Food

by

Hawaii: the Food

For my family (as is the case with most, I imagine),  a carefully planned and prepared meal equals love. The first night of our stay, my Auntie Melinda steamed a large uhu (aka parrot fish, and you can see why) that she got for $39 at Tamashiro Market on an outdoor gas wok as part of our huge dinner spread. After steaming, the fish was topped with oil, green onions and cilantro. My sister and her family came over and also her husband’s parents, who were in town for their annual visit.

Haupia Pie

Haupia Pie. Yum.

In addition to the usual sides of salad, rice and veggies, there was Korean meat jun (the only dish bought vs. made), thin strips of beef coated with egg and flour, fried and served with dipping sauce. AND miso butterfish (black cod), a white, flaky fish marinated with miso, mirin, sake and sugar and then baked or broiled. AND rainbow jello and a haupia “pie,” a layered dessert starting with a macadamia nut crust, then Japanese sweet potato (purple), then haupia (a coconut milk and sugar concoction with a custard-like texture).

Halo Halo + Coffee Mug

Halo-Halo + Coffee = Breakfast of Champions

Waiting for me in the fridge the next morning was a Filipino specialty, halo-halo (“hodge-podge” in Tagalog). There are so many different versions of this dessert. Basically, it’s a concoction of condensed milk plus a bunch of wacky ingredients (kidney beans, rice, gelatin, yams). Auntie’s not-too-sweet version is filled with tons of grated cantaloupe, papaya, avocado and coconut. There are also tapioca beads, palm fruit and some strange pink Japanese gelatin that I always pick out. I put an ice cube on the bottom (if I’m lucky, as I was this time, Mom will have frozen fresh coconut water cubes), dump a bunch of halo-halo on top and eat it with my coffee. Super YUM.

Ramen noodles

The perfect bite.

I love, love, love noodles. Italian pasta and Japanese ramen are at the top of my list. I can make Italian food all day long, but don’t know how to make ramen broth. Whenever I go to Hawaii, I always ask my sister to come with me to Goma Tei, a small noodle shop in Ward Center. We usually sit at the counter and I always get the same thing – Tan Tan Ramen, a basic spicy broth with char siu (Chinese-style bbq pork), green onions and greens (broccoli rabe or spinach or some Asian green that is very similar). SO good. Salty, with a hint of sesame and just enough heat.

Menu at Goma Tei

Menu at Goma Tei

That meal may very well have been my last taste of homemade ramen for 2014. (And dare I say 2015? No way. Surely not). And who knows? Maybe there is a hidden noodle shop in some Detroit alley that makes the best ramen noodles East of the Mississippi. Maybe. But… probably not.

If you ever find yourself in Hawaii, I urge you to try some of the local flavors. They might be weird, they might taste icky, they might taste awesome, but they will most assuredly be made with love.

by

Blog Snack

snack

I had planned to get another Hawaii post done today. But the craziness that is moving has kicked in this week. Calling health insurance brokers, filling out paperwork, posting stuff on Craigslist (and filtering emails from crazy people – ahhhh!), sorting through the dumbest piles of things (old magazines that I MUST have kept all this time for a reason. So having to look through every page before throwing away).  AND on top of that there’s Valentine’s Day and our little girl is turning five next week.

So. Instead of Hawaii, I give you one of my favorite blogging snacks: Trader Joe’s Caramel w/ Black Sea Salt chocolate bar with a few pinches of Roasted Coconut Chips. Paired with a full-bodied red wine (my fave: Cabernet Sauvignon), it’s pretty perfect combo. Having some right now (except with Cotes du Rhone instead of Cab).

Come to think of it, I often (always?) snack when I blog.  What’s your favorite blogging snack?

by

Gung Hay Fat Choy: It’s Gonna Be a Biggie

Chinese Building on Waverly Place

Building on Waverly Place, Chinatown.

Chinese New Year is a big deal in San Francisco. Public schools are closed, Chinese food is gobbled, firecrackers are popped and at the end of the two-week celebration, a huge parade (the largest outside of Asia) featuring lion dancers, a 200-foot long Golden Dragon, stilt walkers, marching bands and acrobats floats through town.

I’d planned on kicking off the lunar year with an invigorating run. That plan got squashed when I woke up with chills and congestion. Thankfully, I’d scheduled our sitter to come for a few hours, so I took myself to lunch at Woodhouse Fish Co. on Fillmore Street. I ordered the deep-fried fish tacos and a hot water with lemon.

