Momofuku Extravaganza: Food Porn Part I

I was hunting for fiddlehead ferns over the weekend when I lost my beloved Nikon camera. I always feel straight-up stupid whenever I lose something, even the small, inconsequential things. When I realized my camera was probably lying somewhere under a swath of nettles, my first concern was that I wouldn’t have anything to post this week. Let’s face it: half the fun of reading about food is getting to ogle the culinary porno that accompanies it. I can't just write about it. You need me to show you the money. I understand, and I couldn't agree more.

This is one of the many reasons its so important to have friends, especially when your friend is named Matt Tyson and he loves food as much as you do. It’s important because Matt has a beautiful camera and recently used it to capture one particularly rapturous meal at David Chang’s Momofuku while I was on vacation in New York. We’d been planning to have a blogger’s trade, and this would be the perfect way to gloss over my gross idiocy while supplying you, the reader, with ample food porn.

I met Matt last year when I was asked to do an interview for his website, Ear Farm. Interviewing is generally a meat-and-potatoes affair, where an artist phoenetically spells out their last name, discusses lofty things like who in the band has the worst morning breath, and 15 minutes later it’s all done and each party goes on about their day as though it never happened. During my Earfarm interview the subject of food surfaced, and that’s when we both veered completely off track. We were off in Paris, talking about Huitrerie Regis and Duxbury oysters, salivating over sweetbreads, and spilling about our favorite restaurants (mine: Ten Tables; his: Momofuku). I pretty much forgot why he’d called in the first place, and thus a friendship was born.

Cut to the first week of April: the two of us inside Momofuku, armed with a bottle of Momofuku Nama Honjozo at 2PM, ordering one of everything off the seasonal menu, gabbing about the finer points of North Carolinian BBQ and surprising things you can eat with Sriracha. When you realize someone else out there has an appetite that can match yours, you clear space on your schedule. You do whatever it takes to make it happen. 

This was my first meal at Momofuku Noodle Bar, having previously been to Momofuku Ssaam. The approach was similar to Ssaam: take one part seasonal ingredients, a daily-rotating menu, and a handful of unbeatable mainstays (like the steamed pork buns, kimchi, or house ramen). The result was one incredible, memorable, and downright delicious meal. The attention to detail was as superb as the hefty presence of pork. Although I’ve been home for two weeks, I’m still jealous that Matt gets to call this a neighborhood haunt. The pork buns we ate were enough to convince me I ought to go pack up my bags for New York once more, that is until I remembered that I live right around the corner from here. All bouts of irrational envy aside, this was one of those meals. You know, the kind that get stored away in the dream center. The kind where you remember every subtle shift in flavor, every bite of pork belly that melted on your tongue. It's so good, you walk away thinking "did that really just happen?" For sports fans, there's the Olympics, or a pennant, or a Superbowl. For those of us who like to eat, there's Momofuku.

You can read all about my take on the meal at Matt’s site, but it wouldn’t be a trade if I didn’t share with you Matt’s thoughts and gorgeous photos (and yes, we did get to eat all of this after the pictures were taken--tough work if you can get it!) Onwards, here's Matt with the play by play:

Sake

Momofuku Nama Honjozo

"For my personal taste, which admittedly is still being defined in the sake realm, this sake was a bit too clean, not distinctive enough. Blame it on the bourbon I enjoy so much, but I like my drinks with a double-edged punch and this one didn't have that. None of Momofuku's sakes do anymore, now that they no longer carry the Funaguchi. However, there's a definite pro here: the sake we picked in no way overshadowed any portion of our meal and went well with each course. There's something to be said for that.

Steamed Buns

pork belly, cucumber, sriracha

"It's worth noting that the mushroom version of these buns are very good in their own right, but Momofuku's pork buns are truly a can't miss menu item. The buns themselves are one of the Seven Food Wonders of New York City: so perfectly pillowy and soft as silk. I believe this incredible bun technique was delivered to David Chang by foodie space travelers. As for the pork? All pork at Momofuku is food nirvana, and the pork on these pork buns, when combined with a touch of Sriracha is melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness. Chang's next restaurant should be a steamed bun slider joint that sells the three versions that are on this menu by the dozen."

