Flavor Boulevard

There’s a Mister Donut near our apartment, but I still haven’t walked into it once (*). As much as I like Mos Burger (which is better than McDonalds Japan, which in turns is inarguably better than McDonalds US, of course 😉 ), I prefer the fastfoods that we don’t have.

1. Takoyaki

Fluffy and bouncy. Inside each of these shining orbs is a piece of real octopus. When I die, I want to be buried with takoyaki (which is also the name of my phone, by the way)…

2. Taiyaki

Normal taiyaki is a-okay (I’m not THAT into red bean paste, but I like the doughy part outside). Nonetheless, Gindako makes these croissant-crust taiyaki (210 yen) with croissant dough instead of pancake batter for the outside, and they sprinkle sugar crystals on it. Oh man….

3. Sushi

Few things can be faster than sitting down at a conveyor belt and picking up plates of food floating by you. This kaienzushi (conveyor-belt sushi) is rather more intimate (less fastfood-y) than other kaitenzushi’s because the chef is right there, and you can ask him to prepare specific nigiri to order.

The most rewarding plate that I look forward to all night was after the fish, though. My friend said that I can buy loads of these puddings at the store. Well, what does that matter? Little Kana in Papadol! likes the pudding at kaitenzushi, and we can’t get it at a traditional sushi-ya, that makes it plenty special!

——————————————————————————————-
Guest blogged by C. from Katsushika.

Foodnotes:
(*) I have had a Mister Donut donut, however, in the form of a dessert Mos “burger” with strawberry sauce, chocolate with rice puffs, strawberry whip cream and fresh fruits (290 yen):

More Mos Burger + Mister Donut creations here. (I want the French Cruller so bad!)

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

Pretty is the right word. Hearsay, or “Heresy” as Aaron calls it for some reason, warms your senses with a large yellow glass chandelier dangling several meters above the bar. The old walls, now lined with artsy thin bricks, bring to mind the image of a mahogany cascade from the high ceiling; tiny specs of light from the chandelier reflect off them like a meteor shower. It feels like a church almost. The only thing that could be remotely heretic here, if you understand “heretic” in its broadest meaning of “being different”, is if you don’t drink and you’re dining with a group of alcohol-appreciating friends just five feet from an alcohol-sparkling bar. Which is exactly what I was doing.

But I found plenty of things to occupy myself with, taking pictures of food being one of them, which would not have been possible without the flash light from Harshita’s iPhone (there was practically no light beside the chandelier). Eating was another possible activity. Our group of odd number managed to share the even number of pieces in the Chef Nick’s Appetizer Plate without too much a fight: the beer-batter-fried asparagus is the easiest to share, one shrimp-and-chicken spring rolls is doable, two crawfish stuffed mushroom and three smoked salmon crostini looked impossible to divide, so we didn’t try.

Except for my cute little stuffed mushrooms having a hair too much salt, every entree tasted as good as it should. Another exception was Varun’s chicken breast stuffed with goat cheese and spinach, which looks exactly like a kolache (already a good point!). That one blew my mind. I won’t look down on all chicken breast anymore.

I don’t know how Varun found this little 123-year-old building-turn-restaurant in the middle of the Warehouse District, but I’m glad he did. It feels unlike any gastro pub I’ve been to, you’re crammed horizontally as people push through between you and the bar seats, but you can always look up and find yourself lost in the space under that super high ceiling. You can order a humongous hamburger with bacon and a fried egg, or go simple and fresh with a caprese salad. You can indulge in as much bread pudding with ice cream as you want, all alone in the dark.

Click to see more pictures from Hearsay.

Address: Hearsay Gastro Lounge
218 Travis Street
Houston, Texas 77002
(713) 225-8079

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

You may say it’s shabby, and in fact it is. The single restroom has a questionable floor, a toilet with enamel-cracked seat and a sign to forbid disposal of paper in the toilet, and a faded red door with a knob that doesn’t invite contact. On this windy Saturday late morning, a few pick-up trucks pull up, a few old, beer-bellied, bearded men in plaid shirts stand around to wait for their orders or chow down at the wooden tables and attached benches, crows and pigeons peck at the sandy surrounding parking lot, making this Original Burger Hut of Route 66 the most alive place in Needles.

This hut is not related to these huts. This hut is a rectangular kitchen with one sliding window for taking orders, occupied by two women, a quiet chef that swings between the stoves and the counter where she rolls burritos and boxes up food, and a stern cashier that also fixes drinks. It takes ages for the burgers to get out the window, then again with roughly 5000 residents, time seems to go by more slowly in this town.

Their burgers are okay. At $2.90 with added cheese, it fills but not too much, like a burger you’d grill out at home casually every now and then. The same goes for their carne asada burrito. I save some bread for the birds, who appreciate it dearly.

We switch gear for dinner, as the long foggy drive through Flagstaff fogs up our will to eat out, especially when the Quality Inn in Winslow has a orderly-looking restaurant and lounge and very amicable staff.

The golden crispy fish and chips ($7.99) with Texas toasts wow my mom, while my dad’s New York pork strips ($7.99) are well seasoned, albeit a little tough.

The heavily peppered haricot vert, which also comes with my honey stung chicken, is definitely worth the bucks.

From the name “honey stung chicken” ($8.99), I expect a roasted game, but golden battered fried chicken shows up in front of me. Although the fried chicken is good, it isn’t as satisfying when I’m not in the fried mood.

