Ode to Durango

At the base of Mt. Engineer

Oh Durango, why do I feel like singing and breaking out into a jaunty dance every time I think of you? 

I had actually never heard of you until early this year.  Maybe that is because you are tucked way down into the Southwest corner of Colorado, closer to Santa Fe than to Denver.  Yet perhaps it is that very remoteness that has kept your charm intact, years after the mining operations upon which your town was founded packed up and left.  Thank goodness our honeymoon Western road trip gave us the opportunity to pass your way.

About those mining town remnants.  That train running between Durango and Silverton- very cool, though I could do without the loud steam engine noise every half hour.  Clearly kids get a kick out of the horse drawn carriages running up and down Main Avenue, a rare street of bustling activity that actually lives up to its name.  And never have I stayed at a historic hotel like the Strater.  The petit rooms and antique décor is charmingly retro, making me think to a time of women wearing bustles and men sporting mustaches un-ironically.  But it manages the historical nod while providing service that is on par with any modern, first-class hotel- an impressive feat.

The Strater Hotel in Downtown Durango

Oh but you are more than walk back in time, Durango!  In fact, you do everything possible to inspire visitors to walk, run, hike, bike, and even kayak through the nature that surrounds you.  Hiking in the San Juan Mountains was filled with dramatic peaks (Mt. Engineer) and hidden enchanted bodies of water (the eerie cyan-colored Ice Lakes).  And when we chose to stay closer to town, running along the Animas River was a splendid opportunity to take in the city vistas on a 7-mile supremely well-maintained path shared with bikers, walkers, and disembarking kayakers.

One of the Ice Lakes near Durango, CO

For a place so remote, you are no country bumpkin.  In keeping with the grand Colorado tradition of beer making, you offer multiple destinations for sampling local suds.  Despite its ubiquity, we weren’t crazy about Ska Brewing, but loved the opportunity to sip through a variety of beers as part of a sampler at the Brew Pub. 

Homemade pastries at Jean-Pierre Bakery on Main Ave.

Dining selections are just as impressive and varied as the beer.  Dinner at Seasons, where we ate a salad with arugula, cherries, and delicious cheese from local producer James Ranch and chicken saltimbocca with house-smoked bacon, was on par with any big city farm-to-table restaurant.  And just when we started feeling a little overwhelmed with Americana, we needed only to take a walk to Himalayan Kitchen to get our fill of Nepali food including some delicious yak (local, Colorado-raised) momos.

Momos at Himalayan Kitchen

And if all that wasn't enough to inspire others to visit you, Durango, I have read you get 330 days of sunshine a year!  (Cue soggy Seattleites booking their next vacation.) 

Durango, you are the sort of town that makes me want to pen an imaginary letter of gratitude, so thankful am I that treasures like you still exist in America, just waiting to be discovered.  That is just the sort of happiness filled town you are- the singing, dancing, eating, hiking, merry-making kind of place.  Cue the music. Duran-gooooooh!

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer currently on her honeymoon, en route to a new home in Hong Kong. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

New York City: 2 Days, 2 People, $200

Grounded Coffee on Jane St. in the West Village

If you were in New York City sometime in the last week, you are the lucky few.  Crisp, clear mornings; falling yellow leaves; precious fading hours of amethyst daylight; these autumn days are the best days to be in New York. 

As such, I thought I would celebrate autumn, the city, and my 100^th blog on Pho the Love of Food with an imaginary trip to a few of my favorite spots in the city right now.  No doubt one can blow the bank on a single meal in this town, but if you live here, that is not the way of life.  More likely you learn how to eat well, often sharing food with a friend or lover to get the most bang for your food buck. 

So here you have it.  Two days, two people, two hundred dollars to spend eating and drinking in this best of all possible times of year in New York City. 

