There are just some things you’re not supposed to do. For me, the thought of eating seafood when located more than 2 hours away from the nearest body of water is a no-no. My people are from islands, what can I say?
But the Mister and I made an exception last month, when we were in Palm Springs the night before going to Coachella. Did you think I’d go camping? Ha! We enjoyed ourselves the night before our all-day scorch fest, er, music festival experience with some cold beers, good food, and sleep in a comfortable air-conditioned hotel room.
After a disappointing first foray into the Palm Springs food scene last December (nothing good came out of that trip, at least not for my taste buds), I was praying we’d find a winner in Shanghai Red’s Oyster Bar, the back bar to the popular Fisherman’s Market and Grill complex in downtown Palm Springs. And complex it is– you have to wind your way past the hostess stand, through the courtyards of the two main restaurants, to a back entrance, where you’ll find the narrow bar of Shanghai Red’s. It’s a bit of a hustle, but if you’re lucky (like we were), you’ll get a hi-boy table for two and proceed to get your grub on.
Don’t get it twisted– this is an oyster bar, straight up. No fancy table cloths (hardly any tables), cheap beers ($2 Singhas!), late-night appetizer specials, and fast service. The Mister and I kept it simple: a shared order of the sampler platter (pictured above) with raw oysters, crab legs, mussels, shrimp, and clams; two bowls of clam chowder; and multiple orders of shrimp and grilled fish tacos.
The clam chowder was solid, and was thoroughly enjoyed, along with the raw platter:
But I wish we hadn’t ordered it, because I was nearly stuffed by the time the fish tacos arrived. I’d heard about Shanghai Red’s fish tacos before, and all the hype is true. Definitely in the top 3 for fish tacos I’ve had in my life. So lightly battered, very fresh white fish– the consistency and thickness was actually close to a very well done order of fish-n-chips. It was a damn shame we had to leave some tacos behind. Damn shame.
This place is pretty no-nonsense, and I like it that way. A far improvement over the overwrought establishments littering downtown Palm Springs, and you can definitely make a night of it here– on weekends, a band plays in the courtyard and the place gets packed. Good times.
Oh, and here’s a gratuitous Coachella picture, just to prove that we were there:
the Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Shanghai Red’s Oyster Bar
235 S. Indian Canyon Drive
Palm Springs, CA 92262
760.322.9293
Way back on May 2nd, the Mister and I were in Philly for a brief 24 hours, celebrating the wedding our some buddies of ours. Fresh off the red-eye and starving, we cried at the thought of wasting our only real meal in Philly on hotel breakfast; so with the company of our buddy G, we ventured out into the Old City neighborhood of Philadelphia, just a few blocks from our hotel in Society Hill.
We passed by a Filipino restaurant, that looked super bougie… or at least, was once super bougie. Of course it was closed due to fire code violations. Dang! There were a couple of other places advertising brunch, but nothing that looked remotely interesting or any better than our free hotel breakfast, until we landed in front of the Plough & The Stars.
Things going for it:
1. Irish pub with a name referencing the IRA (the Mister is a bit of a history buff on the Troubles)
2. Good pricing for the food
3. Alcohol, lots of it.
I’ll have to say we weren’t disappointed. Really, it wasn’t the most amazing Irish breakfast I’ve ever had, but it was pretty damn solid. A few pictures to whet your appetite:
basket o' breads
non-Irish but delicious tapas plate ($8, maybe)
shepherd's pie ($10)
Irish breakfast ($12)
Add to that a few (excellent) Irish coffees for the boys, a “Bayou Bloody Mary” for me (one of several Blood Mary options on their extensive cocktail and whisky lists), and we were set. I will say that the Mister was disappointed in the portion size of his Irish breakfast, especially of the puddings, and I have to agree. For two bucks less, I felt like I got a lot more from my shepherd’s pie– it was far too large for me to finish, and I have a bigger appetite (and waistline, sigh) than the Mister. That shepherd’s pie was good, I tell you. That whipped potato on top was pure carbo-liciousness.
I hear the Plough gets really crowded at night when it becomes a full-fledged bar; I believe it, just based on the slightly dank smell that all bars have in the AM. The interior of the Plough is pretty damn cool as well– it’s in an old theater space, with an upstairs alcove looking over the rest of the main bar area. This isn’t the best picture, but here’s the view from our table on the bottom floor:
Overall, I was pretty pleased with our brunch here– it certainly did the trick of tiding us over until the wedding reception that night!
Plough & the Stars
123 Chestnut St
Philadelphia, PA 19106
215.733.0300
I’m a terrible food blogger. You should all know this up front. I haven’t even finished blogging my first NY food binge from March, and here I am again in the city eating MORE. Not to mention all the other things I’ve tried in the meantime. Crap.
To make it up to you, I’m going to tell you a little story. One about the best lunch ever, the one I had today with the Mister at Momofuku Ssam Bar. But (here I am again, being all terrible), I don’t have any pictures for you. I know. Seriously.
