Korean Taco Truck

My old friends John and Joe are here – and I am really enjoying their visit.

My mom and dad went to medical school with their mom and dad and so we, the kids, have known each other our entire lives, and feel more like cousins than family friends. We vacationed with the Oh’s several times a year for pretty much our entire childhood (which includes the infamous motorhome ride to see ALL the major national parks in the United States in fourteen days – all five of us kids slept together in the queen size bed over the cab and the four adults took round-the-clock shifts driving between famous landmarks).

I remember holding my knees and watching the water rise while taking baths with John.

And I remember Mrs. Oh’s belly when she was pregnant with Joe.

It’s not just that these guys are are easy to be around, but they have a similar sense of adventure, love of travel, and enjoyment of food and eating, as my family – plus they are both ultra-smart, so you can bounce any idea in the world off of them and get a great conversation going.

(And unbelievably, they are both still single! Line up ladies – what are you waiting for?!?)

Last night John mentioned casually that they were going up to check out the LA Korean taco truck that has been making the news for the last year or so. (First saw a mention in the Wall Street Journal here, and then again in the OC Register here.)

This taco truck called Kogi – which means “meat” in Korean – was apparently making huge waves by serving up Korean BBQ and flavors in tacos and burritos. Even more fun, the truck’s locations could only be found through Twitter, leading to many a merry rave-like scavenger hunt through downtown LA.

Recently, Chad and I heard they were making forays into Orange County, but then discovered that Kogi really caters to the after-party crowd, and that they wouldn’t be in Irvine until after 10 pm on a given night. That’s just too late for us these days.

But luckily not too late for John and Joe! Last night the Kogi truck was supposed to be in Long Beach, nearly an hour from here, so John and Joe drove up after we had all gone to bed. I got back up around 11:30 pm and then waited until 1:30 am for them to show up, and I was richly rewarded:

THOSE KOGI SHORT RIB BURRITOS KICK SOME SERIOUS BUTT.

And I got to hear a detailed account of the experience, which included nearly TWO HOURS of waiting in line. I guess there were almost 200 people in line! Mostly younger and Asian folk, and although the truck met in the parking lot of a club in Long Beach, the crowd was mostly people who were there just for the food. Everybody had been milling about in the parking lot, checking their tweets, and being good-natured (you know how good-natured us Koreans are) until the truck arrived. At which point the whole crowd began to shuffle, zombie-like, towards the front of the truck. The Kogi-master appeared and instructed the group to form a single-file line, which the group promptly did.

By both their accounts, it was a gratifying and worthwhile LA food experience. (They got the Bulgogi slider and a taco combo – which they loved.)

OMG – my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Luckily there are two more spicy pork burritos in the fridge waiting for me (and Chad). How much do I appreciate John and Joe? TONS!

P.S. Tomorrow night (Sept 19, 2009), they are going to be in Irvine: 17221 Von Karmen Ave., Irvine, CA.

 

The Pleasures (and Panics) of (Almost) Grown Children

While we were away for a month, Bella’s car needed to be moved and reparked twice a week or street cleaning, so she worked out a deal with Chad: he’d move the car twice each week and in exchange she would cook dinner for us all. The results have been more than satisfactory.

Wednesday: Bella made Walnut Banana Bread with a recipe she brought home from Starbuck’s.

Thursday: Bella wanders in my room and says, “What’s that site you like for recipes?” and then gets all the ingredients for and cooks a Baked Ziti with Proscuitto and Peas from the Williams-Sonoma site. (She’s not eating pork or beef at the moment, so we used chicken sausage in lieu of prosciutto.)

Friday: Superbowl-style Nachos

Saturday: Cannelloni with Spinach and Pine Nuts and a pensive comment, “I didn’t pick very healthy meals for my three dinners…” (but delicious and creamy!)

Sunday: An hour of driving practice with Bella. It was her first time outside the parking lot of our gated community. I still feel queasy. It took three times around a parking lot for her to get into position to park… into a PULL IN SPOT!

 

Dragon Poop (or Fruit of Thailand in August)

Rambutan, which I never had an opportunity to try, but I photographed on numerous occasions.

Folks keep asking me to expand on what I ate while I was in Thailand.