The closest-to-perfection is Mudpie’s harvest salad ($6.49), with walnut, cranberry, goat cheese, apple, and fried sweet potato chip. I wonder if the carnivorous side in me is starting to get old.

Address: Route 66 Burger Hut
701 West Broadway
Needes, CA 92363

DJ’s Restaurant & Lounge (inside Quality Inn)
1701 North Park Drive
Winslow, AZ
(928) 289-3274

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.

The yellow-and-green parrots ain’t seein’ da Cup this year. I was overjoyed. Seriously, best news to start the day since summer began. To celebrate I walked half a mile down Shattuck and hit Brazil Cafe for the first time (my students strongly recommend their tritip sandwiches). You know, kinda like warriors in the old day eating their defeated enemy’s liver or sum’. It’s supposedly opened today 11am – 9pm. I got there at 11:45, but they were closed, grief-stricken perhaps?

Feeling pretty defeated myself, I swung by Bongo Burger on Center St. and scored a bacon bun in revenge. They say they’re proud to serve Niman Ranch, and I say I’m proud to refuse the alluring offer of Miss Cashier to pay extra for fries. $6.04 for a third pound burger and water only, please.

The problem with big burgers like these is that they don’t fit in my mouth. I nibbled around like a squirrel on a tough nut,with melting cheese stringing from side to side and lettuce shreds falling like autumn leaves. Part of the problem is with the bun. So freaking puffy! When you go to McDonald’s and Burger King they give you these tired soft breads that stick flat to the patty like white on rice, and nothing falls off as long as you got a good grip on the bun. Here it’s like fresh-out-of-the-oven bread. Warm and crusty and pillowy and bready.

The bacon was the opposite. Thick and chewy like spiral ham. Nothing like the smoking crispy strips sizzled in lard they show on ads. All good though. Even better, they didn’t sneak in any pickles, so I didn’t have to pick any out.

Now I’m full for the rest of the day.

In the orange spirit, it’s time for a clementine.

It was 7 PM in Houston. Cold winds crept up the rustling trees. We were in the mood for kolaches. No kolache store was opened. (I would be surprised if I could even find some right after noon, it’s usually sold out by 9 AM at any local Shipley Donuts.) Desperate as we were for something small and meaty, we pulled into this backyard parking lot on a dark little street of Montrose. The name is cute, but… “Go Horns”?!*

A few years ago I would have shy away from any place resembling a shady, fuming pub with TV screens blasting out a football game, hoards of muscles with beer in one hand, cigarette in the other, and a gigantic burger streaming cheese and lard in front of the mouth. That’s what Little Big’s looks like from the outside. But the patio was empty. And so were our tummies.

Inside, it was a tamed ambience with three or four rows of long tables and high stools. It has a TV, and football was on, but no attentive enthusiasts screaming at the screen or banging mugs on the table. There was little room between the door and the counter to stand looking at the overhead menu, but luckily we had an expert of the area with us to quickly order and moved out of the way. Everyone walking in here seemed to know exactly what they were hungry for. Not that there are much to choose from on the card.

This joint doesn’t have mayonnaise out for a squeeze. I was in great despair, considering the array of mustards on display. Although the special house sauce was white and good, I thought I felt a tidbit of jalapeno or something equally mordant; besides, it lacked the creamy consistency of mayo. My worries quickly diminished, though. It was instant love at first sight between me and the sliders – baby burgers that can fit snuggly in your cupped palm and come in herds of three. Each herd will set you back by 5.79, an addition of cheese constitutes another 69 cents. Who needs the busy shebang of tomato, lettuce, and those of vegetable origin that keep falling out embarrassingly every time you take a bite? The beef patty admits a layer of rich, juicy grilled onion, and the fried chicken breast was comfortable with a slice or two of pickles. (As Katie put it, Chick-fil-A knows their stuff.) But that was it. A slider epitomizes the way to eat a burger: if you want one, don’t let guilt cover it up with skimpy fresh bits of greens. There is no such thing as a tasty healthy burger, beside one that is only savoured by the eyes.

*Texas A&M was the only school I applied to, so I consider myself a pure bred Aggie.

After all I happen to stay in school longer than the average person, and if all goes well I will die a member of some academic body, so I figured school cafeterias might as well be another source of food and blabbing inspiration. Previously I blogged about the dining facility at Texas A&M, here comes Nexus at Stanford, where I ate last August. The price of course has changed with the economy, but hopefully the taste remains the same.
Nexus has a few different sections of food, the menu also changes weekly it seems, but the Texan in me often has no difficulty picking out lunch – to the grill I went.

The sign said it all. Burger with blue cheese and sauteed balsamic onion, and the food came out exactly that, with some lettuce, tomato, pickle, and more onion. I really had some doubt about the blue cheese, its presence neither enhanced nor diminish the taste of a good beef patty, its lack of texture didn’t make the burger any more or less juicy. It was a third wheel, unnoticed. The burger was good.

But the more memorable thing I had there was the grilled artichoke. Nexus has a good deal of vegetable choices for salads (with extra cost, though). The grilled artichoke (bottom left of the plate) tastes a bit nutty, unexpectedly munchilicious! Grilled (or baked?) sweet potato follows suit with a sweet little chewiness worth forfeiting all cookies in the world. To my regret I only took a sample of each, since you couldn’t go back for second after you pay. Ah, it’s not Sbisa here, it’s California.