A prospective review of gustatory and taste sensations as observed in individuals with obsessive compulsive traits focused on gastronomy.
I wish I had some Golden Cheesecake from 99 Ranch Market. So fluffy, so non-cheesecake-like, so delicious.
Or maybe some Portuguese egg tarts would hit the spot. I can’t believe the Chinese didn’t think of crisping and caramelizing the tops of egg tarts before.
I don’t think I should have pictures like this as my desktop background; it’s probably the reason I’m always hungry. What can I say? I’m a glutton.
I spent 10 hours in the library yesterday. I’ll probably be in there again for another 10 hours today. And by Friday, the total will probably be up to at least 60 hours. An interesting phenomenon manifests after 10 hours of reading in the library, only taking short “breaks” to eat: I lose all ability to be eloquent, socialize, or even hold a conversation. At least with people outside of class. I could probably discuss cardiomyopathies for hours, but that’s besides the point.
Edit: Wait…scratch that; I couldn’t even hold conversations with classmates yesterday.
Besides “Hi” and “How’s it going?” my mind is numb after a day of studying. If I had enough brainpower at the end of the night, I’d be pretty disgusted with myself.
And I am a little disgusted. Oh well, at least there’s pumpkin pie. Is it depressing to say that pumpkin pie keeps my spirits lifted during these tough times? Maybe. But I don’t care; I look forward to Fall every year because of pumpkin pie. I’d still eat it regardless of test stress or not. I LOVE PUMPKIN PIE. See how there are no slice marks on the pie? There’s no need to make slices if you’re eating a pie for yourself. Just a spoon. I’m on my second pie already. I’ve already eaten a 10 inch sweet potato pie from Kroger’s. Now I’m eating a Mrs. Smith’s Pumpkin Custard Pie. It’s delicious. The custard filling is like soup straight out of the oven–sweet pumpkin pie soup.
Maybe one of these days I won’t be completely brain dead and will be able to hold a conversation with someone. And maybe I’ll find a friend to enjoy pumpkin pie with. But then I’ll have to share my pie. Crap!
I’ll just buy a bigger pie.
On my third day, I hit up a couple places that I used to frequent while in college. My friend Donna picked me up so we could get some food and catch up on the past couple of years. The first stop was LA Chinatown–the one in downtown, not Monterey Park–for a giant bowl of pho at Pho 87. Pho 87 is hole in the wall with great tasting and unpretentious food. It was packed with out-of-Chinatowners even at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon, a testament to its deliciousness.
Since this would be my only Vietnamese meal for a couple months, I did as I did at Santouka: ordered a dangerously large amount of food. I started with a bowl of their special pho, which came with a variety of cow parts that reminded me of anatomy for some reason: tripe, tendon, flank, meatballs. And unlike the brown-water broths normally served in Nashville, the soup here exuded flavor which could only come about from hours of brewing no less than a dozen different ingredients.
I also ordered egg rolls for the both of us, but somehow I was the only one eating them. I had five out of eight pieces, to be specific.
I finished up with a glass of che 3 mau, a concoction of beans and jellies in coconut milk. It’s really more of a dessert than a drink, but every place always serves this as a drink. After finishing my bowl of noodles, egg rolls, and che 3 mau, I felt a sudden urge to urinate (I did drink a lot of fluid, after all). It was when I finally stood up after eating that I realized just how much I ate: my abdomen began to contract, trying hard to contain all that I ate to prevent my stomach from bursting out a la Aliens.
It was painful.
I never thought I would throw up from eating so much. And I wasn’t going to anytime soon. I suggested to Donna that we kick it and meander around Chinatown.
Chinatown is one of the most underrated hangouts in Los Angeles. Sure, it’s a huge tourist spot during the day, but it doesn’t compare to New York’s Chinatown; you won’t find counterfeits here. During my years tutoring at Castelar Elementary School, it was only during my last year at USC that I discovered the art galleries and hipster shops in between antique shops. There’s also a pretty chill nightlife. And the architecture is pretty awesome. It’s like walking around an brightly colored Asian themepark.
