The value of soup dumplings (鼎泰豐)

This is it, my triumphant return to blogging. Like herpes, you think I'm gone, but then I come back in the form of a mega cold sore and embarrass you on your wedding day. But we're not here to talk about herpes (at least, not now) we're here to talk about soup dumplings. I recently hopped on a jetplane and returned to the motherland of Taiwan. Over the course of the slightly-less-than-two-hour flight, I did two things: I actively tried to hide my growing erection at the thought of eating real Taiwanese food again, and I built a short checklist of things that I wanted to do. One of my top priorities was to visit 7-11 to marvel at the broad selection of microwave bentos and to revel in in the glory of Hello Kitty memorabilia. Another was to go to multiple nightmarkets so I could experience the roller coaster of pleasures and regrets from my eating decisions. Yet another was to eat at the dopest beef noodle joint in the history of noodles and beef. The last was to drink 18-day Taiwan Beer, which is apparently a thing. One thing I didn't plan on was going to Din Tai Fung (鼎泰豐).

There's a few reasons for that. Historically I've been a real cheap-ass when it comes to food. To put this in perspective, I've walked an extra five miles to a different location of a chain restaurant because I heard they had a cheaper combo meal. Din Tai Fung is consistently more expensive - 200 NT (about $6) for a steamer of 10 - than anywhere else by double. On top of that is the fact that there's almost always a line to get in, and it's not because they're offering a something for free or anything (sorry for the stereotyping, but I firmly believe Chinese people will line up for anything if it's free), it's because everyone and their grandmother associates DTF with soup dumplings. In a nutshell, Din Tai Fung is the antithesis of everything I believe in when it comes to Asian food - long lines, inflated prices, and hype out the asshole.



Except on this trip, there was no line (it was raining) and I did go in, and I realized that my assessment is mostly wrong. I say mostly because the majority of people are still dickweeds who put DTF on a god-tier pedestal.

I will admit, their soup dumplings are the tits. Not life-changing, not inspirational, but just plain good. The skin is borderline translucent (yes, you can see the soup wish-washing around) which is pretty impressive to me considering I can't even boil frozen dumplings without having them break. The filling is adequately rich, but without the overwhelming porkiness that you get from the corner stalls selling them 10 for $2. And of course, there's the soup aspect... I always go into the first bite underestimating their ability to fill a carbohydrate balloon with melted pork fat and I always end up with soup on my pants or on my face. Super hot. Again, there's no denying that their soup dumplings are ridiculously good, I just hate how much people hold them as an absolute benchmark.



You know what is pretty fun though? If you get the crab and pork ones, they'll make a small yellow crab and put it in the steamer so you can tell them apart. Yes, it's made of dough and yes I ate it. No, it did not taste good because it's just a piece of steamed dough with yellow food coloring. You're welcome for not having to replay this experiment. My assessment of the crab one is much the same as the pork one, although I guess I would be disappointed if I paid a premium for it, because it just doesn't taste that much like crab.



You know what DTF's not famous for, like... at all? Dan dan noodles (擔擔麵). So of course it makes sense that I would order this. The thing is, DTF is a nice restaurant of sorts, and I didn't want to be the kind of assclown who goes and takes up a table and orders two orders of 5x soup dumplings. Logically I should have gotten fried rice because - fun fact! - that's what they were famous (along with selling cooking oil) for before some guy decided to make soup dumplings. I'm not logical though, so I got the thing that no one ever orders.



You mix that shit up good and you get this. Which was actually ridiculously good. It's spicy, but not in the traditional Szechuan style of numbing your mouth, it's more of a building heat, which along with the sweetness of the sauce was a solid combo. Not to say that soup dumplings are bland, but this would equate to a good chaser, one that overrides the heavy oil sensation from pork soup.

So where am I on the topic of soup dumplings? I've reassessed my stance on DTF in saying that they're overpriced and overrated. In Taipei, they're priced just fine (which is to say, still lower than every single place I've been to in the US including Joe's Shanghai, Joe's Ginger, Nan Xiang, Shanghai Cafe, etc.), and at that price point, they're hella solid. But it's still not something I feel like I need to do when I go to Taiwan every time. Plus, what fun is it to eat at a place you know you won't get sick in? I live for the thrill of the hunt (for toilets), and DTF just doesn't offer me that.
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Noodles, dumplings, and pancake noodles at 老北方 (Lao Bei Fang)

