Southeast Asian – Page 2 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Kin Shop

469 Sixth Avenue between 11th and 12th Streets
212/675.4295
$100 for two with tip, with one cocktail
wheelchair patron may wheel in, but bathrooms are downstairs
♥ ♥

The last time I was on Sixth Avenue above 8th Street, I was at Jefferson Market buying blood sausages after a stranger tipped me about the store at Whole Foods. He saw how frustrated i was when I had to explain to the guy what blood sausages were. At Jefferson, sure enough, I found what I was looking for and noted that they also carried sweetbreads. (That’s another story.)

To me, Sixth Avenue between 8th and 14th is pretty much the dead part of the West Village; there’s nothing past the nice Filipino guys behind the counter at Gray’s Papaya unless you’re buying Co.Bigelow handwash or your morcilla for Sunday breakfast. I think Harold Dieterle’s Kin Shop will change that.

I was excited to eat at the Top Chef’s second restaurant in the city because of my experience at his first, Perilla. I had a very good meal there because of the straightforward cooking and I wanted to see what he could do with one of my favorite cuisines, a type that New York city overflows with but doesn’t excel at. (I’m sorry, but techno music and fake modern furniture do not make a good Thai restaurant–I’m looking at you Sea and all of you at Hell’s Kitchen.)

Jennifer and I followed our server’s suggestion that we share a few dishes family-style. We usually share plates anyway but I like that this was how it should be at Kin. We started with the pork and oyster salad, a beautiful mix of textures. The pork was crispy while the fried oyster gave softly inside the breading. The celery was crisp and added a fresh contrast. I’ve never been to Thailand, sadly, but to me this dish represents the flavor profile I truly love about southeast Asian food: mint, lime and chiles.

The soup with pork meatballs and bok choy was hard to resist. The broth had legs but was subtle, and the meatballs well-seasoned and bursted with flavor–just what I needed to warm up even more after the ALN cocktail with Thai pickle brine.

We were warned that the duck laab salad was really spicy, but we still ordered it. I believe there were preserved Chinese long beans in there, one of my favorite Sichuan pickles to make at home. Toasted rice added to the crunch while the Romaine lettuce mimicked Korean and Vietnamese dishes. They’re not kidding when they tell you some of their dishes are hot. The Thai chiles kicked in right on the tip of our tongues which made us take advantage of the buttery roti and fragrant Jasmine rice. It woke our senses up and also filled us up that we didn’t have room to try the crab noodles that came next. The next night though, I peeled the plastic cover back and ate it for dinner with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice to keep the saltiness at bay that seemed to have settled overnight. This reminded me of the Filipino pancit, only with hardly any vegetables and more seafood flavor.

The service was unobtrusive though we had to wait for a while to get our check. Our server acknowledged that she forgot to offer us the desserts, but we didn’t mind: we wheeled ourselves out of the restaurant.

Xiao Ye

198 Orchard Street between Stanton and Houston Streets
no phone number yet
$50 for one, with one beer, with tip
wheelchair may enter; may be hard to get to the restroom
early review: ♥

I’ve never been to Taiwan, but it has always been on my list of places to go and do nothing but eat. When reports started coming in about Xiao Ye and its “Taiwanese night market” food, I knew I had to go. I have several friends who hail from Taiwan and my mouth waters whenever they talk about the food they eat back home. I love Southeast Asian food and I enjoy sweating over that flavor profile with a cold, cold bottle of beer. I walked in once last week with a friend only to be told that they were having a private event. We laughed and let ourselves out and promised to return when they officially open. The temperature hit 90-plus again this week and so I made a trip to the Lower East Side for one of their soft openings.

I really wanted to like it. When I visited, half of the published menu on BaoHaus owner Eddie Huang’s blog was not ready and none came with any descriptions except for the obvious homage to the Wu-Tang Clan. With names like Poontang Potstickers, She Bang Fish and Buddha Sex Cabbage, I had to get the bartender’s help to find out what each dish was all about. (Can you guess what Golden Taste Balls are?)

I was told by a friend of a friend that I should skip the cocktails, so I opted for Magic Hat’s Wacko summer ale as soon as I found myself at the bar. They got the Asian weather down all right; it was steamy and it was hot and all I wanted was to eat comfort food that reminded me of home. But there’s a reason why they call such nights “soft openings”, and in my case, Xiao Ye was having a very, very soft night.

I dove in the Extreme Taste Salt-Cured Pork, generous slivers of pork belly that didn’t warrant the name nor need anything else. The meat was naturally sweet and the fat was equally addicting, but they were impossible to eat with chopsticks. I requested for a knife and a fork just so I can cut through some of the chewy skin. It would have been unacceptable to most people, but unlike most people, I actually enjoy gummy pork skin. I would have preferred it crisp and crunchy, but I knew I didn’t order chicharron.

The Taiwan Most Famous Pork on Rice by name alone had so much promise. This is a Taiwanese joint, yeah? Wrapped in mustard leaves, my rice was hard and crackly as if it had been sitting out for quite some time. There may have been a trace of pork somewhere, but most of what I tasted was the pieces of scrambled egg that was mixed in. My ghetto Chinese take-out place in Harlem would have done a much better job. I tried to put up with it, but you just can’t fuck up rice like that, so I finally told the bartender that I needed a new serving.