Why no food porn? Considering that I take pictures of the most mundane meals, and here I am at one of the most hyped restaurants in the city with nothing? It might be that I saw a clip of Bourdain and David Chang of Momofuku that totally ripped food bloggers a new one. It might be that Robyn, the Girl Who Ate Everything, has enough gorgeous images of everything we ate, plus better stories of the Momofuku than I do. Or it might be that me and the Mister were so busy orgasmically savoring the food that taking time to snap photos seemed too big a sacrilege. In any case, I have no photos of our amaaaazing lunch, so you will just have to use your imagination for now.
I know the economy is shit-tastic, but here’s where Momofuku is your friend. The $25 prix fixe is a ridiculously low price for the sheer amount of food we had, and you *will* have leftovers, even if sharing between two, like we did. Lunch = less crowded, less expensive, more awesome. Get it?
I ordered: pork buns + spicy chinese sausage and rice cakes + thai ice tea parfait
The mister had: kimchi apple salad + braised beef brisket + blondie pie
I’d been hearing about the pork buns from everyone for months, and they did not disappoint. The pork belly was cooked perfectly and everything just melts in your mouth. I took a chance with the sausage and rice cakes, and was rewarded. It looked like a hash and was sheer fatty delight. The rice cakes were just the right density, with a little bit of crunch on the outside and the sausage was out of its casings and just mixed together with the shallots, garlic, hot peppers, and whatever other magical seasonings they put in it for pure taste sensation. The portion of the main (rice cake) dish was HUGE, so I can’t wait to heat some up for dinner tonight, too. Mmm.
Meanwhile, the mister’s orders were just as fantastic. I’d actually asked him to order the kimchi apple salad, even though he’s a little allergic to raw apples, because we were sharing everything family-style. I didn’t know what to expect with this one– raw apples marinated/coated in kimchi seasoning and onions, topped with slabs of crispy fried bacon, basil, and a dressing (ranch-esque) on the side. It looked crazy, and was a bitch to eat with chopsticks, but WOW. The play of the fresh apples and spicy kimchi flavors with the richness of the bacon and dressing was such a treat. I might have to try and copy this at home. Nom nom nom.
The beef brisket main the mister ordered was actually like a pho– brisket with rice noodles in broth with scallions and other green things. It could have been totally average if not for the just-right brisket (nice crust, good texture against the smoothness of the rest of the soup) and full beef flavor of the broth. Another win there.
By the time dessert came, we were totally defeated. Still, for the sake of this blog (ha), we soldiered on. The blondie pie with cashew topping was good, if a little too dense for my taste. The thai ice tea parfait was BANGING, however. It was very similar to the root beer parfait we had at Cochon, actually, only presented much differently. I still don’t know how these chefs turn liquids into gels (i’m sure it’s some kind of molecular gastronomy thing I don’t have the will to learn about), but the results are always heavenly. The parfait is a signature dish at Momofuku, and for good reason. Don’t miss out on that one.
Other components of our meal: We started out with some incredible tender, impossibly fresh hamachi with a wasabi spread for $16, a bottle of South Korean OB Beer (basic lager, $5) for me, and a $7 Saison-style ale by these Chicago brewers (the mister wrote down the name of the brewery, I’ll update it later when I find out!). And while the hamachi is totally worth it, I probably wouldn’t have felt so gut-bustingly full at the end of the meal if we had skipped it.
I was worried we wouldn’t get seats, but going to Ssam bar on a rainy Monday during lunch time was perfect. Just a few solo diners and two couples were there when we arrived around noon; by the time we left at 1:30, the two larger tables were filled, but there was no wait for a table and the service remained impeccable. Add to that an ‘eclectic’ soundtrack wafting through the restaurant (it literally sounds like the Mister’s iPod on shuffle, which could be a good or terrible thing, depending on your taste), and our lunch here was just about… perfect. (I know, I can’t help it with the repetition. It was really that good.)
So yes. That’s all I have to say about our long-awaited meal at Momofuku Ssam Bar. I know it’s not the same without the attending photos, but uh… click on Robyn’s posts to see the pictures of what I’m talking about! I’m telling you, this place is worth it. Union Square and east village denizens, you are some lucky bastards for having this place in the ‘hood.
Momofuku Ssam Bar
207 2nd Avenue
New York, NY 10003
I just love food-related holidays. Yes, I know it’s an oxymoron of sorts– don’t all holidays involve food of some kind?– but you know that some are better for fatties foodies than others. Thanksgiving, obviously. Christmas dinner, for those of you of the Jesus persuasion.
For my family, Easter brunch was the motherlode. First, it was the only holiday during which it was perfectly acceptable, or even preferred, to not have to cook the food ourselves. This gave us free license to hit up the biggest Easter buffet possible, and load up without having to prep, cook, or (most importantly, from a child’s perspective) clean at the end of it all. I’m sure this may be different in the motherland (aka the Philippines) but for my Americanized family in Florida, hitting up the buffet at the Hilton was where it was at.
No surprise that out of all the weekend brunches in the year, Easter brunch is my favorite.
