Kitchen Wench

Let me begin by saying that I really wanted to like Cake Love. Before eating there, I did my research and sort of fell in love with the whole Cake Love story. It describes founder Warren Brown’s climb up the ladder of higher education, all the while secretly nursing his passion for baking. However, after selling his soul to the legal profession, he gave it all up to open a fabulously successful bakery and cafe in the trendy U St. corridor.

Today, Cake Love has two more locations in the DC metro area (Silver Spring, MD and Arlington, VA) and Warren has his own show on the Food Network, called Sugar Rush. It’s the quintessential foodie Cinderella story–who doesn’t dream of quitting their day job and turning a hobby into a successful business? By the end, I had decided that Warren Brown might be my hero and/or my black, male alter ego. Then I actually walked to U St and ate one of his cupcakes. Read the rest of this entry �

Lee and I have only recently discovered the wonder and DC staple that is Amsterdam Falafel Shop. A few weeks ago, on my continuing downward slide of holiday overindulgence, we wandered over to Adams Morgan and ordered a sampling from their entire menu. AFS only sells three things - falafel (regular or small, on white or wheat pita), fries (regular or small), and brownies. In a clear statement of cholesterol priorities, Lee and I ordered a small wheat falafel, regular fries, and a brownie, setting us back about $12.

AFS is not much of a restaurant; the cashier curtly informed me that they did not have any plates or utensils (and they were almost out of napkins). You order at the counter and are almost immediately handed a foil-wrapped cone of fries or falafal. There is a mind-boggling toppings bar for your falafel, from the standard tzatziki, tabbouleh, and tahini to pickled beets, corn, chickpeas, and cucumber and tomato salads.
For the fries, there is ketchup, malt vinegar, and something labeled “Dutch Mayonaise”.

“What makes it Dutch mayonaise?” I asked Lee as we took our seats at AFS small selection of tables.

“I don’t know,” Lee replied, and then proceeded to inhale half of our small falafel. I guess it was pretty good; I would say more, but Lee ate most of it in a mere matter of seconds.

Read the rest of this entry �

For my birthday, Lee took me to Makoto, a tiny Japanese restuarant reputed to be one of the best in DC. All I can say is, I never thought I’d love raw fish so much.

Makoto has seating for all of twenty people, crammed into a long, narrow room. Reservations with your credit card are required (trust me, it’s worth it). There is seating either at the counter or at a table, neither of which is particularly comfortable or more desireable, as there is hardly space to delineate each seating area. The restaurant is warm, bright in light colored woods and neutral walls. When we arrived (late, as Makoto is located in the western reaches of Georgetown), a kimono-clad waitress instructed us to take off our shoes and put on a pair of slippers. The slippers were, for some reason, only available in mens sizes and look like something my grandfather would wear. After this, we were escorted to a small wooden table. “Put coat and shoes in seat!” the waitress barked, and she lifted the seat of the chair to reveal a storage compartment underneath. While this was clever, these were perhaps the most uncomfortable stools I have ever had the displeasure of sitting on for an hour and a half.

However, the stools were the only downside of my dining experience. Makoto serves a strict fixed price menu, plus sushi ala carte and a wide selection of sake. The dinner menu changes daily, allows minimal substitutions, and is $49 for an eight to ten course meal. This is really reasonable for fabulous Japanese food, the sophistocation and quality of which is probably only available at a handful of US restaurants. If you’re looking for a meal that has been elevated to an art, in flavor and presentation, Makoto is perfect. If you come to a Japanese restaurant expecting your usual California roll and tempura, then please, take your money elsewhere. Now, for a brief description of my nine blissful courses: Read the rest of this entry �

The first time I visited DC’s Chinatown, I thought I was going to cry. Or maybe puke. In either case, it was an adverse reaction. “Chinatown” is a joke–a bunch of chain stores and restaurants with Chinese characters tacked on their neon signage. Most of the translations are purely phonetic (Clyde’s Restaurant is “ke si lai”, etc.) and in traditional characters, probably because someone on a city planning committee thought it looked more “Chinese” than simplified characters. This, of course, does not bode well for the state of Chinese food in DC. This fact has been a source of major disappointment on multiple personal and gastronomic levels.

Commercialization aside, there are still a handful of Chinese restaurants in Chinatown, including the much fabled Eat First. For some reason, white people think “Eat First” is a funny or clever name. The cranky Sinophile in me would like to point out that it’s actually a very common thing to say in Chinese, a culture that is so food-centered that the common greeting is not “How are you?” but “Have you eaten yet?” But I digress. Last week, Lee and I decided to meet up after work to try Eat First, which has been consistently ranked on various best bargain and best ethnic restaurant lists around town. Read the rest of this entry �

Well, at least in Alicia’s world. And if you inhabit that world, you know that I love those little cheese and potato filled dumplings native to Russia, Poland, and probably several other post-Soviet nations. Simple, filing, and delicious with a side of fried onions and sour cream.

However, the neighborhood I live in is short on Poles and heavy on Salvadoran immigrants, who make something called a “pupusa.” Pupusas are little doughy pancakes filled with cheese and/or meat, fried, and served with a side of vinegary cabbage slaw (called curtido). Aside from bearing a striking similarity to a pierogie (cheese, dough, chewy, fried, comes with side of vegetable matter), pupusas are cheap: $1.50 - $1.75 a piece. Two or three pupusas make a for a very filling meal; it’s doubtful that you could eat any cheaper in this totally overpriced city.

There are at least five or six restaurants within spitting distance of my underground bunker English basement apartment. Though I have not sampled them all (my digestive tract can only handle so much cheese and oil), here are a few favorites.

