotle burritos look straight dumb.



The pinnacle of Shopsin's skills might exist entirely in their ability to churn out rings of fried dough. To say their fresh doughnuts are dope would be an understatement. They are the tits of sugar doughnuts. They come out piping hot, and will burn your tongue with the sensation of a koala with chlamydia peeing. Sure, they only really make the one kind of super-traditional doughnut, but their execution is spot on. When it comes to a plain sugar doughnut, they can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned. To make it this dish just slightly more sensual than it already is, they pair these bitches with a giant dish of freshly whipped cream. So fresh, it's like they milked the cow directly into my mouth. Fried dough + whipped cream = instant boner. Mad awkward in the middle of brunch. Not entirely unlike watching the Evgeni Plushenko video.

tl;dr - Shopsin's is a quaint little shop in Essex Market that makes weird combinations of breakfast/brunch type foods. Sometimes they might come off as assholes, but whatever... they can cook up some dope-ass food. You should go there, and be honored if they yell at you. To all the haters: go eat a dick.

Shopsin's
120 Essex St, New York, 10002
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Cookies-n-Cream sundae (Dessert Club, ChikaLicious)

Evidently my stomach is "disturbingly malleable?"

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I guess the normal thing would be to write about all the things I'm thankful for... awesome friends, loving family, having a great job, but I really don't think any of that really compares to how much I really appreciate the culinary brilliance you see above. Cookies-n-Cream sundae, bitches. Some people say that "calories cannot make you happy." Wrong. Whoever says that is either anorexic or is eating the wrong kinds of food, because you know what - the Cookies-n-Cream sundae from ChikaLicious not only makes me infinitely happier, it is one of the greatest dessert hybrids I have run across in my trek towards inevitable diabetes. I know what some of you are probably thinking: "bitch please, it's just some soft-serve vanilla with hunks of cookie in it. I could go home and break some Keebler cookies into that shit and it'd be the same." Fuck you. Don't belittle that sensually assembled Jenga tower of frozen dairy and butter-laden cookies. Fuck you.

"So prove me wrong," you say? Is it made from the breast milk of a Cambodian immigrant? What exactly makes that shit the dopest ice cream round town? For a couple of reasons. At ChickaLicious, neither the ice cream nor the cookies are an afterthought. They sell those cookies individually... and people pay good money for them, so it's pretty obvious that each one is capable of standing individually without assistance from ice cream. Then there's the ice cream. Is it artisinal and all that jazz? Well... no, but it also isn't McDonald's soft-serve either (not that I don't love McDonald's soft-serve). It's rich enough so that you know your heart hates you, but at the same time, delicious enough that you won't really care.



If you thought they just take the shitty reject cookie crumbs and shove them in some ice cream... you'd be epic wrong. They take perfectly good cookies and hulk-smash the shit out of them. The resulting pieces are big enough to satisfy any sort of "fuck ice cream, I wish I were eating cookies" thoughts, but small enough so that little children don't choke on them like the idiots that they are. Also, did I mention that they put three different kinds of cookies in there? Son. Shit just got real. There's "The Situation," "Situation Dark," and "Chocolate Chip." The Situation is a cookie that contains chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, marshmallows, and pretzels... the Situation Dark is basically the same thing, but with a chocolate cookie, and you can figure out what goes into the chocolate chip cookie - here's a hint: chocolate chips. When you fuck all three into some soft-serve - for $6.95 - it's definitely intense.

tl;dr - ChickaLicious Dessert Club makes this sick-ass sundae that has a bunch of cookie chunks mashed into it called the "Cookies-n-Cream" sundae. It tastes like winning the lottery and capturing a leprechaun in the same day. And suddenly... obesity.

ChickaLicious Dessert Club
203 East 10th Street, New York, NY 10003
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Steak and eggs w/fried rice (Boka)

Holy shit bro... you like steak and eggs? Do you also like kimchi fried rice? Fuck son, me too. If only there were such a glorious place that will fry a couple of eggs sunny-side up, plop them bitches next to some grilled and marinated beef, and serve that ish over some fried rice... shit would be tight, right? Boka does just that, and it's pretty damn legit (in the delicious sense, not the authentic sense). Listen... I know most people go to Boka because they have that sweet-ass deal on Thursdays with the all-you-can-eat/drink BonChon and beers, but if you're already there - I suggest you get a plate of this junk too. It's not that their kimchi fried rice is better than the homemade one made by your Korean friend's mom, and it's not like their galbi is the juiciest/tenderest/most flavorful cut of grilled cow that I've ever put to my lips, and well... eggs are eggs, but when you put all three of those things together and serve it alongside a bottle of soju with Hyori on the label? Fuck yeah it's the best. It tastes exactly like how I felt when Daniel-san beat those assholes from Kobra Kai. No, better. Straight awesome.

tl;dr - yeah I know this isn't really a full post, I just wanted to tell people to go eat some steak and eggs with kimchi fried rice.

Boka
9 Saint Marks Pl # D, New York, NY 10003
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PB&J Doughnuts (Doughnut Plant)

I'm a big proponent of people who take normal foods and make them unhealthier. That dude who decided to fry Oreos the first time round? Awesome. The first Chinese guy who decided to pan fry noodles instead of just boiling those bitches? Pioneer. Those bros on Epic Meal Time? Renaissance men. Whoever the fuck decided to sell fried sticks of butter at the Ohio state fair? My goddamn hero. Now, I think almost everyone has a soft spot in their heart for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - the old standby for when your parents didn't know what to make you for lunch. And possibly every meal... if they hated you. For some stupid reason or another... when I was a kid, I absolutely hated pb&j sandwiches, not because they tasted bad to me, but because... um, I thought they were too healthy. Yes that logic is idiotic. Sue me. Good thing Doughnut Plant (which my friends affectionately call 'DP') has taken care of that problem. While they're not really quite in the same league as those peeps I mentioned earlier, they're not doing so bad themselves.

