Skillet Doux

Lunch in Guangdong - Part II

BBQ Duck	Dominic Armato

Oh, we're not done with business lunches yet.

Sometimes, lunchtime hits near a train station in one of the urban centers, or while visiting a city office, and we end up in a restaurant like the two I wrote about in Part I. But while some older factories are close to the city centers, for the most part they're a ways out in the suburbs. Except that in the areas surrounding Shenzhen, Dongguan and Guangzhou -- at least the parts that I've seen -- the suburbs don't appear to be residential so much as industrial, lowrise urban sprawl packed with factories and support businesses, the streets jammed with light trucks, mopeds and the occasional luxury car. Even today, there's a kind of wild west feel out there. I keep looking around, half expecting Swedgin to come strolling out onto a second floor balcony to survey the chaos below. Except instead of panning for gold, everybody's manufacturing consumer products.

	Soup with Black Beans	Dominic Armato

When we're out in these industrial parks that seem to go on forever in every direction, lunch often takes place in humbler surroundings, a rented concrete bunker of a shop with a rolldown shutter front, makeshift kitchen in back and a few tables and chairs cobbled together, or in this case, a small private room comprising the entirety of the second floor. This is still a significant step up from the joints where most of the folks who live in the area will drop in for something simple to eat. They're still rolling out the red carpet as much as can be done in this part of town. But these lunches are predictably a somewhat more rustic affair, comprised of dishes that are similar to those in the nicer restaurants nearer the city core, but rougher around the edges, made with more of what we'd consider secondary and tertiary cuts, simpler presentations, lots of stews, and overall a more humble feel despite a similar formal dining format. We had one such lunch on this trip, a nameless, dusty concrete storefront, and while I can't call it one of my favorites of the trip there was some tasty food and it's interesting to see similar dishes in a less refined state.

Pork Ribs	Dominic Armato

As I've mentioned elsewhere countless times, soups and broths even in casual restaurants are always so clear and clean, or if cloudy they're intentionally and uniformly so. Which is why it was an obvious and notable difference in the level of refinement when the beef broth here was stained with black bean paste, cloudy and unfiltered, containing chunks of bone and cartilage that provided flavor to the liquid but were certainly not there to be consumed. But though the refinement was lacking, the flavor most certainly wasn't, its full beef flavor pushing right on through its somewhat murky appearance, with earthy beans and sediment sitting at the bottom. Different, to be sure. More humble, certainly. But still quite delicious in a less technically accomplished manner.

	Beef with Mushrooms	Dominic Armato

A plate of lean pork ribs was chopped into tiny bits, deep fried and then stir fried with garlic, chile sauce, a bit of something sweet and something else with a lightly fermented character. The sauce was simple and effective, downright chunky, and the dish was a great example of how so many meat and fish dishes, in stark contrast to even largely traditional Chinese cuisine back home, are comprised of much more bone, sinew and cartilage than meat. It's another style of cooking that I wish we were more willing to embrace. There's so much flavor in those bits, and even if they aren't digestible, the act of cooking them along with the rest imparts flavor and texture that's unachievable otherwise. It's a little more effort. Sometimes a lot more. Particularly when, despite your proficiency, you weren't raised on chopsticks. But the rewards are there for those willing to put in the work.

Celery with Eggs	Dominic Armato

Of course, the kind of tender, juicy slices of meat to which Americans are more accustomed aren't lacking either. A simple beef and mushroom stir fry was lovely, lightly scented with ginger, barely touched with sauce rather than swimming in it, the meat lightly sweet in flavor and velvety in texture. Simple vegetables are always in play, perhaps of less consistent quality in the industrial areas, but when the flavor of a plate of limp celery can put most other vegetable sides to shame, that says something I think. Stir fried with eggs and some slivers of carrot, bathed in a light sauce that I presume was a light chicken broth base, lightly seasoned and tasting almost entirely of the vegetable itself. I'm always amazed that while I'm away, these simple vegetables are among the dishes I miss the most.

	Sichuan Fish Heads	Dominic Armato

A bit of a surprise came in the form of two fish heads, prepared in Sichuan style! Steamed and/or stewed, I was less interested in the fish than I was in what was sitting on top of them. The facing heaven chiles! I'm sure of it! The one thing I most wanted to have in my possession when I left China! Sadly, this was before my Wan Chai Market adventure, and only reinforced the notion that I'd have no trouble finding them. I enjoyed the dish, tender fish with chiles and whole Sichuan pepper, though it was so light I wonder if this was more of a Cantonese riff on Sichuan flavors. If set next on the table for most good Sichuan meals I've had, this dish's flavor would have been completely lost in the lingering glow of the more fiery and explosive dishes around it. Rather, this seemed more like the product of a Cantonese palate living on the edge. But having never visited Sichuan province, there's a good bit of speculation here on my part. But I'd love to know. I'd love even more to have walked out with their supply of facing heaven chiles. *sigh*

Stewed Pork Blood	Dominic Armato

Our last dish was, perhaps, pushing the boundaries of Western tastes a little too far for my comfort. I will never forget my first experience with congealed pork blood many years ago, less because of the pork blood itself and more because of the cultural revolution theme restaurant surrounding it (long story). I believe I even cracked a couple of "Jell-o Positive" jokes in the aftermath. But I've long since made my peace with it, and have come to miss it when, for example, a Vietnamese restaurant proprietor sees fit to leave it out of my bun bo hue. Still, I'm not to the point where I'm prepared to have more than a couple of chunks in a sitting, and when large, thick slabs of it, lighter in texture and almost gelatinous, seared off like slices of foie gras sit in a thick stew that's seasoned with the same... well, let's just say I'm not quite there yet.

	Water Boiled Beef	Dominic Armato

Still, it was a very nice meal, and the hits greatly outweighed the misses, and I always enjoy this style of food, and not just as an educational experience. Another lunch more on the casual end of the spectrum was a total crapshoot that paid off. Driving from Guangzhou to Dongguan is a hairy enough experience as it is in a densely populated area where the vast majority of drivers have only been behind the wheel for a few years and street signs, lights and lines are regarded as vague suggestions, if at all. But that difficulty is compounded by random unannounced highway closures. The Guangdong infrastructure is in a constant state of revision and expansion, the kind of chaotic mess that results when you can't build the roads fast enough to keep up with the explosion of cars. So while driving miles of back roads searching for a detour, our hosts selected a restaurant, seemingly at random judging by how quickly they veered off the road when they spied it, and we ended up with a rather nice collection of dishes.

Celery and Chinese Bacon	Dominic Armato

It started off ordinarily if deliciously enough, a bony cut of roast duck that was provided almost exclusively for the skin, and with good reason... what more does a duck dish need than crisp, sweet, lacquered skin? But the duck gave way to another surprise... another Sichuan dish! Water boiled beef -- a misnomer if ever there were one -- swimming in a vibrant and fiery broth with chiles, Sichuan pepper, onions, scallions, garlic... gosh, a whole lot of stuff I couldn't identify. But the beef was sweet and yet stood up to a killer broth. We were provided with a slotted spoon, but frankly, I would have enjoyed ditching the beef and vegetables altogether and simply sipping the oily broth. This may have put me in the minority, even among our local dining companions. But consensus was that it was an excellent dish and this random roadside stop made some pretty darn good food.

	Spicy Fish Heads	Dominic Armato

Celery again! Well, it WAS the same folks doing the ordering. My father took a few bites and expressed the same amazement that I always do. "How do they make these vegetables so fabulous?" he asked. "It doesn't hurt that they're slathered in pork fat," I responded. And though a crisper, fresher, more flavorful bunch of celery than at the other establishment was half the difference, the other half was that it had been stir fried with slices of Chinese bacon, some of it tough enough to be inedible, but all of it fatty enough to lend its slippery lipid to the dish, coating the celery with a luscious sheen of deep, cured pork flavor and a hint of salinity. So simple and so good. Sichuan fish heads also made another appearance (did I mention the same folks were ordering?), though this time around I couldn't even identify them as fish heads at first. That it was fish, I knew. What part of the fish it came from was the mystery. There is no delicate way to eat a dish like this, and the flavor was such that I didn't much care. It's basically a jumbled pile of bone, cartilage, skin, fins, gelatin and perhaps a little meat here and there, and the only way to eat it is to seize a piece and slurp and suck away all of the slippery, gelatinous goodness until only the inedible bits remain. After mowing down a few chunks, I determined that it was, in fact, a head. Or at least part of one. This fish must've been a monster. But the flavor was fabulous and I made sure that no bit of edible flesh remained on the plate. I may still have reservations when it comes to large volumes of pork blood, but slurpy fish heads quiver and tremble in my presence. Partly because… well, you know… gelatinous and all. But suffice it to say that they’re just one of the many reasons I'm always happy when we're treated to lunch in less upscale environs.

The Quest - Wan Chai Market

Wan Chai Market	Dominic Armato

I found myself with a free morning in Hong Kong, and decided to embark upon a quest. Of course, when I left the hotel, I thought it would be more of an errand. But sometimes what we expect will be a simple task ends up being a little more involved than we anticipated.

	Visual Aid	Dominic Armato

Facing Heaven Chiles. A legendary cornerstone ingredient of Sichuan cuisine. I say legendary because, good golly, are they difficult to get a hold of. Can't find them in the supermarket. Can't find them in the Asian markets. Can't find an online source. Heard rumors of them popping up in Southern California from time to time, but never seen them for sale in person. Now, Hong Kong is in the heart of Cantonese country, but I thought to myself that we're in what is now China in an incredibly cosmopolitan city with a vibrant international food scene. Surely, an ingredient so vital to one of China's most notable regional cuisines will be attainable in a major market area. I'll stroll around until I find some, buy a big bushel of them, toss them in the extra empty suitcase I brought with, and bring them home with me. But just in case I encountered any difficulty on what would surely be a trivial errand, I armed myself. I prepared a page with the name of the chiles, including the English translation, the Roman character transliteration, and the original Chinese characters. I also pulled up a clear picture of the chiles since the value of a visual aid can never be overstated. And hopping on the MTR, I set out for Wan Chai Market, presuming that I'd return with a massive pile of the purportedly fragrant and wonderfully flavorful dried chiles to bring home for myself and some friends.

Fresh. Very Fresh.	Dominic Armato

Though there's a small portion that's indoors, the larger indoor market having been closed a number of years ago, Wan Chai Market today is primarily a street market, combining a chaotic collection of makeshift street stalls and carts with small street-facing storefronts. It covers a large area south of the Wanchai stop on the MTR, and for those without a good sense of direction, the bustle combined with angled streets make it easy to get turned around quickly. Which is just as well, because wandering the market is a dizzying experience that it's just as well to get lost in. With hundreds of carts, stands, stalls and stores, surely, I thought, facing heaven chiles are somewhere within a three blocks' walk of here... it's just a matter of finding them.

	Fish	Dominic Armato

So I wandered for a while, and was at first taken aback by the sheer size of the market. I've wandered amazing markets in Asia before, and though I never tire of it, I'm accustomed to the noise, the smells and the utter chaos. But Wan Chai market stretches on for blocks in every direction and the amount of ground it covers is something to behold. So I walked, stopping only sparingly to take a photo or two, until I started to come across storefronts that specialized in dry goods. I would ask if they sold facing heaven chiles. If I was feeling ambitious, I'd try to pronounce the Chinese name. But since I encountered a furrowed brow every time I asked, I quickly resorted to immediately offering my phone, the various versions of the name and the photo prominently displayed. What I expected was sudden recognition, "Yes, yes!" whether in English or Chinese, followed by either an apology or the presentation of a bushel of dried chiles. If the latter, I imagined in my head the ways in which I might attempt to convey that I wanted the whole thing. No, all of it. Yes, the whole bushel. What I did NOT expect, and what I got at every single place I stopped, was an even more deeply furrowed brow after I presented my visual aid. Most tried to sound out the Chinese name. Had I inadvertently selected a different written version than was commonly used in Hong Kong? Surely, the photo would get the point across. But stall after stall, all I got were shrugs.

Live Poultry	Dominic Armato

So I wandered on, and I saw butchers who brandished massive cleavers, hacking apart flesh and bone with swift, strong strokes, and hanging their wares on hooks for display. I saw coops full of chickens, finally back after the avian flu scare, their throats slit so they could be bled, scalded and plucked on the spot, a fresh chicken in your hands moments after you looked it in the eye as you selected it. I saw all manner of fish, slung across wide tables, all sold whole, not a fillet in sight, since you obviously know how to clean them and the bits the Westerners throw out are the tastiest anyway. I saw shops that sold medicinal herbs, gleaming white oases in the wet, grimy and bloody market, where perfect rows of dried plants and animal parts, only a tiny fraction of which I could identify, sat in large glass jars, waiting to be weighed on precision scales. I saw produce stands brimming with fresh greens, radishes, greens, mushrooms, greens and more greens, most likely plucked from the earth that very morning. I saw tiny dry goods stores, their walls so packed with boxes and bags and parcels that the only floor space was a tiny area no bigger than a phone booth, where the proprietor would stand and sell to customers on the street, retrieving merchandise from the walls and ceiling with a hook on the end of a long pole. I saw BBQ stores, pickled vegetable stalls, flower carts and pet stores. I saw a store that sold fine foods from Canada, for cryin' out loud, but what I did NOT see were facing heaven chiles.

The Final Insult	Dominic Armato

I wandered Wan Chai market for nearly three hours. I stopped and inquired at no fewer than 20 stalls and stores that I thought looked promising. I learned that maybe that store over there would have them. I learned that that store over there didn't. I learned that Saturday morning is a very, very bad time to drive around Wan Chai. I learned that from ten feet away, dried Chinese dates look enough like facing heaven chiles to tease you for a moment. I learned, once again, that there are few things on earth more exciting to me than a crowded, musty, energetic, vibrant food market, exploding with meats and fish and vegetables and people of every kind. And I also learned, much to my dismay, that the dry goods merchants of Wan Chai have apparently never even heard of facing heaven chiles, or chao tian jiao, or 朝天椒, much less thought to keep a bushel of them on hand for a wandering gweilo whose stupid assumption that he could get a Sichuan ingredient in the land of Cantonese cookery had turned his errand into an impossible quest. But it was still a good morning.