It's me again. Still alive, back with another post on the 'glorious number one blog in Best Korea.' Actually, I don't know if that's true. It probably isn't. Anyway, if you're curious what took so long between posts and guessed laziness, well you can shove it - you're wrong. I've actually been re-inventing the wheel and rewriting my own blogging app. Why? I'm not 100% sure anymore, part of it is my incredible amount of hatred for Blogger (even though it's run by the same folks who pay me the big bucks - part of that is a lie). Another part of it was because I've gotten somewhat rusty with skills applicable to my job and figured I'd practice some non-work coding, but most of it was due to sheer underestimation of how difficult it would be to write something that a) worked and b) didn't look like the ass end of a CSS trainwreck. Long story short, I thought I was smarter than I actually am and, not unlike Achilles, my hubris will bring about my demise. In any case, let's discuss a topic entirely unrelated to my personal ineptitude - for the last few years, I've had a side project of sorts to find 木須炒餅 (mu4 xu1 chao3 bing3) in New York. In case you're not familiar with the brilliance of said dish, it's basically if you took fatty strips of pork, stir fried it with mixed vegetables, and then... instead of using some lame-ass noodles, you take a deep-fried golden scallion pancake and cut it up into thick strips and used those. Long story short, I've found it... in Elmhurt, and it is nothing short of magically delicious.



Why has this been my Moby Dick of foods? I've written about my encounters with it in the past, but I don't think I full extolled the brilliance of the dish. Not unlike how Batman would be shit-tier without Robin, or how Sherlock would be nothing more than a high-functioning sociopath without Watson, some of the most incredible things come in the form of duos. While a generic scallion pancake is nothing to write home about (although I have before) and the idea of 'mushu' pork is rather mundane and elicits bad memories of sketchy takeout Chinese joints, when you force them into a relationship greased with copious amounts of oils - something beautiful happens. A melding of souls, flavors, textures, and ultimately indigestion. While the simplicity of a deep fried mixture of nothing more than scallions and dough into a savory golden disc of flavor is a scientific miracle on its own, slicing it into thinner strips changes the texture and character. If you combine that with what amounts to little more than mushrooms, cabbage, and slivers of rendered pork fat? Aunt Jemima ain't got shit on these pancake noodles, shit's too cash.



Keep this in mind, this place isn't even well known for their scallion pancakes. What they're really dope at is their noodle soups. Hand-pulled? They go big here. When you're at Lan Zhou (that place on East Broadway), your meal is consistently punctuated with a nice solid slapping sound of the dough striking the countertop. At Lao Bei Fang, they use a massive slab of dough several times larger and just punish it, beating it harder than a teenager at home alone. The result is a thick and dull thud whose sound just dies on impact. Their noodles are no less springy and offer a similar tensile resilience as Lan Zhou's (which I consider one of the best hand pulled places in the city), they're just a bit better at scaling. Their knife cut noodles come from the same batch, but instead of lengthening it like a Stretch Armstrong doll, they just use a giant hand cutter to slice off thick ribbons of dough. What good are noodles without broth though? Theirs is solid if not spectacular - a deep, rich, soy based broth that's heavy on beef and star anise flavor. Weirdly enough, there seems to be a hint of pork flavor in there... as if they floated pork chops in their broth to add to the richness (what a ridiculous thought). The meat is decidedly random and varies in quality - exactly the way it should be. The reason I say this is because beef noodle soup is supposed to be a meal you get on a budget at a random corner shop, not haute cuisine that demands high quality meat. If your shit ain't a little bit sketchy, then something has gone horribly wrong. Anyway, in summary, their beef noodle soup is - for lack of a better word - good. It isn't going to make you blow your load because of any specific reason, but it does every little thing right.



Some people are drug addicts, some people are alcoholics, some people have a fetish for used panties... I admit it, I have a problem where I will always want to eat dumplings. If you ever see me at a restaurant and there are dumplings on the menu, I don't care what anyone says - I will be ordering them, that is fact, and that is non-negotiable. It's going to happen. Lao Bei Fang's dumplings are amazingly over-sized - the type of dumplings that walk into the locker room and make everyone else feel inadequate. They're so wonderfully large that it would be foolish to try and eat them in a single bite (although I definitely tried). The skin is the thick doughy variety you'll find in Northern Chinese cuisine... which makes sense considering the restaurant's name translates loosely to 'Old Northern.' This blanket of dough insulates a blazing hot ball of pork, which is proportionally immense in size to the skin, sitting in a shockingly significant amount of broth. If you've had a shitty soup dumpling that leaves you more disappointed than Evil Hercules, then this is the inverse. You bite into it expecting a traditional pan-fried potsticker, but you get something much closer to a 生煎包 (tiny fried buns for the non-Chinese readers). Quite simply, their fried dumplings are the tits. They won't dethrone the dumplings at Lan Zhou, Tasty Dumpling, or North Dumpling, but that's because they differ enough to fill another void in my heart. I have plenty of arteries to clog yo.

What more do I have to say? This place if freakin' nostalgic for me - they make shit that no other game in town does, and they do it well. If I had my way, everyone else would get on their level and start using scallion pancakes instead of noodles. That's some next level thinking right there. Seriously, only good can come from introducing more fried things into a dish that's already stir-fried. The fact that they kick so much ass at everything else they make is just icing on the cake for me.

