Showing posts with label Dumplings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dumplings. Show all posts

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Breakfast Rebel: From Grilled Cheese to Dumplings


Vanessa's Chicken Dumplings for breakfast
I sometimes pity my mother.  Trying to feed me as a child couldn’t have been easy.  There was a crazy diet and a long vegetarian phase, but those came later.  Harder must have been the elementary years.  When most kids were happily munching on Cheerios and PB&J’s, I would blanket reject entire categories of foods. Sandwiches: gross. Juice: too sweet.   Yogurt: only acceptable direct from the refrigerator- I wouldn’t touch it once it had turned to liquid sitting in my lunch box for a couple of hours.

Breakfast in particular was a daily battle. I hated cereal, cold and hot.  Toast was out of the question, especially when it was the whole-wheat bread my mother painstakingly made from scratch each week (oh what I wouldn’t give for that bread today!).

Finally, after many a sunrise conflict, my mother brokered a compromise: I could eat anything I wanted for breakfast, as long as I ate something.  So for my entire sixth grade year, each morning I would wake up and grate cheese.  You see bread, even my mother’s thick wheat bread, was okay as long as it sandwiched gooey melted cheddar and was toasted to buttery perfection on a skillet.  Grated cheddar was the staple ingredient in my other breakfast go-to that year, when spread between two tortillas and toasted until the cheese oozed out the sides.  So I spent an entire year eating grilled cheese sandwiches and quesadillas for breakfast, which in my opinion were two perfect foods, perfectly suited for the most important meal of the day.

In some ways much has changed since those years.  I still eschew cold cereals but have grown to love those multi-grain hot cereals and rolled oats that I cringed at as a child.  I’ll eat toast, as long as it is from a good bakery, and eggs, as long as they are fresh from a farm.

But part of this rebellious breakfast spirit still lingers.  On a recent morning, for instance, none of my usual choices looked appetizing.  But staring up from a basket in the pantry were some gnarled Okinawa potatoes I had recently purchased.  I pierced a couple and microwaved them for a few minutes until tender.  A pat of butter dripped and disappeared down the chasms formed in the sweet, soft purple flesh. A sprinkle of sea salt later and breakfast was served.

For anyone who appreciates the ritual of dim sum, the idea of savory dumplings for breakfast is far from foreign.  Asians in general take a much less sweet approach to their morning larder.  Dumplings, pho, congee- these are the nourishment of early morning hours in their countries of origin. 

It is in that vein perhaps that I have added a new, nontraditional, non-Western breakfast to my occasional morning routine.  On a recent visit to Beijing street-food style restaurant Vanessa’s Dumpling House, I was thrilled to discover their delectable handmade dumplings are available to take home frozen, by the bag of thirty.  Not living exactly near either their East Village or Williamsburg locations I thought what better way to satisfy my dumpling cravings than keeping a ready supply in the freezer at all times?

Little did I realize that such a craving would not hit at the usually mid-afternoon snack time hour, or dinnertime, but around nine am one weekday morning as I trolled through the cupboards looking for something other than oatmeal to fill my rumbling belly.

Four dumplings went straight from the freezer and into a small pot of boiling water.  Eight minutes later I fished them out with a slotted spoon, deposited them in a bowl, and doused the dish with black vinegar and a good squeeze of Sriracha.  Eating with a side of miso soup, it was a breakfast my eleven-year old self would have been proud of. 

My poor mother.  All those years I thought I was being a rebel, insisting on breakfast that was anything but normal fare in our small California town. Turns out the sort of savory food I was craving, millions of people were already eating, granted most of them were half way around the world. Thanks to handmade frozen dumplings, interesting sweet potatoes, good bakeries, and well, my own adult kitchen, I can now eat whatever I want for breakfast, as long as I eat something. 


Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell  


Wednesday, May 9, 2012

DC Food Tour 2012: Ramen Goes Tawainese


Me. Happy. Full of ramen.

 About once a year my brother beckons me to Washington DC intent to prove the nation’s capital is not just a sea of drab gray suits with law degrees, but a vibrant city full of gustatory pleasures just waiting to be discovered.  After about eight years of these trips, by plane, train, and automobile, I am finally starting to doubt less.  After all, he’s made his point time and again. 

This past weekend John and I met up with my brother, Paul, and his girlfriend Lisa to see what had been happening in DC since our last visit.  Our culinary tour spanned the distance from new and delicious, to old but yet to be discovered.  We started the weekend with Taiwanese ramen.  Stay tuned for full coverage over the days to come.

