Delicious hand-held morsels on a skewer that just scream to be devoured. What is it about food on a stick that makes a good chunk of us stand to attention? For the many East Village visits on this particular New York trip I almost had to insist that we drop by this yakitori eating house after inhaling the sweet scent of grilled meat when walking past its open doors. Japanese yakitori. Why the hell don’t I eat more of this godly food?

The area around St Marks Place and 3rd Avenue, to me, is like a turd with a neon sign above it. There are many places in cities I’ve seen around the world that are of the same ilk. Tattoo parlours sitting by bong shops sitting by tourist souvenir shit sitting by undesirables. It’s appealing to some, it’s generally a deterrent to me. The thing is that in areas like this, as a visitor, you just don’t know what you’re going to stumble upon. Somehow there are great little eating joints to be discovered in that shitty mire. Great little eating joints like Yakitori Taisho.

The crusty set-up of this yakitori hotspot, and I mean hotspot, is one of its primary attractions. There are none of those designer fabrications and polished surfaces I’m used to seeing in Japanese establishments like this. Instead it’s beaten-up wooden tables and arse-numbing stools, poorly-sanded floorboards, smeared glass and tinfoil and a queue of 20-somethings at the door wanting a piece of the dishevelled action.

If this was Surry Hills in Sydney it’d be twice the price for any of these dishes. It’d close its doors at 11pm and the food authority would make sure every kitchen tile was gleaming. New York, you’ve got it good. A plate of skewered goodies starts us off with a jug, or pitcher if you must, of Sapporo. Ok, maybe in Sydney the beer would come ice-cold but here the warm plastic pitcher gets warmer by the minute. On the plate it’s a flurry of skewers – ume sasimi (chicken with plum sauce), hotate bacon (scallop in a bacon blanket), bara (pork belly) and aspara bacon (bacon wrapped asparagus). Every one of them was perfectly charred, perfectly juicy and just, err, perfectly perfection. Even if I don’t remember eating the scallops. Must have been the warm beer.

A little more perfection, for those that like this kind of thing, came in the form of yaki unagi roll. A sushi roll of grilled eel and avocado, then grilled again over coals to get that glorious flavour going, sliced and squelched with creamy Japanese mayo. Why spend a fortune on a gastro journey when you can pay $8.50 for charred ecstasy? Ok, exaggerating a little here. The next dish was yaki sake onigiri. I know it somehow had potential but the grilled rice ball filled with dry salmon just didn’t thrill either of us. What did thrill us was the last plate of charred pork spare ribs, falling off the bone in delightfully greased porcine goodness.

There was plenty room for dessert but sadly what we wanted wasn’t available. Mr Taisho, next time we’re in town please make sure you’ve prepped the matcha brûlée. I really want to try it.

]]> http://heneedsfood.com/2012/02/yakitori-taisho-east-village-nyc/feed/ 11 http://heneedsfood.com/2012/02/tamales-with-prickly-pear-tequila-salsa/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=tamales-with-prickly-pear-tequila-salsa http://heneedsfood.com/2012/02/tamales-with-prickly-pear-tequila-salsa/#comments Tue, 31 Jan 2012 17:30:46 +0000 John http://heneedsfood.com/?p=7873

The idea of food wrapped in parcels is just too hard to resist. Seafood cocooned in banana leaves, cabbage rolls, dolmades and anything that is steamed, baked, fried or boiled is always a joy when it involves peeling back the layers to reveal a tasty core of ingredients.

This traditional Mexican dish is made up of cooked meat that is torn and then wrapped in a thin dough, wrapped again in corn husks and steamed. It’s far from a quick meal as it requires slow-cooking the meat, soaking the corn husks and then a rather fiddly session of spreading and shaping dough then rolling everything in the husks.

I didn’t follow a recipe for these particular tamales and instead got an idea of what went into the dough by looking at a few recipes online. Many of the online recipes had you just cooking the meat in water and nothing much else. Too plain for me so I chose a nice piece of pork neck and combined some Mexican flavourings with a couple of Chinese ingredients. Initially I wanted to cook the pork with only Chinese flavours but when I found achiote paste at my local Fiji Market I changed that idea. To be honest, the recipe I came up with for the pork can be eaten as it is, with rice or torn into a sandwich or over soft tacos. The flavours are sensational. Juicy, spicy meat that melts in the mouth. Marinate the meat overnight if you wish, but it isn’t necessary.