By making a peanut butter glazed jelly doughnut, Doughnut Plant basically stripped away all the healthy shit from a pb&j sandwich. No more wheat bread and no more wack-ass crust. Instead of hearty wheat-filled nonsense, you get a surprisingly moist, yet fluffy, fried dough exterior... with the center pocket occupied by blackberry jelly. I paid $3+ for this. Me. Super frugal clench-my-buttcheeks-in-pain-when-spending-money me. I was smiling like an idiot from the first bite to the last. Take that how you will, but this shit is dope beyond recognition.



There was also some banana on pecan action going on in the form of their banana pecan cake doughnut. It's like banana bread... but dipped in sugar. Not that banana bread was ever really healthy, but I'm pretty sure anything dipped in a sugar glaze is worse for you. By my retarded logic, that = awesome. I'm not in love with their cake doughnuts - mostly because they look smaller than the yeast ones (i.e. a lesser value) - but that has nothing to do with taste. Honestly, this was pretty sick in terms of flavor and texture. Tastewise, it's basically as I described... a slice of banana bread with a heightened level of sweetness. From a texture standpoint, it has the consistency of a muffin with the moistness locked in by a saran wrap layer of liquid sugar... dotted with chopped up pecans. If that doesn't ridiculous to you... I'm sorry you're dead inside.

tl;dr - Foods that are bad for your health generally taste better. You can take something really average and make it incredible by doing little more than frying it and covering it with sugar. Doughnut Plant gets this. They make these two awesome flavors that are eerily reminiscent of normal foodstuffs simply by glazing them over. Good job... DP, twice the calories (probably), twice the pleasure.


Doughnut Plant‎
220 West 23rd Street, New York, NY 10011
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Marketing and dumplings (Plump Dumpling)

"Oh shit, not another dumpling post." I know, I know. I need to stop eating dumplings, but bear with me. I've actually been thinking about else aside from how awesome pockets of meat are... like the effects of proper marketing. When I was still in middle school - just as the first gen iPod was released - I remember I received an unbranded mp3 player as a gift. It was wicked cool to me... it had a gig of memory, could hold what felt like a bajillion songs, and it let me make playlists and all that shit. It was a massive upgrade to the Sony Discman that I only ever bought two CD's for. Pre-teen me probably creamed his pants. Then there was an incident where a more affluent classmate made fun of me on the bus for having a "fake iPod." Why? Is it because he was an asshole? Yes. That part is undoubtedly true, but not my that point. It wasn't as if the iPod was 10x better than my generic player in any sense (as the price would indicate), Apple was just flat out better at marketing their product than my mp3 player's random company did. Apple refined a concept that's totally applicable to food as well. Awesome marketing can bolster a mediocre product.

Plump Dumpling is kind of like that. Prosperity Dumpling is pretty much the tits when it comes to fried pockets-o-pork in Manhattan. Pliant skins, juicy pork, and ridiculously cheap... they have that dumpling shit down to a bro-science. It really is everything you could ever want from fried dumplings. It just doesn't make sense that I'd go anywhere else in the immediate vicinity to get the same thing right? Maybe if you're not an idiot like me. Every single time I walk up through East Village I see that stupid yellow smiling heart hanging over Plump Dumpling. Just look at it - seductive eyelashes, fair complexion, and what appears to be the duck face pose - it's basically saying "come inside of me... eat my dumplings... you know you want to." Epic dumpling slut. Solid marketing. To clarify things, yes... I was indeed seduced by a sign.



Trying food from more places is generally a good idea. Old people cooking stuff the same way for the past 20 years is great and all, but there's always something better out in the world. Children are our future... or some nonsense like that. Who knows when Jesus reincarnate will decide to try his hand at making potstickers like the world has never know? The only thing painful about this experiment was that six dumplings cost like $3. I realize that me complaining about a $3 meal makes it sound like I'm a stingy asshole/king of first world problems, but the fact of the matter is... $3 just a mile away would've netted me 15 dumplings from Prosperity, or at the very least 12 from any of a number of other places. From a pure monetary standpoint, these had to taste 200% better than everyone else to make them worth the cost. A tall task indeed.



It's not that their dumplings are bad by any stretch of the imagination, it's just that there's really no way for them to match such lofty expectations. In fact, their dumplings have a certain... homemade characteristic which almost makes them feel more nostalgic. They reminded me of the Northern Chinese style dumplings my grandfather would make from scratch way back when - thick chewy skins and a pork core consisting primarily of scallions and garlic (instead of chives). Honestly, if they were priced more competitively, I feel like I would go back. They churn out a decent product that would probably be on par with most of the generic $1 dumpling joints in Chinatown, but are succeeding entirely on the basis of image/location. Just like Apple. Fuckin' Macbooks.

tl;dr - Plump Dumpling has a really cool (to me) logo that features a smiling heart-shaped face that seduces you into eating their dumplings. While their dumplings are actually decent, they're not really worth 3x the amount that Prosperity's are. Moral of the story - don't be deceived by good marketing. Also... I hate Macbooks, and I'm bad at analogies.

Plump Dumpling
174 2nd Ave, New York, NY 10003
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