Unfortunately, it’s also notoriously overpriced, and even the most humble of local establishments is packed to the gills with other holiday eaters looking for some brunch, too. The Mister was tasked with finding a suitable brunch location this year, and when he told me he’d booked reservations at a new place he found on Google, I have to admit I was a little skeptical.
Alchemy is the newest resto in South Park, the gentrifying neighborhood that everyone’s been saying is going to “blow up any minute now” (in the positive sense, not the combustive), for the past several years. Especially in this economy, though, any new place in the neighborhood is going to have to work very hard to keep people coming, and it looks like the Alchemy folks are pulling out the big guns to make this place happen. (Forgive me for all the violent metaphors, I’ve been reading about war all morning for the class I’m teaching on Monday).
The space itself is beautifully designed– it’s a very open yet still intimate space, and with a lot of custom features from the undulating mahogany bar to the giant silver sculpture in the middle of the room. [I particularly liked the bathroom sinks, myself]. We were seated in a back corner table, and though the restaurant was nearly full, I wasn’t distracted by other guests’ conversations at all (a pet peeve of mine and the Mister’s like no other).
For Easter, they put together a very generous 3-course prix fixe menu: $25 for three tapas/appetizers (you get all three), a choice of entree, and dessert. For an additional $10, they were offering a beverage pairing (with generous pourings, too).
Here were the three mini-appetizers (I hate saying tapas, if it’s not the real deal). For this course, I had a passion fruit bellini, and could actually taste the champagne– yay!
The deconstructed granola was delicious, but very difficult to eat. I felt like this was a Top Chef challenge, and could imagine Colicchio berating them for unnecessary pretension. I also would have preferred a plain yogurt, as the strawberry flavored variety actually masked the flavor of the real strawberries and fruits on the plate.
A Spanish omelet, prepared in a traditional manner. I don’t know if this was intentional or just a matter of poor execution, but the omelet itself was nearly flavorless unless eaten with a good handful of greens, which were drizzed in a nice olive oil and vinegar with seasonings. If nothing else, it made sure that the Mister ate all his veggies, which is a near-impossible feat.
A white asparagus ‘espresso,’ with bacon cracklings on top. I just had to laugh during the presentation of this– our poor waitress kept trying to convince us to eat it “despite its unique presentation,” as if soup served in small drink containers had never been tried before! A reminder just how behind San Diego is in terms of food trends– I actually find this trend to be both passe and, again, totally pretentious. The soup was delicious, however– perfectly seasoned, just the right temperature for sipping, with the bacon adding just the right among of texture and saltiness. By far the best starter of the meal.
Then it was time for the mains. There were about five different options, if I remember correctly, ranging from more breakfast-y choices to the more savory. As our reservation was on the later side (1pm), we went for the heavy stuff. The Mister’s choice:
Shrimp and grits. Very large, grilled shrimp over a bed of very smoothly pureed grits. Shrimp were very fresh and flavorful, and the grits well seasoned though a bit too smooth for my taste. Alas, nothing will ever compare to the texture of the grits at Cochon– how I still dream of them!
And my choice, paired with a standard Rioja (nothing special, but solid):
A leg of lamb, with mint-infused couscous as the side. This dish was… how do I put it? Oh, yes. Amazing. Falling off the bone, with a beautiful glaze. I’m not quite sure, but it tasted very much like it was cooked Moroccan-style in a tagine, especially with the way it was presented with the couscous. The couscous was a bit too minty for my taste, though it too had great texture. I really liked this twist on the American classic ‘lamb with mint’ which I’ve never found particularly interesting.
After I finished demolishing my lamb, it was time for dessert. The Mister went with classic beignets, served with powdered sugar and a dash of chocolate. A bit on the small side, but maybe we are just too used to Cafe du Monde’s!
I decided on a cheese plate, despite my love of sweets, mainly because I wanted the Madeira that would be paired with it. Imagine my disappointment to receive this plate:
Totally monochromatic, with no bread, olives, oil, or anything resembling a pairing. Really? Honestly, even saltine crackers would be better than nothing. Remedial cheese plate rules were broken in so many ways here. There was one soft and three hard cheese with very similar taste profiles, and while the cheese itself was fresh, I was bored by the second bite and had it boxed to go. I would rather eat these at home with my accouterments than have the empty calories and no satisfaction at the restaurant. I truly hope this was a fluke and they had an off day with the cheese– otherwise, they need a lesson from a cheesemonger, stat!
Tragic cheese plate aside, I was very pleased with our brunch at Alchemy, not the least because of the price. We’re planning on returning soon for dinner, especially to try more of the beer and spirits from their impressive bar. Another selling point: their kitchen is open late, until 11pm most nights, and serving until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays! How I miss late night dinners out, another thing San Diego is still behind on doing.
Alchemy’s a new restaurant, and I’d love to see them thrive. You can tell from the care put into the space alone just how much of a labor of love this restaurant is.
Have any of you been to Alchemy? Share your comments here!
Alchemy
1503 30th Street
San Diego, CA 92102
619.255.0616
After lunch at Wonton Garden, the Mister and I walked around the corner to Mei Li Wah, another favorite Chinatown spot since my childhood.