I came back with baked goods–egg tarts–despite my stomach ache. And I ate them. They were creamy, flaky and delightful.
That night, I went to Yai in Thai Town, another hidden gem/hole in the wall I only discovered during my senior year at USC. The food is cheap, plentiful, and made with some soul. Each dish tasted like someone’s mom or dad made it, albeit without as much love, because I don’t really know who made it, so there’s not much love there. But it’s still good!
Pad thai was at a happy medium in between neon orange and poo brown. It’s also tastier when it’s not either of those colors, too.
The panang here was leaps and bounds superior to the one I had on Friday, and any I’ve had in Nashville. The sauce was creamy and thick, much like a stew. I ordered this mild, but I probably should’ve asked for something spicier. Thai food just isn’t the same when I’m not reaching for a Thai tea to extinguish a fire in my mouth.
The beef salad I ordered did start a small fire, though. This was one of the more authentic dishes on the menu, with beef and red onions tossed in vinegar, chilis and rice powder. Usually beef salads tend to be overwhelmingly sour or spicy, but this was balanced, possibly from the rice powder? I’ve never had rice powder so I can’t say for sure.
It’s been a week since I almost ate myself into painful stomach ache oblivion, and I think I’m still suffering the consequences of eating that much. I don’t regret it, though. Somehow, eating until the verge of throwing up made me feel alive. So how do I feel about it now? I say, “Screw Ben Franklin and his quotes–I live to eat!“
The post should’ve been titled “Restaurant Week – Fido’s,” but Fido’s had closed their kitchen at 6pm for the night on the first night of Restaurant Week. It’s not really the way a restaurant would want to start the week, but I guess something bad happened. Or there was really bad planning on Fido’s part. At least there were multiple restaurants on 21st Ave that were participating in Restaurant Week. And because it was there, and partly because I had been told that Jackson’s dinner was different, we decided to get dinner at Jackson’s.
The ongoing deal for the week was $20.08 for a prix fixe meal at all restaurants participating in Restaurant Week. From what I recall, other cities’ restaurant weeks involved special menus and dishes created just for the occassion to showcase the chef’s, and restaurant’s, razzle dazzle. Jackson’s special menu was just a “you pick one of our regular appetizers, one regular entree, and one regular dessert” for $20.08. It didn’t dazzle. But at least I could see how much the special saved me: six dollars. Then again, I don’t think I’d ever buy that much food in one sitting at dinner for just myself.
Now, since the actual dinner was two weeks ago, and my brain has been sufficiently stuffed with medical knowledge, my ability to recall the names of dishes will probably subpar, but I can still describe the dishes. They just won’t sound as eloquent.
I chose shrimp and corn puffs, or hushpuppies, with a sweet chili thai dip as my appetizer. It was mostly puff, a couple kernels of corn, and maybe the essence of shrimp. No real pieces of shrimp really. My friends ordered other dishes so we could get a nice sampling going: beer-cheese dip with bread and chips, grilled chicken quesadillas, and buffalo feathers (fried pieces of shredded chicken). Out of all the dishes, the beer dip was probably the best, mostly because I could actually taste the beer. And since I’m a man now, I grow facial hair, have a deep voice, and love the taste of beer. The quesadillas were a little messy; a product of overstuffage. And the chicken was just another form of fried chicken. It’s all the same to me.
For my entree, I chose barbecued meatloaf with mashed caulliflower and cheese. I didn’t really know what to expect since barbecue and meatloaf seem so opposite to me. What I got was something that looked like mushy spam with grill marks, covered with ketchup. The meatloaf had none of the complexities of its multiple ingredients, but rather tasted like meat. I couldn’t really describe it, but it was very basic. The ketchup had more complexity than the spam meatloaf. The mashed caulliflower was more like mashed potatoes. I couldn’t really taste the cheese, so there wasn’t much incentive to finish this off. The mashed caulliflower at Amerigo is far superior. Besides, at this point, I was getting stuffed.