Peking Garden

Braised Scallops	Dominic Armato

Old habits die hard.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that we've been staying in the same hotel in Hong Kong for about 20 years... since I was a teenager. And when you go frequently, you start to fall into habits. And one of those habits has always been to start the trip with a review of the week's itinerary over lunch at Peking Garden downstairs. The day in Shanghai bumped that tradition on this particular trip, but on one late evening after a 12 hour day in China, we decided to get our fix.

The Peking Garden I refer to is the one in Pacific Place, the extremely upscale mall where, judging from the number of supercars in the parking lot, Hong Kong's elite mingle with expats and tourists in a setting that's as divorced from old China as you're likely to get. But it's an offshoot of a Hong Kong stalwart that's been around since the '70s, and over the years it's provided us with some truly excellent classics and contemporary takes thereon. I've sung Peking Garden's praises before. But in the intervening years, though I'm not sure which, it would seem that one of us has changed.

	Hot Sour Soup	Dominic Armato

The room has, certainly. In a move that was undoubtedly designed to confuse jetlagged travelers who haven't visited in a few years, four of the six restaurants in the restaurant court were there five years ago, but only one of them occupies the same space while the other three have all swapped positions. And, whilst playing musical chairs with its neighbors, Peking Garden has contemporized, redesigning to create an "American" decor (their word). And as part of the atmospheric shift, they're clearly trying to class the joint up as well, adding embroidered napkins, artful presentations, elaborate serving pieces and sleeker attire for the waitstaff. The menu's gotten a makeover too, dropping the old Sichuan Garden half and focusing more on the specialties of the house and less, seemingly, on the more traditional fare. It's not really the same restaurant it was, but enough of the menu is familiar that we managed to pick out a couple of favorites to go along with some new dishes.

Sweet Sour Chili Shrimp	Dominic Armato

Hot sour soup is as good as it ever was, and I continue to appreciate it just for its simplicity. I know this is setting the bar low, but man, it's so nice to have a hot sour soup that got that way via chinkiang vinegar and white pepper. Every time I get a hot sour soup that's made with sambal, I die a little inside, and it happens far more often than I'd like. But another old favorite, the sweet sour chili shrimp, seems to have lost some of its luster. I always loved that the sweet deferred to the sour, that the sauce had a kind of liquory intensity, and that the aromatics punched through rather than getting buried in the potent sauce. But on this occasion, it lacked the intensity that I remember, was almost unpleasantly syrupy, and the coating on the shrimp came off as oddly bready... not at all what I remember. In this instance, I don't think it's me... this dish used to be better.

	Dry Chili Chicken	Dominic Armato

That I was merely satisfied by the dry chili chicken may, however, have more to do with me. I was attempting to order a dish that I listed on my Deliciousness of 2005 post (oy... reading stuff that old is embarrassing), and somehow ended up with something else. Many of the dishes have been renamed, and in fact, I'm not even sure how the dish we did get was officially titled. But in any case, it was a dry Sichuan-style chicken with chiles and Sichuan pepper and peanuts. And it was fine. I've had better (and would have MUCH better a few days later... more on that shortly), and I had a hard time getting excited about it. The punch just wasn't quite there. Even flatter were the shrimp-stuffed scallops, coated and braised in a kind of garlicky brown sauce that again was... okay. This is a dish that Americanized Chinese restaurants butcher, and this certainly wasn't butchered, but nor did it have the kind of life and vibrancy that I've come to expect from good Chinese cuisine. It just came off flat.

String Beans	Dominic Armato

Stir fried string beans weren't off, just timid, and I wasn't getting the slightest sense of wok hay (AKA the otherwise indescribable sense of stir fry awesomeness when it's done right), which is absolutely critical for these simple vegetables. I couldn't point to a specific flaw, precisely. But the beauty that should have been there just wasn't. And that was dinner at one of our old favorite standbys. So which is it? Did Peking Garden lose a step in the relocation and transformation? Or would 2006 me be as impressed by these dishes as I was back then? I'm not sure. Both probably play a role, but I suspect the former rather than the latter. I know more about Chinese cuisine than I did six years ago, but even then I think I had a good sense of when dishes popped and when they didn't, even if it was less often that I understood why. Or maybe it was just an off night. But even if that's the case, whether to the world or just to me, it's clear that this is no longer the restaurant that it once was. And that's too bad.

Peking Garden (Admiralty)
www.maximschinese.com.hk
Shop 005, Pacific Place
Admiralty, Hong Kong
2845 8452
Mon - Sun	11:30 AM - 4:30 PM	5:30 PM - 11:30 PM

Lunch in Guangdong - Part I

Five Days' Lunches				Dominic Armato

Sometimes, when I tell people that our business lunches in China involve an obscene amount of food, I'm not sure the enormity of the experience is properly conveyed.

	Beef Soup	Dominic Armato

Part of it is simply the nature of dining in China. When eating with a group in this kind of setting, you never have more than a few bites of anything. And when you have six people or more at the table, that's a lot of ordering power. Still, this is one business week -- five days -- worth of lunches, and when you look at them all together, it's... impressive. Though we stay in Hong Kong, work is a short train ride away in Shenzhen, Dongguan and Guangzhou, three cities in Guangdong province just north of the border. A metropolitan area that was dirt roads and bicycles when the border first opened is now a booming multi-metropolis that gets more prosperous and cosmopolitan every year. The transformation just in Shenzhen since I first visited has been something to behold, and though the always expanding economic zone is a magnet for people who live throughout the southern portion of the country, the local traditions dominate most restaurants, particularly outside of the city centers. So while we might sometimes visit a restaurant that specializes in one of China's other regional cuisines, and individual dishes sneak in here and there, what we eat is largely Cantonese.

Corn, Carrot and Pine Nuts	Dominic Armato

I always feel lucky to catch the names of the restaurants where we eat, much less the locations. Roman characters are elusive, and the industrial sprawl that dominates the region makes it difficult if not impossible to tell which way you're going when watching the scenery whiz by from the backseat of a car. Still, a couple of very good meals on this last trip were in larger restaurants that I managed to identify. Xin Yi Jing Restaurant has proven to be elusive in an internet search, but at the nicer places there's almost always a pack of tissues emblazoned with the restaurant's name on the table. The trick is to remember to take it with when you leave. I forgot. But a photo is the next best thing, right?

	Stir Fried Cabbage	Dominic Armato

This particular lunch started with a simple, delicious broth, almost ubiquitous at the meals I've had in China over the years. And it's a good thing. When's the last time you had a simple, light broth? When's the last time you had one that was notable? These broths are so simple, but the gentle clarity of flavor these chefs bring out in their soups is something I appreciate more and more with every visit. As with this one, they're usually very light on the salt, barely seasoned at all, a clean and subtle extraction of the beast from which they're made. In this case it was beef, and a few tender pieces of the meat from which the broth had been drawn was included as well. This is a start I always welcome.

Scrambled Eggs with Shrimp	Dominic Armato

Though I've encountered corn before, I wouldn't call it common, so I was a little taken aback by this particular stir fry, composed of corn kernels, diced carrots and toasted pine nuts. If the broths in China are impressive, the vegetables are mindblowing. They're usually treated very minimally, but they're so fresh and exploding with flavor that it makes you feel like you're tasting them for the first time. Is it the lack of mechanized farming? Are they brought fresher to market? Is it the unique properties of the wok as a cooking vessel, or millennia of collective culinary knowledge? I don't know the answer, but I know that when it comes to meals in China, I approach the simple vegetables with the zeal I usually reserve for more featured dishes.

	Fried Chicken	Dominic Armato

The cabbage, lightly touched with vinegar, chiles and garlic was similarly fabulous. After each taking a bite, my father and I traded looks as if to say, "Seriously? They can do this with cabbage?!" Never have I had less sexy a vegetable prepared so well. This focus on killer ingredients extends beyond vegetables, of course. Eggs also seem more vibrant to me when served in China (a lack of factory farming would seem the most logical explanation in this case), and this preparation, scrambled with shrimp, was another that was new to me. They were lightly sweetened, notably but not overly salty, and possessed of a fabulous texture that was firm yet light, and maintained a touch of that barely cooked egg flavor that one gets when they've just barely passed the point where they coagulate. The shrimp, I suspect, had been poached separately, and were a simple and effective pair. But there was no doubt which protein was the star.

Chiles with Black Bean	Dominic Armato

Chickens tend to be rather lean, which has its upsides and downsides. I'm on record as being less than enthused when it comes to chicken breast, but a good meaty, juicy thigh is a wonder to behold. These, by any American definition, are downright scrawny. But the upside? Higher skin to meat ratio. Which is perfect when crisp skin is the objective. Really, this dish could've been done without the meat and would have been no lesser for it. There was no coating, just lightly seasoned skin that was salty, paper thin and made delightfully crisp through whatever frying method they employed. I've seen poultry hung for a while so that the skin dries a little, after which it's fried over a wok while being constantly basted by ladlefuls of hot oil. This is speculation. I don't actually know how these particular fellows were prepared. But their skin was crisp and juicy and the meat itself was almost an afterthought.

	Stir Fried Pork and Squash	Dominic Armato

As mentioned, some of the foods of surrounding regions have found their way into southern China, and with Hunan province bordering Guangdong to the north, I wasn't terribly surprised to see a dish very similar to one that I'd tasted at Lao Hunan just a couple of months ago, and our hosts confirmed that it was a Hunanese dish. Large whole chiles were stir fried with garlic, fermented black beans and a healthy shot of vinegar. They were tender, not terribly hot, and what surprised me wasn't their preparation so much as their natural flavor, which reminded me of Anaheim chiles. I don't remember encountering these chiles in Guangdong before, nor was their flavor something that struck me as native to the region. Was this a straight-up Hunanese dish or a Cantonese spin thereon? Were the peppers native to the area? These are the kinds of questions I wish I could ask. If anybody knows the answers, by all means, please jump in.

Fried Garlic Shrimp	Dominic Armato

Yet another excellent dish that, if made back in the States, would no doubt reverse the balance of meat and vegetables to its detriment. It was pork, I believe, buried beneath a pile of some manner of sliced squash, firm but tender, similar to zucchini but lighter in color, with a flavor like the summer squash we get at home, lightly sweet with a hint of spice. A wok, when properly handled, has a remarkable ability to capture vegetables in a kind of semi-raw state, as though the flavor has halfway but not completely converted to its cooked form, while the texture remains crisp and vibrant. I keep trying to do this at home, but something tells me that having 100,000 BTUs of wok burner heat at your disposal has something to do with it.

	Steamed Fish	Dominic Armato

I remember the first time I had head-on, shell-on shrimp, while visiting Lei Yue Mun in Hong Kong. At 12 or 13 years old in the late '80s, that was something of a mindbending experience. But I quickly saw the genius of it, shells fried in a blistering hot wok to make them crisp so that you could consume the entire beast -- body, tail, head, legs and all -- a sort of sweet/crunchy experience that preserved the shrimp's more interesting characteristics beyond the simple sweetness of the tail meat. This is a very common preparation that I never tire of, cooked with a dash of soy and shaoxing, a healthy amount of garlic and just a touch of chile. That first time in Lei Yue Mun, three of us consumed what must have been close to a hundred of these. Here, a dozen or so would have to do for the six of us. It made me strongly consider working Lei Yue Mun into the trip's itinerary.

Tofu in Syrup	Dominic Armato

Steamed fish, as with the one we had in Shanghai, is always a joy, fresh and simple and delicious. And we even got a bit of dessert, though desserts in China are perhaps the least familiar of what we're served. They don't really do dairy or cakes, at least not in my experience. So you often get sweet dishes for which a western palate has no frame of reference, like this one -- warm, silken tofu mixed with a light sugar syrup. It seems like such a strange thing, but even though it's served warm and is powerfully sweet, it still manages to come off as rather refreshing. The tofu is extremely soft, only barely holding together, and it goes down with an easy slurp, warming you all the way.

I've certainly had more elegant, more adventurous, and more impressive meals in China, but particularly after such a long time away, Xin Yi Jing really scratched the itch. Familiar flavors, familiar dishes, well-prepared... a very good reintroduction to the cuisine I've been missing for five years.

Fresh Seafood Tanks	Dominic Armato

Even better, however, was the meal we had at the Zhongming Hotel. What you see here is always a good sign. Really, really fresh seafood is highly valued, and it's almost a given that more upscale hotel restaurants will have a front hall full of aquaria where, if you're so inclined, you can go to select the critters you'll eat. This isn't the wormy tank at Red Lobster. This is a fabulous assortment of fresh seafood, and what you see here is less than half of what was on display.

	Stuffed Braised Tofu	Dominic Armato

Our lunch here included some of the standards like a broth, steamed fish and pea shoots that always seem to make an appearance. But there were a few that I feel compelled to chronicle because they were new to me, or because I love them so damn much. One of the best dishes of the afternoon was a tofu dish, the likes of which I've had back in the States, but I think this may have actually been the first time I encountered it in Guangdong. Blocks of tofu that were stuffed with some kind of meat -- a sausage, perhaps? -- had been lightly fried and then braised in a viscous brown gravy. This is a dish that usually tends to be heavy and indistinct back home, but I was struck by how beautifully this particular plate was executed. The tofu maintained a perfect texture, firm but yielding, never disintegrating despite having clearly been tossed around in their preparation. The sauce, though viscous, was beautifully balanced, just slightly sweet with a bit of soy and oyster sauce, hints of ginger and green onions, and restrained enough so as to not get in the way of the tofu. I'm not a tofu fiend. It has to be a killer tofu dish to grab my attention. This one was.