Day One

I rouse John from his precious slumber sometime around 10:00am with promises of coffee just a short walk from our apartment at Grounded.  We pull up two mismatched chairs to read the New York Times over one extra hot latte with organic skim milk and one Japanese Sencha full leaf green tea.  Once caffeinated, we split a poppyseed bagel, easy on the butter, and one of Grounded’s signature breakfast wraps- a tortilla stuffed with scrambled eggs and turkey sausage then griddled on a Panini press until crisp. ($13)

It is a weekday in this imaginary scenario so we hop the L train to the East Village for the “Duck Bowl Set Lunch” at Momofuku Ssam Bar (not served on weekends).  The sweet, sticky, juicy duck breast and shredded leg served with rice, lettuce cups, scallion pancake and a side of spicy roasted potatoes is almost enough for two people to share.  We throw in an order of duck dumplings for good measure all washed down with oolong iced tea. ($32)

After an afternoon long run on the Hudson River and some shopping for new releases at Book Book on Bleecker Street, John’s getting peckish.  A small order of fries with bourbon dipping sauce and two Belgian beers in courtyard at Vol de Nuit (otherwise known as “The Belgian Beer Bar”) gets us back in a good place.  ($25)

Do I feel any shame in eating regularly across the street from our apartment?  If the food weren’t so damn good at Corsino you’d have every right to call me lazy.  But the Tagliatelle with Pork Ragu and Mint is one of the most satisfying pastas in town.  We share an order of the tagliatelle and a half bottle of Valpolicella then call it a night. ($37)

Day Two

We take our paper over the Chelsea Market to stake out a table before the tour busses arrive.  A latte from 9^th St. Espresso for John ($4) plus an oat scone and almond brioche from Amy’s Bread and one green tea ($12) gets Day Two started on the right foot. 

Spicy Cumin Lamb Noodles

It is back to the East Village for lunch.  I’m pretty sure they add crack to the Spicy Cumin Hand-ripped Lamb Noodles because I get the shakes if it has been too many weeks between visits to Xi’an Famous Foods. While I take mine in a rich, soupy broth, John does his dry, or rather, stir-fried in a slick of chili-laced oil.  Our taste buds hum for hours. ($14.50)

We stick around the East Side and catch a movie.  By the time we come out the sun is fading signaling Happy Hour is getting started at Terroir.  We order two glasses of Musar Jeune, Chateau Musar 2010 (Lebanon) and an appetizer of sage leaves with lamb sausage ($20).

On the seven block walk south to Zabb Elee, I’m pretty sure I can smell the duck larb.  It’s calling to me.  Ground duck, shallots, mint, crispy duck skin, lime, scallion, chili.  My mouth is on fire. We wash it down by splitting a Beer Laos before moving on to the next spot. ($17)

We have room for one more beer and maybe a bit more food.  We continue the southward walk to the Lower East Side because there may be no better Asian food for soaking up excess liquor than the Ham Rice Cakes at Yunnan Kitchen.  The hearty bowl of chewy rice disks is tossed with shaved heritage pork and plenty of chili sauce.  It is drinking food with a conscience. We toast our successful two days of eating with an Ommegang Witte and a Victory Prima Pils.  ($23)

Total for the weekend: $197.50.  (Note this doesn’t include tax and tip but I’m pretty sure not everyone would be as inclined to eat or drink quite as much as us.)  I’m not sure eating this good can only be done in New York, but on gorgeous fall days like these, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be doing it. 

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

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

Late Night Booze with a Side of Food

Grilled Squid Tentacles, Kasadela

If I told you we were headed to a drinking establishment that has food, you’d probably be thinking there was a night of Bud Light and chicken wings in front of you. This would be a reasonable assumption in many parts of this country but not if I was taking you out for izakaya.   

If the Japanese know how to eat, they also know how to drink.  So much so in fact they devote an entire genre of restaurant to drinking and the foods designed to snack on while throwing back a Sapporo.

Lucky for us on this side of the Pacific, Japanese transplants have done a good job of setting up shop in cities across the US.  And where there are Japanese people looking to drink, you are sure to find an izakaya restaurant. 

In Portland, Oregon, there is no question what you are in for at Tanuki.  “No Sushi, No Kids” is the rule at this dark, often loud, cubby of a restaurant.  Small plates are served alongside large beers and flowing sake.  For the truly adventurous, the chef offers omakase- just like in sushi, you sit back and let the restaurant pick your food.  My brother, Paul, would do this frequently during a period when he was traveling to Portland for work.  Going there myself around the same time, I found much of the food to be a tad salty for my taste- soy sauce, miso, seaweed, salted plum, are used liberally.  “But all the better for drinking,” said Paul.  He has a point.