Dessert was the real reason for coming to Jackson’s for dinner; my friend recommended their cookie dough egg rolls. I was really interested giving it the good ol’ try. It was just too bad that my stomach wasn’t as willing. Fortunately, I was able to force some cookie dough and ice cream down the food tube. It was good, but then again, I never found a problem with cookie dough and ice cream. I don’t know why they decided to fry the cookie dough in an actual wonton skin and not just a log of cookie dough by itself. Fried wonton skins had no place in that dish, and by that time in the meal, no place in my stomach. Much like the pizzookie at BJ’s, it’s good, but I, too, can go to the store and buy ice cream and another baked good and slap them together at home. Then I won’t have to pay 6 dollars. And then I can tell girls I cook!
Also of note: my friend’s $5 milkshake tasted like low-fat milk with syrup. Go to Ben and Jerry’s instead.
Another note: maybe Jackson’s would taste better if there weren’t so many people smoking on the patio.
Jackson’s Bar and Bistro 1800 21st Ave S Nashville, TN (615) 385-9968
It was a gut feeling. Or it was hunger. But I knew that I was getting closer to something tasty. As I drove west from Nashville, Music City USA, the skyscrapers of downtown disappeared and were replaced by lush, green hills. The weather was humid. And, what do you know, there were vendors selling fruit from their trucks on the side of the road! It was a scene straight out of Taiwan, also known as the land of deliciousness.
Far from the country music, the barbecue, the fried chicken, Alpha Bakery resides in the middle of a vast expense of strip malls. Underneath its off-white and slightly worn exterior is a bakery that serves some of the finest baked goodies I’ve had in Nashville (besides biscuits from Loveless). While many of the items are European in origin, there is a considerable Japanese influence. It’s apparent when you first open the door and a sweet odor fills your airways, when you see the Japanese magazines by the door, and when you see the Japanese candies and drinks by the register, but it’s not so apparent when you look at the goodies they offer. This only becomes apparent after taking the first soft and chewy bite of any of their buns; it’s sweet, but not too sweet–a hallmark of Asian-European pastries. I don’t really know why there’s an Asian bakery in the middle of Tennessee, but I’d rather eat now and ask questions later.
It takes a bit of driving to get to Alpha Bakery, so it’s best to stock up when you go. I came away with enough bread for a week or two, given that it doesn’t mold too fast: a loaf of glazed alpha fan, two curry pans, a melon pan, a cream pan, and a slice of cheesecake.
The alpha fan I bought was glazed with a light apricot sauce. I couldn’t really taste it, but it’s probably because I loaded up each toasted slice with honey-sweet peach preserves from Loveless. The outside has the flaky texture of a croissant, and its insides are equally croissant-y and airy, but are also dense enough to support spreads. Not quite the Asian-style toast I’m used to, but it’s a solid purchase that won’t disappoint.
The melon pan is aptly named because it looks like a melon, not because it tastes like one. The outside crust is a bit crispy–from both the baking process and some sugar granules–but the inside is doughy and a little sweet. Microwaving it for 10 seconds to make it soft and warm may make my belly even happier.
The cream bun is soft and has the same soft and doughy texture, but is filled with a thick egg-tasting cream. It reminds me of Chinese or Portuguese egg tart filling in a bun. Also quite good if microwaved.
The curry pan is covered in what I think is panko flakes and filled with a curried beef mixture. The filling doesn’t quite taste like Japanese curry, which usually has some touches of sweetness from honey or fruit; it actually tastes like curry-spiced meat. The outside is also extremely greasy for something that looked baked. It’s good, but the prospect of eating something that looks more oily than fried chicken, but not as tasty, is just a tad disturbing.
The cheesecake was overpriced for such a small price. I think it was supposed to be New York cheesecake, but I don’t like the stiffness in New York style cheesecakes. It also wasn’t as sweet as I expected to be but that can be good or bad, depending on your preference. This left me with a “Meh.”
It’s getting to that time in the school year when I gotta move back into the library so I won’t be able to visit Alpha Bakery as often, but that just means that I’ll have to stock up even more when I do get the opportunity to visit.