Scallops with Garlic and Glass Noodles	Dominic Armato

My heart leaps a little every time this dish hits the table. Setting aside that scallops, freshly shucked, cooked and served in their shells is a treat in and of itself. This preparation, which inevitably make an appearance at least once every trip, bathes the scallops in a sort of chunky garlic sauce with enough sweetness to pull out the natural sweetness of the mollusk. Underneath, glass noodles, also abundantly garlicky, a delight to slurp down along with the seafood. If you're extra lucky, though they weren't present on this pass, you'll get the coral and perhaps some of the other bits as well, delicious pieces of varying textures that are almost always removed before serving back home. I love, love, love this dish.

	Glazed Chicken	Dominic Armato

Given the display that could rival some public aquariums up front, I was a little disappointed that there wasn't more seafood, but I'm having a hard time complaining about the meat that wandered in our direction. Another chicken arrived, this one considerably meatier than the ones we were served at Xin Yi Jing, but still scrawny by American standards. This one had an almost sticky glaze that was lightly sweet and drove me absolutely insane, not because I didn't like it -- I found it delicious -- but because it had a very intense and very familiar flavor that I couldn't quite place. It was out of context; a flavor I've never had on chicken like this. And I knew that if I walked out the door without figuring it out, it would be gone forever. And so it is. And it's still driving me insane.

Vegetable Jaiozi	Dominic Armato

Gaoza, we were asked? Absolutely! Of course, I made the mistake of sounding a little too enthusiastic about it and they tried to order two plates. We managed to beg off. (Incidentally, this is how, in the past, we've ended up consuming over a dozen char siu bao apiece in one sitting. Be careful what you get excited about, or you may get three plates of them.) Still, I'm very glad we said yes, because these were some killer dumplings. The flavor was excellent, delicate and well balanced, with minced greens, and water chestnuts. The brilliance, though, was in the texture. The wrappers were succulent and pliable. Those browned edges were light and almost crunchy. Diced water chestnut gave the filling that familiar wet crispness, and the entire thing would have been a delight to eat on the texture alone even if it tasted like nothing at all.

	Canton Oranges	Dominic Armato

Another common dessert is fruit, and while I've plowed through many a Chinese watermelon over the years, I think this was actually the first time I've been given these little fellows. The Chinese New Year decorations, set out in anticipation, were completely bedecked with the things, so I suspect this is a seasonal offering. Though a Google search didn't turn up much, our hosts referred to these as "Canton Oranges," and the closest analogue I can come up with is a clementine, except that I enjoyed these far more. They were a little less tart and a little more sweet, but not overly so. The skin had a very crisp texture and tore off easily in large chunks, releasing a huge burst of fragrant oils. The fruit was also crisp, as oranges go, each segment bursting as I bit into it. It had been a huge meal. We didn't quite finish them. The rest were packed up and I ate them on the train ride back. I could take down a dozen of these in one sitting without even thinking about it. Again, a perfect finish to a great meal. There was little at Zhongming that I hadn't tasted before, but the meal was unusually well prepared.

And that was only two of five. And those are just the lunches. On the work days. This is going to take a while.

Shanghai

Ubiquity Defined	Dominic Armato

Every time I travel abroad, sights like this give me hives. Not because one of our nation's most notable exports is a place that serves espresso that tastes like anthracite and coffee flavored milkshakes in one quart cups (though that's a fabulous reason). Rather, it's because cities overseas look more and more like home every year, and while nobody's going to be mistaking Shanghai for Phoenix anytime soon (or ever), the neighborhoods where you could ignore the language on the signs and imagine that you're Stateside are growing by leaps and bounds.

Of course, to a certain degree, this has always been the case in Shanghai, a modern and internationally-influenced metropolis on the shores of what was, until recently, a highly insular country -- and a city that, for me, has always been a frustratingly short layover rather than an actual destination. Though I've spent plenty of time in Pudong International Airport, this past trip was the first time I managed to get into the city proper. The evening connection was looking just a little too tight. We'd need to spend the night. And with the next day set aside as a free day to rest and prepare for work, why not schedule the second leg of our flight to Hong Kong for later in the day and explore Shanghai a bit? And so, with just shy of 24 hours on the ground in a city I've always wanted to visit, the question became how much could I and what would I cram in.

	Salted Chicken	Dominic Armato

A 9:30 PM hotel arrival, even on a Saturday night, limited our dinner options somewhat, so I figured a good start would be to shoot for a taste of classic Shanghai at the original Ji Shi restaurant, more colloquially referred to and even listed on their street sign as "Old Jesse." Though other locations have spread throughout the city, some offering highly contemporary takes on the local cuisine, scuttlebutt is that the original is both the most classic and by far the best, so that's where we landed. Squirmed might actually be a more appropriate verb. From street level you descend into a narrow storefront, a good six feet below ground level, into a room that can’t be more than 10' x 10', yet seated 20 on this particular evening (there are other floors above that we didn't see). Though subterranean, it's well-appointed, with a translated and easily approachable menu that makes it easy for those of us who neither look nor (sadly) speak the part.

Beef Tendon	Dominic Armato

We started with Ji Shi's salted chicken, marinated, cooked (poached?), chilled and then, in typical Chinese fashion, sliced with little to no regard for where the bones are located. I'm always amazed by the chickens in China, so lean and flavorful. It's yet another stunning example of how we've completely ruined our livestock. In any case, this chicken was very lightly seasoned, perhaps a touch of shaoxing and an ample but not overpowering amount of salt. What it tasted like was chicken, and though a little tougher than similar preparations that I've enjoyed more, it was a fine start. We moved on to the spicy beef tendon, sliced thick, slightly sweet with a little bit of chile warmth, dressed with cilantro and toasted peanuts. Chinese food tends to be highly texture-conscious, and though the flavor was lovely, what grabbed me was the pleasant chewiness of the tendon, cut thick enough to provide some real bite, but cooked enough that it yielded to active chewing. I really dug it.

	Fried Bamboo	Dominic Armato

I was surprised to discover that the fried bamboo was a dish I've had before, many times in fact, at Peking Garden in Hong Kong. While I find these days that Peking Garden, one of our old standbys, is no longer to my taste (more on this shortly), this is one dish where I prefer the Maxim Group's contemporary take. Ji Shi's version is delicious, bamboo shoots fried to achieve a light golden color, sweet flavor and tender bite, buried in a pile of crispy fried greens (salt cabbage?). It's a texture and flavor contrast that has an addictive, almost snacky character. On the other hand, the additions of fried shredded conpoy (dried scallop) and candied walnuts in the version to which I'm accustomed take the dish over the top, and whether or Ji Shi's version is more traditional -- I really don't know -- I found myself pining for the other.

Pork Belly in Brown Sauce	Dominic Armato

Ji Shi's highly regarded braised pork belly in brown sauce, however, elicits no comparisons to others, because as far as I'm concerned this is basically as good as it gets. Oh, sure, there are infinite variations on the premise, but none I enjoy more. It is, I believe, a straight-up traditional Hong Shao Rou, or red-cooked pork, but in Ji Shi's version the "brown sauce" is an unusually deep and complex (though no less sweet) sauce, with heavy caramel flavor, predominantly scented with star anise. The texture of the pork shoots the gap between firm and gelatinous, the fatty parts melting away in the mouth while the meatier bits keep your jaw from feeling superfluous. I've had this dish a lot, and though those whose preferences shy away from the sweeter end of the spectrum may find it lacking, I thought it was a really superlative version, among the best I've tasted.

	Steamed Fish	Dominic Armato

I'd also heard good things about the steamed perch, but our server's recommendation took us to a different fish instead. I don't know what it was, but it was predictably delicious. This is a simple prep that I never tire of, a whole fresh fish steamed and doused with a mix of soy sauce, shaoxing, sesame oil, rock sugar and aromatics, in this case just scallions. The fish's flesh was shockingly moist, bordering on downright juicy, and the sauce was mellow but none lacking in flavor. Simple, traditional and beautifully executed. It being a chilly winter night, we also had soup on the brain. Though I don't recall the name of the chicken soup we ordered, I probably should have gathered from the price that I was ordering more than a simple cup of broth for two. Rather, this one took the phrase "a chicken in every pot" to a literal level, as we were served a whole chicken in a giant tureen, submerged in a simple chicken broth spiked with goji berries. Though the chicken itself was unseasoned and halfway spent, having sacrificed its flavor to the soup, the broth was delightful, sporting a vibrant yellow color and tasting simply of chicken with only the slightest hint of sweetness from the berries. One of the things that never ceases to amaze me in China is the color, flavor and clarity of their beautiful broths, so simple and yet so stunningly good. Though a western palate may expect more salt, this was no exception. I've had chicken broths I've enjoyed more, but this was expertly prepared.

Chicken Soup		Dominic Armato

Though the restaurant was cramped and raucous when we entered at 10:00, it was completely deserted except for a couple of staff members who seemed anxious for us to leave when we did just that around 11:30. We climbed into a taxi and headed back to get some rest. Though I wouldn't list the meal among my favorites of the trip, Ji Shi had provided a fine start and set the table for the deluge to come.

Lin Long Fang's Menu	Dominic Armato

The next morning brought an early start and a subway trek into a Shanghai residential neighborhood in search of a local foodstuff that has inspired more recent food nerd obsession than perhaps any of China's culinary exports. My devotion to xiao long bao (aka soup dumplings) has already been documented, and an opportunity to sample some in close proximity to their birthplace makes for the kind of anticipation that keeps people like me awake at night. Or maybe that was the jetlag. In any case, my target was Lin Long Fang, called out by Jing Theory and E*ting The World, and further backed up by pal TonyC of SinoSoul as one of the finest and most consistent spots in Shanghai for XLB. The subway was a breeze. Even if I weren't good with maps, Google Maps on a smartphone makes navigating the streets trivial. The menu, on the other hand, presented something of a problem for somebody who can't even speak Mandarin, much less read it. I would like to take this opportunity to once again offer my undying loyalty, devotion and a sizable portion of my pocketbook to the first person who develops a smartphone app that will allow you to photograph and instantly translate menus written in non-Roman characters. But I have to say, Twitter and TonyC filled in beautifully for the software of my dreams. Two minutes later, I knew which placards to point to, and my order was handed off to the kitchen.

	Folded To Order	Dominic Armato

The kitchen, or at least the displayed portion thereof, is right next to the register (it's a tiny place), a small table partially separated from the dining area by a single pane of glass and manned at this early hour (7:30 or so) by a small staff of young hands, folding every dumpling to order and placing them in bamboo steamers by the dozen before shipping them to the back room to cook. From there, it's just a few steps to the dining area, where I imagine the six seat tables make for something of a communal dining experience once the lunchtime crowds start to roll in, but which was largely deserted at this early breakfast hour. We took a seat, grabbed a pair of chopsticks off a crock on the table, and had a taste of the shredded ginger -- ordered separately -- in a sweet and vinegary light syrup, a departure from the chinkiang vinegar to which I'm accustomed. And in less than ten minutes, our xiao long bao arrived in a cloud of steam.

Shredded Ginger	Dominic Armato

For the uninitiated, xiao long bao are a stunning example of a highly evolved foodstuff, where a scant handful of ingredients are transformed through creativity and precise technique into a sophisticated, refined and absurdly delicious dish. Technically a bun owing to the wrapper's composition, even if they more closely resemble dumplings in practice, xiao long bao's most notable feature is that they're filled with both solid and liquid filling. The filling, when folded, includes chilled pork aspic that liquefies when steamed, such that biting into a cooked bun yields both meat -- most often pork and possibly crab -- and a gush of clear, luscious pork broth. Of course, when in China, biting seems far less prevalent than nipping, sipping, then dipping and eating the rest once the soup has been drained. But speaking personally, for me there's nothing like that burst of hot soup when one of these fellows explodes in your mouth, and though caution is advised, I'll risk scalding myself every time, particularly when they're this amazing.

	Xiao Long Bao	Dominic Armato

Given the amount of steam billowing out of the basket, I thought it best, given my preferences when it comes to eating these fellows, to give them a minute or two before diving in. Two minutes might as well have been two hours. Lin Long Fang's are beautifully constructed, perhaps not with the almost mechanical perfection of Din Tai Fung's, but thin and light, appropriately droopy and heavily laden with soup; soup possessed of a beautiful, clean and clear pork flavor, just fatty enough to provide a little lusciousness without getting heavy. The wrapper, delicate and delightful. The pork filling, tender and moist. And the ginger in sweet syrup, though new to me, has supplanted chinkiang vinegar as my favored condiment. I've had scant few XLB of this caliber, and while stylistic choices make me reluctant to call one the best, I think I'm okay with calling Lin Long Fang's my favorite.

Sag Factor	Dominic Armato

From the pork only version, we moved on to the pork and crab. I've never been satisfied with the combination -- the crab has always struck me as too subtle -- until now. And though it was tempting to throw caution to the wind and order a third basket of dumplings filled completely with crab, I decided to hold off given our lunch plans. Best part? A dozen pork XLB came in at a whopping $1.58. I could have happily sat there all day, gorging on every kind of XLB on the menu for a pittance. But Sipalou Lu called.

Qiang Bing	Dominic Armato

Consensus among those who know what they're talking about seems to be that the street food scene in Shanghai has nosedived in recent years. The "cleanup" that proceeded the 2010 Expo included gentrification that eliminated some of the most popular spots for roadside grub, and lamentations that the old Shanghai has become even harder to find are numerous. While I'm in no position to speak firsthand, I do know that researching spots for street food in Shanghai led to an awful lot of outdated dead ends until TonyC came to the rescue again with the recommendation of Sipalou Lu. Old Shanghai indeed, bustling foot traffic crowding out the occasional car, rough around the edges and nothing taller than three stories, this stretch of the street east of the City God Temple and just north of Fu Xing Dong Lu, though nestled amongst the skyscrapers, has remained entirely untouched by gentrification, and is among the more vibrant and exciting places -- at least for a food nerd -- that I've visited in China.