As long as I’ve known it, Mei Li Wah has been two things: delicious and dank. This was no fancy sit-down restaurant, and it had no ambiance to speak of. This was an old-school coffeeshop for the men, with cigarette butts overflowing every ashtray and the walls crumbling under the weight of all the flyers and signs pasted on them over the years. Everything was a muted shade of brown, or black, including the patrons and the staff. Hardly anyone spoke English, but if you ordered your siopao (also known as baozi, or char siu bao) in Tagalog, you’d be answered quickly back– it was that popular among metro-area Filipinos that the staff picked up the words to serve them.
I didn’t know the men (it was always, only men that worked here) by name, but I knew their faces well. They always remembered my family, greeting us and giving us extra steamed chicken buns with egg, or pork buns (my favorite) with our order.
We’d order siopao by the dozen (everyone did), and watch as the server would take them out, steaming, from the dingy class case behind the counter, and pack them tightly into the square white boxes which they grabbed from the high stacks against the side wall. Like a contraption out of The Goonies, an endless piece of twine attached with pulleys to the ceiling dangling down. Once the siapao was packed, that string would be grabbed and nimbly wrapped around the box, with just one cut of the scissors to sever the rope from the line. With our box securely tied, we’d be back in the car, ready for our late-night dinner of siopao and Wonton Garden soup. It was my favorite New York meal ever, and it still is.
***
Sometime during college, my roommate at the time (a fellow foodie, with far superior knowledge of Chinese food since her family’s from Shanghai), told me that Mei Li Wah was closing. I cried. Went downtown and ordered two dozen siopao, freezing them so I could hold onto the magic a little longer. A short while later, I found out from my mom (who lives in Florida– I’m telling you, Filipinos know this place!) that one of the owners had some trouble with gambling debt or something, but it was staying open somehow. And it did.
***
I dream of this place, miss it terribly, and it’s not just because they have the best damn siopao on the planet. Everything about Mei Li Wah is so familiar, so timeless, and even as I grew up, moved around the city and eventually away, Mei Li Wah remained a constant. Dependable, even when my relationships, my career, my life weren’t.
So, yes, when the Mister and I walked around the corner from Wonton Garden and came upon Mei Li Wah, I was excited. He stayed outside as I went in, and in my hurry I failed to notice the tell-tale signs of change until it was too late.
(the bamboo plant and decorations in the window should have tipped me off. a sign for ‘bubble tea,’ for crying out loud.)
It was an abomination inside.
Everything was cleaned up and so new. The counter, where old men would sit all day with their coffees on the rotating stools, was gone, replaced by some faux-bamboo serving station that you’d find in some Pinkberry or frozen yogurt knockoff. The miniscule back seating area, where once people would play checkers for hours with their cigarettes in hand: gone and replaced with shiny new booths, again with the bamboo-themed design.
Worse, the old staff was missing, with the exception of one man I recognized, and replaced with young women dressed in matching bright orange polo shirts, with the name of the restaurant emblazoned over the left breast pocket. They had matching visors!
What. the. hell.
I ordered two siopao (I couldn’t bring myself to get a dozen, not here), and ran the hell out.
I didn’t want them to see the tears in my eyes, because it was just too much. Too different. Too generic, and corporatized. Where did the old staff go? What about their patrons? Forget me– where were the locals going to play checkers in the winter now?
I ate the siopao later, guiltily, at my friend’s apartment in Brooklyn. It had been in the fridge for a while, so wasn’t as fresh. It still tasted wonderful. But it wasn’t special anymore, because I didn’t recognize where it had come from.
**
Some West Coast-bred friends of mine went to New York a week later for spring break. I hadn’t told them about Mei Li Wah, but I did recommend Wonton Garden to them, among other places. Not knowing the city, they didn’t know what neighborhood they were staying in until they were there. It ended up that they were in Chinatown for the week, and they excitedly recounted how they had found this amazingly cute little coffeeshop where they had cheap coffee and breakfast snacks every morning.
It was Mei Li Wah.
I’m ungrateful but I’ll say it– I wish it had just closed those years ago, when it was rumored to. I’d rather it be gone for good then have it like this. My taste memory of Mei Li Wah is just that; I will never have it again.
There are just some restaurants that feel like coming home. Wonton Garden, a hole-in-the-wall on Mott Street in Chinatown, is one of those places for me. Since my family immigrated to the US, they’ve been coming here. My own first memory of eating here is probably from twenty years back, at age six or seven. I remember really loving their soy bean drink (not soy milk, but the sugary stuff). I still get it every time I go, though it’s not as sweet as the drink of my childhood… but really, isn’t that always the case?
The open kitchen is still tiny, and with the exception of 1. the hula shirts all the men wear, 2. the small TV above that they constantly have their eye on when they’re not dropping food on your table, and 3. a slight washing that makes the place look remotely clean, it’s exactly the same. At some point over the years, they changed the name to “New” Wonton Garden, but that name never really stuck with us…
The menus have literally shrunk to a small booklet size, but I’ve been ordering “C18″ for years: Cantonese lo-mein with soup on the side, with beef stew and wontons on top. Prices are around $7, and it’s still worth it for the giant portions you’re served, but I remember the good old days when everything was $4 or less.
