Flavor Boulevard

Big Pine has few options for dining out, but what it has leaves little to be desired.

“Adam’s Favorite Pulled Pork” sandwich ($8.25) with cole slaw is the definition of juicy pulled pork on a burger bun, despite the scorching 105 F heat in the desert that sucks the life out of our dry throats. It’s become our favorite, too. (To maintain some hydration, we got a glass of sweet tea with special High Sierra crushed ice. Highly recommended.)

The store is easy to spot, right on Highway 395/the main road that goes through Big Pine. What I like about small towns like this is how their menus breathes personal connections: Adam’s pulled pork, Granny’s potato salad, Joe’s yard bird. Adam probably certainly knows everybody in town.

Address: Coppertop BBQ
310 N Main St
Big Pine, CA 93513
(760) 970-5577

The True Deluxe: cheese, medium-cooked quarter-pound hamburger on toasted egg buns, lettuce, tomato, garlic mayo (no mustard, thank god), and a crispy portobello mushroom stuffed with smoked mozzarella. When I eyed it, Eric was like, “it’s BIG. Maybe you two can share one.” You two being me and Cheryl. Now that I think about it, Eric hadn’t seen me with burgers before.

Luckily, Cheryl was also hungry and wanted her own burger. Hers was pretty small compared to the Deluxe, but she’s a skinny girl who thinks a regular In ‘n Out is sufficient. For Mai, there’s no burger too big.

The most prominent plus side of True Burger is that it’s ready in less than 5 minutes. It satisfies our imagination of what a burger should be. It smells of fast food (but not of McDonalds, how does McDonalds maintain that distinctive McDonalds smell all these years?!) and of industrialized America. I don’t even know why I’m writing about True Burger when nothing about it really screams significance, even its name. It’s just that, somehow, sitting in a classic, simplistic orange-colored fastfood joint in the middle of a modernizing city, chomping on a messy burger while staring at the wall art is oddly utopian, as if we were cut-out pieces of that messy Richard Hamilton’s collage.

Address: True Burger
146 Grand Ave.
Oakland, CA, 94612
(510) 208-5678
True Deluxe: $9, normal cheese burger: $5.65, fries: $2.60

Through words of mouth (from a kid that comes to my office hour, to be precise), I learned that the ramen burger is here in Berkeley. Hah, you don’t have to be in LA or NY or SF to eat this (relatively) new craze(*). Mashable has a guide to make it yourself, but why go through the trouble when you can buy it?

Unlike all other hypes that turn out to be various degrees of meh (in no order, truffles, caviar, foie gras, Cheeseboard, M.Y. China, Fentons, et cetera), the ramen burger is delicious. I gorged it down, completely defeated. Farewell, my hype-bashing days.

So Oishi in Berkeley dishes out 3 types of ramen burgers ($9 each): pulled pork (with wasabi mayo), grilled chicken (with ginger miso sauce), and the usual beef patty (with teriyaki sauce). (You can ask them to swap the sauce.) We had enough sense to avoid the chicken burger (who wouldn’t?!), and were split between pork and beef. Both types contain sauteed mushroom and come with “Japanese fries” (katsuobushi and Japanese mayo). Both sides finished with complete satisfaction.

They give you fork and knife, too, because unless you’re very skilled (or just take mousy bites), the burger will fall apart sooner or later and you get a sort of yakisoba with meat. Still delicious, just harder to eat by hand.

A personal plus: So Oishi sprouted from the same spot that used to house my old favorite (albeit barely average) Berkel Berkel.
A not-so-personal minus: they claim to be “the very first authentic Japanese ramen soup, ramen bun burger and sushi burrito restaurant… in Berkeley, CA”. Well if you want to be authentic, make sure you can spell. “Oishii” (おいしい、which means “delicious”) has two i’s, not one.

Good fries, though!

Address: So Oishi
2428 Telegraph Ave (next to Thai Noodle 2 and across the street from Rasputin Music)
Berkeley, CA
(510) 644-8278

Foodnote: (*) Keizo Shimamoto first invented it in NY late July – it’s been that long already?!

Few Berkeley residents, minus the homeless people (I think), haven’t at least heard of Grégoire. Everyone I’ve talked to has eaten here, even my freshman students. Technically I also have, but only for desserts. Somehow the menu on the days that I looked never struck lightnings on me. I might have been looking on the wrong days. Then I stopped treking this part of town for over 6 months, minus a trip to Imperial Tea Court that turned out somewhat disappointing, which shot me back to Fourth Street. When the whole tea business got serious, I kinda started eating to subsist more than to eat. I stopped actively hunting for special things. I don’t think of restaurants anymore. Chinese fried rice has been a staple for the last 7 days, with intermissions of frozen pizza and ramen. That reminds me, Berkeley Bowl no longer carries Sapporo Ichiban, and I’m mad. Of course, if delicious-sounding food just rolls up to me, I’d take it. Like today, we’re close to Grégoire, and Grégoire (finally) has something that caught my eye.

