EatingAsia

Seek and Ye Shall Find, By Accident

We didn't intend for this trip to the US to be a multi-state search for Mexican (or Mexican-inspired) fare. But somehow, over the last couple of weeks, that's what it's become.

First came the squash blossom quesadilla, carne asado tacos, and grapefruit-and-jicama salad at Mijita, an ever-so-slightly precious, rather pricey, but very attention-to-details purveyor of undeniably delicious Mexican dishes in the San Francisco Ferry Plaza. Then came our brief guided tour of Oakland's taco trucks, serving more down-to-earth and considerably cheaper (but no less tasty) food. A few days later, we landed in the vicinity of East Lansing, Michigan, home to our undergraduate alma mater and Dave's parents.

If you imagine that the United States is a homogenous whole, try tracing that same path - from San Francisco and the East Bay, where the crowds jamming the entryways of all the anything-but-economy restaurants appear oblivious to the latest financial headlines, to Lansing, where it seems at least two front lawns on every block sport 'For Sale' signs (and at least two more houses are 'For Rent'). The streets of Lansing's attractively restored Old Town are nearly empty, many storefronts vacant. Driving me past the Oldsmobile plant where he earned astronomical sums as a college student - or what remains of it; demolition is in progresss - Dave remembered the days when you couldn't find a spot in its football-sized parking lot. Economic doldrums don't begin to describe the state of things in this part of Michigan.

But we found, quite by accident, a local story of economic success. One morning, after following a few Mexican food leads that ended up leading nowhere at all, we happened upon Handy's Mexican Deli. The sign that opens this post spoke to us. It said, 'Get your fix here.'

For thirty-six years Handy's Mexican Deli was Handy's Market, your average mini-grocery with a deli counter. Then a year or so ago Carlos (above right) and a friend purchased the place and turned it into a Mexican grocery cum takeout joint. The friend's wife Claudia (above left) signed on as cook and cashier. Handy's shelves are now lined with cans of Goya black beans, nopales, huitlacoche (corn smut, a rude name if ever there was one for something so deliciously earthy tasting), dried corn husks and pinto and black beans, masa Mexican brown sugar and pinatas.

 

The refrigerator case stocks tubs of Claudia's zesty red and whallop-packing green salsas, made fresh every couple of days. And the deli case displays all manner of burritos and tacos and tamales and enchiladas and even plastic containers of menudo to take away or eat standing or sitting in your car out front (for now tables are just a twinkle in Carlos and Claudia's eyes; we hope for major progress on that front within the next twelve months). The original owners of Handy's, who weren't ready to retire when they retired, are still around. Peek through the door behind the checkout counter and you'll see them in the back, chopping jalapenos or tending to other chores. Handy's old and new owners seem like one big happy family.

Business, Claudia says, is great. That has something much to do with the food, we know - but also, we suspect, as much to do with the new owners. When we walked into Handy's, full from a pretty decent but not 'wow' kind of lunch, we found them were ready to talk Mexican fare in Lansing. We bought a couple small items - a dulce de leche bar and a coconut treat, and Carlos shared his recommendations for decent Mexican in the area (Mongo's on Saginaw, he says, has 'good authentic food'. Unfortunately we couldn't fit Mongo's in on this trip.) Then Claudia asked if we'd like to try her salsa. When we responded in the affirmative she handed over a gallon-sized ziploc bag of housemade chips and a cup each of red and green.

'Um, can't I pay for this?' I asked.

With a great cook's confidence she replied, 'That's OK. You'll be back.'

And so we were. Business was indeed great - when we entered we found a thicket of patrons waiting in front of the deli counter for their orders.

With chips still left over we grabbed some red salsa (Claudia was fresh out of green, but obligingly dumped a pile of chopped jalapenos into our tub of red) and settled on a pulled beef burrito and a couple of servings of menudo. Plain and simple best describes the burrito, and that's not a bad thing. Tender, intensely flavored shredded meat combined with onions, tomatoes, lettuce, and chopped jalapenos - no cheese, no sour cream (though they're available on request) - filled this soft, thin flour tortilla wrap, and it was spectacular.

And I couldn't help thinking, as I spooned up Claudia's menudo, that this was a dish a pork-eating Malaysian could love. Except for the posole (pleasingly chewy kernels of dried corn), all the ingredients are familiar: chilies, cumin, cloves, cilantro, pork, and tripe. Its fragrant brick-colored broth, not overly fiery but just nipping at the tip of the tongue, married flawlessly with the the tripe's subtle funkiness. Spare parts poetry in a cup.

Thank the God of Good Mexican Grub for serendipitous finds.

