• Addictive edamame – soy balsamic
• Olive oil poached shrimp, red thai curry sauce
• Chilled soba noodle salad – thai basil, olive oil poached shrimp, chinese eggplant
• Thai style fried chicken
• Seafood pancake – savory asian pancake, black vinegar sesame-soy sauce
• Vegetable/Tofu hot pot
• Banana leaf wrapped salmon – jasmine rice
• Baby back pork ribs – hoisin, rosemary BBQ
• BellyQ beef
• Tea smoked duck breast – chinese broccoli, steamed buns
• Vietnamese cinnamon donuts – vanilla soft serve, huckleberry jam
• Citrus ice – vanilla soft serve, yuzu tapioca pearls

bellyQ
1400 W Randolph St
Chicago, IL 60607
(312) 563-1010

There was almost no way we weren’t going to try Grace.  There is of course the obvious (my wife’s name) and then more sentimental reasons.  Like most some people (who are hopelessly obsessed with food), Grace and I watched expectantly as Curtis Duffy and his partner Michael Muser opened Grace (the restaurant).  And as far as restaurant openings go, this one was not lacking in coverage.  There was the Sky Full of Bacon/Grubstreet “Finding Grace” series, the ulterior epicure/Eater “Behind the Scenes” series and the appearance on “the Interview Show” with Mark Bazer. 

After so much hype, it would really be hard for anything to live up to such high expectations.  Both Mike Sula of the Chicago Reader and David Tamarkin of Timeout gave the restaurant high marks, but still had some room for improvement before reaching the lofty goals which they had set for themselves. The Tribune‘s Phil Vettel  was a bit more effusive (even recommending the toilet, which is pretty nice).  And for the most part I agree with all of them.  The food is beautiful and exquisite, but as Tamarkin says tends to the sweet. In the end I did probably prefer the vegetarian “Flora” menu over the meatier “Fauna” menu.  But as Sula points out the heavier dishes also counterintuitively appeared on the “Flora” menu. 

Either way, the experience feels luxurious and the service was spot on.  While heavy on the wallet, it feels worth it’s value and I have much faith that the food will only get better. 

Opening Bites (presented on a charred barrel stave):

Satsuma orange, smoked-paprika,  sugar (amazing)
Gougère, smoked banana, cilantro
Black lime and saffron
Pickled apple-cucumber roll-up, chlorophyll

Fauna Menu:

Flora Menu:

**Unfortunately no good pictures of the winter squash course prior to the soup being poured over the top.  Tops can be seen on the anti-griddle.

Breads:

Final bites:

Chocolate sphere filled with liquefied caramel popcorn

Dark chocolate bonbon with creamy kaffir lime

Grace Restaurant
652 West Randolph Street
Chicago, IL 60661
312.234.9494

I ♥ Yardbird
I ♥ Matt Abergel

That’s about all I can add to the conversation on Yardbird and its chef. And I mean that in the creepiest most stalker-y way.   The chicken-focused yakitori restaurant on Bridges Street was the first restaurant that Grace and I felt compelled to return to (willingly) on consecutive nights while on vacation.  And we probably would have returned again, if time had allowed.   The food is best described as infinitely eatable.  It is the sort of neighborhood restaurant that makes us sad that we don’t live in its neighborhood. The food is deceptively simple — it’s serious and seriously delicious.

As for my chef crush on Mr. Abergel, I’m not sure what to say – he had me at chicken.  It just seems like a bonus that he trained under Masayoshi Takayama at Masa and was executive chef at Zuma .  It also seems fitting that everyone in his circle is probably  definitely cooler than me (I know, not hard).  His partner Lindsay Jang clearly cooler.  His two kids, also likely cooler.

Highlights/Pictures:

• Yellowtail salad – yuzu, ponzu, radish
• Sweet corn tempura – salt, pepper –  spheres of crunchy corn
• Eringi mushroom
• Brussel sprouts – black garlic, crispy garlic
• Chicken oyster – sea salt, lemon
• Gizzard – garlic, olive oil
• Neck yakitori - yuzu kosho, pepper
• Ox tongue – japanese herbs, mustard vinaigrette
• Knee – sake, garlic
• Tail – sea salt, pepper
• Chicken meatball – tare, egg yolk
• KFC (Korean Fried Cauliflower) - yuzu, chili
•  Quail – shichimi
• Rib yakitori - tare, sansho - where the sansho pepper just creeps up on you
• Chicken and egg rice – crispy skin, peas

More about Yardbird etc:  “cook really tasty, simple food“  “constantly learning, constantly getting better“ and “focus on our friends and enjoying our lives rather than just money.” 

