Sunday, January 27, 2008
Mamaliga Cures Winter Blues.
Coming home to Budapest in the middle of a perfectly rotten January - howling winds, rain, grey days - has led to a drop in my blog posts, not to mention the horrible cold-turkey withdrawal symptoms that come with lack of access to cheap Fukien Chinese and Korean food. This week I had the pleasure of heading out to Obuda to do some studio editing on a track our band recorded for an upcoming CD compilation... Obuda used to be a picture perfect urban village, full of funky old shops and garden restaurants.
Nowadays it looks like this.
The largest single residential housing unit in the world, built by the East Germans in the early 1970s when the city of budapest decided that the Schvab garden resturants with their fish soups and shramli bands had to go to be replaced with cheap worker's housing.
Of course, this being Budapest even the drabbest parts of town have their eye-popping surprise features. How about some Roman ruins, such as these at Florian ter, just across the way from the East German Mega-Residence.
Winter shopping in Hungary means... cabbages and meat. I had to make some dinner this week and went into Moldavian Jew default mode: mamaliga with mushrooms. Mamaliga is the cornmeal porridge eaten by most of rural Romania at any given meal, usually served in a big iron cauldron accompanied by a bottle of tsuica, like this one in Maramures...
There is no better winter food. Perhaps no better food in general, unless you are Asian (... japanese?...) and like rice. As for me, mamaliga is cheaper than mashed potatoes, faster to prepare, and goes better with cheese or mushrooms. My father was raised eating mamaliga mit kas un piter, (Yiddish: with cheese and butter) cooked by my Grandmother who was from Teleneshti in Bessarabia. When I am home I like to cook it up for him...
As for myself, I peeked into the pantry and found the needed ingredieants. Cornmeal, fresh mushrooms, and some dried wild mushrooms I brought from the Hackensack Costco in the US. Usually I get my wild mushrooms from my Moldavian folk music buddies here in Budapest, who are all fanatic - and well trained - mushroom hunters. If they can eat them and live, then so can I. Otheriwse, Costoco sells these huge towering plastic conatiners of dried morels, pocinis, and chanterelles for peanuts comapered to their fair marlet price so I brought home a jar.
Mamaliga is a lot coarser than Italian polenta. Polenta actually makes me gag. It's way too fine and baby-foodish. Go for the coarse ground corn meal, boil it up in some salted water with a bit of butter, and then after fifteen minutes pour it out into a concave soup plate greased with some butter and perhaps cheese - in this case Slovak sheep bryndza. After twenty minutes of cooling you can invert it onto a flat serving plate.
We made ours with sauted mushrooms - sliced fresh champignon mushrooms, a bit of soaked wild mushrooms and their soaking juice. Made a flour and oil roux to what the Cajuns would call a "dark peanut butter roux" and added the shrooms, seasoned with black pepper and a slight hint of nutmeg. Heaven on a plate.
In early February Fumie and I are taking advantage of a special sale she found on the Whizz Air website to fly to Milan to visit our friend Igor... for free. All we pay is airport taxes and we're in the fashion capital of Italy - during February sale month - where the local food tradition is the happy hour. Milanese bars and restaurants set out huge buffet tables at around five in the afternoon where for the mere price of a drink - usually a glass of wine or a beer - you can pig out. Apparently this used to mean a small snack, perhaps some pizza or cold cuts, but soon grew with typically Milanese extravagance to a situation where some places put out ten different pasta dishes and a salad and antipasto spread that would put Babbo's out of business. So, yes, polenta... pehaps. We will be documenting the places we hit, and we have been known to hit three or four in an evening. But until then, winter means mamaliga.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Four Tigers Chinese Market, Budapest
Sunday, January 13, 2008
International Food Warehouse and Liquidators, Lodi, New Jersey.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Last Minute Shopping in Either Seoul or New Jersey, We Are Not Sure Which.
Today was last minute shopping before we head back to Budapest. Fumie is leaving tomorrow, I go on Thursday - we booked our trips at different times when I was planning to be on tour with Yale's Band, and so we fly separately. But first, a trip back to the Soft Tofu Korean restaurant in Ft. Lee. Seafood tofu soup was in fine form, and we ordered the kalbi grilled marinated short ribs, based on the rave reviews Fumie had seen in a local Japanese language blog about the place. These were the best kalbi we have met with so far.
After coffee at the Parisienne Japanese bakery and cafe in Ft. Lee, we headed down to Palisades Park. Fumie loved being in New York's Chinatown because the vibe made her feel she was traveling in Asia again. Here we felt we were visiting Korea. Palisades Park is about as close as you can get to the suburbs of Seoul. It was a beautiful day to be outside - 18 degrees (that's 65 Farenheit for you Yanks) and I was warm just wearing a sweatshirt.