Lao Bei Fang (老北方)
83-05 Broadway, New York, NY 11373
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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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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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Black bean noodles (Son Ja Jang)

Remember how a few months ago I told you to go to Shanghai Mong to get black bean noodles? That they were the bees knees of black starchy concoctions... that they made me cream myself just at the thought of sauce drenched noodles (maybe this is why Google AdSense thinks I'm writing an 'Adult' blog)? Well I'm sorry. I was wrong. While their version is undoubtedly solid (and delicious if you're also going to get some sweet-ass tangsuyuk), it's not worthy as a destination by itself. To be fair, I also told you it looks like poo, so if you listened to me... there is something wrong with you. Or with me. Who knows? Anyway, to make amends for this - lemme tell you about a tight little noodle shop hidden in the back of generic - which is not to say it's bad - Korean barbecue joint. Tonight... we dine in Hell. This... is... Spartaaa! Wait, no. That's not right.



mmm. Look how much that looks like poo. You can't unthink it now!

Tucked away behind the main storefront of Muk Eun Ji is a tiny operation by the name of Son Ja Jang. There are literally three dudes in a glass paneled room bitch slapping the shit out of hunks of dough. There's a certain musical quality that accompanies the punishment they dole out on that dough. A symphony of abuse if you will. After a few minutes, you'll get the bowl you see above. Tender strands of noodle that go on forevertown, with a certain snappiness that seems reminiscent of a rubberband. If there were a bowl of noodles I would consider eating plain, devoid of any sauce or toppings, it would be this one. It is, simply put, amazeballs.



Then you mix that shit all up good. Really fuck it up. If the waitress doesn't offer, ask her to take a pair of scissors to it. Those glorious noodles are far too unwieldy once sauced on for you to tackle without being cut. The end result is this bowl of poo noodles. Shredded hunks of oh-so-fatty beef, sauteed onions, and some sweet-ass sauce of unknown origins (just kidding, it's black bean). The subtle sweetness of the sauce mixed with the richness of the beef blend into a beautiful session of lovemaking with the noodles. It is not sensual, it is straight carnal. No need to mince words.



You might look at their menu and think "hey, there's another one that's a dollar more called 'pul' jajangmyeonn. I be that because it costs more, it tastes beter!" Shut up. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. Those three chilis? They are not fucking kidding. The first time I went, I thought that I liked spicy food - that there was no way you could elevate plain black bean noodles to an undocumented level of pain with just the addition of chili oil. I was very wrong. Very very wrong. While it's built on the same platform of delicious bouncy noodles, the sauce is enough to transform a grown man's face into a waterfall of salt water and snot. I've eaten ghost chili cheesesteak, ghost chili hot wings, and more capsaicin than the average person multiple times over, but dear god I couldn't stomach the entire bowl. It is painful going in, and it will destroy your butthole going out. Do not try to prove something here, just get the regular noodles. That's how spicy it is. Me, the cheapest person ever, took a few bites and wrote off those $9 as lost forever.



They also have fried dumplings. Don't bother. These just make me sad (and pale in comparison to the glory of the Hypnotoad... by which I mean the jajangmyeon). The skin is uniform in toughness and blandness - and oh there's the a lot of it, and the filling is nondescript and boring. Plus they cost like $8. What an ass-clown deal that is. I could get 40 really good dumplings from Chinatown for that price. Besides, if we're allocating our distribution of carbs, you really should be focusing on the black bean noodles here. Anyway, this here ends my apology post - ignore what I said about Shanghai Mong having killer black bean noodles. Son Ja Jang? That shit's my jam yo.

tl;dr - looking for killer black bean noodles with the finest in hand pulled noodle technology? Ignore the barbecue at Muk Eun Ji and go for the alternate Son Ja Jang menu. Don't get the spicy noodle bowl. You're really just paying an extra dollar to singe some ass hairs. Unless you like that sort of thing. I won't judge.

Son Ja Jang (in same space as Muk Eun Ji)
34 West 32nd Street, New York, NY 10001
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Dough nubbins and chicken broth (Arirang)

Good news everyone! I am not dead, I'm just insanely busy learning all about Java and Python style guides, App Engine, JS optimization, and a bunch of other topics that aren't very useful to anyone else. Anyway, I've heard the term "technical debt" thrown around endlessly lately, and that's basically how I feel about this blog. I took a few undeserved posting breaks to stuff my face with now no longer available cake cuts (yeah, I took a break so long that a restaurant straight up closed in the time it took me to write a post), and now I've dug myself into a blogging hole I can't possibly recover from. Blogging... it's just like being addicted to drugs. Or maybe it isn't, I don't really know, I've never really done drugs. But I'm pretty sure you don't care about my technical debt woes, my style guide violations, or my possibly non-existent drug problems. You just want to know more about this bowl of creamy white liquid that I apparently poured into my mouth. So instead of boring you further, now I'm going to tell you about this sick-ass Korean noodle soup thing you can get at Arirang. It has nubbins - instant tongue boner.