Yardbird
33-35 Bridges Street
Sheung Wan, Hong Kong
+852 2547 9273

Primer/Disclosure:

The restaurant offers 3 menu levels:

• Rin 凛 for HK$2500 (~US$322) – 3 appetizers, 7 sushi pieces and dessert (+ seasonal appetizer, sashimi, lightly grilled fish)
• Miyabi 雅 for HK$3500 (~US$451) – 4 appetizers, 9 sushi pieces and dessert (+ seasonal appetizer, sashimi, lightly grilled fish or boiled octopus, steamed abalone [liver sauce] — we ended up with a total of 19 items)
• Ho 鳳 for HK$4500 (~US$580) – 5 appetizers, 11 sushi pieces and desserts (+seasonal appetizer, lightly grilled fish, boiled octopus, steamed abalone [liver sauce], grilled fish)

We opted for the miyabi, which I presume is the most popular.  At a final cost of ~HK$7700 ($993) for two people, it’s hard to not to discuss this type of food in the context of the price.  Not because I think one needs to discuss the experience in terms of “value for money” (precisely because it would never pass), but rather personal value.    Time Out Hong Kong got it right; there really is no talking about monetary value .  This is without a question a luxury and should be thought of in that context.  After dinner, Grace’s mother asked us if it was worth it.  And both of us said - without hesitation: “for us, it definitely was.” 

The Restaurant:

After establishing himself in Tokyo (his three Michelin star Ginza restaurant), chef Masahiro Yoshitake decided to open his second restaurant in on the ground floor of the discrete Mercer Hotel, in Sheung Wan, HK.  The room is bright and intimate with only eight seats.  Chef Yoshitake and his protegé Yoshiharu “Kaki” Kakinuma each man a side of the bar. 

The Meal:

Tuna with white wasabi (horseradish), greens, shallots, nori

Tako (Japanese octopus), slow-cooked with soy and sugar

Flounder – quickly marinated in fish stock and soy

Steamed abalone + abalone liver sauce

(sauce so fine, a bit of rice is given to finish it off)
***note the rice is made with a red vinegar

Bonito seared in bincho tan and hay, scallions

Ankimo (steamed with red sake), wasabi

Sumi Ika (squid)

Amadai (tilefish)

Sawara (Spanish Mackerel, smoked)

Chūtoro

Otoro

Kohada (gizzard shad)

Saba (mackerel) roll, shiso, ginger and kampyo

Uni (sea urchin) from Hokkaido

Kurumaebi (Japanese tiger prawn or “car shrimp”) with shrimp roe

Anago (salt-water eel), grilled over bincho tan and leaves

Tamago (egg) - grilled, steamed, baked

Miso soup – fish stock + wheat miso

Cream cheese mousse with strawberry

Sushi Yoshitake
The Mercer Hotel
29 Jervois Street
Sheung Wan, Hong Kong
+(852) 9697-6800
reservations@sushiyoshitake.com

May be it’s because of refuse to eat at Chucky Cheese’s for the next 10 years of my life, but I have been very conscious of the perception of parents when eating out at restaurants. Just around the time my son was born, the reports of McDain’s restaurant in Monroeville, Pa banning children under 6 from their restaurant were coming out. Partly because of that (and partly because of my Asian guilt) I found myself over the last year on the floor of restaurants cleaning up after my son a lot – sometimes leaving the floor cleaner than when we had arrived. It’s like I was saying, “Yes, I brought my child, but he’s clean see (please let me back to eat here).”

For the most part the service is great and I can relax a bit when dining with my child, but then there are the times I am just mystified. I don’t expect any special treatment, but just some level of common sense and civility. “Hot plate, very hot plate” as the waiter places it directly in front of my grabby hands 16 month old. Really? I get not every one has children or wants them, but really?