I’ve seen prickly pears at a couple of fruit and veg stores lately and had the urge to buy a punnet to try at home. Seeing I was doing a Mexican dish I thought it’d be perfect to make a salsa to go with it. You know, being a cactus and all. Adding tequila and coriander was just a given. The flavour of prickly pear is slightly sweet, a little bland with a hint of frangipani. Well, these ones did anyway. There are a lot of small seeds in each pear so the texture isn’t exactly smooth.

My first attempt at making tamales was a good one despite not following a recipe. The ones I ate fresh from the steamer were soft and fluffy but I found that when I reheated any remaining ones the masa pastry had dried and become crumbly. The winning element was definitely the pork. You’ve seriously got to try the pork! On a final note, I used duck fat rather than the traditional shortening as it was staring at me from the fridge, waiting to be used. I had about 1 cup I kept from roasting a duck recently.

Cue the ranchera music!

pork tamales with prickly pear + tequila salsa

Makes about 15

Filling:

• 800 g pork neck
• 2 tbsp achiote paste*
• 3 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
• 1 tsp chilli flakes
• 1 tsp oregano
• 1½ tsp ground cumin
• 1 tsp whole pimento
• 200 ml shao hsing wine, or sherry
• 1 tbsp maltose
• 1 tbsp honey
• 1 onion, roughly chopped

Masa mix:

• 15 dried corn husks*
• 4 cups masa harina*
• 1 cup shortening (I used duck fat)
• 1½ cups cumin seeds, dry pan- toasted and lightly crushed
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp chilli powder
• ½ cup strained juiced from the pork, mixed with ½ cup water

prickly pear & tequila salsa

• 3 prickly pears (Indian figs)*
• 2 tsp tequila
• Zest of 1 lime and juice from ½ of it
• 2 tsp jaggery
• 1 tsp coriander leaves, chopped

]]> http://heneedsfood.com/2012/02/tamales-with-prickly-pear-tequila-salsa/feed/ 10 http://heneedsfood.com/2012/01/quadrant-cbd/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=quadrant-cbd http://heneedsfood.com/2012/01/quadrant-cbd/#comments Sun, 29 Jan 2012 17:30:25 +0000 John http://heneedsfood.com/?p=7685

Playing tourist in your own city generally involves guiding an interstate or overseas visiter around the sights and icons that make your city unique. I’m kind of glad that when I get visitors they’re more interested in hanging out with us in our own neighbourhood and eating at restaurants off the well-trodden tourist trail. Yes the Harbour Bridge is impressive and yes the Opera House has its architectural charm but they only get my attention when I have to walk past or cross them. So what are we doing eating at Circular Quay? Well, the other half aquired a gift card through work late last year. A gift card that could be used at any Mirvac property in Sydney; a hotel room, a restaurant, a bar, whatever, providing it was under the Mirvac name. Our choice, the Quay Grand at East Circular Quay.

Arriving a little earlier than the reservation meant we could soak up the afternoon sun at the ECQ Bar, overlooking the stream of people surging between the Opera House and the ferry wharves as we sipped a couple of strong bevies. Martini for me, of course, and a Gini Hendricks (Hendricks gin, cucumber & apple & dash of elderflower) for the guy holding the $250 Mirvac voucher. You’ve gotta love spending other peoples money.

Located one level below the bar is Quadrant, signature restaurant for the Quay Grand. I’ve occasionally wondered what the food was like at this place and after checking out the online menu the decision was confirmed. It’s an interesting choice of contemporary dishes with a little bit of a European touch. Maybe even a retro touch, such as the amuse of cured ocean trout with wakame on a cucumber round. How many decades have passed since I last saw a cucumber canapé? Other than bringing back memories of prepping such morsels (sans the wakame) when I was in cooking school in ’88 & ’89, the flavours worked. I could have done with a slab of the trout, though. Great stuff.

A lot could be said about the bread roll, however. The simple white ‘breakfast’ roll comes from one of those lidded stainless steel heaters you usually find your mushrooms and soggy eggs benedict in at hotel breakfast buffets. The crust was thin and had the texture of being heated, cooled, then reheated again. That may not have been the case but trying to tear it open was a bit of a challenge. As for the olive oil that came with … an absolute stunner. So good we got the name and tracked it down online then found it at a place in Marrickville. Lomondo extra virgin, from Mudgee. More great stuff.