	Low-Tech Cookery	Dominic Armato

We started on Sipalou Lu proper, which didn't seem to be operating at full strength. I suspect the timing of our visit, both early in the morning and on an especially frosty winter day, meant that we didn't catch it at its best. Still, there were a number of stands up and running, and the first thing I sampled was an item called, I believe, qiang bing (somebody please correct me if I've missed this one), a large, bready pancake stuffed with green onions. I can't say this was an exciting start, though I suspect it was more the fault of the food's preparation than its inherent nature. Rule number one for street food is that you ought to be watching it cooked right in front of you, and I have no idea how long these had been sitting there. Given their lukewarm temperature and soggy consistency, I suspect a while. The flavor wasn't unenjoyable, but I'm sure these were nowhere near their best.

Jian Bing	Dominic Armato

I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. My next item was one made to order, a thin, rolled egg crepe called jian bing, which was being prepared by no fewer than four vendors on the three block stretch we walked. The fellow preparing mine was cooking on an empty, rusted drum filled with burning wood and topped with a flat griddle, a bucket of thick batter at one side and a tray of fresh ingredients at the other. He started by spreading a ladleful of the batter around his cooking surface and letting it rest for a few moments before cracking an egg over the top and gently beating and spreading it around. After loosening the pancake from the griddle, he proceeded to add other ingredients... a smear of bean paste, a dash of chile sauce, a sprinkling of minced garlic and cilantro... before laying on a crisply fried sheet of bean curd, folding the crepe over three or four times, slicing it down the middle and stacking the two halves on top of each other. He wrapped it in plastic, I paid my seven yuan, and walked down the street crunching away. THIS particular item, unlike the qiang bing, was completely fabulous. It was everything that makes for great street food, a vibrant combination of flavors and textures, hot and crisp and in your mouth seconds after leaving the fire. Between this, nearly two dozen XLB and a large, thick onion pancake I was nearing capacity and fearing for my lunchtime appetite, else I would have tried two more vendors to compare. Instead, I thought it best to call a win a win and move on.

	Eggs	Dominic Armato

Sadly, this was all the street food I got. These vendors rotate what they offer throughout the day, and we were still a couple of hours from lunchtime, so the only other offering I located was youtiao, the large sticks of fried bread that I just wasn't prepared for at that point. So instead we headed west into the surrounding neighborhood, and came upon a really stunning street market area, probably not dissimilar to countless others around the city but still breathtaking to somebody who only sees such things when traveling abroad. The very first stand I encountered? Eggs. How many varieties? I don't know... eight? Nine? Ten? And we're not talking about the difference between large, extra large and jumbo, here. Different sizes, different colors, different birds... I could visit a dozen markets in Phoenix and not see the variety of this one ramshackle roadside stand in a random neighborhood in Shanghai. The produce, predictably, wasn't as varied (after all, they're pretty much cooking only one cuisine over there), but criminy, I'd kill for vegetables this crisp and fresh. Seafood still swimming, chickens and ducks still wandering around, ready for a quick roadside slaughter... I'm sure most if not all of what I saw was on the farm just a few hours prior.

Butcher	Dominic Armato

Though it's somewhat less exciting than seeing all of these stands crowded onto the sidewalk, there's an indoor market in the vicinity as well. I should've noted its exact location as it's easy to miss (just follow the crowds), small entrances on four sides of the block opening into a dark, dingy but impressive collection of stands, jam-packed with produce, meats and fish of every kind. Naturally, they all specialize. Produce stands sell produce. Fishmongers sell fish. Butchers sell meat, usually just from one animal. Others may specialize in eggs, cured meats, pickled vegetables, fresh noodles... all narrow categories overseen by folks who make a living working just with that specialty. THIS is the way to shop for food, the purveyors more closely connected to their products and in a better position to offer you the best, and all of them packed into close proximity. Aside from needing to pay three or four times to get everything on your list, it's no less convenient than a supermarket, yet it provides all of the obvious advantages. Even the best permanent markets I've seen in the States barely hold a candle to this random Shanghai neighborhood market, and so few cities back home have them. How did we get away from this? How did we lose this wisdom? It's as infuriating as it is exciting, a feeling that would color all of my market visits throughout the trip. We wandered for a couple of hours, marveling at what we saw. And got hungry. Time for lunch.

Crab, Crab, Crab and Crab	Dominic Armato

Hairy crab is a local delicacy this time of year, and I made a goal of gorging on it before skipping town. In truth, fall is more the time of year for such an endeavor, but I was assured that we'd catch the tail end of the season, and I'd read some good things about Xinguang restaurant, which offers lengthy set menus centered around these little fellows. What Xinguang does when hairy crabs aren't in season, I have no idea. But hairy or otherwise, crabs are such a high-maintenance food that I'd gladly take any opportunity to try seven different preparations thereof in one sitting.

	Thick Crab Soup	Dominic Armato

The first four dishes were a quick progression of largely unadulterated crab meat, starting with the claws and moving inward. The first, a pile of claw meat, struck me as disappointingly dry, but was served with two sauces, chinkiang vinegar and an extremely sweet, almost syrupy soy infused with ginger and also, I believe, touched with some vinegar. These helped to moisten it a bit as well as bring out the flavor. I found the leg meat much more satisfying, stir fried with fresh asparagus, lightly glazed and possessing the moisture that the claws lacked. I started to swoon when we got to the body, all of the tiny flakes of meat that those back home would refer to as backfin, again stir fried and seasoned with I don't know what, but definitely including a touch of mustard -- by which I don't mean prepared mustard seed, but naturally the crab's yellow hepatopancreas -- lending it a slightly funky flavor that was still ruled by the sweetness of the meat. The fourth iteration fully brought the funk, comprised solely of the mustard stir fried with flat bean noodles, rich and almost eggy, thick and sticky and tasting of all the parts of the crab most folks back home would discard. For me, it needed a touch of the sweet ginger vinegar to cut it, but with that minor adjustment, it was still fabulously decadent and in the running with the backfin for my favorite of the meal.

Noodles with Crab	Dominic Armato

Simple, almost unadulterated crab out of the way, we moved on to other dishes. First was a thickened crab soup that -- before I accidentally dusted it with about four times the amount of white pepper I would have liked -- possessed a mellow but full flavor, flecked with crabmeat and topped with a smattering of cilantro. Next were noodles, topped with another crab mixture, that satisfied even if it was one of the weaker dishes of the bunch. The crab was predictably lovely, but the noodles were quite ordinary. The crab deserved better. Our final dish was another soup, this one a clear broth with a very pronounced green onion or chive flavor, within which were swimming small wontons filled with seasoned crab meat. It was a light and delicate finish to a fine meal, and a note on which I was prepared to happily exit until we were also presented with a tea that I loved. It was an extremely dark brown, very sweet, and bursting with more ginger flavor than I would have thought it possible to cram into one little cup. I'd love to know how this stuff was made so I can do it at home.

	Crab Dumpling Soup	Dominic Armato

I've often said that between the usually prohibitive expense and the fact that it's a royal pain to get it out of the shell, I've never eaten my fill of crab. I doubt I would have arrived there had it not been for the morning's exploits, but Xinguang was a first for me in this regard. Still, I have mixed feelings about the place. With the exception of the noodles, the preparations were very well done, but the product inspired some doubts. I felt the crab itself was lacking in some cases. No doubt hairy crab quality runs the gamut, and to be fair, as mentioned, this was right at the end of the season, but still... good as it was, I find it difficult to believe that this was what all the fuss is about. Add to this that our meal was in the neighborhood of $85/pp, and particularly when measured against the joy of $1.50/dozen xiao long bao, price performance is a legitimate question. Still, it's a rare treat to have so much crab in so many forms without getting near a shell, and on that basis I think it's a worthwhile endeavor.

Out of time already? Frustratingly, after a brief stop at the nearby First Food Store (meh...) and a roadside cart for a dessert of fresh mangosteen, it was time to return to the hotel, check out and head for the airport. To leave so soon after arriving in an exciting place is a difficult thing to do, and I hope to return someday. The good news is that the trip was barely getting started...

Old Jesse (Ji Shi) www.xinjishi.com 41 Tianping Lu Shanghai, China 6282-9260

Lin Long Fang 10 Jianguo Dong Lu Shanghai, China 6386-7021

Xinguang Jiu Jia 512 Tianjin Lu Shanghai, China 6322-3978

Homeward Bound

No! Not yet!	Dominic Armato

It's been nearly two weeks, and though I'm currently somewhere over the Pacific inside this silver cigar (with apologies to Lilian Morrison), I wish it was my family en route to me rather than the other way around. I crammed as much as I possibly could into this trip, trying to make sure I was out and about every moment I wasn't working or sleeping, and sleeping less than I probably should have. But there's just too much. I barely got halfway through my critical list, to say nothing of the things I really would have liked to have hit, even despite the amount of ground I covered (60+ miles just in the past four days, according to the pedometer).

So while this trip has me especially excited to get writing, I confess that I'm a little unsure of where to start. A quick count indicates that I have thirty something restaurants to write about, not to mention markets and hordes of snacks and bits of street food. Give me a couple of days to decompress, get a little rest and collect my thoughts, and we'll get this ball rolling.

If you'll excuse me, I have a date with Photoshop...

The Deliciousness of 2011

Shrimp and Sea Bass Mushimono @ ShinBay	Dominic Armato

	DISCLOSURE: Though I loved their food long before getting to know them, the folks at Posh, FnB and Andreoli are all friends. And Mrs. Skillet Doux makes a mean birthday cake.

It's year end list time!

Every time I join in this tradition I loathe myself a little bit, but y'know, I tell myself it's only natural and there's nothing wrong with taking a look back at what the year has brought.

In terms of food, I can't complain too much about 2011. Despite an increasing tendency to get a little surly when it comes to my culinary frustrations, I had some fabulous food here in Phoenix, and even managed to squeeze in a jaunt to Vegas and a month back home in Chicago. Places that I love continue to impress. New favorites have emerged. And I worked to fill as many gaping holes in my dining experience as I could.

So let's call it a good year tempered with a little bit of frustration. This was year two in a new home, after the honeymoon is over but before I've made my peace with the flaws. I wish new openings didn't seem to walk such a narrow path. I wish we were seeing more in the way of killer traditional foods and fewer contorted and misguided attempts to shoehorn in ooh and aah. I wish I saw more focus on food and less on scene/style/marketing. But when I see interest in the opening of Peruvian restaurants, when friends come back from Tacos Atoyac talking about how it's packed, and when places like ShinBay open to acclaim (if, at times, a little confusion), I'm reminded of how much good stuff is going on here, and I become more and more excited for what's to come.

But this particular exercise is about looking back, and when I look back I see a list filled with so much great stuff I can barely trim it down. This is now the seventh time I've done this, and the list seems to grow every year. Perhaps it's laziness and an unwillingness to make the hard decisions. But the more and more I write, the less and less I find myself interested in making a hard cut, as though number ten was more meaningful than number eleven, as if the memories of these bites can all be quantified. I can't list them all. That's what I've been doing all year. But when I think back, these are the dishes that one way or another defined my year in food. So without further ado, in completely random order supplied by random.org, here's The Deliciousness of 2011:

	Dominic Armato

Nigiri Sushi
ShinBay - Phoenix
Where have you been hiding this guy, Phoenix? I mean, I know Shinji Kurita had a legendary reputation as a fellow who could turn out some stellar food, but are you telling me that the guy who makes this was somehow forced into hibernation for five years? I don't care about the location, I don't care about the lack of marketing savvy, I don't care about the reservation and service quirks, and I don't care about the damn sign. What I care about is that our omakase there was capped with what may be the most stunning array of nigiri sushi I've ever sampled, and there were still at least two other dishes I could have put on this list. This nigiri -- a remarkable mix of fish both mainstream and obscure -- put the lie to the oft repeated notion that you can't get good seafood in the desert. Every piece was so impossibly fresh, so perfectly precise, so carefully crafted to draw out the character of the fish that I'm still a little baffled that this place isn't an instant smash hit. Yes, it takes a certain amount of chutzpah (or insanity) to open a place like this in hard times (even if fine dining appears to be the only segment of the market that's growing right now). But we spend this much at Kai, we spend almost this much at Binkley's, and some of the same folks who laud those places beat up on ShinBay. This nigiri alone, to say nothing of the rest of the menu, is worthy of that kind of attention and praise those restaurants command. When we talk about Phoenix' flagship fine dining restaurants, ShinBay belongs in the conversation. Here's hoping that happens in 2012.

Dominic Armato

Pork Belly Pastrami
Citizen Public House - Phoenix
Wit without flavor is a frustrating thing. But when a delicious dish also happens to be witty, the combination can be absolutely delightful, which is the case with Citizen Public House's Pork Belly Pastrami. I don't wish to overplay the concept. Tender pork belly is crusted in blackened pastrami spices and served with a mustardy brussels sprout "sauerkraut" and chewy rye spatezle. It's a pastrami sandwich... get it? This much is cute. But what matters is that it's a knockout dish, luscious and bold and balanced and more than a little decadent. Every time I worry that pork belly has become overplayed, a dish like this comes along to remind me that no matter how many menus it's crammed into, that can't be held against the times it's done right. That's this dish all over. I figure if I'm having a hard time finding a pastrami sandwich that makes me happy, a creative upscale repackaging thereof is the next best thing.

	Dominic Armato

Jibarito de Bistec
Papa's Cache Sabroso - Chicago
Some great foods get that way with an impressive amount of finesse. Others display a certain wit and charm. And some are just freaking good. Such is the case with the jibarito, one of Chicago's more unique contributions to the culinary scene. This fall, I righted a wrong by finally getting to Papa's Cache Sabroso, a Puerto Rican joint not five minutes from where I lived for five years, to stop in for the Puerto Rican-Chicagoan creation I'd heard so much about but had never tasted. And it's probably a good thing that I hadn't, because this thing would be dangerously irresistible if it were too accessible. It's seasoned and grilled steak, melty cheese, tomatoes, lettuce and garlicky mayonnaise, all of which is typical enough, except that the fillings are then stuffed between two flattened and fried plantains in lieu of bread, adding a crisp and nutty decadence to a sandwich that would already be pushing the limits. This is one of those foods where you sit there, stuffing your face, licking your fingers and moaning, until it's all gone and you start to strongly consider ordering another. The jibarito is a fairly recent creation, and though widespread in Chicago it hasn't gotten much play elsewhere. That needs to change.