I don’t know what it is about these noodles, but I’ve never found any other place that serves them– not in Chinatown, and definitely not outside. The food comes out so quickly, because the noodles are always cooking in the same pot, being replenished by the cook as needed. When he receives the order, the cook cuts the noodle strands with a regular pair of scissors, places them on the plate, and tops with whatever you’ve ordered for the day. Usually within five minutes, your meal is steaming and ready on your table. (Note to vegetarians: beware! Just because you don’t order meat toppings on your noodles, you’re not escaping their being cooked in a beef broth!)
The beef this time around was more red then it’s been: maybe they substituted with a roasted meat instead of the usual braised? In any case, it was still like heaven.
The Mister (pictured above) usually gets the noodles in soup, the house specialty. His order this time was fish balls and wontons:
In case it’s not abundantly clear, it’s all about the noodles and wontons here. The wonton skins are almost translucent, and the shrimp inside are so lightly flavored and delicate. The mouthfeel of having a wonton burst upon first bite is unforgettable.
As a teenager, when we had moved from the NY metro area to the backwaters of Florida, our trips to visit family up north followed a predictable, invariable routine. We would fly into JFK, Newark, or LaGuardia, and no matter what time of night, my mother would make our family members drive us to Chinatown so we could get noodles in soup from Wonton Garden to go. She would wait in the car with our family and send me inside to order and pick up, because you know parking in Chinatown is impossible. I always felt so embarrassed to be doing it, but now as an adult myself, I totally understand why. No matter how short my trip back to the city is, I always make time for Wonton Garden. One day, perhaps I’ll be sitting in my heated up car, sending my reluctant teenage daughter into the bitter winter to get me the plate of C18 I’ve been dreaming of since the flight…
On these late-night stops, my family would hit up a second location for our siopao at a favorite spot always packed with Jersey City Filipinos also looking for their pork bun fix. I went again this trip, after our delicious lunch at Wonton Garden, but sadly, things here had changed, and not for the better… (to be continued)
New Wonton Garden
56 Mott Street
New York, NY
Miss me, friends? I’m back with another quick recap and review of the No Reservations episode in the Philippines, this time focusing on Bourdain’s dinner with Claude Tayag, or what I’m calling “Tony’s Bougie Night Out.”
A word on Philippines geography before moving on, since it is relevant not just to this scene but to the rest of the episode (and heck, to the entire episode!). The three major island groups in the Philippines are Luzon, the Visayas, and Mindanao. Within each of these island groups are regions, followed by provinces within those regions, followed by cities and municipalities, and barangays. So, to relatavize this to US-centric terms (sigh), regions might be thought of like states, provinces like counties, cities like… cities, and barangays like clusters of neighborhoods within the cities. Got it?
Up through this segment, Bourdain has been in Luzon, the large island group in the northern region of the Philippine archipelago. Manila is the capital not only of Luzon, but of the entire Philippines, and is the Philippines’ second largest city; Bourdain started his trip off here, with Ivan Man Dy. Then, Bourdain went to the province of Pampanga, also in Luzon- first to Angeles City, and now (in this segment I’m reviewing) to some undisclosed second location, also in Pampanga, where Claude Tayag has his restaurant. (Note: his resto is Bale Dutung on the outskirts of Angeles City). The last portion of Bourdain’s trip, that I’ll be reviewing last, is filmed in Cebu, the large island in the Visayas island chain in a more southern area of the Philippines.
In sum: half of the trip is in Luzon, half in Cebu. Bourdain is in two cities in Luzon: Manila and Angeles City. Angeles City is in the province of Pampanga and this is significant for Tayag’s musings to Bourdain on Philippine identity. Then Bourdain flies south to Cebu for his time with Augusto and ends the ep. Guess Philippine geography isn’t so quickly explained after all!
So back to the segment, which is but a brief five to seven minutes in the show (it is the first five mins. of the YouTube clip above, plus the end of the clip just prior to this one). The gist is that Bourdain goes from eating street food in Angeles City to having a more traditional and yet infinitely more bourgeois eating experience with Tayag at his multipurpose establishment, Bale Dutung. Not simply a restaurant, Bale Dutung also features a gallery of Tayag’s art, a collection of everyday and high art cultural items from around the Philippines, and serves as home to the artist and his wife Mary Anne. (A great review of the Bale Dutung experience with some amazing photos is here).
First thoughts on Bale Dutung and the experience of eating at a place like this: While Tayag lauds this as a “traditional” establishment where you can get the “real” cuisine of Pampanga, I am marveling at just how unreal this place is. How many other Filipinos can afford such an amazing space, or have Le Creuset-esque cookware in their ‘traditional’ outdoor kitchen outfitted with time-saving and up-to-date technology? How much do tourists and rich Filipinos pay to have an aesthetic experience of traditional Kapampangan cuisine? (Answer: a lot). This is some brilliant cultural tourism right here, and kudos to Tayag for profiting off his art and cooking, but please don’t call this the ‘real’ Philippines when it’s not accessible to the majority of the Filipino population!