Handy's Mexican Deli, Willow Street (near Walnut), just up the road from Willow Plaza Shopping Center, Lansing, Michigan. 517-482-1156.

Food for the Temple God

For this month's issue of Time Out Kuala Lumpur Dave and I wrote and photographed a 'keeping traditions alive' sort of article about two Chinese Malaysian brothers named Ho who carry on their father's vegetarian dim sum business. The elder Ho, who passed away just this last January, immigrated to Malaysia from Hong Kong in the 1930s. His sons keep, in one of their workshops, a photograph of him taken way back then - he's clad in white shorts and t-shirt with a black sash, barefoot, holding the shoulder pole-suspended baskets from which he sold his dim sum. The Ho brothers are great guys, fantastically friendly, and this is just the sort of story we love to do. I'll post it after this issue of Time Out is off the shelves.

                 Vegetarian popiah (bean curd skin stuffed with veggies)

In the meantime I thought I'd share part of the story that made only a small appearance in the Time Out article. While one of the brothers Ho sells his vegetarian dim sum from a mobile cart (you can usually find him at Imbi Market on Saturday mornings, Pudu Market very early on Tuesdays), the other caters for special functions. On the morning we visited his Ampang Jaya workshop he was cooking for a Buddhist temple ceremony and invited us to come along for the delivery. We'd planned to leave with him, but the temple's devotees invited us to stay.

The temple, which is located in a squatter area (I use the term 'squatter' loosely - both the temple and the residences that surround it have been there for decades) in the midst of a field behind the Cheras police station, is devoted to Kwan Yin; the occasion at hand was Kwan Yin's birthday. When we arrived temple elders - bossy but smiley older women, mostly - were busy setting up the buffet (which consisted primarily of Ho's vegetarian specialties) and the pink paper-covered round tables at which visitors would eat.

Two altars - one vegetarian (opening shot) and inside the temple, and the other non-vegetarian, outside the temple - had been prepared. The non-vegetarian feast would take place that evening. The vegetarian altar sat inside a small alcove whose walls were covered with photographs and memorabilia, many of which relate to Panyu, a village in China's Guangdong province with which the temple and many of its members have clan association.

At one side of the dining area hung paper clothes and shoes for Kwan Yin and the temple god's associates; they would be burned at the end of the evening ceremonies.

Once the ceremony started I was invited to join, and Dave was urged to continue taking photographs. The head of the temple and conductor of ceremonies remained shirtless throughout. Heinvited Kwan Yin to the ceremony, reading from a very old book that belongs to the temple, knocking the altar with a wooden block, pouring beer and offering it to the god, and kowtowing along with devotees.

The ceremony lasted for only about fifteen minutes, after which everyone hastily made for the vegetarian buffet. Some families had purchased a table for 70 ringgit (about U$23),

while others - volunteers, mostly - ate for free. It was still fairly early in the morning so crowds weren't thick; volunteers estimated that the big rush would begin around lunchtime.

                                              Vegetarian 'goose'

The food wasn't the focus of this gathering, but it was nonetheless superb. I'm betting many readers curled their lip a bit when they read the words 'vegetarian dim sum'. We too, are not usually fans of non-meat meat. But the brothers Ho's creations are worthy of appreciation for reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that they are vegetarian. Take a look at the 'fake' goose above, made from fucuk (bean curd skin) - it's browned and slightly caramelized, chewy and crunchy at the same time. Eating Ho's meatless meal (there were seven in all) entailed no sacrifice on our parts at all.

There is, unfortunately, a bittersweet side to this story. The birthday ceremony for Kwan Yin that we attended is likely to be this temple's last. Though the elder of the temple's devotees estimate its age at a little over forty years it's set to be demolished to make way for a housing development; construction has been approved and on the day we visited the head of the temple expected to be served notice to vacate any day.

The temple will be relocated, probably to a private house, but it's unlikely to be granted a license. Few new Buddhist temples are in Malaysia, these days. And so while devotees will be able to visit and pray individually, ceremonies open to the public and on the scale of the one that we witnessed will not be allowed. Without a license, they'd be illegal.

Meals on Wheels, Oakland (CA) - Style

This morning I craved laksa asam. I really hadn't given Malaysian food much thought since we left KL a week ago Thursday, but when I woke up I was seized by a longing for something soured with tamarind and spiced with chilies, with a saucer of belacan stinkiness on the side. I know I won't find it here (in Michigan where we are now), or in New Mexico, where we're headed next. I know I'll have to wait till we're back home.