Dominic Armato

Foie with Sunflower & Huckleberry
Binkley's - Phoenix
Every once in a while, a pairing comes along that seems as though it's more likely the product of chemical alteration than chefly creativity. Foie and huckleberries seem straightforward enough, but I can't recall if I've ever seen sunflower seeds on a plate, much less like this. And yet it worked... brilliantly, even. Accompanied by whole huckleberries, a huckleberry sauce and a smear of nutty sunflower seed puree, the foie had a dark, heavily seared crust that bordered on charred. Add the nuttiness of the sunflower, and while it referenced traditional foie treatments, this presentation possessed an unusual and surprising complexity that I found really striking. The dish was a fantastic balance of pleasurable and cerebral, and it's among the best foie dishes I can remember.

	Dominic Armato

A Walk In the Forest
Next - Chicago
The dish's official appellation is "Autumn," but its name among the staff seems somehow more appropriate. The high concept dinner theater of Next's Childhood menu was packed end to end with nostalgia and whimsy, but this dish temporarily set aside the memories of comfort foods and preprocessed treats, and tried to embody something a little less... straightforward. The best way I can think to describe this combination of manipulated vegetation and smoldering aromatics is the way I did when I wrote about it the first time:

"...it made me feel like a deer that had found a really fabulous bush to munch on. It was as though on this walk in the woods, I'd scooped up a handful of the forest floor -- leaves and berries and twigs and soil and mushrooms -- and popped it in my mouth, only to discover with delight that it was intensely pleasurable. The textures, aromas and flavors somehow managed to capture the forest, or at least how I imagine it, but in a way that was palatable to humans rather than wildlife, making it possible to experience the woods through the one sensory path that's not usually an option."

To call it unique would be a gross understatement. To call it exciting would be no less so.

Dominic Armato

Tom Yam Beef Ball & Tender Soup
Aroy Thai - Chicago
So much did I love this meal that if I weren't so determined to spread the love around I could have easily put three dishes from it here. I'm sure the fact that I was dying for a fabulous Thai meal had more than a little to do with it. But all the same, of all the dishes I enjoyed at Aroy Thai -- and they wre legion -- this was the one that stopped me dead in my tracks from bite one. As bowls were passed around and the table of more than a dozen slowly grew silent, all that was heard around the table was slurping and one voice from the other end that said, "I have never had tom yum soup before today." A little dramatic, yes. And at least as tongue-in-cheek. But still, this was an eye opener that made so many other tom yum soups seem like a waste of time. If this is a soup that normally goes to eleven, Aroy's version is at least a seventeen, taking all of the hot, sour, sweet and salty elements and sending them through the culinary equivalent of a bullhorn while still maintaining perfect balance. It was complete and total mouth-exploding flavor, and if I could have gotten away with hoarding the entire tureen for myself, I would have.

	Dominic Armato

48 Hour Beef Belly
Sage - Las Vegas
If Vegas is all about taking things over the top and then going even further, short of gilding it with gold leaf and stuffing it with white truffles, I can't think of a better culinary metaphor than the 48 Hour Beef Belly, found at Shawn McClain's Sage at the Aria casino. I don't think it's even normal for them to plate a full serving. Though it was offered only on the signature tasting menu, they graciously honored my ladylove's request to make an entree out of it, the happy epilogue of which was that she left half of it to me. Think pork belly meets beef short ribs, smoked for 24 hours, braised for another 24, glazed with a thick, intense reduction and plated with pickled ramps and red peppers to lighten things up just a touch. And morels. Because of the smoke it played a little like BBQ, except with ten times the fat and a meat reduction in place of the sauce. It was a total no-holds-barred dish, and I can't think of a better city for it to call home.

Dominic Armato

Sonny Boy
Pizzeria Bianco - Phoenix
Well, it's about time. It took me a year and a half, but I finally got to Pizzeria Bianco. And then I got there again. And again. I think one more time. Maybe even once more. When it's off, I can see how some might be disappointed. Even the weakest pizza I've had there was excellent, but that's still a letdown when the buildup is "OMG it's the best pizza in the world!!!!1!!1111!1!!" But when it's on, I've had none better, and my favorite pizza in the lineup is the Sonny Boy, essentially a margherita minus the basil plus olives and salami. That the salami is Creminelli sopressata is already a good start. That it's set atop bread with beautiful chew and character is the key. That it quickly cooks under intense heat, rending and then kind of frying in its own fat, making it light and almost crisp is what takes it over the top. I really, really dig this pizza.

	Dominic Armato

Shio Ramen
Santouka Ramen - Chicago
I realize ramen is the food nerd obsession du jour, and I don't care. This bowl belongs up here. It's not much to look at. When it comes to their signature shio ramen, Santouka serves the toppings on the side, which immediately sets the tone. The accompaniments may be fabulous, but this is about the broth and the noodles. And oh dear, are they wonderful, the noodles dense but lively, the broth a thick and almost creamy tonkotsu with seafood accents, rich with fat, warm and comforting. That the premium pork option is a tender and luscious cut of cheek doesn't hurt either. For all the time I've spent in Japan, I've had almost no ramen there. This was a reminder that when I'm there in two weeks, I really need to rectify that situation.

Dominic Armato

Rice, Chicken, Egg, Takana Pickle
Raku - Las Vegas
The omakase at Raku was so refined, so precise, so flavorful and so delightful that the only question was which dish I'd put here. I could've gone with the agedashi tofu, which for some reason I didn't fully appreciate on our first pass. I could have gone with the symphony of flavors and textures that was the uni shooter. I could have gone with a simple, delicate and mature treatment of ankimo, perfect dashi complementing the delicate monkfish liver. But when I stopped to think about the dish that stuck with me -- the one that I couldn't get out of my head -- I was surprised to find that it was our final savory course, a humble bowl of rice with minced chicken, slivered omelet, some pickled mustard leaf and shredded shiso. Even beyond the fabulous flavors, I loved the statement implicit in the fact that it was even a part of the menu. Yeah, you've had a virtuosic assortment of Japanese specialties, but your last course before dessert is going to be something completely simple and comforting. And, might I add, perfect.

But there are so many more! I agonized over which to picture. Any of these could have been above. Many of them were at one point or another as I debated with myself. Here they are, in similarly random fashion:

Original Chopped Salad	Citizen Public House	Phoenix
Chicago Style Hot Dog	Gene & Jude's	Chicago
Shrimp and Sea Bass Mushimono	ShinBay	Phoenix
Kowloon Style Crab	Nee House	Phoenix
Steamed Sole with Spring Vegetables	L'Atelier	Las Vegas
Lamb Ribs	FnB	Phoenix
Ramen	Posh	Phoenix
Fish Tacos	Tacos Atoyac	Phoenix
Italian Beef	Chicago's Taylor Street	Phoenix
Branzino alla Griglia	Andreoli	Phoenix
Spanish Sea Bass Stew	Kai	Phoenix
Shrimp with Spiced Demiglace and Leeks	Posh	Phoenix
Trippa alla Fiorentina	Prado	Phoenix
Birthday Cake	Mrs. Skillet Doux	Phoenix
Larb Khun	Aroy Thai	Chicago
The Rehab	Food Shark	Marfa
Dry Chili Fish Filet	Lao Hunan	Chicago
Uni Shooter	Raku	Las Vegas
Lamb Belly Roulade	Welcome Diner	Phoenix
Butter Burger	Solly's	Milwaukee

You know, you stack 'em up like this, and it looks like a pretty darn fabulous year of eats. And really, it was. I can only hope 2012 is another year like this.

Thanks for reading, everybody, good eating, and happy new year!

2005   |  2006   |   2007   |   2008   |   2009   |   2010   |   2011

The Quarterly Report - Q4 2011

Shumai @ Phoenix Restaurant	Dominic Armato

Bit of a quiet report, this quarter. A month long trip to Chicago, the return of Top Chef and the holidays will suck up a good chunk of restauranting and writing time like that. In any case, in order determined by random.org as always, here are the places I've eaten over the past few months that didn't quite inspire a full post:

	Causa de Camarones	Dominic Armato

Inka Fest
2909 S. Dobson Road, Mesa AZ 85202
Just when I think I've gotten to all of the Peruvian joints in town, a couple more pop up. I've been meaning to get to Inka Fest for almost a year, and finally did, though I doubt I'll be returning. The Causa was a little messy and unbalanced, and the $2 option to add shrimp netted... well, you can see. Ceviche was a little more successful, a nice balance leaning towards lime with a good deal of spice, but it lacked depth. Aji de Gallina was solid if uninspiring, but Pescado a lo Macho was a total bust with limp fried fish, cold and rubbery squid, and a flat and lifeless sauce. While I love that we have multiple Peruvian options around town, with Contigo Peru just a mile down the road, I can't see a compelling reason to visit this one unless you're desperate for Aji de Gallina on a weekday (Contigo only does it on the weekends).

Pizza Margherita	Dominic Armato

La Piazza al Forno
5803 W. Glendale Avenue, Glendale AZ 85301
La Piazza al Forno was the second joint in town to obtain VPN (Vera Pizza Napoletana) certification, meaning that they meet the criteria for what constitutes a traditional Neapolitan pizza. Unfortunately, while we had a couple of perfectly enjoyable lunches, traditional doesn't always equal excellent. It's a neighborhood joint in charmingly neighborhoody historic Glendale, though the dark interior makes it almost foreboding unless you're seated near the front of the restaurant. There are antipasti and a significant list of pastas, about which I'm in no position to speak, but the stars are the pizzas, emerging from the wood-fired oven and bearing Guy Fieri's endorsement, which I suppose is considered an asset even if all it does for me is conjure up images of BBQ sushi. And the pizza's really good, but as much as I want to love it, and as much as I want to be able to say that the modest family joint on the West side runs circles about the slick new joint in Scottsdale, the truth is that the pizzas I've had at La Piazza just don't hold a candle to those at 'Pomo. The balance of toppings felt off and the tomatoes needed salt, but most importantly the bread had a slightly yeasty, underdone quality and the cornicone was short on texture and character. If this sounds bad, it's not. I'm being kind of hypercritical. The pizzas are good and if I lived on that end of town, I'd probably stop in from time to time. But while I don't usually like to declare "winners," I don't think it's inappropriate to do so in this scenario and after having made 'Pomo a regular stop over the past year, both times I went, I came away from La Piazza al Forno vaguely disappointed.

	German Pancake	Dominic Armato

Walker Brothers
153 Green Bay Road, Wilmette IL 60091
Yeah, I'm a little surprised to be writing about this place, too. Without digging through the archives, I think the closest I've come to writing about a national chain was Nobu. In any case, they're widespread enough that most are probably familiar with The Original Pancake House, though determining which is actually the original was, for me, an exercise in futility (okay, so I didn't try that hard). But I've been to a number of them, and while this is one of those places about which I can't be remotely objective, my feeling has always been that Walker Brothers in Wilmette, Illinois is a cut above. Of course, the reason I'm writing is because this is a place I grew up with, and after revisiting it last month, I felt compelled to wallow in nostalgia a bit. It's a warm joint, all dark wood and stained glass and smooth, medium roast coffee. Bacon is crisp, OJ is fresh, hash browns are actually brown (depressingly rare), and most of the breakfast standards are solid. But the stars are the apple pancake, a massive mothership of a breakfast that, while delicious, was never quite my speed, and the German pancake, about which I could wax poetic for a while. It's another monster, the size of a steering wheel, six inches deep, dense and thick with what tastes like an entire carton of eggs. The accompanying pile of lemon wedges and powdered sugar allow you to create a sort of slurry that ensures you blow out your sweet, sour and rich receptors all at the same time. That probably doesn't make it sound nearly as appetizing as I find it, but again, I don't think my love for this pancake is based solely on nostalgia. I still dig this place.

Har Gow	Dominic Armato

Phoenix Restaurant
2131 S. Archer Avenue, Chicago IL 60616
Phoenix is the reigning king of Chicago Chinatown dim sum, and while a willingness to accept a little less spit and polish will often net you better noshes within five blocks, there's something to be said for making the safe and dependable choice every now and again, particularly when with a large group of folks and multiple kids. And so it was that I found myself at Phoenix for the first time in many years, happily scarfing down shumai and har gow, all fresh and hot and deftly prepared. There's nothing paradigm-shifting here, and all I saw on this visit was a disappointingly narrow selection of the most basic standards, but almost everything I've had has been solid and we've never had to deal with the crushing crowds I've heard about, due to the fact that we get in early to beat the crunch. The only downside is that I feel like I sometimes need a pair of red flags and an air horn to get the carts over to our neck of the woods. I realize that jockeying for position comes with the territory, but please don't make me wait 45 minutes for that luo buo gao fix, guys.

Merry Christmas

Christmas Cactus Cookie Courtesy of Mrs. Skillet Doux	Dominic Armato

From us folks here in the desert, may your Christmas be filled with peace, love, and many, many delicious things.

Wok Strategy

It's a beautiful jet black under the veg.. really!	Dominic Armato

It's been said that trying to stir-fry on a consumer range is an exercise in futility. Yeah, you can cook in a wok on a stovetop. But even if you're blessed with a Five Star range, those 21,000 BTUs have nothing on wok burners, which routinely run in the neighborhood of 100,000 BTUs. Serious wok cookery requires serious heat.

I'm in the camp that believes stir-frying at home isn't a pointless endeavor. But ensuring that you're actually stir-frying and not steaming requires some coping strategies. Things like letting your vegetables air-dry, letting your meat come to room temperature, not cooking large batches of anything, giving your wok time to preheat, etc. all aid in eliminating steam and keeping your temperature as high as possible. It's still nothing like working a professional wok burner, but if you're smart about it, I think it conveys enough of a benefit to make stir-frying at home a meaningful pursuit.

