 A guy waved a bottle in front of me. “Nesquik?”, he asked. I shook my head no thanks. Five seconds after he walked away, I realized my stupidity. I missed a free bottle of Nesquik! I don’t remember drinking Nesquik for the past 15 years, or ever, but I know what it tastes like, and I like chocolate. Why did I say no?! Because I live in Berkeley. One thing Berkeley trains you very well for is saying no. Each time you walk pass a homeless man or woman, whether he or she asks for spare change or curses you off or shouts “nice dress”, you silently say no. Each time an activist steps up to you and says “Hi how’s it going? Would you have a minute to talk about …?” and you can barely tell what it’s about because he or she squeezes those two sentences in the hundredth of a second you lift your foot, you say no, usually with a smile because you feel bad. So you prepare this automatic respond when a stranger sticks something under your nose: No thank you. And you end up missing the free Nesquik. But Berkeley also […]
Continue reading Com tam at a tiny joint in Oakland Chinatown
 Ever since the steamed duck at Shanghai Dumpling King, I’ve been haunted by the juiciness of a duck done right. When my friend Kristen and I walked down Piedmont looking for dinner, we passed several doors but like shopping for clothes, as Kristen pointed out, none “jumped out” to us. There was one sign that we read “Pork Avenue” and crossed the street all excited for, but it was “Park Avenue“. On the way was also the curiously crowded Fenton Creamery, to me their selections aren’t that interesting. When the street started to look devoid of both restaurants and humans and hope had dwindled from a tteok in tteok bokki to a strand of angel hair, we found Bay Wolf. The duck liver flan and roasted duck with polenta sold us. Bay Wolf specializes in duck. Their menu changes weekly but they always have two duck dishes, one appetizer and one entree. Both sing. Even the polenta was good, must be that honey-lavender gastrique that we had to wipe clean with bread after we ate the duck leg […]
Continue reading The Duck Restaurant in Piedmont
 Put me next to a pig foot and I turn into a total nut case. But boy, these chunkies, sweet, salty, chewy, just a little spicy… I cleaned the bones until they were white. A feeble attempt at including some starch to our lunch: ground beef and pork coins covered in batter and fried. Dessert: ho tteok (호떡) – chewy sweet pancake with some kind of syrup or melted brown sugar filling, and the best part? They’re not too sweet!
 There seems to be a new trend in the East Bay restaurant business: it has to be hidden and/or without a sign. First it was embarrassing walking up and down the street to find Commis, and now the same thing happens with Plum. Is this some kind of scavenger hunt joke? Plum‘s menu is short and sweet like its name. However, the same thing can’t be said about the majority of its dishes, which either tip a bit over to the salty side (pate ciccioli and bacon) or stay way back in plaindom (crispy pig ears and trout). There are bright notes, too. The turnip soup with yuzu kosho, pear and cilantro is a light, heart-warming start. The short ribs with peanuts and sweet potato has a deep Asian flavor. The caramelized brioche with coffee ice cream makes a comforting finish. Ironically, the yummy dishes didn’t have good pictures. But here’s a small album to get a taste of Plum.
