Here Kitty, Kitty

I hesitated writing this post because I didn't want the site to be indexed for all sorts of weird Hello Kitty SEO high jinks. But the way I see it, not much of anything is being indexed here these days, so might as well choose the Kitty over nothing.

Marilyn found it odd that I was so eager to try the official Hello Kitty restaurant when it opened a few months ago. I played it off as an ironic visit to appease the three or four Twitter followers who've inquired about it. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that my family dressed me in all sorts of Sanrio outfits (mostly Keroppi and Ahiru no Pekkle) when I was a kid.

I used to wear this lime-green Keroppi jumpsuit on the dodgeball court that earned me the nickname "Green Snot," which actually wasn't that bad as far as elementary school playground monikers go. You should have heard the names the other kids got.

I'm going to move on.

A few weeks ago, I published a blog post for work asking for people's thoughts on the worst meal they'd had in Beijing, promising readers that I'd try the places they named. A reader mentioned Hello Kitty, so I seized the opportunity to finally try it out.

The Hello Kitty Dreams Restaurant is the first officially licensed H/K restaurant in China. It's decorated as a sea of pink and white with waitresses in pink maid outfits and servers in oversized blue overalls. I was originally planning on eating alone, but Marilyn managed to get off work in time to join me for dinner.

I arrived alone, however, and found the manager talking on the phone (in a drab pink dress shirt). I snapped some pictures while I waited for him to hang up, but he kept talking and at one point was leaning on the counter. A couple minutes later, a lady walked up and he immediately hung up the phone and took her to a table.

I'm still not exactly sure what happened here, but I think he assumed I wasn't a customer. Frankly, I felt a bit creepy skulking into the restaurant on my own. Anyway, when he came back from seating the other customer, he realized that I was actually there to eat and apologized profusely. Other than that awkward incident, the service was extremely helpful.

Eventually Marilyn arrived and we got down to the business of ordering. We decided to try a curry (RMB 42, because someone had mentioned it as being gross) and the fish and chips (RMB 88).

Without getting too psycho-babbly on you, the thing about the Dreams Restaurant is that it creates an atmosphere that encourages pretending (dreaming, if you will) that you are Hello Kitty (or Dear Daniel). It goes beyond the kind of spectating you get when you see an actress in a Disney princess suit at Disneyland. So that's why I ordered the fish -- to stay in character.

I'd even tried to dress up in my very best Dear Daniel impression, which in my mind meant putting on a cardigan and a pink tie.

I ordered the Hello Kitty cocktail (RMB 56) because I was curious to find out what kind of drinks Miss Kitty turns to after a hard day of work at the Sanrio Ranch. Her signature drink tastes like dish soap.

The curry arrived with the rice in the shape of a Kitty head. Right about now is when the dream breaks down. Are we meant to imagine ourselves as participating in a fantastical act of symbolic cannibalism? Some questions are better left unanswered.

Depending on which side of the feline you fall, the cat-head rice is either the cutest or the creepiest thing you've seen today. Discuss.

Meanwhile, the fish and chips arrived as a solitary piece of fish, a handful of fries, and a few slices of raw onion. In all fairness, the food wasn't actually as bad (or expensive) as we'd heard it was. The curry was okay. It was slightly worse than if you just made one yourself from one of those Golden Curry boxes, but still edible. The fish was good, but not RMB 88 good.

If I were to arbitrarily calculate the Kitty Tax on our food, I'd say the curry had a 22 RMB markup just for being Kitty-themed. The fish, on the other hand, was about half the portion of Fish Nation's version for twice the price. I've had my share of terrible cocktails in this town, but normally I'd expect to pay around RMB 30-40 for a syrupy mess.

At one point, Marilyn wandered off in hopes of finding a Hello Kitty toilet, but all she found was a cat-shaped sink and mirror. Seems to me like that's a missed opportunity there.

I was surprised at how full the restaurant was when we visited. The few other times I'd walked by the place, it had seemed empty. I'm guessing that no matter what I say, some of you are still going to head down there to check it out. And frankly, I don't want to be the one to crush your dreams. If you're wondering what to expect, I'd recommend that you imagine that you're heading to a miniature theme park. That way you're not surprised by the over-priced, mediocre food.

One of my friend's kids was showing off her Hello Kitty jumpsuit (basically a pink version of my Keroppi one) the other day and it got me thinking. H/K has achieved an incredible mass appeal in today's society: four-year-olds, college kids and creepy twenty-something bloggers can all fall for her charms.

For as long as it lasts, Dreams Restaurant is going to make some people very happy. It's just unfortunate that the place is also going to make some hungry people very unhappy in the process.

Baking Alaska in Beijing

Baked Alaska has occupied a special place in my heart since my brother made it as a precocious baking obsessed teen. I must have been 10 or so at the time and watching him construct a tower of cake, ice cream and meringue was a dream come true.

Unfortunately for us, our family left for vacation the day after my brother finished the cake and there wasn't any room in the kitchen freezer so it was relegated to the garage. You know, the 1950s era pea-soup green monolith of a refrigerator that smelled perpetually of third-degree freezer burn. The one with tens of thousands of dead, frozen ants crisping along the edges of the door. It was a frigid black hole.

As you can imagine, we got back from our trip (to the Great Salt Lake, the Motherland as my friends used to call it) to discover a monumentally ruined Baked Alaska in our freezer. Some part of me died inside, and my love for Baked Alaska continued unrequited until last year.

We have a friend who grew up eating ice cream cake for her birthday, so last year I had the crazy idea to make her Baked Alaska to celebrate. When I'm absolutely honest with myself, making her birthday cake was mostly just an excuse for me to take on some crazy project in the kitchen.