Barron Point Oysters

pearl onion, jalapeño

"Oysters are one of my very favorite foods, and while I'm inclined to agree with Casey's assertion that they're generally just fine without any manner of accoutrements, I also will take them just about however someone would like me to eat them. Adding jalapeno and onion flavors to the mix helped wake up my tastebuds a bit, but the oysters themselves were a bit too small and not briny enough to really do it for me. My favorites are either really briny Duxburys or big meaty Apalachicola oysters. Listen to me acting as though I didn't thoroughly enjoy them..."

Bouchot Mussels

XO sauce, bok choy

"This is where I must confess to a simple fact: I'd be happy as a clam to have an entire nine course meal consisting solely of shellfish, so long as it's cooked well. Turns out these mussels were cooked perfectly. Texturally they resembled silky smooth flower petals of seafood excellency; and while the bacon and XO sauce were definitely very forward in the dish, I really appreciated the flavor combination. Casey seemed to disagree and felt the combo overpowered things, and she may be right. But I enjoyed it. Then again, I like strong/forward flavors, and that's three of my favorite things right there - bacon, XO sauce, mussels. To balance out the salty bacon/XO bits, the dish could've used more bok choy in my opinion; but I'd order it again regardless."

Roasted Cauliflower

pesto, boquerones, chili flake

 

"Because we'd ordered the entire Spring portion of the menu somewhat blindly, I didn't pay much attention to how this dish was described prior to its arrival. All I knew to expect was cauliflower and anchovies - yes and yep, sounds great to me! Then it arrived and it was all green with red touches of paprika sprinkled about and I paused for a second, considering that this was some broccoli cauliflower crossbreed. It clearly wasn't, which I realized immediately as the smell of pesto wafted forward and I re-examined the menu. My how delicious this was! This was one of those dishes that was a joy to eat every which way that's possible... equally enjoyable with your eyes, taste buds, and post-meal memory. It was the highlight of our lunch, perfect in every way. So good that I returned two days later to have it again - don't cry for me, but it wasn't on the menu. The memory of it, however, lives on in my food fantasy daydreams."

Beet Salad

sesame yogurt, ham, black pepper honey

"Beets aren't really my thing. But, for better or worse, I will eat anything. Especially when it's prepared by the folks at Momofuku. In this dish, another lustrous rainbowlike play of color on a plate, the beets were as good as beets can possibly get. Texturally they were tender while retaining a touch of firmness. The healthy dollop of yogurt on top was sweet, but not too sweet, and covered with a dusting of breadcrumbs that enhanced the overall experience by adding a well-needed textural element. I'd be very happy to have this again, and I still don't care for beets."

Smoked Duck Breast

 cinnamon sour cream, pickled mustard seed

"Duck! Cinnamon! Mustard! Love love love, yet somehow these three things didn't work well in unison for me here. The cinnamon creme fraiche was overpowering, and would've been better left in the kitchen. In fact, though the mustard seeds did their job well, I'd have preferred the smokey duck breast on its own. It was delicious. As a whole, this one didn't work for me."

Sautéed Beet Greens

 ham broth, chili flake

"It's always been obvious that David Chang has a love for Southern food, and as a result his restaurants serve some of the best shredded pork and greens you can find anywhere in the city. However, these greens were not some of the best I've had. The greens themselves were cooked well, I think, but the ham broth overpowered everything. As Casey and I joked then, and for the rest of time, this one was all about the hot ham water. 'It was so watery, and yet with a smack of ham to it!' (that's an Arrested Development quote... in fact, the greens had much more than a 'smack of ham,' and not in a good way.)"