In between bites of the Concubine Cucumber–cucumber chunks pickled in vinegar, salt, sugar and garlic–I finished the pork belly while I waited for my rice replacement. Luckily, the second time around was warm and just right, so I felt compelled to eat it with the Trade My Daughter for Fried Chicken after I got over its name. The breaded chicken fillets tasted of cilantro, crushed peanuts and chili powder but were also heavily salted. I understood the flavor they were going for and I would have liked them if the cook was a little bit less heavy-handed with his seasonings. I would have taken my leftovers home, but I thought they were beyond repair–even the single girl eating next to me agreed when I offered a taste of my food. And I love salt! she said, but that is burning my lips!

Past the silly dish names and the Fantastik spray bottle next to the drinking glasses at the bar, Xiao Ye could be something. It’s that kind of a place bloggers and wannabe-foodies tend to love because the price and location are right, but the taste and service need to be accounted for in the next several weeks if they want to be taken seriously.

Fatty ‘Cue

91 South 6th Street off Berry in Williamsburg, Brooklyn
718/599.3090
$55 each for a group of 10, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥

I donâ€™t think the ten of us overdid it at Fatty ‘Cue at all.

To celebrate the Dr. finishing residency, I organized several friends to get together and eat at Fatty ‘Cue in Brooklyn. Not a lot of people at our table were big fans of Zak Pelaccio’s first endeavor, Fatty Crab, but they were willing to try Fatty ‘Cue solely because of the promises the name â€œcueâ€ can offer. We spent about two hours eating and passing plates around to share family-style, and I can assure you, we all left pretty happy in food coma state.

The dishes were served as soon as they came out of the kitchen. We started with the pork loin, thinly sliced pieces of the best part of my favorite animal. They were soft and surprisingly light and were perfect with the green peppercorn aioli.

The coriander bacon was to die for. They had those perfectly burnt ends that were crispy. The crispiness prepared you for the fatty goodness that was underneath. If I only had to eat these, I’d be completely satisfied. The yellow curry custard, in my opinion, was almost unnecessary, but I ended up asking the waiter if I can keep the rest of it to dip the vegetables that were served later.

One of my favorites was the grilled mackerel. Iâ€™m already a big fan of the oily fish, but the way Fatty ‘Cue grilled it in banana leaves gave it so much more flavor. The chili-lime-garlic sauce was that Southeast Asian flavor that I was craving. I wanted to be in some tropical island, in a hut, ceiling fan quietly oscillating overhead, and patiently picking the fish bones.

Both the cucumber and celery salads were just the right side dishes for such a fatty spread. Cucumber chunks were tossed in brown rice vinegar, while the slivers of celery were dressed in yuzu and preserved cabbage.

Iâ€™m also going to have to get into my Malaysian recipes, as the Fatty ‘Cue version of nasi ulam was delightfully a high-blood pressure inducer. It was a little too salty for me, but I still couldn’t stop eating it. The anchovies and dried shrimp reminded me of my dad’s recipes from his hometown in Ilocos Sur in the Philippines.

Fatty ‘Cue offers the “whole pig” as a special only on Sundays, an $18 dish that’s a plate of different pieces of a pig, as opposed to a whole lechon. It was actually my least favorite out of everything we ate because it was on the dry side even though the pineapple curry added to the sweetness of the meat. The plate came with accoutrements perfect as beer food: chopped Chinese long beans, pickled red onions, lightly grilled garlic cloves and, oy, chili jam. I stuffed several pieces of everything in the steamed bun and went to town. The buns reminded me of what made Momofuku famous; you can basically stuff anything in those buns and people are not going to complain.

The lamb ribs didn’t come until we were all ready to take a nap, but when they did, no one hesitated to pick a rib and gnaw it down to its bone. The meat wasn’t gamey and fell off the bone with just the lightest bite.

All in all, Fatty ‘Cue is perfect for groups because you can order several things from the menu and share the dishes. Our bill included gratuity, which is to be expected when dining with a group of more than six people, but our waiter was attentive even though he didn’t really have to work for his tip. Food came in quickly and our glasses were refilled just as fast. With a few local brews while we waited for a table, standing by the bar was as difficult as it got at Fatty ‘Cue.

Talay Restaurant

701 West 135th Street and Twelfth Avenue
212/491.8303
$104 for two, with 3 drinks, without tip
♥ ♥

If anyone in the restaurant industry deserves a break, it’s King Phojanakong, owner and chef of Kuma Inn in the lower east side. I don’t know if it’s the Filipino-Thai upbringing that keeps him humble but I’m sure he’s worked hard enough to keep Kuma Inn as unpretentious as possible. I believe that it’s his time to shine with Talay, his new Asian-Latin restaurant in West Harlem with co-chef Phet Schwader.