We couldn't find any one recipe that struck our fancy, but we decided upon the components one at a time. Alton Brown's pound cake for the base, Dreyer's ice cream for the middle (at the time it was half-price at the local supermarket) and Gordon Ramsay's italian meringue for the outside. And now I've forgotten who gave us the idea for the saran wrapped bowl, but I'm thinking it was one of those matronly women like Martha Stewart or Paula Deen. I tend to get them confused.

I'd like to say that we rocked this, but we didn't. We discovered later that our oven had somehow switched to keep warm (the original owners broke the nob, so we have to use pliers to crank it) and the removable tray at the bottom had covered up the heating element. So basically, we assembled the pound cake and it just sat in the oven warming for several hours. Thankfully, the top cooked and was usable. And the rest we just kind of left in the lukewarm oven and ate it for breakfast the rest of the week. (We've since redeemed ourselves by remaking the pound cake for an autumn trifle: pumpkin caramel, vanilla bean pudding, apple compote and graham cracker crumbs)

The meringue took us a couple tries too, but finally we were able to get the right consistency.

To build the ice cream layers, we saran wrapped a glass IKEA bowl, packed in several layers of ice cream and then stuffed it in the freezer. Once the cake was ready, we layered it on the bottom and then put it back in the freezer to harden up.

Once we were ready to put the meringue on, we flipped the bowl over and gave it a good smack while tugging at the saran wrap. The whole thing came down mostly intact.

Then we quickly slathered on a generous helping of meringue and fired up the torch that the good folks over at Pie House had lent us).

There's something viscerally gratifying about torching up an ice cream cake. Those of you who've never done it, you're seriously missing out.

So there you have it, though not without a few mishaps. But it's a rare day where any baking in Beijing goes smoothly for me.

Is Little Yunnan Beijing's Best New Chinese Restaurant of the Year? I'll Bite Part IV

And so we come to the end of our little series, a four-part romp through the Beijing masses' four favorite restaurants by way of the Beijinger's 2011 Reader Restaurant Awards.

I've been obsessed with Yunnan food lately--mintfully fresh, often fried-tacular and surprisingly bright with its flavors. For me, our visit to Little Yunnan wasn't about the newness of the restaurant or the food; I was more interested in how the food held up against other Yunnan places in town.

Several weeks ago, a friend turned M and I on to Aimo Town near Wudaoying. We'd had several fantastic meals there that set the bar really high, so I went to Little Yunnan with expectations.

The day we went, the weather was phenomenal so we sat outside. There are probably only a few weeks out of the year where you can do this comfortably, but I can't recommend it enough if you happen to go on a day when Beijing is neither freezing, muggy, nor mosquito-ridden. The restaurant's got a small courtyard, some indoor seating, and then a small upstairs loft with couches that seats a party of six or so. (By way of warning, watch yourself on those stairs if you decide to head up to the loft.)

Service was delightful. Warm and attentive without being creepy or pushy. They were very helpful whenever we had questions or needed something and could handle a little bit of banter.

At one point, we were trying to figure out if they had dessert (because it's on the menu but they didn't have it that day) and the waitress was trying to explain that they had an aloe jelly, but we were trying to figure out what she meant, and the owner told the waitress to comp us one. Probably a difference of just a dollar or two, but I definitely appreciated the gesture, especially given the service I've gotten at similar restaurants.

Before I get into what we ate, I want to complain about something we didn't eat. Fried red beans (su hong dou?), which I just discovered (courtesy of our friend N) at Aimo Town. I know it sounds kind of weird, but it's like eating fried butter. Yum. So why don't they have those here?

Also, I had read that their house-made rice wine is a treat, but they were out of it on the day we went. Which in the grand scheme of things was probably a good thing.

So instead, we got a Yunnan xiaoshan cha, literally Yunnan little mountain tea. Apparently, it's good for removing "fire" (based on the Yin - Yang Chinese medicine theory), which works out well for me because I spend most of my life with an overabundance of 'fire qi.' I blame all the fried food. And as you're about to see, fried was in abundance that night.

Without digressing too much, I found a list of "hot" foods:
Garlic, Green onion, Raw onions, Red pepper, Deep-fried or grilled meat, Dog, Grass fish, Sparrow meat, Turtle, Black pepper, Cayenne pepper, Chili pepper, Horseradish/wasabi, Mustard, Chocolate, Cocoa.

With a few exceptions (dog, sparrow, turtle?), you're looking at my average diet. And if you add in the "warm" foods, it gets even worse.

So anyway, I drank a lot of that tea in hopes of drawing out all the 'fire' I was about to ingest…

Ok, on to the food.

We started off with Jingbo Ghost Chicken. Mostly because someone wanted to see what "ghost" tasted like. I was a little skeptical ordering it because I'm rarely a fan of traditional "cold dishes" involving meat. (This borders on blasphemy in traditional Chinese cuisine. It's a regular occurrence that after ordering a large meal at a Chinese restaurant, the waiter incredulously points out that I have not ordered any cold dishes...)

But surprisingly, this was one of the big hits of the night. Everyone we were with had a mini freak-out when they tasted this dish. I won't go into too much detail, but basically there's this lime - mint interplay going on that lifts the dish. Probably the closest thing to a Chicken Mojito that I've ever eaten.

Since we can't get enough mint at these places, we also got the Mint Salad. It was actually better here than at several other Yunnan places I've had around town. I'd also recommend their Scrambled Eggs with Jasmine Flowers. Unless, of course, you don't like jasmine. The jasmine flavor seeps into the eggs nicely, although it's a bit disorienting since it kind of feels like you're eating tea.