Can you tell what I had from the pics above? Pork belly, right? Wrong. The pork belly was already selected before I took claim of it, but at least I got a taste. Twice cooked, crackle crumble and three textures of apple. Holy pork belly Batman! Sweet, meaty and a little fatty. Soft and crunchy in all the right places, the way any good swine ought to be.

When I see food on a piece of slate I start to feel my eyes roll a little. It’s the crockery equivalent of putting liquidised food into a N2O canister and foaming it out; a culinary band wagon many chefs have jumped onto as it trundles about the linen-topped tables in this town … and world. The grating of cutlery against stone makes my nerves jolt. Each to their own I s’pose.

Aligned on the slate before me is a trio of seared tuna topped with pan-fried discs of potato, black olives and preserved lemon dressing. A single soft-poached quail egg takes centre stage and spills its golden innards when I take to it with the knife. Overall the flavours are very subtle, even with the lemon and olives.

The next round turned out to be a bit of a meat-fest that involved choice cuts from a couple of humble beasts. Oven roasted rack of lamb with crushed kipfler, caramelised eschallots and onion soubise (an emulsion of béchamel and sautéed onion). The Frenched bones beckoned to be picked up and chewed but seeing I wasn’t in charge of eating the dish they were taken to with cutlery. I’m no caveman but when there’s a bone it calls for contact with the digits. Perfectly blushed meat, I must add.

My Tasmanian wilderness beef tenderloin came as two round slabs of very rare flesh slumped over sautéed black turtle beans with jamón serrano and sweetcorn purée. Had I not liked rare meat I would have requested a little more oven time but none of that happened. The weight of the knife cut through the tenderloin with little effort. Earthy beans, sweet purée, salty jamón; it was an absolute pleasure.

With more free credit to burn we forced a bit of retro dessert action upon ourselves. Something many of us have seen before – a millefeuille of passionfruit curd and raspberries. Barely ground-breaking, it was just as expected, just with a smear of coconut anglaise to one side. The dessert retrospect moved on to a rather large black forest bombe alaska rich with kirsch and cherry compote and every spoonful went down with no resistance. Who said the bombe alaska was passé? This was one fine dessert.

website

Located in the same building as Chelsea Market is a restaurant many New York visitors just want to try. Buddakan. The entrance is nothing more than a discreet door on the side of the market building with a small steel plaque indicating its location. The visuals of this place are out to impress. It’s classy. It’s sexy. It’s bold. It’s a little over the top. A massive mural of The Feast of Acheloüs marks where the reception desk is and it’s at this point that any die-hard Sex and the City fan will recognise the restaurant from the first movie.

A large bar lounge scattered with drinking and dining tables wraps around the periphery of the room and the light is dimmed to the point of needing to squint to see if your companions are sitting somewhere in the sultry darkness. It looks like the average dress code of the crowd is New York chic so I’m glad I ironed my shirt for the night otherwise entry may have been denied. No riffraff at the Buddakan, folks.

Our initial booking did request being seated in the large sunken dining room but we were led to a dark table at the back of the top floor. One of us pipes up and after our host talked into his headpiece we were led downstairs to a candlelit table tucked in the corner of the main dining room. Sweet.

The Asian fusion menu had a lot going that the two of us wanted to try but simply couldn’t consume in one sitting. We start with the signature edamame dumplings that are impressive on sight but in overall texture they’re a little on the pasty side. The texture of puréed edamame gets a little much after the second dumpling but at least there’s a sweet and zesty shallot and sauternes broth as a tasty distraction.

The wok hay frog legs didn’t come with much of the amphibian but what we did get was flavoursome and ginger scented and a trail of golden chives and fried garlic chips provided some crunch. Soldiers of scallion pancakes spread thickly with a rich shredded beef short rib go down a treat with matchsticks of green apple that offer a juicy sweet and sourness, perfect with the slightly fatty meat.

Another Buddakan signature is the chilled udon noodles. While I’m unsure as to why the words udon and noodles are used in the description when they mean the same thing (perhaps to not confuse a few poor souls?), the dish as a whole is extraordinary with its mix of flavours and textures. A light peanut sauce, candied ginger, chunks of fresh lime, bean sprouts, sugar snaps, cashews and a lime sorbet. It’s like a southeast Asian festival in a bowl.

The glazed Alaskan black cod is another impressive dish, perfectly burnished on the outside and silky-white inside. A tumble of cucumber brunoise connects the fish to a spicy and smokey eggplant relish laced with black beans. Loved it.