Then there is the issue of high chairs. Milwaukee, for the most part, is a model of high chair friendliness. New York, not so much (ahem Takashi & Mission Chinese); strangely, more and more places in Chicago seem to be forgoing high chairs. Sure, we went to Trenchermen relatively early following their opening, but no high chair? I suppose Matt Haase might be right that any restaurant that serves Malort on tap isn’t interested in having children around. How about Yusho? Aren’t they positioned to be the very definition of a neighborhood restaurant – no high chair. What’s Au Cheval‘s excuse? May be the hipsters have spoken and have decided children shouldn’t be encouraged at restaurants.

Mind you this says nothing about the food or the staff of these restaurants who for the most part are great. But every so often, there’s this moment of palpable disdain. This hesitation in the host/hostess voice when they say, “No we don’t have a high chair; is that all right?” That brief pause as if they hope you turn around and leave. No it’s not f*cking all right. But my big middle finger to those people is the Fisher-Price booster seat I keep in the car. That sh*ts cheap, small, light, mobile and straps onto any seat super quick. Sometimes I wish I had brought a really big bulky high chair. Something loud that would really “fit in” to that hipster vibe.

You know may be McDain’s had it right. If you don’t want children at your establishment just come out and say it. It’s this passive aggressive bullsh*t I can’t stand.

• Beijing Vinegar Peanuts – smoked garlic, anise, rock sugar
• Chili Pickled Long Beans in Red Oil – fermented radish, bonito, sesame seeds
• Married Couple’s Beef – sliced beef tongue, heart, tripe, numbing chili, peanuts, cilantro
• Mouthwatering Chicken – dried spice chicken hears, vegetable noodles, Sichuan peppercorn
• Tofu poached in Soymilk – broad bean paste, soy beans, sesame leaves
• Chilled Buckwheat Dan Dan Noodles – peanuts, preserved mustard stems, pea leaves, yuba, chili oil
• Stir Fried Pork Jowl and Radishes – fermented black bean, sesame leaves, mint
• Thrice Cooked Bacon - Shanghainese rice cakes, tofu skin, bitter melon, chili oil
• Kung Pao Pastami - peanuts, celery, potato, explosive chili
• Chongqing Chicken Wings – explosive chili, crispy beef tripe

**There is very little I can add to what has already been said about the food at Mission Chinese. 
***warning, the text below has very little to do with the food above; there may be some use of foul language

Before going to Mission Chinese, I was man-crushing hard on Danny Bowien, the Korean born, Oklahoma-raised chef of Mission Chinese Food (MCF) - and after, I still am. It’s not just his long blonde hair or short shorts, but more so his cooking vibe - just cooking “delicious” Chinese food.  With food like “thice cooked bacon” and “kung pao pastrami” the food at MCF is grounded in classic Chinese cuisine with accents of both Western flavor and technique. 

Interestingly, at the MCF presentation (Bowien and  Anthony Myint) at the MAD 2012 Symposium, they spoke about not making “authentic” Chinese food, but providing an “authentic” experience.  Authenticity, one of the food enthusiast’s favorite topics (whether you believe it exists or not) seems to matter. Perhaps, Jonathan Gold while on the Food is the New Rock podcast said it best when he said,  ”I don’t believe in authenticity, so it doesn’t matter.  That being said I care about authenticity an astonishing amount.” 

I personally do believe in authenticity.  But what it means, I’m not so certain.  Food certainly must grow – must evolve; food traditions do not exist in a vacuum.   So strict definitions of authentic really don’t mean very much.  It is a word which I think a lot of people use (including myself) in various contexts to convey very different meanings.  In a lot of ways, it may be easier to label something inauthentic than to agree something is in fact authentic.

MCF actually describes their food as “Americanized Oriental food”¹.  Bowien (and Myint) were trying to convey a certain nostalgia for a kind of Chinese/Asian food which he experience in Oklahoma.  And while I have no such nostalgia, I understand what they mean by authentic experience.   Zach Brooks (of Midtown Lunch & Food is the New Rock) said in that same episode with Jonathan Gold, that his idea of authenticity is a chef “making something they want to make for themselves” and that it has to do with their motivation –cooking something they want to eat rather than pandering to a customer.  This idea was quickly dismissed by Gold as  he cited the kiwi vinaigrette as an example of a chef idea gone awry; but I wonder if Brooks was onto something. 