My lunch gleaming on the grill.

Stephen’s marinated grilled house-made seitan with apricot compote & arugula on grilled wheat bread ($7). Guess I’m attracted to savories with fruits.

The best part is, this month’s menu will be changed tomorrow. Today’s the last day of June. My seitan sandwich and I were destined for each other today.

Address: Grégoire
2109 Cedar Street
Berkeley, CA
(510) 883-1893

Isn’t she a fine beauty?

Stuffed to the brim. Peppery chunky crunchy meatloaf. Cucumber strips, cilantro twigs, carrot and daikon strings. And beneath it all, a layer of (possibly homemade) velvety vietnamesischer Braunschweiger, als ob es jeglichen Sinn ergibt. Ja, der Sandwich ist so explosiv gut it induces a spontaneous breakout of German.

Bánh mì pâté thịt nướng*. Not the usual chargrilled pork banh mi I’ve had elsewhere, this one has some kind of briny rich meatloaf. I ordered only two miserable loaves. Shoulda got 20!

On top of that I found the secret to a good spicy yet non-spicy banh mi.

I forgot to ask them to hold the pepper, so they put in loads of jalapenos, which I could only picked out when I got home an hour later. You can get rid of the pepper (and you should, unless you have a parrot tongue**), but you can’t get rid of the pepper sting (which you shouldn’t). That mere fire tail left behind in the bread and the veggies and the meat gives just the right kick without overwhelming the other tastes. But if you wait too long (a few hours in the fridge) to pick out the jalapenos, then you might as well not pick them out at all, the sting has already soaked deep.

Address: Bánh Mì Ba Lẹ (East Oakland)
1909 International Blvd
Oakland, CA 94606
(510) 261-9800

(*) I didn’t see “bánh mì pate thịt nướng” or “thịt nướng pate” anywhere on the menu, I just copied the customers who ordered before me and the ones before them. Seems like a popular combination, for obvious reasons. So bánh mì is really like cơm tấm, only your imagination, not the printed menu, can limit your options! 😉

(**) I was told that the if you feed parrots chilipeppers, which they actually can eat, their pea-shaped tongue can get thinner (the heat peels it off) and allow them to talk. I haven’t found a source to verify this though…

You can hardly ever go wrong with a cheeseburger. When the cheeseburger also comes with a blue lake, a blue sky, a few palm trees too tall to shade off the daring sun, some chilly wind here and there, and extra good company, then you simply cannot go wrong.

Talk about mood lifting food (read it both ways).

Gwyn takes Aaron and me for a ride through the tree-lined roads somewhere in Magnolia to Papa’s on the Lake, right off 105. After an hour long horseback riding in the sun, or more precisely speaking, an hour long sitting on the horse and having him walk around the block, the breeze from Lake Conroe is so inviting I daydream about jumping into the rippling waves. First time riding, what can I say, the old man kept wanting to eat his grass and I kept having to pull his heavy head up to match Aaron’s pace. But as much as my hands get scratched by the leather reins and saddle horn, I’d sit on that horse forever if I could. We hadn’t had lunch and I was full on enjoyment.

Until the blond waitress comes with a laminated hot pink 3-page menu that looks like a folded A4 paper, the entries being country appetizers and sandwiches whose prices are in the single digit range. When Aaron orders some potato skins and I get my first ever bite of those burnt shells covered with chewy dried melted cheese and too generous a drizzle of sour cream, then hunger really kicks in.

While waiting, we also nibble on some stuffed jalapenos, breaded and fried, just as mild as a warm bath.

By the time we wipe our fingers clean of grease with the hastily torn brown paper towel, the sandwiches arrive. Gwyn doesn’t make any comment on his fried chicken strip sandwich, but from its blazing orange look and Gwyn’s speedy finishing, I can only assume it’s a tasty deal.

My cajun shrimp poboy hits the spot. But since I don’t squeeze in any mayo or mustard, the scruffy shrimps and the airy loaf make one dry bundle that’s not much to write home about. Good fries, lots of water, and good chatting end the lunch on a high note. 🙂 Everything together for a bit over $40, and I don’t know if I’m still high from riding the horses or what, but I like this place.

Address: Papa’s on the Lake (a hot pink building by Lake Conroe)
14632 Highway 105 W
Montgomery, TX 77356
(936) 447-2500

It all happens because of the tongues. First I found out that Ashley’s and Kaily’s favorite is Mexican food. Except for one taco at Taco Bell a few months back when I was starving in San Francisco and unable to find any cheap and quick filler, I haven’t had Mexican food for a few years, simply because the burritos, tacos, quesadillas, tamales, and other Spanish names that crossed my path didn’t impress me the right way. Then I hear Michelle praises the churros with such enthusiasm that makes me rethink about the cooking affairs south of the Rio Grande. Then Mudpie’s birthday comes up, for which Mexican is the desired course, and Tacubaya the desired destination. Two things on the menu catch my glance: churros and taco de lengua (beef tongue taco). Heck, any tongue is worth a try.