Dessert offerings in this temple of food are a little step away from the ordinary with a few unfamiliar creations and revamped classics. Our vanilla rhubarb shortcake is an airy twinkie-shaped sponge drizzled with Tsingtao sabayon, a slab of cheesecake semifreddo wearing a strawberry crumble and sorbet plus some tart rhubarb to bring it all together. And yes, the sabayon did taste of beer custard. Is anyone looking? I’m about to lick a plate.

While bubble tea isn’t one of my favourite beverages I couldn’t pass-up trying the honeydew bubble tea soup. With a scoop of lychee sorbet taking centre stage, a colourful medley of melon balls, berries, large sago balls and firm coconut jelly paddle about in a chilled sweet coconut-based soup. Some may call it fruit salad with coconut juice. I’d call it refreshingly delicious. Same goes for the entire venue.

website

So here’s where it all began. I was walking through the supermarket and spotted some cauliflower and thought I’d whip up a tasty treat for myself while the other half was mingling with the celebs in LA for the Gday USA launch. Nice for some. After grabbing the cauliflower I came across a tray of quail breasts and it was at that moment my minds cogs began turning and a few flavour ideas started bouncing around. I went over the road to the Fiji Market and picked up the okra. All the other spices and ingredients were already in the pantry at home. Let the cooking begin.

To balance out the Middle Eastern flavourings I’ve marinated the quail in a similar set-up to the zhoug. Just be sure to allow it to sit and marinate in the fridge overnight. It may appear to have a whole lot going on but if you like a bit of spice, including a little chilli, this will be right up your alley. From the crispy burnished skin and pink flesh of the pan-fried quail, to the soft and spicy cauliflower and crunch of zesty okra. It’s a real flavour explosion.

Prep the cauliflower first and set it aside on the baking tray, ready to throw in the heated oven at the right point. Make the zhoug the day before if you wish; just take it out of the fridge to rest as the oil firms up when it chills. It needs to be room temp. Make the okra while the cauliflower is baking in the oven and in the last ten minutes pan-fry the quail and let it rest for a few more.

spiced quail breasts with bhindi gobi masala + zhoug

Serves 4

• 12 quail breast fillets (about 260 g)
• 1 bunch coriander, just leaves & stems
• 1 clove garlic, grated
• ½ tsp coriander seeds, toasted & ground
• ½ tsp cumin seeds, toasted & ground
• ½ tsp chilli flakes
• Juice of 1 orange
• 1/3 cup ex virg olive oil
• Black pepper, to taste
• Maldon smoked sea salt, to taste
• Bhindi masala
• Gobi masala
• Zhoug

1. Put the quail breasts into a medium plastic bag, set aside.
2. Put the remaining ingredients into a food processor and zap them until puréed. Pour the marinade into the bag containing the quail. Mix it all around to cover the breasts, tie a knot at the top and put the bag into a bowl and then into the fridge to marinate overnight.
3. Heat a non-stick pan, or char-grill, over medium high heat. Cook the quail skin-side down for a few minutes then turn and cook for 2 minutes on the other side. Just don’t overcook the poor dears. Remove from the pan and set aside to rest for a few minutes more.
4. To serve: layer the cauliflower, then okra on the plate. Drizzle a little zhoug over it then top with three quail breasts. Scatter fresh curry leaves here and there, a little of the spice mix from the okra and voila, time to dig in. I reckon an ice-cold beer would be the perfect beverage with this one.

So we’ve gone from Indian to Middle Eastern for my “dinner for one” and now it’s back to India with this simple dish I reckon most people would like. If I can make assumptions, that is. Every time I duck over to the Fiji Market to top up the spices in my pantry I spot the fresh okra sitting in the fridge, consider grabbing some, and then leave without buying any. I’ve never really been a huge fan of okra due to its slimy innards which explains why I never cook with it.

What I’ve basically done here is slice them lengthways, tossed in chickpea flour and shallow-fry them until cooked and crispy on the edges. Okra chips, if you will. Indian style. One of my favourite Indian spice mixes is chaat masala – it’s a little hot, packed with spices and has a great zesty sharpness that goes perfectly with roasted potatoes or, as I often do, stick my finger in the mix and lick it clean. A box of it will set you back a couple of dollars or if you’re willing, try finding a recipe online and knock it up yourself. A couple of the other ingredients I’ve used may scare a few of you off but any good spice shop or Indian providore will have them on the shelves. My potted curry leaf plant I bought a few years ago at the Fiji Market is finally big enough to snip from, so having fresh curry leaf on hand is a real bonus.