Is there something about the seriousness with which a chef takes the food?  Can that dedication and belief in what he’s producing be tasted in the end result?  Are authenticity and “the love” –which so many TV talking heads like to put in their food– one in the same?   

I can say that the food at MCF is legit.  It may be just some version of “tasty Chinese food”, but you can taste the seriousness with which it was made.  For all those chefs pushing themselves outside of their comfort zone, learning and moving the craft forward – keep doing it, because it does show in the food.   

Mission Chinese Food: NY
154 Orchard St
New York, NY 10002

¹As a semi-reformed angry Asian man, I feel like it’s worth discussing the use of “oriental”.  Truthfully, I have a hard time stirring any real outrage because for the most part I think it works with the food (at the end of the day, it’s all about the food – and the food is fucking delicious).  Moreover, oriental is not as fundamentally offensive as some other words that have been in use of late (i.e. this is not ESPN “mistaken” or rather misguided use of the phrase “chink in the armor” in a story about Jeremy Lin). The issue with the word ’oriental’ and ’Orientalism’ started more as an academic critique to be used in the discourse of social/political science or literature.  It is about a set of false assumptions and Euro-centric view in a post-colonial world (I will refrain from inserting an Edward Said quote).   Perhaps more importantly, it is also associated with a time in history when Asians were treated as subordinate and all the stereotypes which go with it. 

MCF chose this word with purpose and much self-awareness; in their cookbook  Mission Street Food, Karen Leibowitz dedicates a section to the notion of Orientalism. To be clear this is not being used ironically or reclaiming the word for empowerment (like some African-Americans may purport with the use of the N-word or feminists with the C-word).   Bowien and Myint have said this is about nostalgia.  Strangely, all of the Americanize Chinese food I’ve eaten has been shit.  Why would I want to romanticize that?  Some things just shouldn’t be romanticized.  War, poverty, discrimination, and bad Chinese food bad food–  no nostalgia.  

There actually is an accepted use of the word; objects (not people, it’s use is banned in some State documents ) can be called oriental (i.e. oriental rugs,  etc). Does this fall under the accepted use?  May be.   Do I worry about its use reenforcing some provincial notion that using the term is acceptable for other situations? May be. But without getting too much into the subtleties of racial politics and language (see SNL cold open), this just isn’t that bad; it’s not good either.  But I can live with it (just don’t expect me to kowtow to the white man).

I must confess that I love that sticky chewy glutinous texture that is a part of so many Asian snacks and desserts.  I totally understand that this is cultural and that some people just don’t get the appeal of the mouth feel, but I love it.  I seek it out and when I see snacks that may have that texture, I am compelled to buy them.  So back at Phongsavan (Milwaukee’s Asian Market where I ate laab kom) in the Sister’s Cafe (haus diej kua txiv laaj sab kawg), I found a table top of ‘breads’ calling for me.  Mixed in with other buns and snacks were three rice based snacks:

• rice cake (ncuav phom)
• corn” bread” (ncuav pob kws)
• glutinous rice cake (ncuav nplej)

Ncuav (pounded sticky rice) is similar to a Japanese style mochi and so each of these snacks had some resemblance to a whole host of other Asian rice snacks.  My favorite by far was the Hmong corn pancake (ncuav pob kws).  While the texture was like countless other pounded rice snacks, the corn flavor was something rarely found elsewhere.

There is actually a recipe for”Rice and Corn Pancakes” in Sami Scripter and Sheng Yang‘s Cooking from the Heart: The Hmong Kitchen in America.  Corn is a less common staple across Asia, but as Scripter and Yang report in their cookbook, if rice was inadequate, corn (which was primarily used to feed livestock) would be used to supplement.  Traditionally, these cakes were made completely of corn, but given how much moisture is in American corn, rice flour is often added to stiffen the batter.  Corn is blended, mixed with a bit of sugar, water and rice flour to make the consistency of a thick pancake batter, then fried on a skillet.   The result is a bright yellow pancake flecked with corn skins which is slightly sweet and filled with the taste of corn.