Once you’re there, you can’t just get one thing, especially when each taco is the size of a tea saucer. So we each opt for two soft tacos and share one sweet potato puree (camote).

Turns out the beef tongue is less chewy than expected, rather too soft, like a beef-flavored gelatin cube, but its accompanying tomatillo salsa brings in a refreshing limey zest.

Mudpie thoroughly enjoys the taco de asada, grilled beef cubes with salsa roja, onions and cilantro, and we both feel good about the adobo-smothered crumbly chunks of spit-roasted pork topped with avocado salsa, labelled taco al pastor. Thumbs up for no cheese in tacos. The only setback is two thick corn flour tortillas that feel almost undercooked and a bit too soggy. Meanwhile, the sweet potato puree is a creamy dream.

On our return for dinner, the hot pink wall enclosure is packed to the door, patrons sitting elbow to elbow, and dishes take four times longer to reach our table. But the wait is worth it, at least for our respective choice.

Mudpie’s $5.50 miniature sope de chorizo y papas is a ripoff to me but a smile to Mudpie. The combination of mushy refried black bean, crumbly chorizo, fried potato, a mildly sour crema Mexicana, zesty feta-like cotija cheese, pickled jalapeno and diced carrot boasts wholesome Mexicanness, compactified in fewer than ten conservative bites.

On the other side of the table, my voluptuous torta al pastor, spit-roasted pork with avocado sandwiched in a fresh, toasty, buttery bread, completes my night. Mudpie shrugs off, not too impressed by its lack of vegetable and thinks that the sope is better.

We sweeten things up with three churro sticks, faintly cinnamon-flavored with a sandy coat of brown sugar crystals. The sticks are dense but light and all around crispy, though I wish they serve them with hot chocolate, the way they do it in Spain.

In the end, I’m glad I have a good reunion with Mexican food. Some might say it was only Tex-Mex, not real Mexican, during those few years of first impressions, or maybe the more upscale taqueria makes it better. Maybe it’s a different expectation. But overall, Tacubaya gives me some surprises: 1. the Fourth Street Shopping area, and 2. beef tongue is more tender than duck tongue (maybe it’s the acid from the tomatillo).

Address: Tacubaya (in the 4th Street shopping area)
1788 4th Street
Berkeley, CA 94710-1711
(510) 525-5160

Must have been at least seven years since I had a bánh mì ốp-la (bánh mì with sunny-side-up egg). Most Vietnamese sandwich stores in the States don’t put eggs in their breads, but ốp la (probably a strayed pronunciation of “omelette” in French colonial days) is the most common type of bánh mì stuffing you can find on the streets in Vietnam.

This store contains as much variety as twenty street food stalls: about 15 kinds of banh mi, with meats, pate, vegetarian, and even sardines (cá mòi), ranging from $2.50-$3 each. Then there are bò kho, bún bò, bánh cuốn, rice plates, bánh dầy, bánh tét, and a thousand other things. Thank god there is no phở here.

Ba Lẹ’s bánh cuốn comes with a garden, finger-thick cuts of chả lụa, and cubes of deep fried mung bean batter named bánh cóng. It’s not as good as the shrimp-and-sweet-potato tempura accompanying Tây Hồ‘s bánh cuốn, but it has a lot more rolls than Tây Hồ’s for a lower price. Tây Hồ still has the best rolls, but these are good too. Except they aren’t pre-halved in length. Oh well. Sloppiness is street-foodieness.

The location is less than appetizing to the eye. On rainy days, you see worn down bricked alleys with puddles. On dry day, you see worn down brick alleys with unkempt people. The buildings are old, the paints have faded. But the steady flow of customers even on rainy days confirms that Ba Lẹ isn’t just a name from the pre-1975 Saigon. It’s one of those real banh mi’s.

Address: Bánh Mì Ba Lẹ (East Oakland)
1909 International Blvd
Oakland, CA 94606
(510) 261-9800

There are two types of fish that you are guaranteed to find in American diners: catfish and salmon. Catfish is almost always filleted, battered and fried. Salmon is either grilled or smoked. Because the choices are so unlimited, I never order them. And this is the prime example of what you would miss out if you stick to your prejudice: had it not been because of Vân, I wouldn’t have had a tasty salmon burger and a tasty salmon-on-baguette today.