I had high hopes for the Crispy Deep Fried Fish, but he actually ended up being a bit of a disappointment. To his credit, he definitely lives up to his name: crispy. deep. fried. fish, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't living up to his potential. This would be a nice dish to impress visitors, but I found the crispy skin to be unpleasantly scaly. The meat inside dissolves into gobs of tenderness, too much so. This is a dish I want to love, and it's possible I had an off night or my palate was just too unfamiliar with the textural contrast to enjoy it. It may also have to do with it being carp… those bottom feeders have notoriously "tender" skin which kind of threatens to fall apart. This one made good on that threat, a little too much. (Next time, we'll try the Yunnan-flavor tilapia…)

Pan-Fried Yunnan Goat Cheese was, of course, a winner. I love that it comes with a pile of black pepper and salt and a pile of white sugar. Just to be crazy, I dip it in both. The flavor of the cheese was actually not as strong as I expected. Which depending on which side of the cheese fence you're on is either a really good or really bad thing. Discuss amongst yourselves.

The Roasted Spareribs with Lemongrass were a favorite among some, mostly the guys. Lemongrass is such a nice flavor and I couldn't resist eating the lemongrass bow that was tied around the rib. A little on the spiky side, but still scrumptious.

And the ladies in our party loved the Fried Shrimp with Mint Leaf. Yes, more mint. This time around, though, the mint is fried, which earned serious points in my book. The shrimp itself had great flavor, though I'm always unsure what to do about shells and legs. We mostly just ate the shells because we couldn't be bothered with picking them apart.

Smashed Potato (which I think in Chinese was literally called Old Grandma Potato Mash) was a hit too. There's a nice depth of flavor here that goes beyond just the cream potato starch.

M was feeling particularly authentic that day and ordered the Deep Fried Ge Jiu Tofu, which people feared would be the notorious Stinky Tofu. Our less adventurous comrades were pleased to find that it wasn't nearly as stinky as the stuff they sell on the street. (Seriously, we have friends who spend years living in Beijing without realizing that smell is actually coming from a food item and not trash and/or sewage.) This dish is actually quite good, if you're bold enough for it, but tofu's a bit of an acquired taste. Especially when it's fermented, even if only nominally so. The sauce that comes with these guys is incredible - made of more fermented tofu, in liquid form. (I know that sounds gross but it's delicious.) M and our friend Liz kept dunking their tofu deeper and deeper into the bowl until things got way out of hand.

Deep Fried Potato Shreds are a must for us whenever we go to a Yunnan place that has them. They're basically wedges of hashbrowns, but the strips of potato are so delicately fried that they have a light almost springy crisp.

For our greens, we got the Stir-Fried Leaf Mustard with Sour Chili, which probably sounds crazier than it actually is, and we all really enjoyed the tangy bite to the mustard leaves.

We also tried their Cross-Bridge Rice Noodles. The broth had a rich, substantial flavor and the noodle texture was pleasant. But if you're not into ham, you might want to have them hold off on putting it in, since it might be a bit of a non sequitur for some palates.

And here's a shot of the Aloe Jelly. This was a great way to end the meal--like an airplane gently caressing the ground as it lands instead of one of those bumpy quasi-crashes that the Air China pilots always make.

So there you have it: Little Yunnan. The six of us ate for about 60RMB a person, not including drinks.

You might have noticed too that they put a lot of work into plating their dishes. The soy sauce streak on all the dishes do get old after a while, but at least they're trying.

Ultimately, I find myself torn between Little Yunnan and Aimo Town. Some of these dishes were positively fabulous, and some of them were just good. And the atmosphere there is charming and actually adds a lot to the dining experience. Plus, it's a great place to take visitors looking for an interesting meal that's hard to get in the states (without endangering their stomachs).

See also:
Is Da Dong Beijing's Chinese 'Restaurant of the Year'? I'll Bite - Part I
Is Maison Boulud Beijing's Non-Chinese 'Restaurant of the Year'? I'll Bite - Part II
Is Modo Beijing's Best New Non-Chinese Restaurant? I'll Bite Part III

Is Modo Beijing's Best New Non-Chinese Restaurant? I'll Bite Part III

It's been a busy week--one filled with plenty of delicious meals, so I didn't get a chance to write this until the weekend (now Monday because I passed out last night before I could get this up). In the interest of living the high life, I've setup shop on the rooftop of Sculpting in Time to enjoy a rare day of balmy Beijing weather.

I've really been looking forward to writing this post (which, for those of you just tuning in, is part 3 of a 4-part series offering up the my take on thebeijinger's 2011 Reader Restaurant Awards).

Sometime in 2009, M and I checked out Mosto and quickly bumped it to the top of our list of favorite restaurants in Beijing. We've had a solid meal every time we've visited, and the service has always been attentive.

So when we found out that the team at Mosto had opened up a new restaurant in the Sanlitun Village, we wandered over to give it a try. M was actually getting ready to write a feature on it for her old job, so co-owner Alex Molina invited us to drop in for dinner.

Our meal at Modo was fabulous, helped, of course, by Alex's generous hospitality, but we've been back several times since and had a noteworthy experience each time.

Modo's concept of "small plates" is similar to tapas: meant to be ordered in variety
and shared with friends. As such, some people who go are disappointed by the
price to portion ratio.

Also, most of the dishes at the restaurant have a Spanish flair to them, but keep in mind, this isn't your typical tapas bar.

Whereas Mosto is comfortable, reassuring in its consistent ability to produce quality, though sometimes predictable, food, Modo dares to take more risks.

Personally, I love being able to order several smaller dishes to try different things and build variety, but I can respect those who would rather pay for one big platter. So consider yourself warned :).