That looks like South America. Or Illinois. Whatever, you can't unsee it.

Now I know what you're probably thinking... "What the fuck are you talking about? Nubbins? That just sounds retarded." If you grew up in the US, you're probably more familiar with the idea of chicken dumpling soup. If you grew up in Taiwan then these are kinda like 麵疙瘩 (literally translates to dough scraps) suspended in 雞湯. It's basically the same shit, but better? Some people like the uniformity of a spaghetti, ziti, or a 拉麵. Not me though. I want to surprise the shit out of my tongue. I never want it to know what the next bite entails, and that's the beauty of these nubbins of dough. Each one is like a snowflake, unique in shape, size, and texture. Plus they're curiously resilient (in a good way) that would make Stretch Armstrong's arms look like a straight bitch. Seriously, just look at it. Mmm, dat dough. Fuck. It's comfort food of the highest level on it's own. Slather it with whatever and I'm sure it'd still taste delicious. So what could possibly make these defective looking scraps of boiled dough even better?



Look they even put some random green shits on top to make you think it's healthy or something

Dropping that ish into a pot of the richest chicken broth this side of anywhere. If I could describe the taste in one sentence - it's as if they took a chicken and milked it for all it's worth into a rolling pot of vegetables, potatoes, and seasoning - mixing in a symphony of flavors so sensual that even Carl Weathers would admit "you got a stew goin." Yes, I realize you can't milk chickens, but bear with me here... I have never tasted a chicken broth that tasted so pure and unadulterated, but this was as rich as the soup at Henan Flavor, and that shit is so intense it makes my butt hurt just thinking about it. The tastes involved are so powerful it takes a steel bowl to contain it. How does that even make logical sense? Fuck that, it's so good it doesn't have to. The clean yet full taste of the soup combined with dumb looking hunks of dough nubs seems like such a stupidly simple thing, but it's probably the lack of complexity that makes this so damn good. Not too many parts to screw up. Well played Korea. Anyway, I'm not so sure this is a great Summer food now that it's hotter than Satan's asshole in NYC (it was pretty appropriate when I had it back in January or February), but yeah. Chicken soup and clumps of stupid looking dough at Arirang is most definitely the tits.

tl;dr - I am not dead, I have been doing stuff you probably don't care about. I enjoy drinking chicken soup with noodle things that look like South America. Did I mention how it comes in a metal bowl? Regular bowls can't contain flavor like this.

Arirang Korean Restaurant
32 West 32nd Street, New York, NY 10001
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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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Spicy chicken noodles (河南風味)

Somewhere along the line, someone not very bright decided that the default American cold-remedy slash comfort-food would be chicken noodle soup. Growing up, I never understood what the appeal was. It's bland brackish boiled water that has miserable chunks of chicken 'breast' and an insignificant number of noodle strands floating around in it. Also crunchy, out-of-place, carrots. Fuck those things. I just didn't understand why kids were so impressed with this nonsense, or how exactly is it supposed to make me feel better? Utter horse shit yo. For years and years, I've considered chicken noodle soup to be the demented stepchild of the soup family. Sure, I will concede that it tastes marginally better than boiled water with a handful of salt thrown in, but why would anyone want to have ass-clown soup when there are more sensually flavored options at hand (Minestrone, Italian Wedding, Borscht, or even Tomato)!? Fuck if I know. Maybe we've all been brainwashed by that douche named Campbell, always telling me what's best. My point is, up until a few months ago, I hated chicken noodle soup in every incarnation... that is until I ran across Taste of Henan's (河南風味) interpretation.



Ahh, good ol' China. Never letting my rectum getting respite from the searing sensations of capsicum. Not unlike many other dishes found in the far East - when Chinese people have chicken noodle soup, they make it spicy as shit. If you're going to cure a cold with a bowl of soup, you're not going to do it with the weak-ass flavors of poultry alone. Of course not! Chinese-troll logic dictates that if your immune system is getting the bajeezus kicked out of it by viruses and germs, the only reasonable thing to do is to make your mouth hurt so good that you forget that you actually feel like shit. This actually works, fact. Plus, by the time the assortment of spices has passed from your taste buds through your intestines... let's just say you'll swear your anus has taste buds too. Is this a good thing? I guess that's up to you. I'll simply respond with a "no comment," but yes, I have been back multiple times.

I know what you're thinking "great, great, so my entire body will feel engorged with passionate flames of unsettling pleasure, but does it even taste good?" Let's say you were a humongous pussy and asked for the kitchen to make it milder in order to "taste the chicken." The chicken itself is more tender than a pre-pubescent boy who's just discovered masturbation. Yes, there's the occasional bone (haha PUN), but the meat is miraculously springy yet almost falling off the bone delicate. Texturally, it's a culinary marvel. From a taste standpoint? Yes, the heat is definitely masking some of the flavor, but the odd combination of cumin and five-spice is something that's not normally what you'd expect from Chinese restaurants - and goddamn does it work. Throw in some shredded noodles made in-house - that are about as springy as a retarded slinky - and you get a synergy of flavors and textural complexity (and carbs!) that I don't think you could replicate anywhere else in Chinatown. To put things bluntly, this dish (and the big bowl of chicken, which tastes similar) tastes absolutely dope.