Lots and lots and lots of fruit. Most any fruit in season can be purchased on the street by the bag (plastic of course), already cut and ready to eat with a wooden skewer, for less than a dollar. A whole pineapple, sweeter than I’d ever tasted, cut into bite-sized bits or a mango (mostly green mango right now, which has a crunchy dry flesh and tart flavor) or papaya, would get us through the morning or afternoon until our next proper meal.

Whatever it is about that climate, the hot humidity seems to foster a orgy of super-sweet fruits, many of which were in season while I was there – since August is the beginning of the rainy season, and many of which I’ve never seen or even heard of here in the States.

Sue buying mankoot from her favorite fruit vendor on the soi.

It did seem to be the end of mankoot (also known as mangosteen) season, but there were still enough around at the beginning of my visit to get my fill of the very sweet grape-like sections of my favorite fruit. The other fruit I missed was noi naa, a CREAMY custard apple, for which my niece was nick-named. Apparently it came into season the day after I left town.

Even after experiencing durian, I cannot envision what a noi naa might taste like. The outside is like a knobby green apple and about the same size. But Sue was adament about eating fruit in season, and there were so many in season, that I’m not really complaining – just explaining.

Joss and Noi naa by a longon and durian cart.

Durian is among one of the most bizarre things I’ve eaten. The outside of the durian is formidable and intimating: the size of a watermelon but with a thick spiky brown-green rind and these things grow on trees and hang overhead! Very little of this fruit is eaten: the vendors cut open the rind and pry out yam-sized white things that look like, I hate to say this, pig fetuses, from the center. Sometimes there are several of these “centers” in a single durian. The rest, the rind, and all the white enveloping fiber is tossed aside.

The “centers” are creamy. Yes, creamy. And sweet, almost like a carmelized onion. They are very filling, and eating one is similar to eating a roasted yam (which is another popular street food).

The thing that durian is infamous for though, is its odor. Within just a few hours up being cut open (freshness is critical when eating durian), the durian begins to emit an overpowering sickly sweet stench that is universally despised. Think the word “universal” is too strong? There are signs on the subway and in taxis forbidding passengers to carry durian on board, right next to No Smoking and No Sex.

"No Durian" is sixth from the left.

Further, I was first introduced to durian at Not-Back-To-School Camp many years ago, by a satirical song and skit done by two campers, revering the offputting smell of durian and climaxing in a challenge to the whole of camp to eat a piece. (Although, in retrospect, I wonder if they knew how to eat durian?)

And lastly, even my sister strictly forbids the eating of durian in her house (so I had to do it while she was in South Africa…)

Vendors use box-cutters to slice into sala, and the rind comes off in a single diagonal spiky strip.

She does allow sala, which she dropped in front of me with an admonition not to mind the smell. Sala was not so sweet, but slightly tart and acidic. The flavor was strong and very addictive, but it was best eating slowly while chatting. For some reason it reminded me of the peanuts one might eat while drinking beer – maybe because I felt like sala should accompany something to cut its bite – but I never found its perfect pair.

Me and Christian with pomelo, one of our everyday favorites.

Three things we ate on near daily basis were pomelo, longon, and dragon fruit. Pomelo appears to be closely related to grapefruit, but with much larger pulp. Its flavor was mild and it was easy to demolish tray after tray. This was a fruit we always got already peeled – the vendors painstakingly got rid of all the rind, white (I know the white has a name, but what is it??), and veins – leaving only delicious, refreshing pulp.

Longons were in peak season and were always on the table for snacking.

Longons took me a few days to appreciate. Each ping-pong ball-sized longon is peeled individually to reveal something that looks a bulb of garlic, but with the texture and flavor of a grape.

Dragon fruit comes with white or red flesh. The red variety looks wilder and turns your pee pink and your poo unspeakable purple.

The kids loved dragon fruit and so we would cut one almost everyday. The flesh was unusually beautiful and exotic as it was flecked with small black seeds. The seeds were easy to eat, with about as much crunch as a strawberry seed; they also created a healthy mucous-y gel, like flax, in the belly, which I think was very healthy for our guts. We could always tell when the kids had been eating dragon fruit, because their poop would come out speckled with the same black seeds.