That neither-here-nor-there globalistic feeling definately strikes you when you enter the Han Ah Reum shopping mall. This is one of my favorite places in New Jersey, because Jersey has always attracted immigrant cultures, and there have always been some Jersey ethnic version of the giant market like we have at home, whether it was Polish, German, Chinese or - as now - Korean.
Fumie picking up a few last minute items before heading home - a lot of Japanese food is identical to Korean food, so for konyaku and seaweed, we were set... The Japanese actually have a secret craving for Korean food, since so many Koreans were brought to Japan as labor when Japan occupied Korea. They love the bold flavors, they secretly yearn for the hot pepper and garlic in rude doses, and kimchee has taken hold in Japan in the way that Indian curries have supplanted most of traditional English food in Great Britain.
I am going to miss kimchee and banchan back in Central Europe, so I guess the only thing left to do is learn to make my own. There is Mr. Park's Korean specialty store, but it relocated to the far off and exclusive Rozsadomb section of Buda so we almost never get there. It takes time to get used to Korean food, but when you cross the border line, there is no going back. It is one of the most addictive cuisines in the world.
We may not have thousands of Korean markets in Hungary, but we have hot peppers and we have chinese cabbages, not to mention air-born bacteria so it is only a matter of time before I learn to rot them all together and call it dinner. Still... this may look like a lot of kimchee but after careful experiementation I can attest that one bag of this would only last about three days in our kitchen. Fumie was surprised at her own kimchee consuption rate, about one half kimchee cabbage a day. Of course, we are living in the center of North America's kimchee zone, so it is never a problem replenishing the stock....
Some things you can't fake at home. Walking around a Korean megamarket makes me think back to the days of my childhood when I would never dream that people would eat fermented squid or fish guts with a straight face. Now I find myself wondering how I will be able to go without the stuff.
Maybe I can smuggle in some manila clams and seed the danube with them and produce igazi magyar clams... or perhaps not. Clams are not something that would amuse Hungarians, especially when they learn that we eat them still living on the half shell. Oh well, more for me!
Monday, January 07, 2008
Pork-Eating Jew Meets Chicken-Eating Jew. Jews Win. Vietnamese Win. An American Story.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Congee
It's flu season in the US, and some of us have had to deal with a touch of the grippe. Still, that doesn't put a dent in our eating/hunting habits. There is always congee to provide warm, bland, stomach soothing comfort.Congee is rice gruel. Basically, boil rice in a lot of water for hours and hours, add flavoring and what have you, and slurp. It is usually eaten for breakfast, and just about every Asian cuisine tradition has a version.
I had never really given congee much attention until this year. Fumie started going on a congee crusade when she arrived, mainly because so much of the American diet was so different that she usually needed something bland - and Asian - to settle her stomach. And since we seemed to spend a lot of time in the Lower East side and east Chinatown, congee seemed the answer.
Congee Village (100 Allen Street) is an upscale Cantonese restaurant set up for those who are looking for expensive specialties like shark fin soup or abalone. Unless you want congee, which is about $3.50 a bowl. On one menu page everything is between $18 and $45 and seems to be made from bird's nests. On the other page, congees under $5.
They also make excellent noodle dishes, like this classic cantonese beef chow fun. Sticking with the rice theme, these are thick rice noodles. My discovery of chow fun dates from 1982, and it became the lunch of my years in Boston. I used to bicycle down to Chinatown from my job at BU at least twice weekely during lunch hour for take out chow fun.
Also in the rice noodle family, Singapore style mei fun, thin rice noodles fried with shrimp in a light curry sauce. I am very sure I will not have anything this good in Budapest for a long, long time, unless that thing is made from pork and paprika... We are leaving for Hungary later this week... no more dim sum...
Another memorable congee was found at the Hsin Wong Restaurant on Baxter st. in central ("tourist") Chinatown.
The presence of roast ducks in a Chinese Restaurant window is a pretty good indicator that I want to eat whatever they have inside. I mean, you can at least see the food. It may look like pig intestines, but then, I want to eat pig intestines.
At Hsin wong I took the easy road and went for an order of pork spare ribs. these were not the dry, stringy spare ribs that come with the usual take-out bag of chinese food. These were amazing, meaty, moist, and would have to rate a 9.8 on a scale of 10 in the Best Chinese Spare Ribs in the World list.
The congee.
One feature of chopped roast duck places is that they usually are cheap and they serve noodle soup. Hsin Wong was one of the better noodle soups I have had in New York. Beef with shrmp wonton and vegetables...
The proper side dish to a chinese soup meal is a plate of green vegetables with oyster sauce.
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