That's not to say we haven't been taking advantage of all the delicious things easily found in (parts of) the States, that we can't eat in Malaysia. Sweet, juicy, heirloom tomatoes. Cheese - blues, cheddars, buffalo mozzarella, goat cheese in various guises - sold at prices that won't send us to the poorhouse. Interesting Italian wines that we can afford. Big glasses of cold skim milk (sorry - I happen to love skim milk). Porchetta. Good artisanal breads, many made with sourdough starter. Pizza and wonderful handmade pastas. And tacos.

Earlier this week we hooked up with a blogger based in Oakland (formerly Bangkok). After I read his most recent taco truck post I dropped him a line: Hey, want to take us to an Oakland taco truck or two? That's how friendships are forged, over common interests. These days, more of our friendships have been made via food blogs than not. (Is that weird?)

We started at Tacos Sinaloa, two trucks situated in a parking lot on International Boulevar at 22nd. One truck specializes in meat and meat product tacos etc., the other in seafood. The fish tacos were fine, albeit not transcendent. A noted that the edges of the tortillas were dry. The fish was nicely smoky and seemed fresh enough. Coming from Malaysia, with its dearth of taco trucks, we were a bit more appreciative of the basics than most California taco connoisseurs probably would be.

We also popped for a shrimp cocktail, which arrived as a sort of michelada (Mexican beer cocktail) with large, perfectly-cooked shrimp and chunks of avocado in it.There was the tomato juice-y base, the bit of Worcestire, the lime. Lots of chopped cilantro and tortillas on the side. This we were impressed with. While it could have used a bit more chili bite for our taste (yeah, we're chili addicts), the shellfish were surprisingly plump, fresh, and plentiful. After we finished dipping up solids with our tortillas I drank the liquid down, wishing I had a Negro Modelo to add in.

We saved the best - A's favorite taco truck - for last.

Tacos Alonzo's menu offers a whole host of meaty options, but we were really there for the tripe tacos.

And they were excellent - fried till cripsy and golden, a masterful blend of texture (crunchy and chewy) and just enough funky tripiness to keep the taste buds interested. Easily our favorite taco of the day.

Of course, one is never enough, so cabeza (head meat) - meltingly soft, a bit fatty, very meaty tasting - and spiced pork chunks (pastor) also found their way onto our taco platter.

All well and good (Alonzo's pickled carrots are a cut above, by the way), but it was the tripe that we talked about on the way back to our respective abodes (by way of the Berkeley Farmer's Market and the Phoenix's incredible macaroons).

We've heard tell of a Tex-Mex taco truck somewhere in the vicinity of Lansing, MI. Further investigation will be warranted.

Thanks A, for the all-too-short taco truck tour.

 

Cooking Malaysian in the San Fran Bay Area

San Francisco Bay Area-based (or -bound) readers eager to learn how to cook some of the Malaysian foods we've written about on this blog should check out classes offered by Malaysian cooking instructor Linda Tay Esposito.

Linda and I began corresponding by email several months ago, and I had the pleasure of meeting her in person at last weekend's Asian Culinary Forum symposium 'Asian Food Beyond Borders'. I was heartened to hear from Linda that she doesn't 'dumb down' Malaysian food for her students. In other words, if you sign up for a class expect to be working with belacan (expect also, from Linda's experience, to fall in love with the flavor that this stinky ingredient lends to foods) to create authentic Malaysian dishes. Linda says that in the time she's been teaching Malaysian food she's garnered a core of regular students who return again and again not only to cook, but to eat.

Check out Linda's Malaysia/Singapore/Indonesian class menus, which cover an impressive amount of ground (she teaches other Asian cuisines as well). There are whole classes devoted to laksa, Nyonya dishes, peninsular east coast Malay specialties, Ramadan foods, and street foods. Also, have a look at her blog, where she posts Malaysian (and other) recipes.

Converted

We have never liked kanom buang, the sweet crispy 'crepes' (or 'Thai tacos', as they're often called) sold on the street that most visitors to Thailand seem to go ga-ga over. It's the filling (whipped white stuff that reminds me of marshmallow fluff and flourescent orange egg threads) that puts us off. Too sweet, too garishly colored to really be considered food.

But a couple of weeks ago in Bangkok we had a kanom buang epiphany. The assignment that took us there had us spending far too many hours in Sukhumvit shopping mall food courts, but we were able to wrangle lodging in the exceedingly delicious neighborhood of Nang Leong, which allowed us to devote a good few hours each morning to sniffing out local goodies. (By the way, did you know that if you drag yourself out of bed by 6am you can partake of breakfast, lunch, and a snack by 11?)

