Beer and Schnitzel (Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden)

I'm convinced that if you combine something as awesome as flourless chocolate cake and something as sensual as fried chicken together, it'd probably taste erotic as fuck. You're probably saying to yourself "damn son, that shit sounds biz-nasty. Why do I still listen to this idiot? Also why are you telling everyone about your demented taste buds?" To answer your first question... I'm not sure. But I assure you, this is relevant. Every time I see a menu item that's a combination of things that taste good with various other things that also taste good - I feel compelled to order it. No matter how gross or over the top the combined sum might seem, it will be ordered. No questions asked. I think it's most likely a remnant piece of my brain that's still hard-wired from when I looked like Chunk from the Goonies, but when I saw the "Schnitzel ala Bohemka" at the Bohemian Beer Garden... I knew I had to have it. I had to have my way with the delicate combination of fried chicken, pork fat, runny eggs, and cheese. Oh lord, this is the shit real heart attacks are made of. Never before have pockets of meat been violated by in so many ways.

Basically, think of the juiciest chicken you've ever eaten, pound that ish super thin, bread it ever so lightly, fry it until it's a golden hue of glowing sensuality and crispiness, gently pry open the center cavity, and violate it with the fury of a masturbating teenager by shoving it full of buttery scrambled eggs, thick cut crispy bacon, and enough cheese to bankrupt Wisconsin. That... is the Schnitzel ala Bohemka - and, behold, it was very good.



Wuh? Shit yo, they give you heaps of fried potatoes too! Don't be mistaken, those are not dainty effeminate fries on that plate, those are burly manly potato wedges done only in the fashion that an Eastern European could do. And also... suddenly salad? The people at the beer garden have your best interests in mind, or possibly insurance. They don't want you dying on the spot from the massive tongue boner you'll get simply from looking at the cross section of your juicy fried meat pocket (or possibly heart disease). No! They're gonna give you some greens and shiz to keep your ticker going until you keel over outside. What thoughtful peeps the Czechs are.

Then of course follows the shame of having eaten such a behemoth, which is shortly followed by the inevitable sharp twangs of pain in my chest, but all of these are quickly forgotten when you realize how freaking delicious that package of caloric shame is. It really can make you forget anything that troubles you. It is that good.



They also have bratwurst and kielbasa for those of you who prefer your meat in rod form. Not me, but hey... whatever floats your boat. And with that rod of erect porcine meat? They pair that shit with enough cheese to make any Asian person want to run to the bathroom to do battle with toilet Poseidon. Trust me, demons will be exorcised. It comes with a side of pierogis too, so you know... there's that. More carbs and cheese. Actually, thinking back, this was as full of flavors as it was a plate of indigestion. Again, my scumbag brain was overwhelmed by the pros and cons and ultimately decided that it was an excellent idea to ingest assloads of lactose into my system. Feltbadman.jpg.



Goddamn, did I also mention there's a whole list of beers I can't pronounce? That means they come from overseas, which in turn means it's some classy-ass shit. Fool-proof logic. Your body won't even know what the fuck is going on! "Should I focus on cleansing this dude's blood from the insane amounts of heavy beer he's drinking? Or should I try to send blood to stomach to break down all that fried meat he's shoving in his mouth? What shit is this bro pulling?!" I like to keep my body guessing, and Bohemian Beer Garden makes that too easy. I like to think of it as similar to going to the gym, where I train my body for all kinds of situations. Yes... that.

As an aside, don't get the dumplings. They're just steamed bread. Think about how gross it would be if you took a loaf of Wonderbread, balled it up, and then steamed the fuck out of it. Shit sounds lame right? I'm sure it is.

tl;dr - the Bohemian Beer Garden has a bunch of shit that will wreak havoc on your digestive system and overall health. Actually, I don't know that there's anything on the menu that's health aside from pretzels. Still, their fried chicken, bacon, egg, cheese concoction is just short of sexual. I mean sensual. Don't get the dumplings. It's just steamed bread. Gross-ass shiz.

Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden
29-19 24th Avenue, New York, NY 11102
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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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