Passera – long island fluke, parley, rosewater
Seppia – cuttlefish tagliatelle, soffrito crudo, bottarga di muggine
Astice – nova scotia lobster, burrata, eggplant al funghetto, basil
Spaghetti – fresh cut semolina pasta, crab, santa barbara sea urchin, basil
Fusilli – durum wheat pasta, red wine braised octopus, bone marrow
Branzino – wild striped bass, roasted baby carrots, fregola sarda, lamb’s quarters, toasted hazelnuts

On the opening morning, I walked into the brightly colored space, happy to see I wasn’t the only one who had come out so early.  Only cupcakes and scones were available; so I had them all - red velvet, vanilla, chocolate with chocolate, chocolate with vanilla, chocolate and caramel, pink lemonade and a cherry scone (a light breakfast).   

Miss Cupcake
3801 N Oakland Ave
Milwaukee, WI 53211

“Bitter?”

Grace thought for a bit before answering, “Just a little.”

I was sitting down with my son and searching for a way to keep him occupied.  I wipe the sweat from his nose as clings to me in the 90 degree heat and try to find a spot where a quick blow from the wind might make the room just a bit more comfortable.  Earlier as we had made our way through the old car repair shop turned Asian market, moving past the wood and wire racks covered with DVDs and bright colored clothes, I questioned my grip on time and place. If not for a passing word, I probably would not have ventured here to Milwaukee’s Asian Market.

Long Cheng Noodle and Grill sits, unmarked in the back corner of the market just a few feet from a vendor selling fresh produce.  Across the way Sister’s Cafe (haus diej kua txiv laaj sab kawg) sells bubble tea and bánh mì; but the line is clearly building in front of Long Cheng.

Grace sits down after ordering and starts wiping the table. The television above flashes with classic kitschy karaoke videos.  Despite the line, food comes out quickly.  First the sausage and a stuff chicken wing.

Hoping the spice will help in the heat, I plunge the sausage in the chili sauce.  It’s delicious but it doesn’t help.  I taste fish sauce and a slight bitterness from the peppers. This is my first clue that Long Cheng’s understands all five tastes (sweet, salt, sour, bitter, umami), even the oft neglected bitter.

Next comes the phở – the ‘special’ bowl, filled with a mishmash of toppings including sliced beef balls, shrimp, imitation crab and bits of roasted pork.  I hang my head over the sweet steam and dig in.  More sweat – it cools for only a few moments.  The taste of clove and anise lingers.

Grace and I scramble to give the baby bits of food to eat hoping to keep him entertained as we finish our meal.  Finally the beef laab (ລາບ) arrives.  Ordering laab is a bit like ordering a mystery salad; laab simply means chopped or minced and so recipes for this ‘salad’ vary throughout Laos and northern Thailand (though it is the national dish of Laos). Other than the minced meat, it seems the only other requirement are the few accompanying raw vegetables (see lettuce).

At Long Cheng, the beef laab – filled with bits of tripe, beef, green onion, pepper, and cilantro – is a fine mix of textures – crunches with each bite.  The spice leaves a slow burn which creeping up with each bite.  But it is the bitter that punches first.  When we ordered, we asked for the beef to be cooked.  Laab may have the similar origins as steak tartare – raw meat with onions; while tempting, we thought it best not to order it raw given the baby might want to try some.  Ironic (moronic?).  But we thought we’d try it ‘a little bitter’.  Perhaps a ‘little’ was lost in translation.  Bitter permeated every bite with an almost unnatural medicinal sting. It is somewhere between biting into a raw bitter melon and chug of pure quinine.   That’s not to say it’s not delicious (but you do have to like bitter… at least a little).  [editor note - most people should ask for it NOT BITTER]

After finishing the laab, I wondered about the bitterness.  Where did it come from?  As it turns out, bile is traditionally added to the laab for that bitterness.  But is that what they used here?  I asked the man taking orders what they used to make the laab bitter.  He said he didn’t know and would ask the kitchen.  Out came a women who could only tell us they buy it in a can and add it.  So I went into the market and asked around.  Finally a women knew where to find what I was looking for – there it was, on the bottom rack of the freezer – beef bile.

Just one question… do you cook bile before adding it?

Long Cheng Noodle & Grill
Milwaukee’s Asian Market
6300 N 76th St.
Milwaukee, WI 53218

BONUS

Some interesting links about the market:

• The Neighborhood Project: Havenswood – Milwaukee’s Asian Market
• Journal Sentinel: Market on city’s northwest side aims to serve growing Hmong community