In keeping with the restaurant's smaller portions, Modo serves tasting sizes for a number of wines via its Enomatic wine dispenser. Those of you who've been over to Mosto will recognize the machine, but Modo's changed it up by being the first venue in the city to offer the first card-based Enomatic experience.

It's worth noting here that I'm a complete hack when it comes to wine. However, during the course of our meal we tried most of the wines on offer from the machine and loved all of them. I'll spare you my amateur analyses, though.

We've enjoyed just about everything we've had there, but if we had to pick a few standouts, they'd be: the Wagyu meatball with an heirloom tomato ragù, parmesan crisp and rice cake; the sundried tomato tortelli with goat cheese and a pumpkin foam; and the white chocolate mousse with black currant sorbet, almond crisp and pistachios.

As with my notes for Maison Boulud, I'm having a hard time reading my handwriting. So it's possible I got something wrong there…

Let's start with the meatball. If I were going back to Modo for one dish, it'd be that meatball. There's a bold gentleness to the Wagyu flavor and texture that the conversion to meatball has enhanced and it plays nicely with the rich, bright flavor of the heirloom tomatoes sauce. The parmesan crisp and rice cake do more than just add texture, and we were surprised by how well the rice cake worked with the dish.

This meatball haunts my dreams, beckoning me from twilight's shadows with the alluring promise of a lurid, sensual duet of tomato and meat.

Hmmm, so that might be slightly melodramatic...

But seriously, this meatball is worth trying. Don't be scared of the 80rmb ($12) price tag. Yes, I realize that you've probably never paid this much for a lone meatball, bring a friend to share it, and you'll most likely be fighting over whether you got your fair share.

Granted, I realize that not all of you are like me: continually in search of the best version of traditionally homestyle comfort foods. (For instance, Gregoire in Berkeley used to serve this white truffle egg salad sandwich that was simply revelatory, but I digress.)

And I'll admit that a small part of me recoils at having endorsed the grinding up of and subsequent balling of an excellent cut of Wagyu, as opposed to my natural inclination to just leave it as a steak and lightly sear it. But in my opinion, some of the best restaurants set out to challenge the routines and habits that we (sometimes unwittingly) fall into with our food preferences, pleasantly surprising us with the deliciously unexpected.

Two words: pumpkin foam. Pumpkin in any form (roasted, souped, pied, etc.) is hard for me to resist, but foam is on another level. This dish is so gentle, it's like a caress. Sundried tomato provides a bite, but the pasta and cheese join up with the pumpkin foam to melt in your mouth. The finish ends up being both delicate and enriching.

Dessert was easily one of the best I've had in Beijing, and anytime that M and I have been in Sanlitun after dinner since, I'm tempted to drop in just for the white chocolate mousse. And I've given in on more than one occasion.

Black currant has always been one of my favorite flavors, probably because of my mom's Hong Kong roots (Ribena, Fruitips, etc.), and I found the black currant sorbet to be simply magical. The chill of the sorbet against the creaminess of the white chocolate dances on the tongue and the almond crisp and pistachios break up the smoothness with a satisfying crunch and toasty nuttiness.

Also of note is their cheese plate. Though the cheese is made locally, it's made by a fromager who spent time in France (and clearly learned a thing or two in the process).

I know it's cliche, but Beijing's restaurant scene really seems to be exploding, and Modo had several worthy competitors for the 2011 award. I haven't visited anywhere close to all of them, so I'm hardly qualified to pass judgement on whether it is indeed the best new restaurant.

But I can say with confidence that Modo offers us Beijingers a varied experience easily worth the recognition. Not everyone will agree, especially those who don't subscribe to the Modo "way" of small plates and communal eating, but that's a risk inherent to taking the kind of chances that Modo does.

From our conversation with Alex, it's clear he and Chef Daniel have a deep love for Beijing and are inspired by life here in this crazy city. And, having partaken of the results of their passion and inspiration, I'm thankful to them for their commitment both to the craft and the city.

Unfortunately, M and I didn't take any photos of our magical night, mostly because she was planning on using press photos for her write-up. And because our camera is big and obnoxious.

But we did snap some quick shots of their set lunch on a later visit:

See also:
Is Da Dong Beijing's Chinese 'Restaurant of the Year'? I'll Bite - Part I
Is Maison Boulud Beijing's Non-Chinese 'Restaurant of the Year'? I'll Bite - Part II

And tune in next week for Part 4 of our series, where we'll take a look at 2011's Best New Chinese Restaurant: Little Yunnan.

Is Da Dong Beijing's Chinese 'Restaurant of the Year'? I'll Bite - Part I

M and I had the privilege of attending The Beijinger's 8th Annual Reader Restaurant Awards presentation on Monday. She went for work, I went for play, but either way, good times were had by all.

Most of the awards they just had up around the room, but they saved the four most prestigious to present throughout the event:

Restaurant of the Year (Non-Chinese): Maison Boulud
Restaurant of the Year (Chinese): Da Dong
Best New Restaurant (Non-Chinese): Modo
Best New Restaurant (Chinese): Little Yunnan

I had a chance to meet up with an uncle, aunt and cousin and a couple of their friends on Wednesday. Since this is my cousin's first trip to China and he's only got two days here, my uncle's friends decided that we should head to Da Dong.

Which works out quite well for a blog post. Buckle your seat belts, readers, I'm about to go foodie on you.

(And, as usual, my apologies for the mis-focused photography. I shot these ninja style...)

M and I had eaten at Da Dong several times before. In fact, the first time M's family came to visit us, we took them there for duck. M's mom was crazy jet-lagged, and I'll never forget the sight of her nodding off over dinner.

