Awe-Ssam-ness at Momofuku SSam Bar – NYC

I just had Ssam

And it felt so good

Chang put a prix fixe meal inside me…

I just had Ssam

And I’ll never go back

To the not-havin’-ssam way of the past

A parody of a parody. This is my finest satirical moment. Though it’s not really satire if you secretly love the song…I’m not saying that it’s on my ipod, my computer, AND my phone, but I’m not saying it isn’t…

I’m back in NYC for the first time in a year, and naturally I’m realizing a NYC-life-long dream of conquering David Chang’s empire one restaurant at a time. Ssam was the perfect restaurant for my NYC revival – it was my sorely-needed reminder of why I so desperately miss my empire state of mind. And believe me, I still wanna be a part of it in old New York.

As per Momofuku tradition, we started with the Pork Buns, the Empire State Building of the Momofukus. As the signature landmark of a much bigger masterpiece, they met their usual Empire height of awesome perfection except the pork buns really are the tallest buns in the world – no way they’ll ever steadily drop to 19^th like the building.

We took a chance with the Spicy Honeycomb Tripe, which was as prudent a decision as venturing out to Times Square on New Year’s Eve. The festive coleslaw-like party of perfect tripe, paper-thin celery, and pickled tomatoes was a bit overrated and was clearly a much better idea in theory than in practice. The ball sure looks pretty when it drops on NYE, but the crowd of wasted tourists makes it hard to see. The tripe sure looked pretty in that mélange of green and red, but the acrid surfeit of ginger-scallion made it was hard to taste.

The Veal Sweetbreads were a much-needed reprieve from sharp ginger-scallion and tasted like a pastry from my favorite shop. Creamy as a Pasticceria Rocco cannoli; it’s simple goodness, with no over-priced complications of that tourist-trap Magnolia. The creamy almond sauce was sweet as candy, the crisp breading gives it a satisfying crunch, and the not-at-all-sour sauerkraut and kick of chili keep it light. That creamy mascarpone from Rocco’s is also as sweet as candy, the crunchy pastry shell gives it a satisfying crunch, and the fluffy texture keeps it light. When you’re done with the sweetbreads, make sure to find its equivalent in dessert. Everyone should experience pure ecstasy at least once in life.

Next was the monumental Duck Sandwich - an imposingly large roll with crispy crust filled with good stuff and buried treasure. The parts of the sandwich are easy to savor, but you need to persist for a bit if you really want to dig out all the flavors. Like the Strand, a mecca of used books, you begin by appreciating the sheer size (sorry guys, it matters…) – the sandwich is clearly more than enough for one and perfect for two to share (that’s what she said), and the Strand is just massive. You walk in the door and you taste the slice of duck, and you notice all the nondescript shelves of popular reads and uniformly chopped iceberg lettuce. If you stick around long enough to go to the basement of the Strand, you wander the endless archival shelves and start to unearth the sweetness of the peppadews. Everything is held together by the overall theme of rich literature, and crystal mayo gives the ingredients of the sandwich an unparalleled harmony. But sometimes the Strand and this sandwich get to be too much, so share with a friend and know that you’re no less of a New Yorker if you don’t go back.

The endnote of Pear Sorbet was the very foot of the Statue of Liberty back when Ellis Island was actually used to immigrants. An initial cacophony of mixes, the ingredients of this dish are as distinct as each country represented by the huddled masses that once flocked to NYC, but they eventually collaborated into what is now America’s melting pot. As initially jarring as America to an immigrant, the pear sorbet is one of few desserts that isn’t sweet. But take a few bites and you’ll see that the pumpkin and the sorbet are a rich combination, and the blue cheese adds a whole new layer and texture. It would have been better with less blue cheese as too much of this pungent accompaniment sometimes drowned out the other subtle creams and overwhelmed the palate, but props to Ssam for having the nerve to serve something so foreign to the mainstream desert culture of sugar by the pound.

The Grapefruit Pie was a hidden treasure, much like those I uncovered during my thrifting days. I was skeptical when I heard I would be eating something consisting entirely of grapefruit, but I was as wrong about the pie as I was about thrift shops. The pie was so fresh I felt I was biting into a ripe creamy grapefruit straight off the vine. The candied grapefruit was impossibly cool and refreshing, and this pie disappeared faster than vintage Chanel. Like the thrift stores, with that first bite, when I first opened the door of that first shop, I knew I’d struck gold.