They couldn’t have picked a better neighborhood, too. Harlem is going through some major changes and Talay joins the new Body Club next door and old favorites Dinosaur Bar-B-Que and Fairway Supermarket. Ignore the irritating name the real estate agents are trying to christen the area–ViVa for Viaduct Valley–and check out this micro-neighborhood as it transforms warehouses to nightclubs.

We visited during a more sane Sunday night and sat at the bar in front of the kitchen to watch all the action. The green papaya beef salad was delicious and only made me salivate for more food. We loved the pork sausage spring rolls as well. We also ordered the octopus salad, a dish that I think caters to the few uptowners who want to be more adventurous. Talay does it pretty well. The summer roll had more vermicelli noodles than vegetables, but they cleansed the palate just in time for our blackened ahi tuna dish. With all the flavorful tastes in our mouths, the ahi tuna came out bland in comparison–we should have skipped it or at least ordered it first. There are some Latin-influenced dishes so as not to alienate the targeted crowd–arroz Valencia, ropa vieja, bistek churrasco–but the Asian dishes stick out and are among the tastiest.

After dinner, I asked the maitre ‘d to walk me upstairs to check out the party space. Talay is making up for what Kuma Inn lacked in space. There is bottle service and curtains can be drawn to keep a room more private–just the way the uptown and New Jersey crowd coming from across the bridge like it. While I don’t think the downtown crowd will make the trek past 42nd Street, Talay is a good reason for the uptown crowd to stay uptown.

Bun

143 Grand Street off Lafayette
212/431.7999
about $45 for two, with tip
♥

Update, 2008: Michael Bao has left Bun

I can only imagine how hard it is to work as a waiter/waitress in a city teeming with restaurants, but for everybody’s sanity, find another job if you can’t even put up with a simple request from one of your customers. I eat out a lot and I’d like to think that I know what I want when I’m ready to eat. There are things I expect when I pay for my food and one of them is some kind of service from the restaurant’s staff. Now, I’m not talking about waiting on me hand and foot; I just want the menu as soon as I sit down, the food I’ve ordered after a reasonable wait, and my bill, preferably with the correct total, after you’ve cleared the last plate from my table. I could even understand if you don’t know an ingredient off the menu (the cute waiter at E.U. during its opening week who told us periwinkles are cured meat) or if you’ve forgotten today’s specials (the waitress who touted the lamb shoulder as chops), as long as you don’t act like an asshole afterwards and try to make me the bad person because of your mistake.

We went to Bun, Michael Bao’s new restaurant on Grand Street, to show our support for a new Asian restaurant opening in the midst of multi-million glass condo buildings coming up in SoHo. It wasn’t a particularly busy lunch hour and we were able to score the table near the door as soon as we walked in. My friend and I were the only Asian-looking customers inside. We couldn’t but help notice the lacquered red stools at the bar and the canvas Asian prints on the wall. The prices on the menu are obviously set to pay for the restaurant’s decor: $6 for a summer roll, $9 for a bowl of pho, $12 for a hot pot.

To start, my friend ordered one salmon roll served with anchovy sauce. The sauce reminded me of the Filipino bagoong from the north. The roll is simply a Vietnamese summer roll, only with salmon was used instead of shrimps. Berkshire pork is touted several times on the menu, so I opted for the vermicelli noodles, the restaurant’s namesake, with a few slices of them tossed with shrimps. We both ordered the pho for our main course, even though we knew our lunch tab was already running up to $40 without drinks.

The chicken pho was bland and we were surprised that it was peppered with pieces of chicken skin, complete with the small goose bumps. It’s just like eating at home, said my Chinese friend, but we wondered how the non-Asians in the restaurant felt upon seeing them in their soup. They do not taste bad, of course, but I know people who would be put off with boiled chicken skin in their dish, if not for the looks of it, the jiggly fat underneath. My bun was the day’s saving grace. I can’t make sure that the pork was indeed Berkshire pork since it’s not as distinctively sweet as a Niman Ranch pork, but the sweet and sour sauce had just the right Vietnamese flavor. At Xe Lua in Chinatown, I always order the beef bun when I’m not craving their pho.

It was only after the bun came that I realized I’ve ordered too much food. I got our waiter’s attention to ask him to cancel my beef pho. The order was already put in, but I’ve made a mistake, and I know it wouldn’t be too hard to accommodate my request. Instead of going back to the kitchen, our waiter tried to convince me that I should take the pho to go. He only stopped insisting when I told him that I’m not going to eat reheated pho back in the office.

When our bill came, the $9 for my canceled pho was still there. I tried to get our waiter’s attention again, but he kept looking away whenever he saw me looking. Fed up of waiting, I walked up to the bar, assumed the only guy behind it without chef’s white was the manager, and asked him to please take off the $9 off my bill because I’ve canceled that order earlier. When I returned to our table with the correct bill and we were getting ready to leave a tip, our waiter finally made an appearance and told us, I don’t have control over the computer to change your order or the bill. I nicely reminded him that I, too, don’t have that access and that was why I expected him to do his job.

We still left a 20% tip because we didn’t want the other waiters at Bun to think their own efforts are not appreciated. But I hope the restaurant owners realize that only one ugly feather can make an entire plume look bad.