Oh, look - it's lamb soup. I'll be honest, I fucking hate eating lamb. One, have you seen what they look like? Yeah, don't you feel like a dick now for eating baby Lambchop? Two, it has this weird gaminess that I can't shake. Roasted lamb, somewhat acceptable, but lamb in soup retains that flavor and just sits around soaking it up. If lamb is your thing, go ahead and try it, but I'll pass going forward. Also, if you're any sort of non-whitewashed Chinese, you'll know what I'm talking about when I mention Chinese medicine. It's usually pitch black, has some random shiz floating in it, and it looks like someone took a dump in a bowl and stirred hot water into it. It tastes similar. The lamb dish here doesn't taste like that, but there's random hints of ginseng, jujubes, and random other Chinese herbs that reminds me of the tree bark water I used to get forced to drink. That shit is gross. I don't like to be reminded of it.



Good thing I had pork pancake to wash that biz-nasty out of my mouth. Asian pancakes hold a special place in the pantheon of inevitable heart disease for me. They're usually just carb-laden discs of sensuality and mouth molestation. This is true of scallion pancakes, pajeon, regular pancakes, hoe-cakes, whatever. Henan Flavor has this baked pancake that isn't all that special by itself (it's really just like an Asian pita), but then they take slow-cooked, marinated pork (or beef) and violate the inner crevices with more meat than belongs in a pocket of dough. Just to make sure I have to change my pants, then they have some spooning action between the meat and some cilantro. Nice. They finish off the combo by pressing down with more force than the pits of Mordor, delivering a neat little pocket of porcine deliciousness for the non-Jew on the go. All for something stupid cheap like $2. Think about that for a moment and let it simmer. If you sold your car, you could get thousands of them. Wouldn't you rather have thousands of these fuckers more than your lame-ass car? Yeah. Of course you would

tl;dr - American chicken noodle sucks. Asians make a better version that will light your soul and your asshole on fire. I'm not a fan of their lamb noodle soup because it reminds me of eating tree bark water, but I am a fan of their pork filled pancake things. You should mortgage your house and buy thousands. Naturally.

Henan Flavor
68 Forsyth Street
NoLita, New York City 10002

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Sweet crispy chicken and black noodles (Jjin Jja Roo)

You know that commercial where they ask random people "what would you do for a Klondike bar?" My answer: pretty much anything just short of pummeling a third grader. Food envy. Some people have it worse than other people. I guess it's like alcoholism, but... without the social stigma and having to go to AA bit. What exactly do I mean? I'll explain. Let's say I go to Per Se. I spend a metric ass-ton of money, I have a super sick experience, and I eat what might be one of the most spectacularly extravagant meals available in NYC. All is well, I'm feeling super baller and shit, just sitting by the window enjoying my dope ass food when suddenly - A CHALLENGER APPEARS - some homeless dude walks by the window with a plate of halal lamb over rice or some shiz. At that precise moment, I don't give two fucks how sick my own meal is, I would rather have shaved lamb chunks, yellow rice, and white sauce of questionable origins all over my face. This is what food envy is - perpetual regret that I didn't get to order the other dish, regardless of what is currently in front of me. This indecision has been a curse all my life.

You know how crippling this problem is? Every time I go to McDonald's... the moment the words "combo #7, super sized" leave my lips, I can't hold back the torrent of emotions exploding and tearing me up inside. Extreme confusion and regret about the Double Cheeseburger combo meal that could've been, but wasn't. Unfortunately, there aren't any support groups out there that address this problem. Anyway, let's talk about things that are awesome to me... deep fried crispy chicken coated in sweet and sour sauce and also black bean sauce noodles a.k.a. jajangmyeon. While I have, unabashedly, ordered double entrees before simply to have both for dinner... I can't keep up this lavish lifestyle of buying two meals for myself. It's simply not sustainable... I'm not made of money! Fortunately, the peeps running Jjin Jja Roo in Food Gallery 32 understand that food envy is a serious problem, and have come up with a semi-effective way for me to get my fried chicken and sauced noodle on without breaking the bank. Enter the miracle that is... the combination bowl:



Oh lord, pants have been ruined. Now... there's no such thing as a free lunch. It's not like there are no drawbacks to this super dope combination of noodles blacker than the dark side of the moon and crispy sweet fluorescent orange chicken. You see, by giving you the combination of two fantastically awesome things, the folks at Jjin Jja Roo also gain the ability to give you the shaft by using these stupid bowls that ultimately reduce the total volume of food while simultaneously gaining the right to charge more. Does this bother me? The cheap Asian part of me wants to scream out says "yes." I really shouldn't be okay with getting less food, while paying more, simply for convenience, but the pragmatist in me thinks this is awesome in a really novel way. Sure I don't get the same amount of noodle per dollar or chicken per dollar as if I had just manned the fuck up and ordered double portions, but realistically... did I really want to eat two ginormous servings of carb and fried chicken? Wait a second... yes, I probably did. Whatever, it's still kinda awesome.