I give Ssam a tentative 4 stars. The food was amazing with a few deductions, and I’ll need an entourage to tackle the gorgeous platters of Bo Ssam and Duck Ssam. I’ll also need to try a few more of the meat dishes and gander at some duck before I can make an entirely fair judgment. But fear not, it won’t be long before I’m back, and I’m guessing it won’t be long before Ssam earns another star.

A Gourmand at Gourmet Dumpling House - Boston

This is the point where I finally give in and review my favorite restaurant in Chinatown. I refuse to rate it because my rating is hardly fair. I am the granddaughter of the world’s greatest chef and no one and no thing comes close to my grandma’s cooking. Aside from my mother, GDH is probably the closest anyone’s ever come. So consider this a rapid-fire tour through a menu that even Chinese people will line up for.

For starters, the Oyster Pancake with Gravy is an interesting starter. The oysters are juicy, but the pancake itself may be too much starch for some. Not for me. The Scallion Pancake is perfectly fried with an amazing batter, probably the only batter that gives my grandma a run for her money. The Crispy Fried Tofu is unbelievable crispity crunchity goodness, a great neutral option for a table of cow-savers.

As a random side-note for the depressed and the appetite-suppressed, i.e. me on pediatrics: the Lamb Soup is a pretty good starter. I like it better with chunks of lamb, but if I can’t have my grandma’s soup, I can reasonably settle for this one.

The Mini Juicy Dumplings with Pork and Crabmeat are easily the best thing here. In case you’re surprised, the name of the restaurant indicates that it IS a dumpling house…The pork ones are good too, but believe me you don’t want just pork when you can have crab too. Just know that they take longer to come out because they need to be made to order and don’t survive take-home boxes so steer clear if you’re in a hurry or not hungry enough. The Vegetarian Dumplings, steamed or pan-fried, are a good alternative for those who don’t eat meat or just don’t eat pork. The chive and rice noodle filling is tasty, though it’d be better if they added egg. Then again, if you don’t eat egg, this is the dish for you.

If you’re someone who often starves because you don’t eat anything, the Sesame Chicken is for you. And by “one who starves” I mean won’t-eat-anything-that-isn’t-chicken, anaphylactically-allergic-to-everything-on-the-menu, or won’t-try-anything-that-isn’t-a-hamburger. Despite the condescending tone, this is a legitimately serious suggestion. The sesame chicken, and the orange chicken, so I’ve heard, are far better than anything you’ll get a grease-on-the-walls fast food place.

For vegetarians, the Home Style Bean Curd give you chunks of fried tofu with various vegetables in a starch-thickened brown sauce. The Sauteed Chinese Mushrooms Over Greens are a light accompaniment to any heavy fried-breaded-chicken meal. The mushrooms are large juicy caps – none of that canned crap, and the bok choy is steamed just enough so it’s not slimy. The Ma Po Tofu is one to avoid. It tastes great, but as a purist, it’s supposed to be made with ground pork, and it’s just not the same without.

For those who love the authentic regional dishes, the Pork Bellies with Preserved Vegetables are an unusual but worthwhile adventure though you really should share this dish – the veggies are too salty and the pork too fatty for one. Avoid the classic comfort of the House Pork Chops Over Rice. It’s crudely made and crudely flavored – save your pork chop craving for Taiwan Café down the street.  The Sauteed Pork Julienne with Bamboo Tips seems over-simplified, but it’s really quite good. The pork is tender and so are the baby bamboo shoots. Ideal for appreciators of simplicity…and carnivorous pandas.

The Hot Pots and Clay Pots are good options if you’re sharing with a large group, especially with family. Get one if you’re indecisive or just want something that looks cool and simmers while it’s sitting next to you.

My usual Sliced Fish Szechuan Style is a pot of slow death. Steaming and glowing red-hot with the wrath of a thousand chilis, the flaky fish softens the blow of the fire that will crack and dance on your tongue. Just when you think it’s not so bad, you take a cold sip of water, and find that your tongue is numb. And thus, the classic cycle of Szechuan spice is complete.

The thing I love most about GDH is that they’re accommodating. I know the service sucks, but it’s not an authentic Chinese place if you don’t spend half your meal chasing after a glass of ice water, and it’s not Chinese service if you don’t wave down various waiters at least 5 times per meal. Then again, the staff is still friendly, and if you want a dish made with a different meat or a different sauce, they’ll do it and they’ll do it well. With that kind of accommodation, who can really complain about having to ask for a glass of water more than once? There’s always tea on the table so you’re hardly dying of thirst.

At the end of the day, GDH has everything an occasionally homesick Chinese-American girl could want: generous portions at great prices with the so stuffed you need to be rolled out the door feeling that only Chinatown can provide. And this Chinese-American girl picks GDH over all others. The line will be long, but believe me, I’d wait for days.