The food, however, does look damn fantastic. A quail adobo, with smoked bacon and chicken liver added (traditional? probably not. amazingly delicious sounding? heck yes!). Sinigang with bangus (called only “milk fish”, argh) made sour with guava– I messed up when I said earlier that tamarind was the only souring agent possible for sinigang. While certainly gussied up, this isn’t just the Spanish- or American-influenced Filipino cuisine being presented here. A lot of native vegetables and seafoods, garnished with bagoong– sounds about right to me. Nevermind the exorbitant price tag you’re paying for such ‘real’ local fare… it does look mighty delicious.
Of course, this wouldn’t be the Philippines episode of No Reservations if Bourdain didn’t start grilling Tayag on his thoughts of Filipino food, culture, and identity. Whether or not Bourdain went in thinking this was his theme, or his producers and editors decided after the fact this would be the angle, it seems you can’t go two seconds in this episode without Bourdain trying to ‘figure out’ the Filipino identity (a point I’ll elaborate more upon in the last review on Augusto and Cebu).
Tayag’s got a few gold nuggets to share, and of the other local guides, I generally tend to agree with his viewpoint the most, as he’s slightly less assimilationist than the others. He brings up the idea that Filipinos are “alienated from the rest of Southeast Asia” as they “look westward” towards the United States, their “last colonial master.” This Americanization and/or assimilation routine is repeated ad nauseum by every other Filipino guide, but Tayag seems to be the only one who makes the US-Philippines colonial connection explicit. It’s more than just free-floating “influences,” there is actual power involved! Crazy idea, I know.
Tayag also goes to say that for him, identifying strongly with his ethnic group and province as a Kapampangan (one from Pampanga) is primary, done before he identifies as Filipino: “You cannot be Filipino unless you’ve become a Pampangan first.” Tony seems to like this viewpoint, concurring that he identifies as a New Yorker before he IDs himself as American. Seems pretty reasonable, no?
Well, this little point made by Tayag caused a FUROR on the internet boards and blogs, with everyone identifying this as but another example of Filipino ‘disunity,’ or ‘why we have no strong culture’ et. al. To me, it was perhaps the most prescient thing any Filipino on the show had to say about Filipino identity and culture, and this criticism really educated me about how the mainstream understanding of national culture and sentiment really works: namely, that to properly claim Filipino identity, you are supposed to deny affiliation with anything else, particularly with regional or ethnic ties that threaten to undermine the ‘unity’ of the national culture.
Much has been written about nationalism that I won’t get into here, though perhaps the most quoted has been Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities (I prefer the decolonial works of Frantz Fanon, myself). The basic idea about nationalism that Andreson puts out is that the perception of a unified cultural and social milieu greatly contributes to nation-building and furthermore, to projects of nationalism. So, for Tayag to stress regional loyalties based on shared language, ethnicity, and food cultures over a homogenized “Filipino” identity is read as somehow nearing treason. But what marks “Filipino” culture, anyway? In the US, what has come to be identified with Filipino food (in particular) is actually heavily based on “lowland Tagalog” foodways, and particularly with the more Hispanicized or American-influenced versions. I’m with Tayag on this one– to claim a homogenous Filipino identity does not reflect the realities of the Filipino people, who are tied to their local land, languages, cultural practices, and foods out of both desire and necessity. Why try to flatten that?
Yet, even as Claude extols the virtues of Pampangan food and identity, his wife Mary Anne offers her own speculations on the apparent un-popularity of Filipino cuisine in the US, which are:
1. not many people come to the Philippines
2. “our food is different [in] different [Filipino] restaurants, so that’s why people don’t remember it,” giving an example that if you go to 5 different Filipino restaurants, you’ll find 5 different flavors of adobo.
Now, here’s where I offer my quibbles with this perspective. On point 1 (not many people come to the Philippines), I have to disagree. While, yes, the Philippines hasn’t been promoted as a Southeast Asian vacation destination like, say, Thailand, there are several reasons for this that beg to be explored. The first being that due to its successive colonization by Spain and the United States, the Philippines has already been understood as a place without ‘authentic’ native culture unlike those other Southeast Asian nations. A brief historical foray clearly shows this idea (of the Philippines as the only colonized Asian nation) to be false, if you note the fact that of all the Southeast Asian nations, only Thailand has remained free of colonial rule. Still, this perception of Filipino culture being too ‘westernized’ by colonial influence, and therefore less ‘authentic,’ persists– even if most people don’t consciously know the history of the US-Philippine colonial relationship! Enough subliminal and overt messages have permeated US pop culture for the ‘fact’ of Filipino non-culture to just exist, without any understanding or context for why this ‘fact’ came into being.