This bhindi masala is a great little snack food with a chilled beer or a bit of a fancy nibble at your next barbeque rather than that dreaded pre-made dip in plastic tubs.

Keep posted for my end product using the tasty dishes I’ve been shooting through the last few days. See you tomorrow!

bhindi masala

Serves 2

• 200 g okra, cut in quarters lengthways
• 3 tbsp chickpea, or regular flour
• Canola oil, for frying
• 1 tsp chaat masala
• ¼ tsp salt
• ¼ tsp chilli flakes, or powder
• ¼ tsp (anardana) pomegranate powder
• 1 tbsp chopped curry leaves
• ½ tsp kalonji (nigella) seeds
• ¼ tsp turmeric

1. In a large mixing bowl toss the quartered okra with the flour. Set aside.
2. Combine the remaining ingredients, except the oil, mix well and set aside.
3. Heat the oil over medium-high heat and fry the okra for about 8 minutes, tossing around gently so that they cook through. Remove and drain the okra on paper towels then toss through the spice mix.
4. Serve while hot.

Here’s something I’ve had in my repertoire for many years now and on the occasion pull it out and give it another burl. Zhoug is a sauce you’ll find at street stalls in the Middle East, the stalls that sell kebabs and felafels. My original recipe calls for the rind of preserved lemon but seeing I didn’t have any floating about my pantry I made do with a little orange zest. Not quite the same flavour but tasty nevertheless.

It’s very much along the lines of a pesto that tastes of the Middle East rather than Italy and its versatility stretches as far as dipping warmed Turkish bread into it, or dunking your favourite felafels. This recipe changes every time I make it, so this is the current version.

This is the next installment of my “dinner for one” and it was used to sauce things up a bit, sans the felafels. So I’ve made gobi masala and now a sauce. Keep posted for the next installment tomorrow …

zhoug

Makes about 1 cup

• ½ tsp black peppercorns
• ½ tsp caraway seeds
• ¼ tsp cardamom seeds
• ½ sea salt flakes
• 1½ bunches coriander, just leaves and stems roughly chopped
• 1 clove garlic, chopped
• 1 tsp cumin powder
• 1 tsp orange zest
• ¾ cup ex virg olive oil

When my partner recently ducked over to LA for a few days for work I thought, you beauty, I can buy a cauliflower and whip it up for dinner. Yes it’s the small things that get me excited, people. Things like cauliflower, cadbury creme eggs and the crust on sourdough bread. Maybe even a bottle of wine with a pretty label on it. You see, the other half loathes a few certain foods and this particular vegetable is one of them so I don’t even bother cooking it at home.

While cooking up the cauliflower in the way that I have here, it wasn’t the only thing I had for dinner that evening. I got a little inspired and vamped it up with other dishes that you’ll be seeing over the next few days. So rather than load up this post with recipes as long as your arm, I’ll be shooting out daily installments until I end with my plated meal. Pity it was just dinner for one!

I could have easily called this recipe “Indian spiced cauliflower” but seeing I threw together a bunch of fragrant and very Indian herbs and spices I thought going with gobi masala was more apt. This is seriously easy to make and the wafts of exotic spices will have your neighbours sniffing over the side fence.

Keep posted for the next recipe tomorrow …

gobi masala

Serves 2-4

• 1 head cauliflower, cut into small florets (keep the stem pieces for a soup)
• ¼ cup mustard oil
• 2 tbsp good quality Indian curry powder
• 1 tsp chilli flakes, or 1 small red chilli, finely chopped
• ¼ tsp turmeric
• ¼ tsp asafoetida*
• 1 tbsp curry leaves
• 1 tsp kalonji (nigella) seeds
• ½ tsp mustard seeds
• Sea salt, to taste
• 1 tbsp chickpea flour
• Fresh coriander leaves, to garnish

1. Preheat oven 220°C and line a baking tray with greased paper.
2. Rinse the cauliflower florets under running water and drain well. Set aside.
3. In a separate mixing bowl combine the remaining ingredients and mix well. Pour this over the cauliflower and toss well to coat. Tumble the cauliflower onto the lined baking tray and spread out evenly. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven, toss them around a little and bake for a further 5 minutes.
4. Serve hot.