Roasted Foie Gras

 sautéed ramps, sherry vinegar honey

"I've been served large portions of foie before, but this was the most massive mammoth-sized foie gras I've ever seen. At least it felt that way after filling up on all of the prior courses. But it was unnecessarily large as well, not that I was complaining. Thankfully I had a teammate to tackle the task with, otherwise I'd have thrown in the towel. Anyway, to the point: the foie gras hammered shut any remaining bits of appetite that were still lingering. It was delicious and decadent, and now I don't need any more foie gras again for at least eight months to a year."

Cousin Leroy and Arlo’s Ice Cream 

malted peanut butter/stout twist

"Cousin Leroy and Arlo make some mighty fine ice cream, and they tend to enjoy experimenting with savory flavors. Which can be fun, sometimes. Here, the stout ice cream was not very good at all - in fact it was outright sour, and a bit offensive on the tongue. The peanut butter ice cream, however, saved the day. At any rate, the ice cream isn't the reason to go to Momofuku, it's more like the hand of the kitchen gently nudging you out the door. After all, they have at least ten people waiting in line for your seat and for the same amazing dining experience you just had. Skip the ice cream, get another order of the pork buns!"

Thanks again to Matt for contributing! I have a feeling this won’t be the last we hear from Mr. Tyson. To read/see more from Matt, please visit his amazing site: EarFarm.

Rhubarb Tart Cake With Orange Glaze

On Saturday I went to the market before having any coffee. Terrible idea. I was nearly mauled by a stroller traffic jam and was generally out of it until I saw the bright red stalks of rhubarb tucked away behind some potatoes. As if I’d just mainlined 5 shots of espresso, I woke up from my zombi state and began shoveling rhubarb into my basket. It seems I wasn’t the only one who was seduced. For the rest of the morning, women kept stealthily leaning over to ask me where I’d found the rhubarb sticking out from under my arm. I told them to go to the stand with the nettles, and they looked at me with a knowing expression, as though we were in on some giant secret. The Saturday market brings out a lot of psycho moms and pushy dads, but its those women that make it worth going (even if you’re like me and can’t afford to buy very much).

Rhubarb, at least in my eyes, is the first true sign of spring. It means there is no turning back, that summer really is on its way, and that there will be other brightly colored things to cook with soon (strawberries, tomatoes, lemon cucumbers…and on and on). Yes, it’s great to have ramps and brussel sprout shoots and all the other incredible things that come out right around now. But rhubarb is the brightest, and also, a hell of a lot of fun to cook with.

As the honored quest, I didn’t want to just mash the rhubarb up in a pie. I wanted to proudly showcase its color and (for lack of a better word) supreme rhubarb-ness, and what better way to do so than a tart? Then, my twisted mind began imagining a take on an apple cake recipe I read about on Orangette, along with a rhubarb tart recipe I’d read in this month’s gourmet. Before you know it, I was up to no good in the kitchen, rinsing my rhubarb down while devising my hair brained scheme.

A good baker will tell you that improvising is for the cooks, baking is for the precise. Being quite good at the former and quite unskilled with the latter, I try to forget what the good bakers say. All good rules were meant to be broken anyway. Go and pick the rhubarb in your yard and see for yourself. The cake is crispy on the edges, the rhubarb caramelized and glazed with orange juice, and if that doesn’t convert you perhaps this detail will: the dough is made in your food processor and there is no rolling to do. Out comes a beautiful tart-cake, and you’ll have barely broken a sweat. See?

RHUBARB TART CAKE w/ ORANGE GLAZE

Adapted from Molly Wisenberg, who adapted a recipe from Judy Amster’s friend

The trick here is to soak the rhubarb in orange juice before assembling the tart—which will help make the rhubarb tender while retaining its shape while baking (so you don’t end up with rhubarb mush).