Alpha Bakery 7120 Highway 70 S Nashville, TN (615) 673-8168Summer ends too quickly. It’s especially quick when it’s the last summer you’ll ever have. Next summer, I’ll be spending the first six weeks studying in the library because my life depends on it, and then I’ll follow that up by spending the rest of my life working in a hospital. So how did I spend my last week in California? I stuffed my face silly during a short trip to San Francisco.
I don’t think my digestive system has been the same ever since.
The problem I face every time I go to Los Angeles or San Francisco is this: I only visit for a couple of days every so often, and there are only a limited amount of meals that can be eaten during the day–that amount being governed by how much I pain and discomfort I can tolerate from overstuffing my stomach. So the real problem is: deciding if I should stick to the restaurants I know will meet my expectations of deliciousness, or if I should venture out and try new restaurants? This was especially problematic this time around since I knew it would be a long time before I would return to San Francisco. It should’ve been an easy decision to revisit my old favorites one last time before the rest of my life began, but for some reason, I chose to explore what the city by the bay had to offer. Unfortunately, that meant I had some bland meals, which amounted to tasteless calories. But on the upside, I discovered Mamacita’s, which has now become one of my favorite places—if not THE favorite—to eat. And that was after tasting just four of their dishes.
I’ll save Mamacita’s for its own post later. It needs a post of its own.
So for now, I’ll just post more food porn with very little description—the best kind of post, right?
My first meal had to be something familiar. I needed some good food that I couldn’t get in Fresno, so we went to King of Thai for some beef noodle soup, pumpkin curry, and pad thai.
The noodle soup was saltier and darker in color than Vietnamese pho, but is more similar to pho than it is to ramen or Taiwanese beef noodle soup. This bowl came with some cuts of beef flank (I think) and beef balls. And I’m pretty sure there was some MSG in there. Noodle soups just aren’t fantastic without MSG. Note: they can be good—even great—without MSG, but they’ll never be fantastic.
The pumpkin curry was made with kabocha, and had only a subtle pumpkin flavor. I don’t know how to intensify pumpkin flavor with anything other than cinnamon. I can’t remember if it was spicy, but I’m sure it can be modified.
Pad thai. Good.
The next morning I went to Crepes A Go Go, a chain with multiple locations in the bay area. Out of all the crepe places I’ve tried, this place has the best crepes in my opinion because the majority of the crepe is firm, yet soft, and the outside edges are crispy. That crispiness is what separates crepes from rolled-up giant thin pancakes in my opinion. This particular crepe was filled with egg, turkey, and jack cheese–a pretty standard combination of foods.
This breakfast was followed by some really bland meals at restaurants I would rather forget, but I won’t because I need to remember not to go there because I don’t like meals that have no flavor. Unless I’m sick and I need to eat bland foods, that is.
That Takes The Cake is a small cupcake shop on Union by Steiner. I’ve been here a couple times, and enjoyed their cupcakes, but mostly the cake part; I hate frosting. Fortunately, That Takes The Cake doesn’t go overboard with frosting, unlike other places that I’ve seen. These remind me of cupcakes you buy at grocery stores because they don’t look too outlandish, but their flavors are quite unique, like the flavors I got that day: red velvet, key lime, and carrot cake. Their version of red velvet was the very first time I’ve ever tried red velvet, which I think is unusual since it’s a Southern specialty that I seemed to have avoided eating in this last year I’ve lived in Nashville. I’ll be on the prowl for some real red velvet (which is made with cocoa that turns red when oxidized, not with spoonfuls of red dye) when I’m in Nashville this time around.
My stomach was pretty satisfied by the end of the trip; I’d filled it with Thai food, crepes, and cupcakes, a fairly representative sample of foods that I wouldn’t find or willingly eat in Fresno for lack of quality. Until I return, I can say that I left my stomach in San Francisco.
That Takes The Cake 2271 Union St San Francisco, CA (415) 567-8050 Crepes A Go Go 2165 Union St San Francisco, CA (415) 928-1919 King of Thai Noodle House 639 Clement St