I guess I want to push us think about this: is this claim that the Philippines is ‘culture-free’ due less to the tourists’ perception that there are no pretty beaches or native dances (of which there are an abundance of in the PI), or does it really have more to do with America’s desire to ignore the impact of its colonial history on the real ‘natives’ of the Philippines? I mean, why visit a former US colony, whose economy has been decimated due to US foreign policy and the ravages of the IMF-World Bank, when you can visit someone else’s former colony instead, somewhere like Indonesia, where you can marvel at their Dutch-inspired architecture and eat their ‘pure’ native food? No guilt about their poverty, if you see it- it was someone else’s fault! Pure joy at their technology- how westernized and modern! Something to chew on, perhaps.
A second reason there is a perception that ‘not many people’ visit the Philippines is the character of the tourists who most likely go to the islands, one that the tourist bureau would rather not have you hear: again, due to the history of US military presence in the islands, they have come to be known as a savory destination for sex tourism, not just in Angeles City but throughout the country, particularly in Visayan beach towns like Boracay. When you’re an American or European male tourist busy exploiting the women and children of the Philippines for your sexual pleasure, you maybe don’t care so much about the food, no?
Ok, so onto Mary Anne’s second point- that there is ‘too much diversity’ in Filipino cuisine for it to be memorable to American consumers. I mean, really? So what if there are many different versions of sinigang, some made with shrimp, others with fish, others with goat or beef? Does that make the Filipino cuisine inherently any less desirable than another? Again, it presumes that in order to identify a cuisine with the nation, that a homogenized unity must exist to the exclusion of any variation. To use the case of Italy as counterpoint to this false logic– five Italian restaurants, five different versions of ravioli. Does this make people not like Italian food? Italy, here, is interesting because, like the Philippines, it is a country that is intensely regional, with much variation between north and south, urban and rural, etc. While there are hundreds of Olive Gardens and Sbarros pushing out standardized versions of Italian classics, that’s not what foodies seek out, is it? No- they go for the regional, or the hole-in-the wall mom and pop shop, or the Mario Batali renditions. So, again, why should the Philippines sacrifice its regional flavors to appeal to some (false) idea that westerners only know singularity?
Now, my dismantling of these claims doesn’t change the fact that Filipino cuisine still isn’t the ‘next big thing,’ to Bourdain’s chagrin. My thoughts on why this really is coming up next, along with my final review of our poor maligned friend, Augusto. Oh, and the lechon! Oh, the lechon.
Part 2: Angeles City / Pampanga
(end of Manila segment/ Angeles City segment)
So when I last left you, I was lamenting the Manila portion of Bourdain’s trip to the Philippines. But my spirits rose in the next segment, which by far was my favorite.
In this segment, Bourdain meets up with Claude Tayag, Pampangan chef and culinary expert extraordinaire, in Angeles City. Notorious for its red light district (due to the American military presence at Clark Air Force Base, open until 1991), Angeles City isn’t generally thought of as a necessary scenic stop in the PI, unless you’re a US war/colonialism/genocide buff and/or someone looking to get their kicks singing karaoke and bedding a prostitute.
Here are a few thoughts on how the US military presence in the Philippines, and specifically in Angeles, is presented: I appreciated how Bourdain and the producers mention this history, albeit briefly, though it was quickly dismissed as if there are still no real social issues in the Philippines that stem from this US presence. Bourdain says this US military/colonial presence began with the Spanish American War, and for someone like me who researches and writes about US-Philippine political relations, would have preferred he used the more accurate name of the Philippine American War. But hey, some bonus points to Bourdain here for at least making lip service to this history instead of brushing it off completely.
Ok, so, Tayag takes Bourdain to Nancy’s Carinderia, a hole-in-the wall where goat specialties are served. Bourdain tries goat in four different preparations: in papatan (bile soup); kilawan (sp?), which Claude describes as a “gelatinous rubbery skin thing”; sinigang (like adobo, can be made with different proteins. common element is a sour soup base made with tamarind); and finally, the goat head soup complete with eyes and brain.
This menu definitely had the potential to be made into a “weird foods” spectacle but I was happy to see that it wasn’t. Bourdain even enjoyed it all, digging into the goat head with relish to pick out the nasty bits. Claude proved to be an engaging guide here, and the rapport between them seems genuine and not awkward. The episode was looking better so far!
The next scene in Angeles is at night, and is the only real ‘going out’ scene we have in this episode– surprising for Bourdain’s track record in No Reservations, where it seems like he’s hungover half the time. Tayag and several other (unidentified) men are with Tony at Aling Lucing’s, another divey spot that lays claim to inventing sisig, that “symphony of pig parts” best enjoyed with plenty of San Miguel beer.
Is it sad to say this is the only scene were Bourdain really seems to be enjoying himself? Hate on me all you want and say he loved his entire trip… but I never really got the sense of that except for in this scene. Throughout the show, I as a viewer felt that Bourdain was going through the motions. Certainly, he didn’t actively hate his trip (see Romania and Namibia episodes for some real hate!), but his polite deference throughout was a little disconcerting. To see him dig into the sisig and “chicken butt skewers” and chatting with Claude and the other men in this scene was a refreshing change from the stilted conversations he had elsewhere in the ep.