All of which is why I was delighted the other night to figure out a little trick that I think was rather helpful. One of the biggest challenges is that you usually cook your meat first, and dumping a big pile of meat into a wok makes its temperature plummet, the burner can't catch up, and by the time you get to vegetables they're slowly steaming from the pool of liquid in the bottom of the wok. So I always pull my meat out of the fridge and let it warm up a bit before cooking, to minimize the impact it has on the temperature of the wok. Thing is, the other night, I forgot to do that. And with dinnertime just minutes away, I had an ice cold bowl of meat. So I panicked, turned the oven on low, and tossed the bowl of meat in to warm up for a few minutes before I stir-fried it.

The result was an unusually good home stir-fry.

Why not, right? If letting the meat lose some of its chill by pulling it out of the fridge 20 minutes before you stir-fry helps keep your wok temperature high, why wouldn't letting the meat get slightly warm in a very low oven help even more? Of course there's a limit here. You warm it too much and you're actually starting to cook it, and I don't imagine that would work out well. But I think I caught it at just the right time... when it was starting to get slightly warm but before it started cooking, which allowed my wok to stay even hotter than usual. A little experimentation is clearly in order, but you'd better believe I'm trying this one again.

Aroy Thai

Shrimp and Peanut Dumplings	Dominic Armato

Though the timing might suggest otherwise, it hadn't been my intention to make this into a Thai throwdown. But early last week, I'm looking at my list of restaurants I'm ready to write about, and suddenly Soi 4 and Aroy Thai are all that's left... Phoenix' newfound media darling and an old but recently rediscovered warhorse of the Chicago food nerds. I ate at both within a month of each other. Heck, one of the friends I took to Soi 4 in Phoenix happened to be in Chicago the weekend I was going to Aroy (and perhaps he'll be so good as to share his thoughts as well). I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wasn't looking for an object lesson in downscale traditional vs. fancified creative fare, but one found me, and it brought some things into focus.

	Tod Mun	Dominic Armato

I was first introduced to Aroy a little over five years ago, under the wing of the inimitable Erik M., whose now legendary exploits include producing the menu translations that mainstreamed traditional Thai in Chicago, and turning Jonathan Gold onto Jitlada in Los Angeles (though his pictures are, sadly, long gone, his first post about the restaurant is both inspiring and heartbreaking). If you're looking for proof that one passionate (read: obsessive) individual with tastebuds and a keyboard can have a profound impact on the dining scene of a major city, Erik's it. Though his disappearance from the intertubes about three years ago has only served to heighten his mystique (yes, this is tongue-in-cheek, and yes, he's fine... just not writing), the point... well, I'm not really sure what the point is here except that -- if I may gush -- he's someone from whom I draw a great deal of inspiration, and our dinner at Aroy was one of a series of eye-openers for me where Thai is concerned. And yet, once Erik had left Chicago, Aroy sort of slipped into the shadows of places like Spoon, TAC and Sticky Rice, only to recently (and rightfully) regain favor among the chow geeks as one of the best spots in Chicago for Thai food. I -- along with nearly a dozen compatriots -- was long overdue for a return visit.

Isaan and Sai Ua Sausage	Dominic Armato

I'd had the foresight to keep Erik's message that detailed the menu for our 2006 meal, and between that and LTH postings on recent favorites, both on and off menu, we cribbed together a meal that was just shy of mindblowing, particularly for somebody who's been desperately craving this food. The first taste was an off-menu item, arranged a couple days ahead of time. Small golf ball-sized dumplings, with thick wrappers of glutinous rice, were filled with a lightly sweet ground concoction that featured shrimp and peanuts most prominently, served on small leaves of lettuce with which to pick up and eat them. Lightly chewy and full-flavored, they were a delightful start. The Tod Mun were another off-menu item, offered to us though I didn't request them early, I suspect because we named a couple of other off-menu items. They were, as one might find them elsewhere, made of minced fish pounded into a paste, seasoned with red curry, fish sauce and kaffir lime leaves, fried and served with a sweet and sour cucumber relish. Where they differed were in the potency of the curry, the very forward fragrance of the kaffir lime leaf, and the light, spongy texture -- far from the leaden lumps tod mun often are.

	Larb Khun	Dominic Armato

I'd long pined for Aroy's Isaan sausage, but this time it came with a partner, Sai Ua, another from the northern part of the country, bordering on Laos. The Isaan sausage was the subtler of the two, a pork sausage mixed with glutinous rice before being stuffed into the casing, so that when hung to age the rice ferments and takes on a gentle sourness. The Sai Ua was its fiery counterpart, a coarser grind with more pronounced bits of fat, laden with chiles and ginger, aromatic and quite hot. Both sausages were served with diced raw ginger, peanuts and minced chiles to eat along with sticky rice, both arrived with crisp, blistered skin, and both served as an excellent reminder of how careful grinding and stuffing can take a very good sausage and make it excellent. The texture on these was fabulous, fully-formed but gently yielding into an even grind when eaten. They weren't rocket science, but they were fabulously executed.

Roasted Eggplant with Shrimp and Mint	Dominic Armato

Larb is common enough, but Aroy's larb khun is something special. It possesses those screaming highs of lime juice, cilantro and onions, but it plumbs some unusually murky depths by working in a fair amount of offal. To be clear, this dish isn't an aggressive expression of variety meat, nor is it entirely or even mostly composed of such. Rather there's a mellow but pronounced funky depth that brings an unusual roundness and complexity to a familiar archetype, and it seduced even some at the table who were highly suspicious of offal. The key's in the balance, and this was a remarkable balancing act of light and fresh against dark and dirty. A superb salad the likes of which I've not previously tasted. The roasted eggplant, a special recommended to us, was a little less challenging in terms of flavor, but far more challenging in terms of heat. The roasted eggplant had a silky smoothness, paired with shrimp, brightened with mint and further mellowed by the rich yolks of sliced hard-cooked eggs. But it set us on fire. I can't remember the last time a dish blew me out to that degree, and it took me a while to regain my bearings. Still, the flavor was excellent, and I'm not sure I'd order it any differently if given the chance.

	Tom Yam Beef Ball & Tender Soup	Dominic Armato

And then, the tom yum. Oh my, what a dish. Aroy does the Tom Yum Goong that's present on every Americanized Thai menu everywhere. Though I don't know, I wager Aroy's version is a little more notable. But buried deep in the soup section is a beef-based tom yam that features both firm meatballs and chunks of tender, braised beef. As I ladled this out and we passed bowls around the table, it slowly grew silent but for one voice at the other end that exclaimed, "I've never had tom yum soup before today." He had, of course. Many times. Which was exactly the point. This was a true eye-opener of a dish, with an incredible depth and complexity that made nearly every tom yum I'd tried before it seem insipid in comparison. It was both full-flavored and explosive, fiery hot, bracingly sour, pleasantly sweet and with just enough briny essence to bring it together. It was a flavor blitzkrieg, both sour and beefy, composed of flavors that would have been completely overpowering if they were not in such wonderful harmony. When I put together the Deliciousness of 2011 in a few weeks, this is the one that doesn't require a moment's thought. I adored it.

Grilled Pork Salad	Dominic Armato

It's a little tough to come down from a dish like that, but the grilled pork salad was no slouch. It was very larb-like in flavor, fish sauce and lime juice and sugar along with onions and cilantro, some toasted rice powder for texture. But the meat's coming from a different realm here. A different realm on the pig itself, that is. The cut used in the grilled pork salad is pork neck. There appears to be some terminology confusion surrounding the term "pork neck," and I'm unsure precisely which part of the pig we're dealing with in Aroy's case. But I will say that it was a well-muscled cut that still contained quite a bit of fat where it was at, and the two combined to give it a really rich, intense flavor and a kind of pleasantly chewy texture. I've had it simply grilled at Thai restaurants on many an occasion with a dipping sauce, but I think this is the first time I've had it in a salad treatment, and predictably, it works well. A little smokiness complements the dressing well, the acidity therein plays against the richness of the meat. And the genius was that the slight chewiness of this cut of meat forces you to kind of linger over it for a little bit, as some of the fat oozes out and mixes with the dressing. I trust this is no accident.

	Somtam Pu	Dominic Armato

A few weeks after Soi 4's clinical somtam left me cold, I got what I'd been seeking. The distance between the two isn't that great, but a tweak here, a tweak there, and it's a much more vibrant dish. For starters, it's a little less sweet. The sugar's still pronounced, no doubt, but it isn't so much to the fore. While personal preference causes me to wish it went even a little further, Aroy's was lightly crushed, to as to aid the papaya in soaking up the sauce, unlike so many lame versions I've had that feature flawless (and tasteless) strands of green papaya sitting in a pool of dressing that they can't absorb. The spice was kicked up... not quite to Thai Thai levels (coming from me, that would have merited a special request, though we told them not to be afraid to bring the heat and they did at times), but enough to really punch you in the face rather than providing a meek chile buzz in the background. And my favorite part, the pieces of pickled blue crab, releasing their briny essence as they're pounded along with the salad. This isn't difficult... why, I always wonder, is it so hard to find it done this way?

Basil Duck	Chinese Broccoli with Crispy Pork	Dominic Armato

There were weak points, though only in relative fashion. The basil duck wasn't what I thought I was ordering. I had tried a dish with Erik years before that involved a huge pile of crispy fried holy basil leaves, and that's definitely not what this was. Which isn't to say that this duck, crisply fried in a dark, lightly sweet sauce with an abundance of basil wasn't bad, it just felt somehow more conventional alongside the rest. And the Chinese broccoli, studded with chunks of crispy pork, was a leg up on the throwaway veg of so many places, but felt a touch overdone and a little muddy to me.

Catfish with Thai Eggplant	Dominic Armato

The catfish with Thai Eggplant was a great example of why it's so frustrating that coconut curries dominate the Americanized Thai scene. Here's a curry that isn't creamy or heavy, but wonderfully light and fragrant. This isn't to say that it doesn't pack a punch. It's still hot and devilishly complex. But instead of being about coconut and sugar, it's about the complexity of the herbs and lemongrass in an almost gravy-like concoction that lets their subtler flavors come through. And the plucky star of the show was a bunch of pickled green peppercorns, both spicy and piquant, putting the exclamation point on the dish. Another non-coconut curry we sampled was the Phat Phet Fish Balls, and setting the virtues of the fiery but beautifully balanced red curry aside, it got me frustrated that more places don't serve fish balls, essentially fish dumplings blended with starch and seasonings and then cooked to create a sort of spongy, gently flavored chunk of fish. I dug this dish as well.

	Phat Phet Fish Balls	Dominic Armato

It sounds, from my contemporaries' reports, as though our Chou-Chi Ground Pork wasn't firing on all cylinders. After reading so much about the delicate lattice of fried egg whites and the gush of a barely-cooked yolk, I was a little disappointed that our egg was cooked through. Especially since so many have claimed that that's what makes the dish. But if I hadn't have known, I wouldn't have missed it. I've seen this dish jokingly referred to as Thai Bolognese, and it's not an entirely ridiculous analogy. It has a sort of warm, stewy feel to it, though obviously the flavors are coming from a completely different place. It's kind of like the comfort food of curries, for those who want something sweet and peanutty and not have to be bothered with chewing to get it. And yet, though this was the sweetest, creamiest dish of the night, it still never crossed into the cloying territory of conventional Americanized Thai curries. It pushed right to the edge of going to far, and then held there, sweet and creamy but still complex and well-developed.

Chou-Chi Ground Pork	Dominic Armato

I don't know what to think. When I write about this meal, I'm simultaneously thrilled and frustrated. I'm thrilled because food like this exists, because such bold flavors can be so well-balanced and developed, because such fabulous cuisine comes out of a cheap and spartan storefront under the El tracks in Chicago rather than a half a million dollar buildout in a Scottsdale megacomplex (I have no idea what the renovation actually cost). Couldn't that money have gone towards finding and hiring somebody who knows how to make this food instead? It sure would have made for a better restaurant. And thus, the frustration sets in. Some of Soi 4's dishes can be really quite good, but the gap between what these two places turn out in terms of flavor, complexity and maturity is enormous. And it's especially amazing given the resources that have been thrown at the former. It makes it hard not to be cynical about places that sink so much money, thought and energy into the vibe. I know, they're in different cities, why even bring this up? I'm not sure. Like I say, it wasn't my intention. But it's hard to go to two places like this almost back-to-back and NOT examine how what seems like a very different focus can produce such different results. And it isn't entirely fair to frame it like that. Both cities are chock full of spartan little Thai places that serve awful food. I don't mean to take the pretentious food nerd tack that the best food can only be found at obscure dives. That simply isn't true. But the question of focus is a valid one, I think. And even more important, another question remains... is this food out there in Phoenix? Maybe it isn't. But so many of Chicago's now venerated spots were, once upon a time, slingers of pad thai and crab rangoon to those who didn't look the part or know the secret handshake. Is it out there and we just haven't discovered it yet? Or is nobody putting it out there because they feel we aren't especially interested in discovering it? ARE we especially interested in discovering it? A lot of my hopes and fears for the Phoenix dining scene are tied up in the answers to these questions.

See, this is why I haven't written about Thai food for two years. Turns me into a raving lunatic.

Aroy Thai
www.aroythaichicago.com
4654 N. Damen Avenue
Chicago, IL 60625
773-275-8360
Mon - Sun	11 AM - 10 PM

Go East!

It was starting to feel neglected...	Dominic Armato

It appears 2012 at Skillet Doux will be starting with a bang!

I'm working, and it's going to be a busy trip. But the last time I flew home from Asia, I never would have imagined it would take me five years to get back, so you'd better believe I'm going to make the most of every spare moment I can find.

Shanghai, Hong Kong, Shenzhen and Tokyo... anybody have intel to share?