Wish I had some now.

 

I Heart Noodle Soup

I leave Bangkok in less than 48 hours and I’m in a bit of a panic that I might not get another noodle soup before I go.

The famed noodle soup

This is a soup that we’ve been having for dinner about three times a week since I’ve been here.

I feel something for noodle soup akin to what Winona Ryder expresses in the 90’s movie Reality Bites: cradling her Big Gulp, she says something like, “I love my Big Gulp. It gives me all the calories I need for the whole day…”

I love my noodle soup because it feels like such a wholesome nourishing dinner. There’s the homemade noodles – you see them piled up on the inside of the glass in flour-y mounds – I like the green ones. There’s always a heaping pileful in each bowl of soup. Then the slices of tender pork and bright green leafy greens for my protein and vegetable. I savor too, the surprising crunch of a spoonful of pork crackle thrown in (or least that’s what I imagine it to be). And the broth.. the broth! Rich and clear and incredibly flavorful chicken stock with scallions that you can’t help but down to the very last drop. It’s so addictive that I’ve asked a half dozen people if they think there’s MSG in it and the universal consensus is that if there is, it can’t be very much because nobody gets MSG symptoms.(And so far nobody buying the noodle soups has known how to ask about MSG in Thai – everything is done by pointing and a few key words – Like, “Four soups, please – to go” and “Yes, yes, extra dumplings, please.”)

And best of all it costs a mere 30 baht. That’s with the extra stuff: three dumplings. One dollar.

So why aren’t I running down to the soi this instant? Well,  it’s nearly 11 pm. The time is not the issue; the noodle cart only opens up late at night, usually around 8 pm and caters to the late crowd and stays open until the wee hours or until the cauldron of broth is gone. And it’s not even raining anymore. The massive thunderstorm has abated and the frogs are going full force.

It’s that Sue and I are here alone with the two babies this week (Songbae went with Joss to Laos to be his photography assistant) and Sue hasn’t emerged from putting Noi naa to sleep and I can’t very well run off without somebody keeping an ear out for Christian. (Her bedroom is at the opposite end of the apartment from the guest room.) I can’t blame her either as she’s been working full-time this whole week AND staying up nights with me drinking scotch, laughing, and knitting.

In fact, ALL my noodle soups this month have been delivered to me either by my very accommodating brother or equally accommodating brother-in-law and they’re not here.

I’m pining for a noodle soup.

This is two noodle soups.

But I do have to admit a dirty downfall of noodle soup take-away: everything comes in a plastic bag. EVERYTHING. The broth comes in one scalding hot bag, the rest of the food in another, and then a small one filled with a light vinegar and chili sauce that can be added to the soup. And all that’s put into yet another plastic bag. It’s not very ecological. But that’s Bangkok. Everything comes in a plastic bag, even Coke.

This can be avoided by eating there. Although the noodle soup comes from a cart on the side of the street, if you buy a soup to eat there, somebody kicks open a card table, sets a few condiments down and finds you a plastic stool to sit on. In fact, the entire sidewalk for about 30 feet gets completely taken over by this makeshift restaurant space. I love doing that, but with the kids and their bedtime – I can’t manage it this time around and I’m very appreciative of take-out, despite all the plastic we’re consuming.

Sue handing me my Coke in a bag.

 

The Cooking Habit

I’ve completely lost any desire to cook. It’s not just the heat or the expense and bother of getting Western ingredients, but that the prepared food here is not only dirt cheap but delicious!

I’ve been a month and I haven’t cooked a meal yet. I’ve fried bacon, once for bacon and egg sandwiches, and a second time for the pancake brunch that Songbae and Joss whipped up last weekend. Besides that, I’ve toasted a few bagels for breakfast and brewed a few pots of tea.

That’s all.

Unbelievable.

And unbelievably relaxing.

We often run out at night to pick up dinner on the soi. Pad thai is 35 baht ($1) and mussel omelet is also 35 baht ($1). Once when my parents were here we got 7 pad thais and 3 mussel omelets, which proved to be more than ample enough food for dinner. Total cost of dinner for nine people? Ten dollars. It was a delicious feast to boot.