Haydee’s Restaurant
3102 Mount Pleasant Street NW, Washington, DC 20010
For the uninitiated, Haydee’s looks a bit suspect on the outside, but the inside is filled with funky murals, green booths, and twinkling lights. Haydee’s serves two flavors of pupusa–cheese and pork and cheese, $1.75 each.

Ercilia’s Restaurant
3070 Mount Pleasant St NW, Washington, DC 20009
Ercilia’s serves seven different kinds of pupusas, starting at $1.50 a piece. While I prefer the dough at Haydee’s, I like Ercilia’s tangy curtido and the fact that it comes with fresh tomato sauce. Flavors include cheese, pork and cheese, bean and cheese, bean and cheese with rice flour dough (instead of corn masa), bean and loroco (a plant from Central America; I personally find the flavor unappetizing), cheese and loroco, and shrimp.

I can’t believe I haven’t posted in this since Shanghai. That’s shameful. Here’s a brief tour of what happened in the last two weeks.

I returned to Beijing for my final week and spent most of it buying a new wardrobe for myself, swing dancing multiple nights a week, and eating all my favorite foods for one last time (sizzling eggplant with lots of garlic and minced pork, crispy Japanese tofu in sweet and sour sauce, Korean bbq, bottled green tea, and “plain” yogurt that tastes just like a sweet Indian lassi).

I spent my last 4 days in Hong Kong, with a day trip to Macau, which has some fascinating history and a whole lot of casinos. In Hong Kong I ate Indian food twice–at the Delhi Club in Chungking Mansions and at Branto (all veg) on Lock St in Tsim Sha Tsui. I cannot get over how much they’ve cleaned up Chungking Mansions (this slummy block of old apartments and the only place to find “cheap” hostels, mostly inhabitated by East Indian and African folk). It’s better lit; the floor isn’t sticky; there’s much less hawking; and there are security guards that help you navigate the weird maze of buildings, shops, and elevators that only go to odd or even floors. I suppose it’s for the best, but part of the charm was the weird, sketchiness of the place. It’s worth a visit in any case, though I really liked the food at Branto, and the atmosphere was nicer. They had delicious fresh mango lassis.

I also had my fill of dim sum and ate 3 servings of mango pudding in 3 days. Hong Kong is definately not designed to be eye-level; all these great restaurants are tucked away on the 2nd floor of rather run-down buildings. Half the time I walk past the signs because I forget to look up.

One thing I love are all the fruit juice stands on the street. For 5 or 6 HKD you can get freshly squeezed juice, smoothies, and tapioca drinks. There are also all sorts of little dessert shops (in TST and also dotted around Mongkok) that specialize in various fruit and geletin concoctions. They’re delicious on a hot, sticky day (which is most days in Hong Kong).

But, the bottom line is, it’s all over now.  I’m back home and recovering from my jetlag. I think my life might suddenly become a lot less interesting. We’ll see.

So, I’ve been pretty bad about posting lately.  Needless to say, I survived spring break unscathed only to be hit with a paper when I got back. 

 This last weekend has been fabulous.  We traveled to Shanghai for the weekend, most of which I spent tromping up and down Nanjing Lu, the Bund, and French Concession, not to mention burning a giant hole in my wallet at the Yu Gardens bazaar (touristy stuff and some sweet clothes) and Xiang Yang market (a treasure trove of knock off handbags, jackets, and shoes).  I also soaked in a little culture at the Shanghai Art Museum, which is currently featuring a selection of works by modern Latin American painters.  

We also hit up some of my favorite spots from my last trip, including Simply Thai in Xin Tian Di, and Number Five bar on the Bund.  We also listened to the jazz band at the Peace Hotel, which is composed of adorable geriatric Chinese musicians.  The playing wasn’t the great, but I felt like I’d just stepped back in time (aided by the purchase of a retro-style dress earlier that day).   The jazz at Number Five was much better and featured a very nice vocalist, though the chill atmosphere almost had me passed out in my oversized leather chair.

However, the greatest amount of my time was definately spend stumbling around the JC Mandarin Hotel buffet, wide-eyed and drooling.  I don’t even like buffets.  I have eaten at an awful lot of buffets on this trip, and it’s safe to say that it was probably the best I’ve had thus far.  The food was actually so delicious that I became paranoid about supply shortages and began hoarding plates of pizza, cheese, and museli.  (Hey, everybody else was doing it too.)  The JC Mandarin was also the first hotel I stayed in that actually had a bathroom scale, allowing me to monitor the progress of my rapidly expanding waistline. 

Sadly, we left Shanghai on Monday, a little bit poorer and a little bit fatter.  I’ll miss the fabulous restaurants, trendy bars, shopping, glitz, glamour, European architecture, beautiful subway system, and cab drivers that wear uniforms and white gloves. 

I already miss the buffet.

First off, Beijing is great. 

Second off, I ate some absolutely delicious German food here last night, at this place that translates to Schindler Fillingstation, a few blocks from the Xi Shui silk market.  The potato salad was out of this world: tangy, vingary, sweet, bacon-y.  I had pork filet with mushrooms over spatzle with cheese.  It was salty, creamy, and delicious.  We also had some wonderful German beer (Erdinger) and great Riesling as well–lots of flavor!  I’m not a dark beer fan, but the Erdinger wasn’t bitter at all.  As much as I love Chinese food, this has probably been my best meal here so far.  I think we’ll definately be eating there again.

In other news, tonight I am Shanxi bound, slated for one of the most ridiculous schedules I have ever seen (sightseeing from 6 am to 8 pm?!).  Who knows if I’ll have time to write, let alone sleep.  In any event, I’m sure the forthcoming stories will be interesting.