There's just one last question left not addressed - "is this actually good food? Are you seriously telling me that radioactive looking chicken tastes like poultry crack?" Okay, that's actually two questions. The answer is... kinda sorta? That's likely not what you want to hear when you're making the decision between a normal meal and bright orange chicken, but I'm also probably not the best person to ask about these things. Listen, when it comes down to it, Food Gallery 32 is a food court. Jjin Jja Roo makes sweet and sour chicken that's crispy, moderately juicy, and hot enough to sear off your taste buds. When you pair that with bean paste noodles... in a single menu item, and I'm pretty much sold regardless of how it tastes. Short answer is still yes though. Let me put it another way, when I was finished with actual chicken (and my face was covered in sauce and shame), I found myself wishing that I had an extra bowl of rice to slop up the remaining sauce. It's pretty damn good.

tl;dr - I can't make decisions to save my life. This extends to food to the extent that I frequently find myself ordering every item on McDonald's dollar menu. Jjin Jja Roo is sort of awesome in that they have these pimp combo bowls split in the center so you can get two partially sized entrees in a single meal. Also, while the chicken is disturbingly orange, I assure you it is delicious and won't give you cancer. I think.

Jjin Jja Roo (Food Gallery 32)
11 West 32nd Street, Dew York, NY 10011
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The dopest of soup dumplings at Nan Xiang (南翔小籠包)

Before I start spitting fire about the dopest soup dumplings I've had outside the pacific rim, let me just say this "Lin-sanity" nonsense has gotten out of hand. In one of the more unexpected moves by my own mom, I got an email about a week ago with a YouTube link to a post-game interview, with the only text in the body of the email saying "He went to Harvard and he's so humble. Why can't you be more like Jeremy?" Damn mom. Solid burn, 8.5/10, who the fuck is cutting onions?! As I begrudgingly watched the video that my mother linked to in the e-insult, I was flooded with a torrent of raging emotions - I was confused, saddened, disturbingly aroused, but most of all neglected - unloved almost. Which is surely how my blog feels when I don't update for weeks at a time. Well, I'm sorry. Well weep no more. Anyway, while I'm saddened and confused, do you know what you shouldn't be confused about? Where you should go eat this weekend (unless you're Jewish and can't eat pork or something). Go to Nan Xiang, a place that serves pockets of porcine treasure that, while not confusing, are most certainly disturbingly arousing. For your mouth... I guess.

Something you might be thinking - "hey butthole. I thought you said people who described things as 'the best' are all wrong and are no-talent assclowns?" That's still true. If you notice, I said 'dopest.' That's different from 'best.' These shits are hauntingly delicious, and if you want to disagree with my opinion? Well... them's fightin' words.



Holy fuck look at those bitches. Skin so thin it's like "whoa." Then inside you have a metric ass-load of juices and whatnot just waiting to explode and burn the skin on the roof of your mouth. Shit is so intense... it's just like camping. Know how all those bootleg second-rate soup dumplings in Manhattan's Chinatown have a stupid nub on the top where the chefs pinch the shiz shut? They don't do that at Nan Xiang. They're consummate pros at the dumpling closing game. In all seriousness, the soup dumplings here seem to do everything right (although I'm still a bit peeved at the cabbage sticking to the bottom of each one). The skin is tender, and borderline translucent - to the point where you can see the soup tumbling gently inside. Then you have the soup broth, which is so full in flavor that technically it could probably be served on its own. Combine that with a ball of pork that's surprisingly smooth in texture, but heavy on flavor. Shit son, it's basically the result of if Jesus went on Top Chef and waffle stomped everyone in an Asian quickfire challenge for dumplings. It's that good.



This made no sense. Why in the hell did I go to a soup dumpling place and order pan-fried udon? Oh I know, because my Korean friend is something of an idiot, and said he had a craving for it. The great thing about Nan Xiang is that, even if you have some sort of dickweed friend who for one reason or another isn't raging harder than a rhino on speed for soup dumplings, then there's still other shit on their menu that caters to the contingency of 'unawares' who order from the chef's special section. Admittedly, this dish was pretty pimp. Oil-laden noodles tossed delicately with shrimp, chicken, and greens? I won't deny that it tastes good, I'm just saying you'd be an idiot if you went here to get it.