Toki Underground
Street view from my stool.
I was pretty sure between New York and Los Angeles I had covered the best ramen joints this side of the Pacific.  Toki Underground proved me wrong.  A seat at one of the counter stools that line the walls of this small upstairs dining room is a hot ticket in the District.  Waits easily run an hour or longer even late into the night.  When we finally settled into our chairs around eleven pm. on a Friday, the kitchen was still running at full steam. 

Plump dumplings stuffed with pork and chicken, or shredded vegetables arrived first in individual steamer baskets.  Because we could, an order of the pan-fried pork dumpling appeared as well, crisp and golden but not too greasy, a good foil for the Koshihikari Echigo Japanese rice lager John and I split to start.

Dining room, still busy at midnight.
Of course the reason to eat at Toki is the ramen.  The restaurant bills its ramen as “Taiwanese” (this is not to be confused with “Taiwan ramen”, a Chinese-Japanese hybrid native to Nagoya Japan), tonkotsu ramen modeled on what Chef Yang used to cook at Hakata Ramen in Taipei.  In the Kimchi Hakata, pork-based broth bathed a tangle of thin, toothsome noodles.  Homemade kimchi was briny and crisp though not especially spicy. However when combined with a roll of steamed seasonal greens, the vegetables cut strokes of brightness through the rich broth, a pleasant balance of flavors for what is normally a weighty dish.
Kimchi Hakata ramen at Toki Underground

For my taste, the broth could have used a bit more depth and the kimchi much more spice.  But for $1.50 I remedied that problem with a small saucer of “Endorphin Sauce”, Toki’s excellent homemade sriracha.

Noodles devoured, broth slurped, I waved my white paper napkin in defeat. Raising a glass of dry Hakushika Kuromatsu Chokara sake, John and I toasted Paul’s first food stop of the weekend.  DC Food Tour 2012 was off to an excellent start.


Stay tuned!  Next up our food foursome needs expandable pants for a visit to Thai X-ing, a barely marked home converted into family style, BYO, Thai food destination.

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Friday, March 16, 2012

92 Years New: Nom Wah Tea Parlor



Soup dumplings and turnip cakes
There is no shortage of dim sum houses in New York.  These days, even new Chinese "inspired" restaurants are having a go at dim sum, giving it a fancy makeover with organic ingredients, sleek dining rooms, and equally high-brow price tags.

Organic ingredients are nice but sometimes you just want it down and dirty.  You don’t want to care about whether the ground pork in your dumplings was sustainably raised and you don’t want a dissertation on the architect who designed the dining room.  You want to be hustled to a cheap table with wobbly legs, thrown a pot of hot tea, and play dodge ball with steamer baskets as a surly Chinese grandmother flings your order on the table.

Nom Wah Tea Parlor was one of the first on the proverbial block in New York City working the trade of small plates of steamed buns, turnip cakes, and all manner of dumplings.  In existence on Doyers Street since 1920, Nom Wah was in need of a facelift a few years back and the influx of some youthful energy.  Enter Wilson, nephew of owner Wally Tang, who came on board in 2010 to turn the place around.

Steamed Pork Buns
After a visit last weekend I would say there are certain aspects of the place that still feel decidedly last century, like the lumpy booth cushions and the sloping tables.  Among the modern improvements is the elimination of carts replaced with a handy order card.  What you loose in mystery cart presentations Nom Wah makes up for in the freshness of each order. 

Among the highlights were the obligatory pork buns, perhaps the largest and fluffiest I’ve seen.  Snow pea and shrimp dumplings were bursting with fresh greens, not frozen.  The clean, pure flavor of shrimp and greens were enough to make up for the package itself, which seemed to cling to the steamer basket, a resistance that made for some messy eating.

Shrimp and Snow Pea Dumplings
There were a few misses.  Fried dumplings were chewy, not crisp, and left a small pool of grease on the plate in their wake.   The soup dumplings were satisfactory though the sticky problem meant I lost the bottom off one and with that, the “soup” that is the whole point of the dumpling[1].  A plate of fried turnip cakes with bits of pork and greens was delicious after one bite, but bites two and three declared their presence as a solid lump of cake sitting in my stomach, taking up precious room I had reserved for other dishes.

The biggest surprise was the ubiquitous dim sum sesame ball- a crisp fried ball of dough filled with sesame paste and covered in toasted seeds.  This is the sort of thing you normally eat at dim sum because it is there, not so much because you want it.  At Nom Wah, you want the sesame balls.  The crisp hard shell collapsed with a bite revealing a soft molten center.  It was the way the a sesame ball should be, a play on contrasts- crisp and soft, savory and sweet.  And perhaps the sesame ball was a good representation of Nom Wah itself, an old player remade into something familiar but just a little bit new, and if not perfect, just a little bit better. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell


[1] Meanwhile my brother shot himself in the face with hot liquid trying to take a bite out of the side of one.  Hilarious.