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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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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