Cruising down Nakon Sawan street, we passed a stall displaying an intriguing assortment of ingredients: foi tung (sweet golden egg threads; see them being made here), raisins, sugared ginger strips, grated coconut, sesame seeds, ground peanuts, cilantro leaves, and prik haeng (ground dried chilies) in a shaker bottle. In the alley behind the stall the vendor was stirring naa gong (tiny shrimp caramelized in sugar) in a beautiful brass wok.

Khun Noi is a chatty guy. He told us he's been selling kanom buang from this spot in Nang Leong for over thirty years. And, judging by the number of newspaper and magazine clippings displayed on his cart and hanging on the walls of the alley, his version is famous.

He prepares all the ingredients himself. If we'd arrived earlier we'd have found him making foi tung or grinding rice and mung beans for the kanom beung batter. Before softening rice and beans in water he toasts the latter in a huge wok. This, he says, is what makes his kanom buang better than most - the extra flavor that the batter gets from toasted beans.

We headed down the street in search of something to tide us over until Khun Noi opened for business. When we returned an hour later the naa gong were ready

and his griddle was on. Showtime.

Kanom buang makers can churn these treats out in a flash, but they're much harder to make than these men and women make it look. Khun Noi invited me behind his stall to try my hand at making the 'pancakes'. I massacred four before he was willing to concede I might not have what it takes.

The batter is ladled onto the griddle with a flattish wooden spoon, then spread from the center outward by moving the back of the spoon in increasingly wider concentric circles.

It's a matter of pressing down lightly and evenly so that the pancake ends up an even thickness, while all the while moving quickly enough so that the batter is completely spread before it cooks through. (My sad effort can be seen on the right, above.)

Once the pancake is set Khun Noi spreads it not with the mallow fluff-like sugar most kanom buang makers use, but instead with a very thin layer of cooked, whipped fragrant brown cane sugar (namtaan ooi).

He makes two versions. We most love his phet-waan (spicy-sweet) kanom buang, which are filled with naa gong, grated coconut, two or three leaves of coriander, ground peanuts, and a sprinkle of ground chili. With their light, sweetish seafood flavor, coriander pungency, and chili heat that doesn't set the mouth afire but just tickles the middle of the tongue, they take the savory-sweet balance that Thai cooks do so well to new heights. 

That said, we wouldn't turn up our noses at his sweet kanom buang, which are stuffed with sesame seeds, raisins, coconut, egg threads, and ginger.

Khun Noi's pancake shells are wonderful, with a wholesome grainy-beany flavor that stands up to the fillings. They're crisp and ethereally light, shattering between the teeth and dissolving almost instantly on the tongue.

Now that I think about it, perhaps it's going to far to say that Khun Noi's treats have made us kanom buang converts; on this trip we weren't tempted in the least by other versions we encountered. They looked - and, I'm betting, tasted - nothing like his. Let's just say that we are now open to the possibility that a kanom buang can be something delicious. If you're in Bangkok it's worth a trip to Nang Leong to sample Khun Noi's.

Khun Noi's kanom buang, Thanon Nakon Sawan, about half a block from Thanon Krong Kasem. Mid-morning till about 3pm. (Traffic in this part of the city is murder, but the Klong Saen Saep express boat (about a 10 minute walk from Sukhumvit, behind Gaysorn) will get you there in a jiffy. Get off at the Bo Bae stop; Nakon Sawan is about a fifteen minute walk.)

We Are Here...

...in spite of what you may think, given the silence on this site. I do apologize, but the last three weeks have been a rush of deadlines and edits and travel (Bangkok last week is a blur, but we've got the photos to prove we were there - and soon enough we'll have the posts too). And we won't be here long, because we leave for the States this afternoon.

Friday evening we'll be dishing up palm sugar samples at the Asian Culinary Forum's 'Asian Food Beyond Borders' kickoff event (check out the teaser on the Asian Culinary Forum website). If you've signed up for the Chinatown tour and/or the Pairing Wines with Asian Food class on Saturday, look for Dave - he'll be the guy with the camera.

As for me, I've got a date on Saturday morning with a pig (or, more accurately, a piece of a pig part) at San Francisco's Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market.

And we should be back to posting more regularly, once we've touched down.

A Weekend of Good Eats in Manila...

...is the subject of our feature story in today's edition of the Wall Street Journal Asia 'Weekend Journal'.

The article is meant as a gentle intro to the city's offerings for Philippine food newbies, so residents will find nothing new. Still, if we're able to convince just one Philippine food naysayer (and there are way too many out there) to give the nation's cuisine another look, then we will have satisfied our mission.