In Vegas later that year with both my brothers in tow, I had hoped to take them to one of my favorite off-strip spots to eat: the chic and spectacular Abriya Raku.  Sadly, arriving at the restaurant at 11:30 pm we were told there would be an hour wait.  When we asked for suggestions on where else to eat, the Japanese waiters at Raku directed us to Ichiza Sake House, the staff’s choice for after work drinking.  On the second floor of a strip mall on Spring Mountain Road, Ichiza was overly lit and rocking at midnight, tables crammed with dozens of people and even more drinks.  The menu at Ichiza doubles as wallpaper. Apparently the rotating list of special small plates is too many to commit a standard menu, instead they are handwritten in English and Japanese and pinned to every inch of available wall space.  From what I remember, we drank well and ate a bit too- fried rice, dumplings, a strange jellyfish salad- all for about the price of a shrimp cocktail and a martini on The Strip.

A couple of weeks ago, Paul and I yet again were in search of late night booze with a side of food, this time in New York City.  On the recommendation of our cousin, we headed deep into Alphabet City to Kasadela.  Maybe it was the remote location, but the atmosphere was a bit more serene than past izakaya outings.  That being said, a table of Japanese patrons with large bottles of Kirin and liters of sake confirmed that the priorities of Kasadela still lay firmly on the bar side of the restaurant.  Shishito peppers were deliciously charred and nicely salted if not quite as many as our appetite demanded.  Fried chicken came soggy but a pork belly and kimchi special as well as a plate of grilled squid legs satisfied, particularly alongside a Kirin Ichiban and a carafe of dry Junmai Gingo. 

Overall, the food at izakaya restaurants I’ve patronized Stateside has a record often brilliant and sometimes just meh.  But then again, that is not really the point is it?  As long as the beer and sake keep appearing, a plate of expertly fried rice and maybe a handful of grilled shishito peppers is really all you need.  At least, I’ll take that over Bud Light and chicken wings any day. 

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

Helping the Environment, One Beer at a Time

“Recycle, Reduce, Reuse.  We can close the loop….”  If anyone who read this column was a child in the Eighties you might remember this little ditty about recycling that would come on TV during commercial breaks for popular network cartoon shows.  Needless to say, it was successful gimmick. Because to this day I cannot avoid getting it caught in my head in an endless loop whenever I think about reusing something for the sake of the environment.

With that in mind, I wanted to say a special “thank you” to The Filling Station in Chelsea Market, the impetus for that annoying song getting stuck in my head at least a couple of times a week now. 

But as much as the recycling song irritates me, I love the set up at The Filling Station enough that I keep going back week after week.  The concept is one lots of people can get behind.  Select a bottle of oil or vinegar, jar of gourmet salt, growler or glass pint jar of beer, and you can bring it back to get refilled at a discount. 

The refillable beer growler is nothing new, of course, employed by brewpubs around the country.  But The Filling Station picked up on the fact that not every one of their customers might be willing and able to drink a 64 oz. growler in a night.  To serve those more casual beer drinkers looking to purchase a draft brew on the way home from work, last fall they introduced branded pint jars complete with screw on lids. 

John and I have gotten pretty into this concept.  The beer menu, though not long, changes frequently, giving us the opportunity to sample a lot beers we probably would have a hard time finding on tap unless at the most diehard beer bars.  And the pint jars mean we can sample a couple at a time and still have room for a glass of wine with dinner.

Recent selections have ranged from standbys such as Allagash White and Lagunitas Czech Pilsner to locals like Bengali Tiger from Brooklyn’s Sixpoint Brewery and two-man operation Barrier Brewery that puts out a might fine Belgian Ale.

As we’ve amassed a collection of the Filling Station glass pint jars that we sometimes repurpose for water or cocktail glasses, I can’t help but patting myself on the back.  With a little help from The Filling Station, we’re just doing our part to help the environment by reusing those pint jars.  This was a lesson instilled in childhood- even when it comes to beer, just like the song says, we can close the loop if we just Recycle, Reduce, and Reuse.  

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