Soi 4

Som Tam	Dominic Armato

Thai in Phoenix is something I've almost intentionally avoided writing about over the past couple of years. When we first arrived, I hit a few of the city's more notable establishments in rapid-fire fashion, became quickly frustrated and put the search on the back burner for a while. It's not that they were bad (well, some of them were), but it was mostly that they simply weren't what I was craving. Though traditional Chinese cuisine has become common enough in the States that most can recognize Americanized Chinese as such, the same isn't really true of Thai. In the same way you can rest assured that any Americanized Chinese delivery place will offer Sweet & Sour Pork, Mongolian Beef and egg rolls thick as cucumbers, so too has a certain kind of standardized menu evolved for Americanized Thai places. And there's nothing wrong with that. I have a special place in my heart for them the same as I do for a well-prepared crisp, spicy and sickly sweet General Tso's chicken every now and again, even if the good general might not recognize it as food, much less Chinese food. But unlike traditional Chinese, which has gotten at least some kind of a foothold in just about every large city, Thai that doesn't conform to that Americanized roadmap is a lot harder to find outside of a few pockets in select cities. I'd started to fear that I just wouldn't find it here, which is why the raves in the wake of Soi 4's opening piqued my curiosity.

	Miang Kum	Dominic Armato

The fact that Soi 4 is a California import played no small part in my interest. The original location is in Oakland, and while the Bay Area doesn't boast the kind of Thai community that L.A. does, both burgs are among the better places to find the good stuff. Of course, this is Scottsdale, so when we import Thai, we bring it to a sleek, modern cavern of a space with wide swaths of lounge seating and a lengthy cocktail bar bathed in Tang orange light. But while the decor may be familiar to anybody who does their dining around the 8525X, a quick glance at the menu confirms that it's definitely not culled from the same playbook as most of the other joints around town. Out are mix and match sauces and meats, in are cuts like pork shoulder and belly, the dishes actually feature Thai names, and from top to bottom, the menu is filled with pairings you're unlikely to see elsewhere in Phoenix. This would prove to be both exciting and frustrating.

Kao Pode Tod	Dominic Armato

I dropped by on multiple occasions over a month, and my feelings ran the gamut from thrilled to disappointed, but we'll get to that. Starters were generally strong, led by the excellent Miang Kum, which has gotten quite a bit of love around the intertubes, and with good reason. A mix of shrimp, peanuts, pomelo, toasted coconut, herbs and a sweet sauce made with palm sugar are served atop a trimmed mustard leaf, and the bright, explosive mix of flavors is why it's such a popular street food in Thailand. With the exception of the mustard leaf (Miang Kum is typically served atop a leaf called bai cha plu, a little tricky to come by around these parts), it's a straight-up traditional favorite. I'll let the fact that one of the restaurant's most traditional dishes is also one of its most lauded speak for itself.

	Keow Wan Roti	Dominic Armato

Other starters I tried were quite tasty, though not as outstanding as the Miang Kum. Kao Pode Tod, fried corn cakes, could have had a little more zip and been paired with a more interesting cucumber salad, but they arrived hot and fresh and were certainly enjoyable. Keow Wan Roti, a thick green curry with slices of grilled skirt steak and hot roti, was both tasty and puzzling. I'm not versed enough in the ways of roti to pass judgment other than to say that I found it warm, light and delicious. The curry was pushing into Americanized territory with its thickness and sweetness, and it didn't quite have the lovely fresh, herbal balance of the better green curries I've sampled, but it's still quite tasty and head and shoulders above anything else I've tried in town. What I find puzzling here is the decision to serve naked strips of beef alongside the curry and the roti. Dipping roti into a green beef curry is entirely Thai, but separating the beef from the curry robs each of the opportunity to contribute to the other. The Western analogue would be like making Beef Bourguignon by dipping roasted chunks of beef in a wine reduction rather than braising them together. What's the point other than to make a hands-on presentation? And is that more important than the sacrifice in flavor?

Yum Makuer Yao	Dominic Armato

Salads were generally quite good, though the iconic Som Tum was my least favorite. I can't say it isn't good so much as it isn't soulful, so clean that it's bordering on clinical. There's no fire or funk, and I found my thoughts drifting back to the versions pounded with pickled crab, lending those bright flavors a briny counterpoint, unfair as it may be to simply wish the dish was something it isn't. The Yum Makuer Yao, on the other hand, was delightful, ground chicken and prawns tossed with a beautifully balanced lime and coconut dressing, heady with spice and fresh herbs, and set against a gentle, supple, almost sweet whole grilled eggplant. The salad on top was well-executed and would have been a winner on its own, but the two together made for a bright and full flavor that was really exceptional.

	Yum Pladook	Dominic Armato

Also delightful was the Yum Pladook, though it featured yet another departure from tradition that made it less, not more. It's a salad that combines hot, crisp fried catfish with a cool salad of green mango on top. The salad was wonderful, slivers of green papaya lending a fruity character both sweet and sour, combined with shallots, herbs and a light, well-balanced dressing, and finished with cashews. Beneath, the catfish was piping hot, beautifully fried, tender and sweet. But it wasn't Yum Pladook. Normally, the fish is first par-cooked and then lightly shredded before being fried, giving it a crisp lattice-like texture that's not only pleasing on its own, but also grabs the dressing of the salad above. Were they afraid that people would demand a whole, large piece of fish to feel they were getting value for their dollar? Did they decide that was too much effort? I can't say. But I know it wasn't a better dish for the alteration, and it was so frustrating because it was quite delicious, just not what it could have -- and should have -- been.

Pla Sahm Rot	Dominic Armato

Unfortunately, the front half of the menu seems to be the stronger half, at least based on what I tried. Pla Sahm Rot, a whole fried fish in Thai "three flavor sauce" got half the equation wonderfully right, and half the equation terribly wrong. The fish was fabulous, fried whole to crisp/chewy texture around the edges, but maintaining soft, perfectly cooked flesh within. But the sauce tasted of one flavor, and that flavor was sugar. This is a dish that's normally sweet, but Thai food is all about balance. Hot, sour, salty, sweet. All need to be present, and all need to work with one another. But this was just painfully cloying, and while elements like tamarind, chiles and ginger were present, they were obliterated by a sticky sauce that lingered, and not in a good way.

	Goong Makham	Dominic Armato

The Goong Makham was similarly challenged, and featured a really puzzling twist. The stir-fried prawns were just fine, and a tangle of fried shallots on top was a tasty textural element. But the sauce was, much like the fish above, a cloying mess of sugar. Yes, this dish is usually sweet. But while its English billing is usually that of "Tamarind Shrimp," and though the Soi 4 menu describes it as a tamarind sauce, it was remarkable how little tamarind flavor was in the dish. It was crying out for some sour tamarind balance, but it simply tasted of sugar. Even stranger -- and here I tread lightly because I'm a long way from being an authority on Thai and, you know, there are always variants on these dishes -- the sauce was studded with chunks of onion and bell pepper. Onion, sure, but bell pepper? I've never seen that in this dish before, and it's almost as though they were intentionally referencing the stereotypical Americanized sweet sour pork... a reference that was only reinforced by the overpowering sweetness. Unless you're a hummingbird, this is not a good dish.

Kang Bpet	Kang Kua Mu	Dominic Armato

The curries looked so great on paper that the reality was a terrible letdown, especially considering that the green curry starter was quite good. The Kang Bpet, pan-seared duck with a pineapple red curry, took the now familiar tack of cooking the meat apart from the curry only to later combine them, and the result was tough, overcooked duck in a curry with little fire and less balance. I was even more excited to try the Kang Kua Mu, another red curry variant with pork shoulder and kabocha squash. Again, the balance was way off. Rather than accentuating each other, the flavors became muddy. And the squash, a nice pair with the curry, was just too much of the dish. If it were an accent, smaller pieces, or somehow worked into the curry, I think it could have been fabulous. But it was simply too much. The curries weren't a total loss. The Kua Kling Mu, slivered pork shoulder stir-fried with asparagus and a dry, oily red curry was delicious. It had heat, it had funk, it had balance... and surprise, it had a very simple, traditional feel and flavor.

Kua Kling Mu	Dominic Armato

I know I've used the word traditional an awful lot here. I'm not in the camp that believes traditional is automatically better. Traditional dishes have survived the crucible longer (that's why they're traditional), which means they usually have something going for them. But new is great too! There's nothing like a creative, effective spin on an old dish. Based on my meals here, however, it seems as though the kitchen at Soi 4 gets itself into trouble when it steps off the path. Though it bills itself and is being lauded as such, this is by no means a traditional Thai restaurant. Recognizing that "traditional" is not a digital state, it's certainly more towards the traditional end of the spectrum than anything else I've yet had in town, but really, it's more Cal-Thai. Or at the very least, it's... creative. But it says something, I think, that the more traditional dishes are the stronger ones, and the non-traditional choices are the ones mucking things up. And it's maddening because when these dishes hit, they're on. Some of them are great, and at their best they're operating on a different plane than most of the other Thai restaurants in town. But even when the food is good (and often it's not), they're not serving Thai. What they're serving is Scottsdale Thai by way of Oakland. And that's not without merit, and if the menu were more consistently great, I wouldn't have a bad thing to say about the place. But there's a reason I'm still desperately pining for the real thing.

Soi 4 Bangkok Eatery
www.soifour.com
8787 N. Scottsdale Road
Scottsdale, AZ 85253
480-778-1999
Mon - Thu	11:30 AM - 2:30 PM	5 PM - 9:30 PM
Fri	11:30 AM - 2:30 PM	5 PM - 10 PM
Sat		5 PM - 10 PM
Sun		5 PM - 9:30 PM

Next - Childhood

Peering over the table...	Dominic Armato

NOTE : A great deal of Childhood's appeal lies in surprise. If you expect to attend, I would recommend not reading about it until afterwards. That is, unless you're the "read the last page of the book first" type.

When you're a chef who's known for revolutionary culinary technique, why not take a revolutionary approach outside the kitchen as well?

In actuality, "revolutionary" is probably too strong a word (and, to be fair, not one that I believe they've used themselves), but even if Grant Achatz and Nick Kokonas' follow-up to Alinea weren't already a shoo-in for a media free-for-all, they took it a notch further by taking a very unconventional approach to fine dining with Next. For those who don't typically follow restaurant news (or food nerds who are just waking up from long-term comas), Next takes the "dinner as theater" metaphor and extends it beyond the dinner itself. Achatz and Chef de Cuisine Dave Beran design a themed menu, and rather than taking reservations, the restaurant sells tickets in three month stretches. As the three month run comes to a close, a completely new menu with a new concept is designed, the restaurant switches over to a new production, and tickets once again go on sale (disappearing, incidentally, within minutes). Next opened with "Paris 1906," featuring French haute cuisine dutifully recreated with historical precision in the style of Escoffier. This was followed by "Thailand," a creative exploration of Thai cuisine that confused some by failing to stay inside the chrono cuisine box drawn by the teaser trailer released before the restaurant's opening. And so, for their third production, the team wanted to do something to put to bed the notion that they were going to let themselves be bound by expectations. Enter "Childhood."

	Left out last night...	Dominic Armato

Arriving at 5:30 for a chef's table reservation, it seemed for a split second that our evening had started with a shocking service gaffe. The table was cluttered with what appeared to be used glasses, a half-smoked cigar lie in an ashtray, and the New York Times crossword puzzle sat completed under somebody's pair of glasses. But it took just a moment to realize that dinner had already begun. We'd been cast in the role of kids peering over the table, which was littered with detritus from the grown-ups' shindig the night before and the signs of their recovery the morning after. Even if we weren't already in a playful mood (though our crowd back in Chicago is a wonderfully playful lot), sneaking the last sip from the martinis, Manhattans and Bloody Marys left behind made us a little giddy and perfectly primed for the meal to follow.

PB&J	Dominic Armato

So much of childhood is discovery, and rarely is the discovery process more exciting than when eagerly tearing the paper off a present. So they gave us one -- an edible one, in a small box carefully wrapped -- and warned us that even if it's sometimes the best way to figure out what's inside, shaking it wasn't recommended. The gift inside was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, reimagined in Achatz' modernist style. Spherical, slightly smaller than a golf ball (or, perhaps more appropriately, slightly larger than a shooter marble), it was a crisp tempura shell that, when eaten in one bite, gave way to a gush of liquefied roasted peanuts and pomegranate jelly, evoking the childhood classic but spinning it for older taste buds. It was packaged with a handful of crushed, salty roasted peanuts mixed with bits of a denser form of the jelly, and for lack of utensils, the only reasonable way to eat it was to pick up the box and throw it back as one might to capture the last bits in the bottom of a bag of potato chips. Or, as one of my dining companions discovered, dumping it out onto the wrapping paper and rolling it into a makeshift funnel was simple and effective, the beauty, of course, being that they'd already put us in a frame of mind where this seemed a perfectly acceptable thing to do in an upscale restaurant. I've no doubt this was precisely their aim.

	Chicken Noodle Soup (sans soup)	Dominic Armato

An enormous bowl was next to hit the table, in the center of which was positioned a small and artful tangle of carrots, shallots, celery leaves, herbs and noodles. Though not pictured, a dark, rich chicken soup joined the bowl shortly thereafter, making for a noodleless chicken noodle soup, wherein the "noodles" were also made from chicken. Though I've enjoyed noodles composed of proteins done less scientifically (and, frankly, with more flavor) elsewhere, it was still a delightful and delicious bowl of soup, elevated by means of technique and wit. I particularly loved the choice to use a rather large spoon and a bowl the size of a dartboard, thereby gently reinforcing the illusion that we were kids sitting at the dinner table, leaning over a massive, steaming bowl of soup that seemed too big to finish, even if we'd somehow find a way.

Art Class with Chef Beran	Dominic Armato

Childhood's Fish and Chips has gotten quite a bit of play online for its playful presentation, but dining at the chef's table brought a little something extra to the experience. First to be set down was a glass filled with paint brushes, followed by a large, square plate covered with small bowls bearing dish components and Elmer's glue bottles repurposed for use with sauces. Though it seemed clear this course would be a hands-on experience, we wondered precisely what was in store when one of the restaurant's minions tacked up a large sheet of paper on the far side of the glass separating our table from the kitchen. We quickly discovered the answer, however, as a gentleman in a chef's coat came strolling in armed with a set of dry erase markers. Art Class with Chef Beran was in session.