"So what exactly should I be ordering then, you nimwit?" Calm your hormones. Let me get to that. Something that's both somewhat authentic and also bad for you - the scallion pancakes with beef (牛肉夾蔥油餅). It's like this... there's two types of scallion pancakes, the ones that are pan-fried in oil that are kind of limp, lethargic, and more often than not, kind of soggy with oil - and then there's the kind they have here. Fucking deep fried glorious pockets of carb, scallions, and heart disease. Not that both don't have their place in the cavernous space of my stomach, but the latter is clearly far superior. Now what happens when you take an already delicious platform of fried flour and shove it the fuck full of delicious delicious beef? That's a stupid question. I buy it and I eat it. You should too. I don't want to die of a heart attack alone...



You still haven't creamed yourself yet? Have I failed to entertain you?! Of course, my idiot Korean friend went ahead and ordered a random appetizer that he was completely oblivious about. Luckily, it was chilled marinated sliced beef with spicy tripe. "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while," as my old physics professor told me. This dish was shockingly refreshing, delicious, and offensive (in a good way) all at once. Tripe has a weird textural quality to it that I don't normally love - too crunchy and elastic, yet not soft enough to chew through - but in this application it was more than okay. The spicy marinade and thin-ass slices of slow soy sauce cooked beef in a cold application is simply boner-inducing. With each successive time that I burned my mouth like a dumbass by shoving a whole soup dumpling in my mouth, I chilled the flames of passion ignited on my throat with the cool comfort of sliced cow stomach. Fuck yeah.

tl;dr - Jeremy Lin, stop making me look bad you asshole. Also, stop being so goddamn humble. In other news, Nan Xiang serves up some of the sickest soup dumplings you'll get on this side of the Pacific, pair that with some beef filled scallion pancakes and spicy tripe and it's a more exciting experience than watching a unicorn mounting a bear in front of the Eiffel Tower. Yeah. Better.

Nan Xiang Dumpling House (南翔小籠包)
38-12 Prince Street, New York, NY 11354
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Spicy-ass noodles (Xi'an Famous Foods)

Well, well, well... it would appear that my blog has turned three years old. Hooray me. In internet age, that's like reaching mid-life crisis stage (which is eerily appropriate considering I actually don't know what the fuck I want to do with it). To the assholes who said that my ADD would kick in and that I would stop after a few months... you can eat a dick. To the people who decided they wanted to hear an idiot blather on and on about Asian food every week, you're welcome (and thanks too, I guess). For the record, I have learned nothing from writing this blog for the past three years aside from that fact that I'm stingy as shit and I like Asian food, and I'm pretty sure I've contributed nothing of value to the greater internet. Merry Christmas I guess.

So what am I going to write about on this momentous occasion? Clearly something that sticks to the roots of this blog... something that fits these criteria: cheap, Asian, and a butthole pleasure. The spicy hot oil-seared noodles from Xi'an Famous Foods kinda fits all of requirement - it's moderately cheap (although kind of expensive given the location), it's definitely Asian, and trust me... it's as much a hoot comin' out as it is when you first eat it. Trust me.



Look... it's red and green. Like Christmas or something?

I think most people go to Xi'an Famous Foods for the Liang Pi Cold Noodles. That's great and all, but I'll be entirely honest - it feels like kind of a ripoff to go to a restaurant and to get cold noodles. That shit is straight appetizer fodder and would cost less than a dollar if I were in the motherland. Plus it's vegetarian. That's three strikes yo. If you're going to serve me a cold dish, it better comprise of something that was alive at one point. Weak shit. Plus, why would I get cold vegetarian noodles when I could get something that would melt my face off upon eating, and obliterate my butthole on exit. That right there is quality (and what I look for in noodles, but definitely not in romance yo*). Also it looks festive as a motherfucker. Look at all that red and green shit. It's almost as if Santa were Chinese or something. There's nothing really complex about this dish at all - I'm pretty sure it's only comprised of those same bouncy-ass noodles, some scallions and garlic type additions, and a healthy dousing of chili oil - but when the powers that be combine those components in an synergistic orgy of flavors... holy shit is it delicious. Yes, there's a distinct lack of meat, but whatever. It's not like your tongue would be able to taste it anyway.



This was less awesome, but still okay. Which is surprising because it contains meat. Maybe it's because I'm not the biggest fan of lamb, but this dish was pretty uninspiring to me. Which, again, is weird because it's pretty much the same thing as above... but with lamb and cumin instead of red chili oil. Perhaps that red liquid is like crack or something, but there was something infinitely more impressive about not being able to feel my face after eating. I could still feel my lips after eating this dish, so I'll consider it a fail in general. Others would probably enjoy it. To be entirely fair, I think I just hate cumin - so maybe you shouldn't listen to me on this one (or at all). My god how I hate cumin.



Likewise, I feel like their cumin lamb burger thing is kinda gimmicky. Not that it's bad by any stretch of the imagination - just that it's not something I'd obsess and lose sleep over. The blend of flavors is pretty distinct - and again, the cumin is probably what turns me off - but there's a certain pungency and strength that I could see being somewhat alluring. I guess the bread/bun thing is pretty dope, but if that's the strongest case I can make for a dish... then that's pretty sad. That's not to say that you might not find this to be the most sensual thing to come from Xi'an... I just hate cumin with a passion.