Still Voracious at Vlora UPDATE – Boston

For the first time, I understand Vlora’s location across the street from Trinity Church. The inspiration for this Mediterranean mecca is nothing short of divine. My second of what will soon be many pilgrimages to Vlora was all I’d hoped for and more…

Every church holds a holy figure, and Vlora houses Aldo, the executive chef. Aldo's food is as amazing as his personality - he's as sweet as the Kompekai. I told him that my friend had a complaint about the beef kebab from his previous visit, and he sat down with genuine concern to ask for specifics. Let’s just say that our concerns were proven unfounded, thanks to our heavenly meal.

If your sweet tooth is as potent as mine, do as I did, and start with the Upside-Down Pineapple Cake Martini - your excuse to have dessert before dinner. It goes down as smoothly as its namesake cake. The bartender mixed another crazy concoction for my friend, and though I don’t remember its name, I’ll never forget how good it tasted. I’d come back just for the drinks.

We had a delightful display of appetizers, including the Watermelon with Feta. Impossibly light, ravishingly refreshing, and a shockingly scrumptious combination with a splatter of balsamic. Forget ice cream, this is the ultimate hot, dry Mediterranean summer treat.

The garlic yogurt was particularly noteworthy. The love-child of tzatziki and alioli, I initially neglected it because I expected glorified sour cream. One dip shut my mouth pretty fast…The kick of garlic made it so exceptional that I refused to let them take it away when I finished my appetizer plate. And as an anti-sauce person, I’m embarrassed to confess, we dipped everything into it, especially the sweetly roasted but still firm Pan Roasted Zucchini. These two were made for each other…like Sonny and Cher…pre-divorce…I think we also had the Yogurt Pie. Crispy “crust” with a creamy but not-too-much filling. And I dipped it in the garlic yogurt too because clearly, it lacked yogurt.

My dining companion had previously described the Beef Kebab as “like it had been frozen - mushy, not succulent, and drenched in barbecue sauce”. He gave it another try, and Aldo made him eat his words…literally. I confirmed that multiple times throughout this meal. And I needed all 5 bites to make sure... that’s what I told him anyway…

The Psaropita was ridiculous. No other way to describe haddock snuggled into flaky phyllo. Couldn’t taste the mint in the sauce, but the tomato was light and enhanced the undeniably fresh fish. The feta was the glue that held the couscous together, and it added an unprecedented richness to a usually light accompaniment.

The Kompekai remains the best dessert at Vlora IMHO, so order this…or else...This time, we were treated to the Crème Brulee, which was standard, but we all know my standards…And believe me, this creamy goodness topped with a lightly charred layer of crisp sugar bore my standards as well as any Roman legion. I’m going back to the Kompekai next time, but if you have a nut allergy, keep the crème in mind.

Unlike 224 Boston Street, Vlora held its ground. On my stringent rating scale, Vlora keeps all 5 stars, and believe me, I’ll be back to confirm that a few more times.

With my dwindling med student budget, it’s rare that I return to a restaurant that isn’t Toro, but Vlora solidly holds its own. Aldo is a master chef who doles out delicacies, and the bar brews drinks that taste like candy and go down as smoothly as the ice that they were mixed in. Last time I visited Vlora, I came away with the conclusion that it’s the perfect reprieve from a hot summer day. That opinion no longer stands. I now believe that Vlora is the place to be every day, of every year.   

Tolerably Tantric – Boston

I was craving Tandoori Chicken. Really, truly, drooling-at-the-thought, had-to-restrain-myself-from-sprinting-to-the-nearest-Indian-restaurant CRAVING. Like if-you-smelled-like-Tandoor-or-chicken-I-would-have-taken-a-bite-out-of-you craving. And the chicken I had really hit the spot. I felt like the flavor could have been baked in more, but it’s hard to do that without drying the chicken out. Besides, it was exactly what I wanted.

As a teaser, we started with the Bhel Poori. It was good, it was fine, etc. They actually mixed it together before serving it so that each crunchy little rice puff was evenly coated with sweet-sour-slightly-spicy goodness, a welcome change from Bukhara’s arduous task of mixing it yourself. Perfect starter, but believe me, I was dying to get to my chicken.

The Punjabi Masala Chole was a surprisingly good entrée - the chickpeas had soaked up the flavor of the sauce, which is pretty hard to do. The gravy was thick but not over-starched. Unfortunately, it was a bit bland, IMO, not that I cared – I was too distracted by my chicken…

The Ras Malai was thick and cream-soaked, a rich but cooly refreshing repartee to the heavy Tandoori chicken and dense Chole. If I were to come back for anything it’d be this.

