A friend of mine once asked me for a fried rice recipe and I gave them my trusty chicken fried rice with gai lan recipe. I followed up with them the next day to see how it went and they said it was good, but something was different. They asked me what “gai lan” was and I explained to them that it was Chinese broccoli. They said that they weren’t able to find it at their local grocery store and used regular fleurette broccoli and that by using soy sauce, would rationalize it as being “Chinese“. After I stopped pounding my head against the wall, I tried to figure out if the problem was my friends or the fact that I didn’t specify where to get the ingredients… especially after I found out that their pantry soy sauce was the kosher-gluten-free variety.
Saint Michel
You know that saying, “dress for the job you want, and not the job you have”? I’ve taken this adage and directed it towards food, “eat where you want to be, and not where you are.” Want to feel like you’re eating at an authentic “dai pai dong” in Hong Kong, hit up Sai Gwan in Chinatown, or a tiny little cevicheria on the beach of some sexy latin speaking country, try Ceviches. With the fucking weather we’ve had and going into our 8th month of winter, I needed something that would evoke feelings of being on a cobblestoned lined street kissed by an ocean breeze with smells of charcoal grills filling the air.
Have you ever been for Chinese hot pot (fondue)? I have fond memories of this Sunday night ritual around our house. Our family crowded around our kitchen table over a boiling pot of simmering aromatic brother sitting on a butane burner. Cooking platefuls of quick cooking ingredients like thinly sliced beef and lamb, to noodles and strainers upon strainers and fresh greens was our family meal that ended the weekend. By fun I don’t actually mean the family fun time cooking over a communal pot; I’m talking about my dad yelling at my oldest sister for bailing to go out and see her boyfriend my parents didn’t like, the other two talking on the phone and being a picky eater and then me busting out a random nosebleed out of no where. Whether or not you share this kind of memory or have never had hot pot before, here’s a spot where you can.