Fish & Chips Before...	...and After	Dominic Armato

In the style of Bob Ross, he walked us through the process of creating our edible masterpieces, laying out pickled cucumber waves and malt vinegar sea foam, covering our tartar sauce shore with tempura crumb soil and planting it with little herb sprigs, and painting in a Meyer lemon coulis sun and balsamic reduction fisherman, who hauled in the final component -- brought in fresh and hot -- a tender piece of walleye (a childhood fish of the chefs) caught in a fried potato net. This was the only dish of the evening where I felt the food suffered a bit at the hands of the presentation. The balance and freshness of the ingredients would have been better realized with a more traditional plating, delivered straight from the kitchen. But it was still a delicious dish, and so much fun that I didn't mind the minor tradeoff for a moment.

	Mac & Cheese	Dominic Armato

The tour of iconic childhood dishes (iconic to an American Midwesterner growing up in the '80s, at least) continued with Mac and Cheese, brought to the table in a glass cylindrical mold and released to ooze into an army of miniscule accoutrements. The mac itself was another mature take on a kid favorite, with a thick, rich cheese sauce -- cheddar and manchego, perhaps? -- that was unusually intense and a great deal sharper than most. The accompaniments were a mixed bag, but all fun. The fried noodle and cheese crisp both made for lovely textural contrasts. The prosciutto and arugula roll was a good pair, as was the tomato pulp, even if the latter was so small as to be all but undetectable unless mixed with half a noodle. Less conventional was the "hot dog rock," produced by somehow transmogrifying the fat rendered from hot dogs. It's been much maligned in some quarters, and I confess, is a little jarring in an otherwise fairly refined dish, and I certainly wouldn't want to eat a plateful of it, but for a single taste I found it enjoyable.

A Walk In The Forest	Dominic Armato

If dinner up until this point could be described as delicious and diverting, with this dish it took a turn, if only briefly, into stunning. Autumn -- or A Walk in The Forest, as the chefs have come to refer to it -- was a test of our servers' forearm strength, as it arrived in half of a hollowed-out log covered with a glass plate. Beneath, rustic aromatics like hay, apple and pumpkin lay over searing hot rocks, creating a smoky scent (not to mention actual smoke -- the dish was technically on fire). Above sat a chaotic and yet artful jumble of ingredients that I couldn't possibly catalogue in their entirety without a scorecard, but which included things like fried leeks, maitake mushrooms, polenta, broccoli and other vegetables and berries all manipulated for maximal textural impact. Because I'm not even certain of everything that was contained within (if I hadn't been so lost in it I might've thought to ask), the best I can do is to say that it made me feel like a deer that had found a really fabulous bush to munch on. It was as though on this walk in the woods, I'd scooped up a handful of the forest floor -- leaves and berries and twigs and soil and mushrooms -- and popped it in my mouth, only to discover with delight that it was intensely pleasurable. The textures, aromas and flavors somehow managed to capture the forest, or at least how I imagine it, but in a way that was palatable to humans rather than wildlife, making it possible to experience the woods through the one sensory path that's not usually an option. Though it's been a polarizing dish on the intertubes, for me it was without question the most impressive one of the night.

	Hamburger	Dominic Armato

You never know when a kitchen accident is going to turn out to be serendipitous. Achatz tells the story of one time back at Alinea, when Curtis Duffy took a piece of sous vide short rib and seared it off on the flattop only to discover that it tasted like hamburger. That wouldn't work for Alinea, but years later it turned out to be the perfect treatment of beef for a deconstructed modernist hamburger, complete with cornichon chips, gelled mayonnaise, an odd sort of sesame bun paste that was splayed over most of the plate, and assorted other manipulated accoutrements. Outside of this context, it's no substitute for a hamburger, to be sure. But it was a delight to eat, quite delicious, and though eerily reminiscent of a Big Mac (the sesame seeds, perhaps?), the flavors managed to simultaneously be nostalgic and refined.

Brussels Sprouts	Dominic Armato

The side dish for our hamburger didn't come with an admonishment to eat our vegetables, but the message was clear. Tender Brussels sprout cups were arranged artfully and (mostly) filled with decidedly adult fillings. The Brussels sprout slaw was creamy and amped up the sprout flavor. The bacon jam and hollandaise were both rich and delicious, one smoky and sweet, the other lightly tart and refined. Chestnut puree was the least conventional of the five, though appreciated, and the title of most decadent went to a dark truffle mousse, earthy and pungent. My sole criticism would be that the sprouts themselves had a good deal of the flavor cooked out of them, pushing them out of the spotlight. I suppose it could be argued that this is the ideal strategy to get the little ones to eat their greens. But I'm not little, and for me, I wish their natural flavor had come through a little more.

	Jello Mold	Dominic Armato

Let me assure you that this photo doesn't convey the enormity of the Jello mold. It was easily ten or twelve inches in diameter, which would be entirely appropriate for a table of six if it were, say, cherry or lime. But no, this mold was aspic flavored with game stock, decorated with an inlaid cream flower, and studded with chunks of foie gras and poached pheasant. It came with slices of toast and a small plate of accompaniments -- salty walnuts, endive, microgreens and shallot jam -- but to share this between six people was to eat an enormous helping of aspic. Or in my case, three of them. I couldn't bear to let so much of it go back to the kitchen. None of which is to throw my companions under the bus. They did yeoman's work. But this mold, delicious as it was, could have easily served a dozen. Still, with a dark game flavor, sweet creamy foie and cool, juicy pieces of pheasant, I find it hard to rail against its formidable size.

ST:TNG... booya.	He started it!	Dominic Armato

The lunchboxes have gotten a good deal of press, and I daresay the luck of the draw netted me an excellent one. I learned after the fact that Flash Gordon was also in the house, complete with Sam J. Jones' visage, and it's probably just as well that I didn't get that one. My heart might've exploded with pure glee. But in any case, the lunchbox contained an assortment of goodies, none of which were especially photogenic, but all of which were tasty to varying degrees. The apple fruit roll-up was a little surprising in its conventionality, and the funyun was a less artificial-tasting version of the popular snack. The beef jerky was enjoyable, with a soy-based flavor, and we received a chocolate and hazelnut (I believe?) snack pak, which was simple and delicious, though I wish we'd gotten the parsnip version that was axed after the first week and a half. In truth, while an awful lot of fun, the lunchbox was more an exercise in whimsy than refinement. Or it would have been if not for the truffled oreo, which was shocking both in the intensity of the truffle flavor, and also in just how delicious it was. I would have swapped my thermos full of alcoholic berry drink for another in a heartbeat. Incidentally, while I don't imagine it would have been very practical, part of me wishes we'd all received different treats, to encourage trading.

Pixy Stix and Bubblegum Float	Dominic Armato

With the lunchbox acting as a sort of transitional course, we then moved straight into dessert, starting with pixy stix and a bubblegum float. The pixy stix came in three flavors -- pomegranate, strawberry and one I don't recall -- and they weren't quite as sweet as commercial pixy stix, more powdery than granulated. This kept the overpowering sweetness of their inspiration in check, but it also made it a little more difficult to get them out of the tube. No matter. The real star of this course was the float. Made with an exceptionally sweet but wonderfully flavored bubblegum soda and a gorgeous ice cream made with crème fraîche. I'm neither a fan of overly sweet soda nor of bubblegum, but the float was fabulous and I found myself wishing it were twice its size.

	Foiesting and Donuts	Dominic Armato

There's a little bit of genius in using electric beaters as a utensil for a childhood menu, and I can't think of a more apt juxtaposition of childhood and adult experience. The apple cider donut holes were excellent, fried hot and dusted with sugar and cinnamon. But there can be no mistaking the star of this plate. Dripping from the beater in the background is Next's "foiesting," a sweet, thick and creamy foie gras puree. Foie in a dessert context is nothing new, but there's something beautifully minimal and decadent about this, licking sweet, rich foie from the beater, getting it on your nose and cheeks, and generally making a sticky mess of yourself with a precious and expensive ingredient.

Campfire	Sweet Potato Pie	Dominic Armato

When the lights are dimmed that usually means fire, and Chef Beran brought in a small campfire set on slate and set it alight. The logs were sweet potato wedges, made dark by poaching them with blue corn, and fueled by white clumps of powdered alcohol. And as the fire burned, the table grew quiet. I'm not sure whether the occasional crackle and pop were made by the fire or my imagination, but somehow it felt like a summer campfire just for a moment. Once the lights came up, back on our plates were chunks of crumbled, candied dough acting as a stand-in for pie crust, a fabulous bourbon ice cream, light vanilla marshmallows, and some manner of light fruit puree. We added the logs, scooped on some charred powdered alcohol (which bore a remarkable resemblance to toasted marshmallows in flavor), and topped it all with a drizzle of warm butterscotch meant to resemble Werther's candies. It would have been a wonderful dessert even if served in a conventional manner, but the presentation really was an awful lot of fun.

Hot Cocoa	Dominic Armato

To round out the meal, we received a simple cup of hot cocoa. Not drinking chocolate, not spiced Mexican dark chocolate, not chile spiked Venezuelan chocolate, but smooth, creamy and sweet hot cocoa. As we filtered out of the restaurant, I noted with shock that our meal had set a new record for me, clocking in at six hours and fifteen minutes. And yet, I've had two hour meals that felt much, much longer. I attribute this partly to the company, and partly to the fact that the meal was such an unconventional delight. I've heard it said that the food, when taken in a vacuum, leaves a little to be desired. It certainly isn't at the level of Alinea (nor, to be fair, is it intended to be). And though some dishes were stellar, some were less so, and I'm not sure I can argue with that conclusion. But this meal didn't take place in a vacuum. It was a complete piece -- a fully conceived entertainment -- and while my usual MO is to consider the food apart from its environs, this is one instance where I just can't. Or more accurately, I really don't care to.

Though a wild success, Next isn't lacking for critics. The ticket/production structure has caused the more cynical to cluck that Kokonas and Achatz have cleverly devised a way to sell out every seat, obtain all of their fees up to three months in advance (soon to be a year when they start selling four dinner "subscriptions"), and assure that they get a fresh look from the press four times per year. And all of this is true. It is kind of sly. But as far as I'm concerned, a dinner like this completely justifies the existence of the restaurant. Where else could something like this be done? You couldn't maintain these menus for any length of time. It's a wonderful experience, but I certainly don't feel compelled to have this same meal again. And I don't see how a pop-up could be executed with this level of refinement and precision. But a dinner like this deserves to be done, and if not at Next or a restaurant like it, then where? It was ten or fifteen minutes after we sat down, just barely into the meal, when my friends started sharing childhood stories. And as the meal progressed, every little discovery evoked a laugh, a smile, a memory and another story. This continued through the night as we giggled, chatted, played with our food and generally acted in an even more juvenile fashion than usual. If having that experience means that a couple of the dishes weren't quite all that they could be in a stuffier context, then this is one of the very, very rare occasions where I really don't mind.

Next
www.nextrestaurant.com
935 W. Fulton Market
Chicago, IL 60607
312-226-0858
Wed - Sun	5:30 PM - 11:30 PM

Big & Little's

Easier to miss than you might think...	Dominic Armato

Nothing like getting in right under the wire.

This being a relative term, of course. Big & Little's has been serving up generous sandwiches and tacos, mostly of the seafood variety, for a couple of years now, and they'd piqued my interest as one to keep on the back burner for a quick downtown lunch one day. But a move down the block combined with Monday's appearance on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives meant that the window between temporary closure and total insanity was only a few days wide. Which isn't to say that it isn’t already pretty insane over there. Big & Little’s is a popular joint where everything's done to order, so a lengthy line is commonplace. We arrived, day one in the new digs -- a small space, half kitchen half dining area with three long picnic tables and (good) reggae blaring – and though I assume they weren’t yet operating at peak efficiency, they managed to plow through the line at a reasonable clip.

	Fried Shrimp Po' Boy	Dominic Armato

Sadly, I failed to do my research and was cash-challenged in a place that accepts nothing but. And naturally, the in-house ATM was out of service, so we had to economize. No foie gras fries today. A hot dog for the little ones. And a fried shrimp po' boy in lieu of fried oysters. As consolation prizes go, however, this is a doozy. Apparently, Tony D'Alessandro (the "little" half of the equation) first made his mark when kicked off Hell's Kitchen for botching the fish station. It's hard to believe, given how well this seafood is treated. The batter is huge, and while usually a negative, I mean that in a good way here. Though voluminous, it's light and puffy, fried to a deep golden brown and bordering on downright crunchy. The shrimp within were delectably sweet, the accompanying mayo spread had some zip, and a slightly chewy, grilled roll (Gonnella?) made for another nice local twist. If I'd managed to get the little lady calm long enough to seek out a bottle of Louisiana hot sauce on another table, I'm not sure I could have found room for improvement.

Fried Pork Belly Po' Boy	Dominic Armato

The menu isn't exclusively comprised of ocean dwellers. A fried egg burger seems to be a popular choice, and while that one wasn't in the cards, we also opted for something meaty, the crispy pork belly po' boy. Well... fatty, maybe. This sandwich is impressive. That's a massive mound of fried pork belly chunks you see, ranging from crisp to crunchy and oozing pork fat when you bite. Abundantly sweet is a common (and devastatingly effective) treatment for pork belly, but B&L took another tack here, drizzling it with just the faintest hint of a thin and lightly sweet glaze that I couldn't put my finger on, which was actually a great approach. It lent that sweetness, but kept the sandwich centered squarely on crispy pork fat. Hard to go wrong, there. It was a really fabulous lunch, and I'm a little frustrated that it wasn't even better. I wish I'd had the foresight to check my wallet before driving over. I wish the little lady (with apologies to anybody lunching there last Wednesday) hadn't been so uncharacteristically uncooperative. But even based on a rushed lunch their first day in a new space, it's clear this is a killer spot, completely deserving of the mob that I'm sure will arrive in Triple D's wake.

Big & Little's
www.bigandlittleschicago.com
860 N. Orleans Street
Chicago, IL 60610
312-943-0000
Mon - Fri	11 AM - 9 PM
Sat	12 PM - 9 PM