In closing? I'm not sure what the point of this post really is. I felt obligated to write something because it was my blogiversary, not because I got a sudden writing boner. I rarely get that kind of inspiration at all anymore (I guess you could say I have food blogging erectile dysfunction?). Is my blog going through a midlife crisis? Yeah. Maybe I should eat spicier things to enrage my rectum to rekindle the flames of intensely passionate and violent food writing. That's how it works right?

tl;dr - my blog is three years old. Fuck yeah me. Also, if you go to Xi'an famous foods - get the spicy hot oil-seared noodles... they'll numb your face if you're cold and light your butthole on fire. That's twice the value for the cost of one meal. Best deal ever.

Xi'an Famous Foods (multiple locations)
67 Bayard Street, New York, NY 10013
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Rice noodle rolls and pork chops (XO Kitchen)

There are a lot of stories on the internet telling tall tales about how ridiculously great the Google cafeterias are. While I will admit that having an endless supply of coconut water and fig newtons is pretty fantastic, it's not all sunshine and lollipops here bro. Do you know how much it sucks to have to walk downstairs just to get cookies? Do you know how infuriating it is to have steak three days in a row? Just because you put chimichurri on it doesn't make it a different dish ಠ_ಠ. To be honest, it's pretty frustrating. So frustrating that yesterday I was actually driven to pick up a vegan meal... just for something different. It was a pre-made box of sprouted brown rice with sundried tomatoes, onions, and tempeh (which according to my friend is no more than a shitty version of failed tofu). As I sat there lamenting - crying into my container of brown rice - over both the lack of variety of free food and my decision to pick up a box of glorified kitty litter, I realized something. I missed outside food. I missed pork. Good pork. Like the pork chops they make at XO Kitchen.



There are some things I get really sick of, really fast... like the steak in our cafeterias. Then there are things like the pork chops at XO Kitchen. If you told me I could eat nothing but their pork chops w/sauce over rice for a month I think I'd cream myself. They're marketed as "台式豬排" or Taiwanese pork chops, but don't be mistaken - they're not the crispy as fuck kind you'll find at Hua Ji, these are a whole 'nother animal all together. Probably not the pinnacle of pork and sauce technology, but good in their own right. Know why? Because they basically take the fattiest cut of pork you could find, fry it (plain) until even the fat is crispy, then slather it with a savory sweet concoction whose composition I don't even want to know because it's probably bad for me. Just think of thick cut bacon... fry that shit up good, now smoosh a bunch of it together. It's a magical thought to behold, and that is essentially what their pork chop is. A mass of crunchy pork fat covered in sauce. Paired with rice. I'm Asian, I'm programmed to love rice and sauce.



Unlike my cafeteria, XO Kitchen values variety. Instead of shoving pork tenderloin in my face everyday with a different accompanying sauce, they actually use it in different dishes. Like their 腸粉 (cheong fun). I'm pretty sure this is what they're actually famous for, and their version is pretty dope. Bouncy and "QQ" rice noodles usually get rolled together with various types of filling. The XO pork sauce version is just that plus a slurry of ground pork, what I can only assume is "XO sauce," and a host of other stuff that's super fragrant. End result is a super sick dish of rice noodles, pork, and more pork. None of it repetitive, none of it boring.



BUT WAIT, there's more! I'm pretty sure this shit ain't vegan friendly (for all I know it's fried in lard), but they also do cheong fun with "油條" (oil sticks) shoved inside. Then they put some sesame seeds on top, and a sprig of something green on the side. Goddamn. No, it's not meat filled, but there's something inherently satisfying about carb on carb action. You get your teaser in the rice noodle, but once you get to that crispy stick of oily dough? Game over. The flavor profile isn't anything special - it's really just noodles and soy sauce - but it's pleasurable from bite one through the last. I don't know if anyone else did this, but when I was a kid I used to lick 9v batteries. Can't tell you why it was fun to me, but it was. This is just like that. Inexplicably good.



They also have fried mantou (銀絲卷). I don't really have to explain why this tastes good right? It's freakin' fried bread that you dip in condensed milk. Fat kids everywhere just peed themselves in excitement. XO Kitchen's probably aren't the lightest, fluffiest, most sensual golden fried buns I've ever had, but you know what? They're kinda like me complaining about Google's cafeterias, the commentary has very little merit and I'm just being a nitpicking asshole. Makes sense, right?

Of course, for the lazy, the illiterate, and my asshole friends who really only look at the pictures... tl;dr - Google needs to stop serving steak all the time, it gets boring. Instead they should be more like XO Kitchen, where you can get kickass pork chops, things wrapped in noodles... and other shit like fried bread w/condensed milk.

XO Kitchen
148 Hester Street, New York, NY 10013
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