So back to the food: When Bourdain says that this is his “come to mama moment of my trip so far” because of the sisig, I totally believe him. My own first encounter with sisig was at a bar on Timog Avenue, a popular bar strip in Quezon City (Metro Manila area) two summers ago, and the only good sisig I’ve had since then can only be eaten in the Philippines; my US-cooked counterparts hold no weight, perhaps because folks like to gussy it up with nicer pork bits instead of using the head like in the PI. The US military connection to sisig is clear- Bourdain says that Aling Lucing invented sisig to make use of the pig heads that Clark AFB used to give away in the 70s. And though that too is but a fleeting mention, I wish that the Filipino guides in the show who kept on offering reasons as to why Filipino cuisine is unpopular in the US or less “Asian” would remember this colonial history a little better.
That is to say, there is a huge difference between saying
“The Philippines has no identifiable cuisine/culture/personality because there are so many influences”
versus saying
“The long history of colonialism and genocide have impacted many facets of Filipino life, from the Philippines’ political-economic dependency on the US, to its access to good pork products (instead of the ‘dirty bits’), to the large immigrant population who have to leave the Philippines to survive.”
Just sayin’.
Next up: Bourdain bougies it up with Claude in his house/restaurant/ridiculous compound in Pampanga!
No Reservations this week reminded me that I promised ya’ll my adobo recipe, so without further ado, here it is! Mind you, this is the first time I’ve ever tried to write up the recipe, so forgive me if it’s maddeningly un-precise. Hopefully the photo documentation will help you recreate it at home… and hey, remember what I said before? Adobo’s better when you play around with it yourself!
My ingredient list for this batch was as follows:
- 8 chicken drumsticks, skin intact (Generally, I prefer a mix of bone-in thighs and drumsticks, not breasts. Breasts dry out, and I love that dark meat)
- 2 yellow potatoes, skin on, chopped into large cubes (all I had left, I usually use at least five or six smallish yellow potatoes. NEVER Idaho, ick!)
- 5 garlic cloves, minced (I love me some garlic. I usually estimate about 1 clove per 2 pieces chicken.)
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 tbs. whole black peppercorns
- Silver Swan soy sauce (If this or no other Filipino soy sauce is available, try a Hawaiian soy sauce. Both have slightly sweeter flavor than Japanese soy sauce, but Kikkoman can be used in a pinch too)
- Distilled white vinegar (nothing fancy, Heinz for me!)
My Cooking Process
1. Prep the garlic cloves and potatoes, and pop into a 6 quart sauce-pot. Add bay leaf and peppercorns, chicken. Stir together so evenly distributed- you don’t want the potatoes getting stuck on the bottom.
2. Add the liquids! I told you that I add based on sight and smell, not set measurements. But here’s my rough guide to adding the liquids:
First, I pour in the soy sauce so it covers a little more than 1/3 the chicken and potatoes:
Then, I pour in the vinegar until it nearly covers the ingredients, but not quite:
I stir and smell- is it too acidic (does it burn my nostrils too much when I inhale in?) If so, I add a touch more soy. Too sticky-sweet smelling? Add more vinegar, but not too much, because the next step is adding some water, which will dilute the soy anyway. When it’s pretty much right (better to be more acidic than not acidic enough– you want to smell a sharpness but you don’t want it to make your eyes water or make you cough too much!), I pour in just enough water to barely cover the ingredients.
Now, if you want to, you can omit water altogether, and just play around with the proportions of soy sauce and vinegar. At this point, I’ve made enough adobo to know when I’m ready to add water without diluting the flavor entirely. But if you’re worried you’ll water it down too much, certainly omit the water! Just make sure that you mostly cover your ingredients with whatever liquid mixture you come up with. (Note: If you omit the potatoes altogether, you don’t have to use as much liquid, perhaps only filling up liquids 2/3rds of the way. I’ve found that if I don’t cover with water when I use potatoes, that they suck up too much liquid and it’s a bit dry by the time the chicken is cooked)
3. Cover pot and bring to a near-boil, approx. 10 minutes. You don’t want it to be a rolling boil, but you do want to heat it up enough so it just begins to bubble.
4. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, on medium until cooked, approx. 1 1/2 to 2 hours. I’ve found that when I use 5-6 potatoes (or a # nearly equal to amount of chicken pieces using), that I know when the chicken is cooked by testing the potatoes. If potatoes are ready– meaning they are soft but not yet falling apart– then the chicken is usually perfect too. Really, it’s hard to f- up adobo since you’re cooking slowly over low heat. So, cook until chicken is tender- I like to wait til it comes easily off the bone with a fork.
A well-cooked adobo (like this batch, which was one of my better ones recently, I think!) should have the following qualities: meat falling off the bone, gelatinized fat that melts on the tongue, and a dark caramel color that permeates everything from the potatoes to the chicken. If you get all three, you’re in adobo heaven!
5. Serve over hot jasmine rice and ENJOY!
hot adobo = foggy camera