We had been to the Dongsishitiao and Tuanjiehu locations before, but walking into the Jingbaojie restaurant was a completely different experience. Apparently the Tuanjiehu restaurant is the oldest Dadong and decorated in more of a traditional Beijing style.

The Jingbaojie location, on the other hand, is significantly up-scaled, with ultra-modern decor (black and white leather sofas, you know what I mean). But I've never really been one to make a fuss over restaurant ambience.

Our host was well-acquainted with the menu, so she went ahead and ordered for us. As such, I don't have all the info on the dishes. Sucks for you.

We started off with a cold duck liver pate. Liver's always been hit or miss for me, mostly because I'm rarely baller enough to afford the good stuff. This one was nice, though, not mind blowing like foie gras that I've had elsewhere in the city, but full flavored without being too oily.

Next up, we had a bit of a fusion salad. Greens, parmesan, fruit (was that watermelon?), mustard grains and a lao Beijing vinegar dressing. This ish was fantastic, really light and refreshing. I'm of the opinion that mustard can go on just about any salad, though, so you'll have to decide if it's for you. Oddly enough, this was one of the highlights of the meal.

My cousin wanted beef, so we got Mongolian style iron plate beef with onions and peppers. Presentation was nice, the plate comes on a chunk of nearly-petrified wood. The beef was supposedly from Australia. To be perfectly honest, this dish was a bit of a miss. Granted, my expectations are kind of high, but only because it has so much potential. I mean, you're starting with thinly sliced quality beef, it's hard to go wrong with onions and peppers, and iron plate done right is usually freaking' delicious. Not sure what went wrong here, but I think the soy sauce marinade was too heavy for how thinly the beef was cut. Basically, the flavor of the beef didn't really come out, so the dominant experience was sodium overload.

I'm being a little harsh here, actually. It was a decent dish. Just too salty, and a tad disappointing given how well-suited it should have been for my particular preferences.

Squirrel fish was up next. (Not really sure why it's called that. Totally unappetizing.) The fish was done up in the northern sweet and sour style, with chunks of the fish bunched up along it for a nice presentation. This dish was good, but not amazing. Trust me, I'm as big a fan of sweet and sour fried stuff as the next American, just not on a quality fish. So yeah, it was sweet, it was sour, but I couldn't really taste the fish. Presentation was impeccable, though, and it's certainly the kind of dish that will impress guests.

We had a couple other vegetable dishes, which were pleasant. Stir-fried kongxincai, I think, which was fantastic, and some kind of kidney-shaped bean with crunchy dried shrimps. I'm usually not into crunchy dried shrimps (which is a bummer because those buggers find their way into the randomest dishes), but they did a lot for the dish in terms of flavor and texture, especially against the butter-smooth bean texture.

There was also this mysterious napa cabbage dish in a yellow soup sauce that was really delicious. I think it's like chicken broth with a Tibetan lavender or something.

But, of course, you're waiting to hear how the duck was. I was pleased with how their duck turned out this time around. It was definitely better than some of the other Da Dong ducks I've had. I tend to prefer Da Dong over Quanjude, partly because I can't get over the tourist trap feel of QJD.

I had some stellar pieces of duck skin, which I like to take with a dusting of white sugar and a hint of garlic sauce. But a couple of the pieces were on the smoky side and not as crispy as I'd like.

The duck meat wrapped in the tortilla with accoutrements was good, although since there were 7 of us sharing a duck and I was trying to be polite and not eat it all up, I had some trouble getting the duck to balance with all the fixings.

The duck broth was a nice change of pace. Gently and subtly flavored, while still preserving the smokey character of the duck.

Dessert was a bowl of black sesame porridge. A nice touch of restraint here in keeping it only lightly sweet. While my sweet-teeth cried out for a dose of sugar, the nuttiness of the sesame was able to take center stage without being crowded out by sweet.

So there you have it, that's what the populous thinks is the best Chinese restaurant in Beijing. All said, we had a splendid meal there, and my uncle's family was thoroughly impressed with the experience. I know I've been critical in this write-up, but that's just because Da Dong operates on such a high level. The next time someone important comes to town and wants Chinese food, I'll definitely consider taking them here. Especially if they're paying...

Oh, and be sure to make a reservation (though they're only allowed until 6:30, so one of our party had to hold the table and wait for the rest of us to get there), though, as this place draws crowds. And all the more so after picking up the title of Chinese Restaurant of the Year for the third year in a row.

Stay tuned, in coming weeks I'll write up the other 3 main winners. I'm going hardcore on you and turning this into a series.

Also, for you duck lovers, I'm hoping to make it out to Duck de Chine and Made in China in the near future to see how their ducks compare.

Deep fried bacon

Every so often I have these moments where I arrive at a pinnacle in life. Where everything I've done up to that point pales in comparison. Where time stops, the clouds part and an angelic chorus proclaims in perfect four part harmony: "Nice one, dude."

I've put off writing this up because I knew I just couldn't do it justice.

But seeing as I've got 500 words left on my daily write over at 750words.com, I figured I might as well tackle this post.

So it all started with the Super Bowl. I invited some guys over to watch it, but with the time difference, kickoff was at 7 in the morning. Those of you who know me know that I'm extremely unathletic, and not the most avid fan of professional sports, but this time around I had something at stake. One time in college, I made scrambled eggs for Aaron Rodgers. So I figured this was my one shot at having my cooking win a Super Bowl (albeit 5 years after the fact).

In the interest of (awkward) full disclosure, I was actually more excited about making breakfast for the guys...Not sure what that says about me. Especially since I donned M's "Cihp and Adle" apron to do so.