Nation’s Giant Hamburger (NGH) is a small local chain spanning the Greater Bay Area, serving burgers, breakfast, hot dogs, and also pies. Of the 24 locations, Berkeley’s NGH on University is a little oasis of the ’80s rural: small dusty parking lot with old cars, highly-walled-up booths in dark colors, the smell of fries and oil and the grill twirled with the smell of old people and homeless people and unkempt teenage boys, the pies fluffed with whipped cream in glass cabinets, the chili, the wallpaper, the red and white theme. It doesn’t speak clean. It isn’t cheap either, a third-pounder costs anywhere between $3.70 to $5.70, depending on the type of meat and if you add cheese or bacon. When in mood for burgers, I would definitely choose Burger King over NGH. But King doesn’t have salmon, Giant does.

I want my grilled wild Alaskan patty with 2 slices of American cheese (60 cents), mayo, no mustard, no onion, and no pickle. It comes out to $5.55 with a distinctive smell of the legless animal, dripping tomato juice, and big folds of iceberg lettuce. I don’t know if it is my little expectation for fish burger or the amazing talent of the chef, but the fish taste and texture couldn’t have been better enhanced.

For dinner, the salmon again surprises me through the hand of Monsieur Alain at La Bedaine, North Berkeley. Layered between halves of a rough, concrete baguette, on top of thinly sliced red radish, cucumber, tomato, a few spinach leaves, and smeared with feta cheese, the smoked salmon shines like amber and tastes like silk. In terms of food, I always prefer legged animals to legless ones, but this salmon sandwich boasts mouthfuls of superiority over the boar terrine sandwich (ground boar meat and fat in sausage form, also on baguette).

Thank you, Vân, for suggesting Salmon today. 🙂 Happy birthday! 🙂

Addresses:
Nation’s Giant Hamburger
1800 University Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94703 – (510) 843-7326
La Bedaine
1585 Solano Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94707 – (510) 559-8201

That pretty much sums up the In-N-Out buns.

Those burgers are not merely a matter of recharging one’s battery, though one of these joints might have been quite crucial to my friend’s survival on his way from coast to coast, as it was the only oasis between miles of burnt brown hills and deserts after he crossed the state line into The Golden Bear. His uncle always compares other burgers to In-N-Out’s, so when his dad visited the area, the man shrugged “well, I guess I should try it”. His friend, who later came here for conference, felt the same obligation as the other non-Californian conference attenders checked out lunch at In-N-Out. By hook or by crook, this chain gets the reputation of conjuring up a regional specialty that everyone should have while staying in California.

After living here for a year, I obliged. It was a sunny day driving back and forth between Milpitas and Berkeley, when I had zero gourmet craving and a simple need to eat a basic lunch. That’s a debatably good time for fast food. Don’t know if most people don’t get cravings, but In-N-Out was insanely busy when we got there. No parking. A waitress went outside to take orders from the loopy loop of cars. Almost all tables inside were taken. As Mudpie informed me, it’s always like this at lunch rush.

The service is nice. That’s one thing In-N-Out does better than other burger chains. People smile at you when they take, call, and give your order. It’s also fast. About fifteen workers scurry in the kitchen to cut, wash, fry the potatoes, flip the patties, toast the buns, that sort of thing. One good napkin comes out on the tray with each burger, so you can’t leisurely pull out a wad thick enough to pillow your dog just to later throw it away.

The visible menu is simple with only 3 choices: hamburger, cheeseburger, or double-double. They’re about the size of McDonald’s, which is much smaller than Burger King‘s and Fuddruckers’. You know how McDonald’s buns always have a distinctive smell that when someone at the back of the room pulls out a Golden Arches box, you sitting in the front immediately know that it’s a Golden Arches box? Well, In-N-Out doesn’t have that. In-N-Out’s $2.15 cheeseburger definitely tastes better than McDonald’s 89-cent cheeseburger, that much I can say.

The Yellow Zipline chain claims that their ingredients are fresh and free of preservatives and additives, as they “do not own a microwave, heat lamp, or freezer“. Their spread is mayo made pinkish with a mild flavor, which does not stand out. The patty is rather plain, however juiced up by copious chunks of lettuce and tomato. The fries, too, are much less salty than you’d normally get at other burger joints, but also denser and starchier, more potato-like so to speak.

As the end of our meal, we felt reasonably full. Though unimpressed. In some sense, kudos to In-N-Out for keeping burgers, fries, and shakes simple. It’s the fast food that defines America after all. However, in this case, the simple way is not the best way. This burger is nothing to swoon about. If you’re conscious about health when eating a beef patty and a slice of cheese sandwiched in a toasted bun, this is the place to go, although it’s kinda like ordering a mayo-laden sandwich and a bag of chips, then drink a diet Coke (which is a horrible liquid, by the way).

If you want cheap, big, good taste, go to Burger King.
If you want expensive, big, good taste, go to Fuddruckers.