Sadly, ladies, this place got me neither as hot nor as bothered as the name (and parts of this review) dare to suggest.  My disclaimer is that although this review is written in a much more positive tone than that of Mantra, what I said about arbitrarily flipping a coin when choosing between Tantric and Mantra still stands. I would have been equally satisfied by Mantra’s Tandoori chicken had I been craving it at the time. So next time you’re downtown and your Indian craving hits, either pick one up at Gypsy or make like Two-Face and flip that coin!

Southern Sweetness at Sweet Cheeks – Boston

Dear Fellow Foodie-Southern-Girl-By-Origin-Gone-to-Boston Transplant,

I don’t know who you are, but I know you’re out there. And I know you’re just like me. You went to college and figured out that there was nothing left for you in your small hometown that they claimed was a city, and you fearlessly took your diploma and the first flight north. You struggled through the city but found your way, but you tried to shed your southern roots on that long road to becoming a true-blue city girl. You artfully avoided the “Where are you from?” questions by answering “Fenway” or “South End” or “BU”, and you followed that with a snarky comment about your neighborhood or job or life so that people were too distracted to ask again. But once in a while when you’re drinking iced tea or that sugar-added afterthought they dare to call sweet, you start to crave the smoky fall-off-the-bones barbecue you spilled on your favorite faded denim miniskirt with your legs dangling off the back of your boyfriend’s truck.  

My southern girl, I know you get as homesick as I do sometimes, and I know that every time you go home you take daily trips to Bojangles and start to bleed their sweet tea after a few short days. I’m sure you may have despaired of finding a taste of home, but there is hope for you yet. Sweet Cheeks in Fenway is a high-end version of the real thing, but it’ll be just enough to curb your craving.

I know there’s no buzz like you get from the moonshine in Uncle Jethro’s bathtub, but the apple cider moonshine from the Rocky Top will make you just talkative enough to be charming...at least that’s what I kept telling myself…And if it’s the back-porch lemonade you’re craving, the Dollywood will make you as friendly as a southerner while quenching your thirst.

If you told me the food was made in a bathtub like real moonshine, I wouldn’t believe it. The food is clearly higher-end than your down-home southern, as exemplified by the Hush Puppies. These well-fried balls of cornmeal are irreproachable, and the honey butter was pretty…baller (groan!), but the finely ground cornmeal somehow detracts from the backyard connotation of coarse grains of ground corn.

The Fried Okra was clearly and easily my fave part of the entire night, brilliant use of half-slices of okra to prevent battered okra syndrome. This puts the chef’s brilliance on par with Eli Whitney, and we both know just how much we worship the god of the cotton gin.

The meat is clearly higher grade than what grandpa’s shotgun brought down, but the smoky essence of Texas-style barbecue unmistakably permeates the fatty Pork Belly, and I strongly suggest dipping everything in the hot bbq sauce – the regular isn’t nearly as good. The Brisket is a little dry on the outside but the flavor went all the way through – just tell grandma to take it off the grill sooner at the next pig pickin’. The Pork Ribs were fall-off-bone-pink, and your grandma needs to write Soulfire that this is how it should be.

Sides are often a lost art, but the ones at Sweet Cheeks haven’t suffered any neglect. The broccoli and cheese casserole tastes like a creamier, mashed-up version of quiche. I wouldn’t call it a southern girl must-have, but no one in their right mind would object. The collard greens can’t compare to Soulfire, but the mac and cheese is good stuff.

My pet peeve is that you can’t substitute a biscuit for the white bread on the trays, and I’m mad enough to shoot a gator over not getting to try the biscuits that night. A southern dinner without biscuits is like fried chicken without the breading, but we just didn’t want to order yet another side. Our loss.

My sweet southern girl, if you need to wait 40 minutes for a table at 7 on a Wednesday night, either the place is good or it’s new. Sweet Cheeks is both. And probably as pinchable as yours according to your grandma.

From one secret southern girl to another, own your southern roots sparingly, but let them show at Sweet Cheeks. Sweet Cheeks will make you momentarily unashamed to admit that your middle name is Mae or Sue, that you really do know the proper way to say y’all, and that your favorite pastime was daddy’s tractor-driving lessons. Meet me there so we can dip the fried okra in some moonshine and gear up for a long night of stargazing…and cow tipping.

xoxo,

Foodie Houser, MD