But I digress. So the night before, I go by the supermarket and realize they no longer have the brand of bacon I like to buy out here (Maverick, for those playing along at home). For whatever reason, I'm just not a big fan of the bacon that Hormel sells in China. But I figure the Super Bowl is all about quantity over quality, so I buy the super pack of Hormel Value Bacon: 2.2 pounds of low-grade goodness.

Monday morning rolls around and I start frying up some bacon, but it's just me and a couple other guys because everyone else slept in. Hmm...

So I eat a few slices, the other guys eat some, and M eats some when she wakes up. But we've still got about a pound and a half left.

Throughout the following week, I cooked it up for breakfast (at one point I used it to make a sandwich using half a sesame bagel, half a rosemary garlic bagel, a fried egg, cream cheese, fresh parmesan and, of course, bacon. So glorious.) and lunch, but I was worried that I wouldn't finish it before it went bad.

(By the way, Beijingers should definitely try the rosemary garlic bagels from Hegel's Bagels. They're phenomenal.)

And then Saturday rolled around and I had a genius idea. We had scheduled a fry party for that night, and in the interest of frying something new every time, I decided to go ahead and try to make deep fried bacon.

I consulted this recipe, although at some point different battering processes start to run together in my brain. In fact, I think I used the dry mix leftover from my favorite wings recipe, which has a nice kick to it.

So here's the cliff notes recipe:
Step 1. Dip bacon in some kind of egg + milk mixture
Step 2. Dredge bacon in some kind of flour + spices mixture
Step 3. Deep fry for several minutes in 350 degree oil
Step 4. ????
Step 5. Profit!

The original recipe says to put it in the oven for extra crispiness, but I found that it was cooked through and crunchy enough just from the deep frying (as it should be).

Eating this, I could almost imagine my heart slowing down. Although, it can't be much worse than some of the other stuff I make (Amy, you're the resident nutritionist. Any thoughts?)

Fittingly, I had added bacon lard into the frying oil because I started out by trying Cook's Illustrated's Easier French Fries recipe, which turned out ok, but not crispy. Counterintuitively, that recipe has you start with the fries in cold oil and gradually increase the heat.

I like to lightly salt anything savory that comes out of the deep fryer, but this might be one case where I'd advise against it.

Anyway, I've rambled on long enough. Here's how the deep fried bacon came out:

You'll have to trust me on this one. It tastes better than it looks :).

Not sure where to go from here. Although, I did come up with the crazy idea for "deep fried deep fryer"...hehehe, maybe next time.

And yes, in case you were wondering, this is a shameless attempt at going viral.

Beijing's fourth best deal

Life in Beijing has a few perqs. Sure, we may be in the midst of a 100 day drought. And sometimes when I blow my nose, the snot comes out black. But forget about all that stuff for a moment while I tell you about Beijing's fourth best deal.

Inevitably, some of you tricksters will want to know what Beijing's first through third best deals are, so I'll just get them out of the way. (survey says…*ding*)

1. Domestic help, affectionately known as an Ayi. The going rate for an Ayi here in Beijing is, in my opinion, far and away the best deal in Beijing. We recently began teaching our Ayi how to make all sorts of stuff like pizza dough, cinnamon rolls and chocolate chip cookies, so expect me to gain about 20 pounds when she gets back from her Spring Festival break.

2. Public transportation. Using a public transport card, you can get around on Beijing buses for as little as 6 cents and go anywhere on the subway for about 30 cents (except the airport which will set you back $3.50). That makes BART feel like a luxury brand. A really ugly luxury brand stuck in the 1980s that reeks of vomit and urine.

3. Hand-pulled noodles. Now that I know that you have to go 10 rounds with a lump of dough to produce a bowl or two of hand-pulled noodles, the $1 bowls of noodles at my local green-awning Lanzhou beef noodle soup joint seem like even more of a deal.

Now on to our main event. Beijing's fourth best deal.

4. Mondays at Flamme. Element Fresh chef Jeffrey Powell had a brilliant idea. Let's have all the quality of Element Fresh without the burden of all that healthy mumbo jumbo. And thus Flamme Steakhouse was born.

For a limited time, the house steak (98 rmb for 150g, 138 for 260) is buy one, get one free on Monday and Tuesday. Plus, Happy Hour goes all night on Mondays so drinks are 50 percent off.

In a shameless plug on M's behalf, this month's copy of The Beijinger has a coupon for a free drink at Flamme on page 33.

I've had varying quality levels on the steaks during the few times I've been, but considering how hard it is to get a decent affordable steak in this city, I'm more than happy. Depending on how you look at it, the fact that the steaks arrive in about 5 minutes time could be a really good thing, or a really bad thing...

And honestly, I'd keep coming back just for the sides. Their classic fries are the best fries I've had in Beijing, and if you need more fries, you can always double up with their garlic parmesan skinny fries. The creamed spinach and squash roasted with butter and sage are serious tastiness, but be forewarned, they're definitely not guilt-free.

If you can handle another dose of deep fry, the zucchini chips are a great deal. 28 kuai for a big bowl, but they're better if you share them with a group.

So the next time you're sick of riding around on the subway eating noodles with your Ayi, get off at Tuanjiehu and head over to Flamme in the Village.

Fried Mashed Potatoes

A couple of weeks ago, we had another fry party in honor of B. Chew's birthday (some of you may remember him as the Noodle Master from a previous post).

We reprised classic buffalo wings, tried to make some fried cheese (disaster), and fried up some garlic because the man is a garlic Fiend (yes, capital F). And, because he was the original mastermind behind our first Bloomin' Onion, we fried up one of those as his birthday cake.