 The difference between a bowl of ramyeon at Gomnaru and a six-course dinner at Commis is the ratio of satisfaction to expectation. This is how I rank my foods, which allows me to enjoy a Cheetos just as much as any prime ribs done well, perhaps even more. There are certain extremes, like the cafeteria at Berkeley and LBL, no matter how low I set my bar, they manage to wow me with their ability to ruin everything, including fried rice. Anyhow, I figured that it’s only respectful to the chefs that I go to a well applauded, top ranking restaurant with high expectation. But for Commis, I think my expectation was a bit too high. The ingredients: fresh, interesting, nothing to complain about. The techniques: nothing I know enough to comment about. The combinations: hmm… An hour after dinner, Rob asked me: “How would you describe your dinner tonight in four sentences?” “Four?” “Three. Ask me again and I’ll say two.” The truth is I would rather sum it up in one: “I don’t remember”. I can remember vividly the banh mi a vendor sold […]
Continue reading I had high expectation for Commis
 Every time I ride the bus on Telegraph, Kang Nam Pho stands out to me like a supernova. (There are these “sorta” cosmologically important exploded stars that have been on my mind for quite some time now, which is an excuse for the sparse blogging of late.) I’ve seen Chinese-owned pho places, but they never have a Chinese name. Pin Toh on Shattuck, which used to be Phở Hòa, has pho cooked by Chinese chefs, but it’s a Thai diner (talk about incognito). In my American pho encounters, Kang Nam Pho is the first instance of a Korean-owned Vietnamese diner with a Korean name. They even put the whole “Phở” with accents on their white-on-red sign, next to “강남 윌남국수” (Kang Nam Wilnam guksu, i.e., Kang Nam Vietnamese Noodle). I like this place already. Their menu is also all in Vietnamese, again, with complete accents albeit some misspellings; there is English description under each name and very little Korean. I vaguely remember bibimbap and bulgogi at some bottom corner of a page, but Kang Nam has things that even a common pho joint wouldn’t always have, such […]
Continue reading The Koreans make good pho
 For a foodie, I dare say nothing beats dining with other foodies. Foodies want to try new places but have a fair assessment of the food, regardless of “the trend”. The food can be scraps and you’d still have a good time dissecting how that kind of scraps made its way into a diner. But more importantly, you’re not the only one taking pictures of food, your companions also remember what you got and write about it too. In his calm, knowledgeable, matter-of-fact way, Bob Fukushima beat me to writing about Hawker Fare today, which drives me to push this post ahead of the other thirty backlogged. First, the credit must go to Robert Bergstrom for recommending this lunch spot in Oakland. He and Bob are barbecue buddies. How I got to know Rob is another post. We sat and chilled over rice bowls, among other things, for more than 2 hours; I could almost feel the sneer from the line of customers waiting to get seated. Hawker Fare opened in late May, why they have such busy lunch time is probably because of their off-the-norm, concise menu […]
Continue reading The Hawker Fare take on Southeast Asian cooking
 On one bright Sunday afternoon, I found myself spinning with a guy named Don in lederhosen to quirky Bavarian tunes. Black, red and yellow balloons swinging almost in sync with the “hoi hoi” cheers from honey-shining beer mugs. And I had my fill of meat. 🙂 May started, lively and carefree. This part of Alameda is old timey. A short green iron bridge over a narrow canal, fading painted warehouse signs with German names, old cars… It’s drowsy, almost. ‘Cept for this one corner of Lincoln and Park Street today. The German restaurant bloomed like a Royal Poinciana in June. We felt flamboyant too. What’s this… deciding on a whim to get lunch together at Speisekammer, and it just happened to be the one day Speisekammer held their Mai Fest (my name makes me feel special at times like this :-D). Everyone sitting out at long wooden tables under the parasols, sleepy dogs lying under the sun. It hasn’t been this warm for weeks. A band, balloons, flags, traditional clothes, dancing, food. A special menu. Continue reading Wurst, Lederhose and Mai Fest at Speisekammer
 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! Continue reading Better than banh mi thit nuong
 Emerald green. Chilled. Clear. Leafy. Mildly sweet (sugar is added). Every time I pass by a patch of fuzzy spring grass, I dream of munching a tuft and inhaling the lush, youthful aroma of those dew- and rain-soaked blades. This two-dollar drink in this plastic cup is my dream come liquefied. Lately I have been slacking on the blogging front, mainly because I took on an editing job to compensate for my unwillingness to cook. Ironically, now my eating out budget has increased but I have neither time to eat nor to write about the stuff that I eat. On top of that, the last few weeks of the semester are, naturally, the time to sprint at the end of the marathon and the professors make sure that slacking means death (no joke). But sometimes it backfires when you’re too stressed, you ditch your homework, set out on an hour bus ride to your Vietnamese sandwich shop, order a cup of pennywort drink, and drown your sleep deprivation in eavesdropping others’ conversations. Little Mom used to make pennywort soup, the best remedy for hot weather and rising body temperature […]
Continue reading Sandwich Shop Goodies 16 – Nước rau má (pennywort drink)
|
|
Blogs we read
|