For The Cake:
1 Cup flour
1 Cup sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1 pinch salt
5 Tbs. cold unsalted butter, and cut into small pieces
1 egg
1 tsp. Vanilla extract

For The Filling:
2-2.5 lbs. of rhubarb, thinly sliced on the diagonal (1/8 inch slices)
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
1 Tbs. lime juice
1/4 cup sugar
1 Tbs. apricot preserves (without any large pieces of fruit)

For The Topping:
1 egg
3 Tbs. melted unsalted butter, cooled slightly
3 Tbs. of sugar
1/2 teaspoon of ground cardamom

1 Tbs. of freshly grated orange zest, for garnish

Directions:
1. In a large bowl, combine the rhubarb, orange juice, lime juice, and sugar. Mix to coat and let it sit for 10 minutes.
2. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a 9-inch springform pan.
3. In the bowl of your food processor, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Pulse to combine.
4. Add to the bowl of the food processor the butter, pulse until the dough has no large pieces and has a crumbly texture.
5. Add the egg and vanilla extract to the flour mixture, pulse again until a dough forms, about 30 seconds.
6. Dump the dough out into the center of the springform pan. Using your knuckles (if you use your fingertips, the dough is more likely to stick), nudge the dough into the bottom of pan. Work from the center to the edges of the pan, and once you’ve spread it pretty evenly, work your fingertips around the edges to create a slight “crater.” This will be the crust of your tart.
7. Strain the rhubarb into a small bowl, reserving the liquid for the glaze.
8. Arrange the rhubarb in a circular pattern on the dough—don’t worry about it looking crowded. Use as much of the rhubarb as you possibly can, because as it cooks down, you don’t want to have gaps.
9. Once the rhubarb is assembled, place in the oven for 45 minutes.
10. While the cake is baking, in a small bowl whisky together the egg, melted butter, sugar, and cardamom to make the topping.
11. After 45 minutes, the cake should be slightly set and puffy. At this point, remove the cake and spoon the topping evenly over the top. As Molly said, it will look like you’ve done something terribly wrong, but don’t worry. It will all be fine.
12. Bake the cake for another 20 minutes, and remove once the cake and topping looks set and the rhubarb has become slightly carmelized.
13. Let the cake cool for an hour on a rack. Take a small sharp knife to loosen the edges of the pan, then unlock the sides of the pan and transfer the cake to a plate or cake stand.
14. In a small saucepan, cook the reserved liquid for the glaze down until it has reduced by half, about 20 minutes. At this point, whisk in a tablespoon of smooth apricot preserves. Simmer for 5 minutes, then take it off the heat.
15. Using a pastry brush, apply the glaze to the rhubarb cake. Sprinkle with orange zest and serve immediately. Tastes even better the next day! Serves 6-8.

Spring Has Arrived: Salicorn w/ Pim's Seafood Sauce.

I haven't been writing much this week as I've been on vacation in New York and Boston. Mostly, I've been trying to take a break from obsessively twittering/facebooking/e-mailing. It's too much. It sounded like a great idea, but I'm now looking at a couple hundred e-mails to sort through and a garden that needs radishes and mache to be planted. I fly back to Portland today, which I'm equally excited and sad to do. It's freaking freezing in Massachusetts right now, and nothing has blossomed here. On the other hand, it's been so nice to see everyone again, and a week was not really enough time to squeeze in all of the visits I wanted to. I always forget how much I miss Brooklyn until I visit.

I'll write more about the glutfest of a week I've had once I'm back on the West Coast (including my meal at Momofuku), but until then I wanted to write quickly about the sea beans I bought right before I left town.

Have you ever had salicorn? To me, it is the asparagus of the sea. I saw them at the market and remembered trying them for the first time at a stand in Normandy a few years ago. Salicorn is not easy to track down, but this is the time of year to find it. Look for its many aliases: samphire, sea beans, marsh weed, sea fennel. They don't actually grow in the water, but thrive in salt marshes (which is where these were foraged, according to the woman who sold them to me). Some varieties have a very tough, almost reedy center, which your remove as you eat. The salicorn I bought was completely tender through and through.

Sea beans are very briny and salty, which you can tame with a good soak in cold water before steaming them. I didn't want to do anything to them that might tamper with their beautiful color, so when my friend Ben came over for dinner I served them straight up. No cooking involved. Just washed them, stuck them in a bowl, and we dunked them in a little bit of Thai seafood sauce, based on Pim's recipe. Why mess with perfection, anyway?