Late in the night, after several tries, we got to the really good stuff: Fried Mashed Potatoes. Originally, these were supposed to be a cross between the potato puffs over at Gregoire in Berkeley and the potato balls at a nearby Dai restaurant.

I went into this kind of blind, so it took the collective smarts of M. Dou, Marissa, and Jeremy to pull this together. Eddy gets a shout-out too, since I pulled from his "Heart Attack Mashed Potatoes" recipe.

Here's what we ended up with:

Fried Mashed Potatoes
AKA: Fried Heart Attack, Tater Tots on Steroids

Mashed potatoes:
(adapted from Alton Brown's potato recipe)
8 medium sized potatoes
1/2 cup of milk
1/2 cup of buttermilk, (1/2 cup milk with 1/2 tablespoon vinegar or lemon juice)
1/4 cup heavy cream
4 tablespoons of butter
3 bulbs of garlic
1/8 cup grated parmesan cheese
2 stalks of green onions, chopped
Salt and Pepper (to taste)

Optional:
8 strips of bacon (pan-fried, shredded)
1/2 cup of grated cheddar cheese

Breading:
Eggs
Milk
Breadcrumbs

Wash, peel, and cube the potatoes into 1/2 inch pieces. Put them in a pot with just enough water, cover, and bring to a boil. Once boiling, remove the lid and simmer for 15 minutes or until potatoes are soft.

Meanwhile, preheat an oven to 375 degrees F. Take the bulbs of garlic cut the tops off so that each clove has the top part missing. Wrap with aluminum foil but leave the tops open with some extra foil at the top so you can fold it down to cover the garlic. Drizzle some olive oil and sprinkle a pinch of sea salt over the garlic. Roast the garlic in the oven until soft, approximately 1 hour. If the tops begin to burn or dry out, close the foil over the top.

Once the potatoes are soft, drain and return to the pot over medium heat for a couple minutes to remove some of the water moisture. Turn the heat off and mash. As you mash, slowly add the milk, buttermilk, cream, and butter until incorporated. Grind in some salt and pepper to taste.

When the garlic is finished roasting, remove from oven and let cool for several minutes. While the garlic is still warm, unwrap the foil, and use paper towels or gloves to hold the back of the bulb and squeeze the garlic into a bowl. If the garlic is finished, it should come out like toothpaste. Only more awesome. Add the grated parmesan cheese (and a bit of butter if you'd like), and mix.

When the potatoes are creamy and mashed, you can add the garlic and green onions (and bacon and cheese) and mix until incorporated.

Fill up a deep fryer or large pot with peanut oil and heat to 350 degrees F. Here in Beijing, we use the aluminum fry pot and basket that our small group got me for my birthday a couple years ago.

Crack some eggs into a bowl, then beat them until the yolk and white are combined. Add a couple splashes of milk. Pour a generous helping of breadcrumbs into a bowl.

Spoon out the potato mixture and roll into individual balls or logs. Dip in the egg mixture, then roll in the breadcrumbs until covered. Set aside on a plate until you have enough for a batch.

Gently slide the potato balls/logs into the fryer, fry for a couple minutes, then roll them over and fry the other side for a couple minutes or until golden brown. Transfer to a cooling rack to let drip, then lightly salt.

Let cool for a couple minutes, but serve while hot. Best served with Marissa's Roasted Red Pepper sauce.

Disclaimer:
By way of warning, I don't have any nutritional info for you, but I'm pretty sure these are about 1000 calories each, so eat at your own risk!

Hand-pulled noodles and Niuroumian

M's birthday was last month but she had the misfortune of her birthday falling on the day before she took the HSK, the Chinese language proficiency test. There was a bit of drama about it all, as the test had just switched to a new format and there wasn't any clear information about what the test would be like. Amid all the stress, we were trying to decide what to do to celebrate when I came up with a great idea: Noodle Party. For those of you who don't know, M is crazy, yes I mean actually insane, about noodles. She gets it from her parents, who are also crazy about noodles. We ended up having the party on the day after, since we could celebrate her finishing the HSK (and consequently her M.A.). (UPDATE: We just found out yesterday, she passed!  Cue the 'Pomp and Circumstance')

In keeping with our desire to learn how to make our favorite comfort Chinese foods from scratch, we decided to try our hand at Niu rou mian (Beef noodle soup). We happily invited 20 of our closest friends here in Beijing, then promptly realized we were in way over our heads, as is so often the case.  That week, while she crammed for the HSK and made sure to get enough rest, we also had to learn how to make our own noodles and niuroumian from scratch.  Personally, I'm a bit suspicious of all of this, because somehow between the learning and then the leftovers, M got to eat noodles everyday for almost two weeks, which is just about her own private heaven on earth. 

Luke Rymarz was a huge help in learning how to pull noodles.  I appreciate how the engineering background in him really comes through in his recipes and their corresponding recipes.  Ironically, we had a hard time finding flour with the right gluten ratios.  I asked several old ladies at supermarkets, but they seemed surprised that we wanted to pull our own noodles.  I find it strange that the (much-contested) inventors of noodles have so relegated old-fashioned noodle pulling to the work of street vendors and high-class tourist traps.  The one thing I learned about pulling this kind of noodle? (Cue Kungfu Panda Canto-Duck accent:)The secret ingredient is(/Cue Kungfu Panda Canto-Duck accent)...elbow grease.  Seriously, these noodles take like an hour to knead, and all that for just two bowls.  I'll grant that they're delicious, but if you count labor cost, they're crazy expensive.  There's got to be a better way (other than chemical additives that increase stretchiness), since the typical bowl of noodles here sells for about a dollar.  I'll get back to you on that one.

The night of M's party, several of our friends showed up early to get a headstart on kneading.  Since, well we knew we'd knead the help...