Woodhouse Fish Co. restaurant

As I waited, I witnessed at the table to my left, an exchange between potential business associates, meeting in person for the first time. “It’s so nice to put a face with the voice,” and similar niceties. The woman, a second generation San Franciscan (a rarity, as she pointed out) was upbeat and bubbly. The gentleman, who had never been here before, got a short rundown of some of the city’s history (the African American community on Fillmore Street during segregation, the influx of Japanese and Japantown, the Italians in North Beach, Chinatown). The conversation quickly turned to all the different foods we have at our fingertips, thanks to the mix of cultures. “I love my city,” she said. “I’m always discovering new places.”

fraiche.inside

After lunch, I popped in next door to Fraiche, my favorite frozen yogurt shop. Organic, of course. I always get the same thing: a regular natural (plain, nonfat yogurt) with olallieberry puree and mochi, a Japanese sticky, starchy dessert made from rice flour. (I overheard them saying to a customer once that it was a secret recipe, but I know how to make it. I’ll share sometime). But today I opted for a Blue Bottle cappuchino.

fraiche.window

I tried to concentrate on my library book (The Tiger’s Wife), but it was a beautiful day and I kept staring out the window, watching traffic and passersby. I thought about the woman at lunch and how proud she was of her city and how I share her fervor. Is the move going to be a huge letdown? Am I really going to venture out and discover all the cool places in Detroit? Or am I going to sulk in my kitchen (aka my office) and long for home?

I’m keeping an open mind. My friend Christine says not to think of it as being better or worse, just different. I can live with different.  No matter what, the Year of the Horse is going to be a biggie for us. And so it begins…Gung Hay Fat Choy!

by

It’s Electric! (aka: GAH!)

electric stove

The stove.

Oh my gosh. I just found out that the stove in our rental apartment (where we’ll stay when we first move to Grosse Pointe) has an electric stove. I’m kind of freaking out. I don’t know what it is, but I have a huge aversion to the electric stove. I see one and I make a funny noise and start backing away with my hands covering my face.

I need to preface this rant by saying that I am first of all grateful beyond words to friends who are renting us the apartment dirt cheap, not to mention having to fix the place up for us and move a houseful of furniture elsewhere, just so we can move in all of OUR crap.

But back to the stove. Cooking is one of the things that makes me happy. And I am going to need to go to my happy place a lot in this apartment, I just know.

Does anyone out there have any tips on how to cook electric?!

How not to burn popcorn, for example? Really, how not to burn anything. Or how to bring a delicate sauce to a slow simmer?  Or how to remember not to put my hand on a hot burner that wouldn’t still be hot if it were a gas stove!

by

Eliza’s Pot Stickers

Pot Stickers and MenuIf you’ve never had pot stickers from Eliza’s, I’m feeling very sorry for you right now. I grabbed some of these in the middle of a frantic errand-running morning and devoured them in the car. And maybe I brought a container of rice vinegar from home so I could add the sauce packets to it because I am that obsessed about how a dipping sauce should taste like. They are perfectly flavored with ginger, pork, scallions, garlic (could it be that simple or are there secret ingredients?) and are juicy on the inside without being soggy on the outside.

My love of pot stickers started when I was a kid. Growing up in Hawaii, I had access to a variety of dumplings: Korean mondu, Japanese gyoza, Chinese won ton, pot stickers. I loved them all. I’m one of those people who gets food cravings, and pot stickers is at the top of the list (along with steak, which is totally random). When I was pregnant with Lucy, all I wanted were pot stickers and hot and sour soup from Eliza’s. If dumplings are on the menu, they will be in my belly.

Restaurant 18th Street

Eliza’s old location next to Chez Maman. Photo credit: airbnb.com

I’ve been going to Eliza’s since the late 90s, back in my SF Weekly days, as I now call them (as many of us do). They used to have a location on 18th Street on Potrero Hill, sharing a wall with Chez Maman.  Whether there were just two or a whole crew, we always ordered the pot stickers, aka “pillows of love.” While we were waiting for our orders, we would all mix our own dipping sauces using our preferred combination of the three condiments on the table (soy sauce, vinegar, chili paste). They didn’t give you little bowls for the dipping sauce, so the only thing we had for our sauces were flat appetizer plates. What this meant was that every time someone lost part of their pot sticker (which happened often, especially given the slippery plastic chopsticks), it would splash onto their plate, splattering the culprit and sometimes the whole table.

My love for these dumplings run deep. How am I going to satisfy my pot sticker, my Eliza’s pot sticker craving in the middle of the Midwest?! Does Detroit even have a Chinatown?

Abandoned building

Image credit: detroit.curbed.com

Yup. Here it is. According to Curbed Detroit, vacant for 14 years, Chinatown can be yours for just $500k. Although someone wrote in the comments section, “I didn’t know Detroit had a [Chinatown]. Where did all the Chinese people go?!? Troy?!?” Great.

I’m not sure Operation: Find the Best Pot Sticker in Detroit is even going to get off the ground. I could try to make my own version, sure, but it won’t be the same. *Sigh* Eliza’s, you will be missed.