My mom and Sue playing cards (Korean hwa-toe) to see who pays for dinner.

PS. Sierra: they’re playing on the silk that you’re getting as a souvenir – check it out!

 

Freezing Strawberries

In order to freeze my strawberries so they are not frozen in one big clump:

I wash and de-stem all the strawberries and then spread them on a cookie sheet or some other plate or dish (aluminum pie tins work nicely) and let them freeze in a single layer. After they are frozen solid as individual berries, I throw them into a large ziplock.

This makes perfect smoothie strawberries.

 

Strawberry Season

I remember once when I was a kid I was invited to go strawberry picking. (Laura, you must have been there, right?) We arrived that hot spring day and knelt by the short plants. I picked one ripe perfect berry and tasted it. My mind was completely blown. I had had no idea that strawberries could be so sweet and delicious and JUICY. This was the ultimate strawberry – the ideal I had never known. In my excitement I picked and picked and ate and ate. I was thrilled to bring home bright red strawberries for my family – an entire flat-ful.

My mom was less thrilled. She saw immediately that I had picked every strawberry at its peak ripeness, which is perfect for eating off the stem, but tragic for bringing home. She knew that it was only a matter of hours before these beautiful glowing balls of sweetness would dissolve into red mush and brown spots and fruit flies. Despite her irritation, I went to bed that night with new knowledge and happy.

In my naivete, I started to look forward to strawberry season every year, looking for that tart lush taste. But it never happened again. Years came and went and I became re-accustomed to dipping fresh strawberries in sugar. I never had strawberries as good.

Until this year. The organic farm, South Coast Farms, where I get my CSA basket held an open strawberry picking day a few weeks ago. Organic strawberries for 99 cents a pound! I slapped some sunscreen on the baby and headed on over.
And yes, to my delight I was able to share with Christian a truly delicious strawberry straight from the stem. We came home with a moderate two-pound bag. (I thought my friend Sierra was extreme by bringing home 15 pounds, but then I met another friend who picked 40 pounds that day!!)

So, we’ve been enjoying strawberries. And besides eating them raw and ripe and putting them into fresh smoothies, we’ve also been cooking with them.
I made two batches of strawberry scones today with this recipe here. YUM. I didn’t start by intending to make a double batch; I made one and it disappeared so fast I had to make another in the same bowl before it was even washed!

The scone recipe I used at the blog, Confessions of a Tart, is particularly delicious and easy; and we benefit from her experience as she went though no less than six recipes before landing on the winner recipe. And while I recommend going to her site to use the original recipe, I’m posting the ingredients here, which I think I’ve already memorized (the boon of going from computer to kitchen over and over again…) It’s 2 cups flour, 2 tsp baking soda, 1/4 tsp salt, 3T sugar, one cup of chopped strawberries, 6 T butter (I used Earth Balance) and 2/3 cup half and half or buttermilk (I used soy milk), basically all mixed together in one bowl. Too easy. I’m going to have to make them again for friends coming over to knit and make dolls on Wednesday.
And this is a recipe for strawberry cake, which I haven’t tried yet, but Sierra has and I trust her judgment.

CHRISTIAN LOVES STRAWBERRIES. And now he even knows how to pick his own.

 

Mark, meet Williams.

It started around Thanksgiving. I asked my friend Sierra for her osso buco recipe and she introduced me to Williams – Willams-Sonoma recipes online, that is. Every time I asked her for a recipe she would refer me back to the site, saying that she’d never tried a recipe there that she didn’t like.

And now after a dozen or so recipes, I have to agree. The recipes there are GREAT.

Recently I have made (and been very impressed with) the chicken pot pie, including the crust; the coleslaw with a cooked dressing (you basically make your own mayonaise); and the cassoulet (a slow cooker version that was recommended for Valentine’s Day).

I have not been neglecting my Mark Bittman though – I made a second Valentine’s Day meal: Beef Stroganoff.

Have we been eating like crazy? Little bit.

But this may be the last time in my life I can eat so many calories so indiscriminately. The baby has started solids, but depends on his nursing calories for most of his energy. And let me tell you, I am burning through calories like wildfire keeping both him and I going all day long. That boy is going to be ACTIVE – he NEVER STOPS.