N, being the stud that he is, finished first.  Not sure who that creepy guy next to him is, though.

For the first half the night, M was our resident pulling expert.  Somehow, I don't have the precision necessary to keep dozens of strings of dough separate.  Mine would just stick together like a horribly maimed dough harp.

Like the apron?  I found this green beauty at a local market.  "Cpih and Adle", those crazy rascals, were favorites of M growing up.

We almost always forget to take decent pictures of the food, since we're usually doing way too many other things at once (that and we've already wolfed it down it by the time we remember); this is one of the only shots we have of the niuroumian and the hand-pulled noodles.    Trust me, this was a lot better than it looks.

For the niuroumian, M got some help from a couple of posts over at Eat Drink & Be Merry.  Mr. B Merry doesn't exactly post ratios for his sauces and spices, so we just splashed them in at random.  We're hoping to go back and make it soon, though, with measurements; we can perfect this madness.

We had our hands full that night, what with all the kneading, boiling, and cooking that needed to be done, thankfully, a true noodle master showed up:

This man right here (who you might also recognize as the genius behind the bloomin' onion) is a straight up noodle shifu.  He walked in, took charge, and laid down the law on these unsuspecting balls of dough.  In no time at all, he was able to get all but one of the balls of dough ready for noodle-pulling.  Then, in a flurry of motion, a whirlwind of ninja-like proportions, he pulled them into awesomness.

As for the one wayward batch of dough?  That was made by our friend H, who rather than use our newly purchased (and specifically for this purpose, I might add) gram scale, decided to dagai ('approximate') it.  It was a sad day when we had to throw the 'dagaimian' in the trash, but alas, they were beyond saving, even by the Noodlemaster.  It felt oddly like putting the runt of the litter down;  M might have actually shed a tear over the loss of noodle life.

CC was ever so kind as to make a birthday trifle, and CH had the foresight to purchase these beautiful candles.  Fortunately, several people were so carbed out on the noodles they couldn't finish the trifle.  More for me!

I'm really bad at estimating food amounts.  At the end of the night, only about a 1/3 of the 2 pots of niuroumian and 1/3 of the gigantic bowl of zhajiangmian had been used up.  Hence, the week of leftovers.

The thing we had the most left of was the braised beef shoulder (I drank all the broth first), which went really well with some fresh cilantro and green onions, a drizzle of crackling hot oil, and some freshly ground sea salt.  M also had the good sense to make green onion pancakes to wrap it in, and we gave ourselves contented pats on back and belly.

The niuroumian is actually surprisingly easy to make, especially seeing as we got several meals out of it.  The main thing is it has to simmer for several hours to really be any good; definitely worth it, but takes a bit of planning.  Alternatively, I've heard that housewives in Taiwan put their niuroumian in crock pots, spend the day out (most likely playing mahjong), and come home to a one pot wonder of beefy goodness.  We'll get back to you on that one.

There's a Chinese tradition of eating one long noodle for birthday (you know, the longer the noodle, the longer the life).  However, in a sick twist, the really long noodles at restaurants are supposedly made with glue-like (potentially life-shortening) additives.  Here's hoping that our homemade noodles will score us some points on the longevity front.  After all: so many noodles, so little time.

Happy Birthday M!

Behold the Bacon Cake

I made this bad boy back in October for DC's birthday and never got around to posting it. But how could I not submit this to the internetz in all its caloric glory?

The idea was to make a cake that wasn't too sweet. So I got to thinking: "Hmm, what isn't sweet?" Bacon. Although the last few seasons of Top Chef have submitted evidence to the contrary, we all know the adage: "Everything's better with bacon."

I started with Betty Crocker's pancake recipe, but spread them thinner around the pan to make a bigger base. In between layers of pancakes, I alternated between butter, bacon, maple syrup, and chocolate chips (Special thanks to Liz who brought us premium Québécois syrup when she visited). I frosted with a Dark Chocolate Butter Maple Ganache, based on Eat Drink Live's Pancake Cake, which was in turn taken from Martha Stewart. And for the finishing touch, of course, I crumbled bacon around the outside of the cake.

I'd like to tell you it was a big hit, but I had meant to use maple bacon and somehow got a different brand, so the bacon ended up being too savory. We kept the leftovers from the party and had slices for breakfast the next few days, reheated then drizzled with some maple syrup, which was actually very tasty.

Not bad for a first shot at glory. I guess I'll have to make it again for someone else to really perfect my technique.

Thanksgiving Eve

It's weird, normally the fourth Wednesday afternoon in November is a really exciting time. Oh the schoolday buzz of rushing out of school and hopping in the car to drive (through bumper to bumper traffic) to either Phoenix or Moraga to see the grandparents. But I finished work, dodged a couple complaining students and headed home to an empty house (M's on her way home from the airport).

But there is some anticipation too, since we were able to get our hands on a good ol' American turkey. Our small group is crazy enough to attempt all the fixin's too. Cooking a 14 pound turkey, who we've named Kanye (since he's the biggest turkey I know), in an oversized toaster oven should be exciting. We'll let you know how it turns out.

On a random note, I discovered a street vendor outside our house who makes chow mein and chow fun to order. For less than $1. So awesome.


And by way of plug, we're not sure how many of our readers are Beijingers like us, but we wanted to spread the word about the coolest thing in Beijing:

On Demand Pie Delivery Service from the Pie House




Basically, one of our friends is starting a pie baking business. If you live near enough, you can call and have a pie within like 5 hours. That's just freaking awesome. These pies are tasty too, head on over to their site and take a look at those bad boys. So anyway, if you're in town and need a pie in a few hours, who you gonna call?