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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Asian mindset and $1 duck buns (Corner 28)

Let me tell you something about being Asian. Sure, it's an absolute given that we're all super dope at math, physics, chemistry, and can probably fix your computer when you've clearly been looking at too much porn in your free time. Yes, we love eating rice, pork, and intestines from various different types of animals - preferably together in the same dish. And of course, we can catch flies with a pair of chopsticks, we run at the sight of large reptillian creatures, and we have a weird appreciation for cartoons that give young children seizures. All of the above are true. It's not me being racist, it's me writing non-fiction. But something that you might not know (actually, most people probably do know this) is that we're all cheap as hell. Now, that's not to say Asians don't spend money stupidly, but when a decision comes down to money, Asians, in general, are very frugal. Now, let me tell you something about myself. I make extremely stupid decisions in life. For example, I once bought $35 dollars worth of McDonald's apple pies. That's roughly 65 apple pies. Why did I do that? No comment, but it was illegal. What does this have to do with being Asian?

When you combine my stupidity with the fact that my mind is hard-wired to have a boner for cheap things... well, the perfect shitstorm starts brewing. Case in point, you know those Hong Kong egg cakes they sell in Chinatown? Fifteen for a $1, but also buy five get one free? Yeah. Ninety of those dumb spherical cakes (despite a scent that's downright addicting) is never a good idea. But my mind tells me it's a good idea... at the time. Or, there's a place on Bayard that sells buy one get one free bubble tea. They have a small size for $3.50, which is 500cc, or a large for $4.00, which is 700cc. My stomach says "you don't really want to drink 1.4L of bubble tea right now..." just get 1L for $3.50 (yes, I usually drink both), but my mind says "if you get the large that's .28 cents per cc instead of .35 cents - do that instead!" Of course I usually regret this, but you see my point. I am dumb + Asian = I buy large quantities of things that I end up regretting greatly.

I do this frequently at Corner 28. If you don't know what Corner 28 is... read here for some non-idiotic background.



Anyway, what are they (if you didn't happen to read Tia's post)? Basically, if you took fluffy gua-bao type wrappers, shoved in some second-rate Peking duck and scallions, and then slathered it with sauce to make it moist and tasty and junk, then you get Corner 28's duck buns. If you're expecting the thin pancakes wrapped with crispy-skinned Peking duck, then keep on walking... these bitches are $1. Don't expect too much and they're awesome. How awesome? Last time I went, I bought 12 of them. That's right, a dozen (and this was after dinner). What do you do with 12 duck buns? Fuck if I know, I didn't actually eat all of them at once. I just thought it was cost-effective since 1) it takes an ass-long time to get to Flushing and 2) I already paid for transit. "That sounds brilliant! You're a genius of uncomfortably arousing and indescribable proportions!" you say? No. Do you know what happens when you wait several hours to eat them? When they're freshly sliced off the duck, and the skin is still semi-crisp and oh-so-oily, these things are the freakin' bees knees. After a couple of hours though... when the skin has gelatinized with fats, the bun is soggy from condensation, and the sprig of scallion is no longer stiff, and erect, these things taste like straight cancer. If you can imagine inhaling the second-hand smoke from someone and ingesting so much of it that the taste lingers in your throat for several minutes. That is what stale duck buns taste like. Don't do it kids. It's worse than drugs. That's not to say I don't think everyone should go and eat $1 duck buns, just don't be stupid like me and get more than you can eat while they're fresh.

tl;dr - Asian people are thrifty, I am stupid and Asian. There are $1 duck buns in Flushing at Corner 28, they taste super dope when they're fresh, but taste like stale cigarettes after a few hours. You should still go to eat them, they are quite awesome... again, when they're fresh.

author's comment: I don't actually speak for all Asians, most of what I wrote is just about me... so calm your hormones if you're actually offended.

Corner 28
4028 Main Street, Flushing, NY 11354
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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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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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