Jun 2009

Bánh Cuốn – Vietnamese Rice Crepes with Ground Pork and Mushrooms

The literal translation for bánh cuốn is “rolled cakes.” A more apt translation would be “Vietnamese crêpes stuffed with ground pork and wood ear mushrooms.” In Vietnam, bánh cuốn is consumed for breakfast and as a late night snack.

For years, my Bà Ngoại (maternal grandmother) made bánh cuốn using a prefabbed batter that she purchased from the Vietnamese supermarket. The grocery store-bought batter yielded passable bánh cuốn, but my grandma always felt that the crêpes’ consistency was slightly off. While reading a local Vietnamese-language newspaper recently, Bà Ngoại stumbled upon a bánh cuốn recipe that looked very promising. She followed the instructions to a T and was very impressed with the results. The combination of rice flour, potato starch, and tapioca starch makes for a light and thin crêpe without a trace of glueyness.

For crêpes

  • 2 cups rice flour
  • 1 cup potato starch
  • 1/2 cup tapioca starch
  • 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 5.5 cups water

For filling

  • 1 pound ground pork
  • 1 cup wood ear mushrooms
  • 4 shallots, finely chopped
  • Fish sauce
  • Black pepper
  • Sugar
  • Monosodium Glutamate (MSG)

Make crêpe batter

In a large bowl, whisk together rice flour, tapioca starch, and potato starch. Whisk in water and oil until blended. Let the batter rest for one full hour before proceeding. [See images of the various flours’ packaging after the jump.]

Make filling

While the crêpe batter is resting, prepare the meat filling.

In a small bowl, cover the wood ear mushrooms with boiling water and let stand until softened, about 5 minutes. Drain and chop the mushrooms.

In a small skillet, heat a tablespoon of oil. Add the ground pork and the shallots and cook over moderate heat until no pink remains. Break up the meat with a spatula. Stir in the chopped mushrooms. Season with fish sauce, black pepper, sugar, and MSG to taste. Set aside.

Mise en place

The process of making bánh cuốn requires one to work quickly and efficiently, so make sure that all ingredients are within reach before starting—batter, filling, and additional oil.

Assemble bánh cuốn

Grease a large plate using a non-stick spray or a paper towel dipped in oil. Set aside.

Heat a ten-inch non-stick pan over medium-high heat. Lightly mist pan with non-stick spray if using a plain skillet. Ladle in about a half cup of batter, quickly swirl to evenly coat the skillet, and then quickly pour the excess back into the batter bowl. Note: the batter should sizzle when it hits the pan. Cover the pan with a lid for approximately 30 seconds.

The crêpe is ready to be inverted once the edges start to release themselves. Invert the crêpe onto the greased plate in one swift motion. Don’t worry if the crêpe’s sides fold inward. Be sure to re-grease the plate after every three crêpes or so.

Spoon about one tablespoon of the pork and mushroom filling into the center of the crêpe. Fold in the sides to cover the filling and form a neat rectangle. Transfer the finished bánh cuốn onto a different plate.

It is best to fill and fold the bánh cuốn while the crêpes are cooking. The time that it takes to fill and fold the bánh cuốn is comparable to the time that it takes for the crêpes to cook. The bánh cuốn making process goes by rather quickly once a rhythm is established.

Serve bánh cuốn warm or at room temperature with nuoc cham. Garnish with fried shallots, steamed mung bean sprouts, julienned cucumbers, and cha lua (Vietnamese pork loaf).

Makes approximately 30 to 40 bánh cuốn.

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Jun 2009

Boiling Point – Monterey Park

It was supposed to be a quiet night at home with The Astronomer and a big bowl of pasta. However, a knock at the door changed the evening’s course for the stinkier.

I had invited Danny and Fiona over for a slice of the double-decker monstrosity that was The Astronomer’s birthday cake. They came, they ate, and before departing, they extended a dinner invite to Boiling Point.

I was quick to flash my “I haven’t gone for my daily run” card that I keep in my back pocket, but the Gourmet Pigs’ and the Kung Food Panda’s powers of persuasion were far too great. Before I knew it, The Astronomer and I were sitting in Fiona’s backseat on our way to Monterey Park to try stinky tofu for the very first time.

Boiling Point serves up Taiwanese-style individual hot pots in seven different varieties, including beef, lamb, Korean kimchi, curry fish ball, tomato and veggie, seafood and tofu, and “House Special.” Danny, Fiona, and I ordered the House Special hot pot, while The Astronomer went with the seafood and tofu. The spiciness of each hot pot can be adjusted according to preference. The Astronomer and I asked for “extra spicy,” which was one notch below the maddeningly spicy option. Clearly, we were feeling brave this evening.

As we waited for our pots of hotness to arrive, we meandered over to the condiments cart to dish up some sauces—from left to right—garlic soy, spicy oil, and spicy bean. The Astronomer liked the salty garlic number best, while I preferred the chunky and fermented spicy bean.

The broth that fills each hot pot isn’t very complex, it’s mostly just boiling hot and as spicy as specified. These three sauces are essential for boosting the flavor of the broth and the individual ingredients inside it.

My House Special hot pot arrived bubbling, steaming, and brimming with pork intestines, meatballs, quail eggs, green nira (Chinese chives), cilantro, hotdogs, enoki mushrooms, kamaboko (Japanese seafood loaf), pork, Napa cabbage, tomatoes, and of course, stinky tofu. I quickly plopped a small tangle of vermicelli noodles that arrived on the side into the hot broth to soften up.

I approached this hot pot in the same way as a communal one. Using a small bowl, I dished out a portion that included a bit of this and a bit of that. Hovering over the steaming pot would’ve provided an excellent facial, but sweating uncontrollably at the dinner table isn’t very attractive. From the noodles to the intestines, everything that passed through my lips was dipped or doused in spicy bean sauce.

At the bottom of the hot pot lay four triangular slabs of the infamous stinky tofu. The unpleasant odor emanating from the tofu was the result of marinating in a brine made from fermented milk, vegetables, and meat for several months. Although I was pleased to find the tofu’s flavor less intense than its smell, I wasn’t thrilled at all with the taste. I usually embrace the funky and the fermented, but in the case of stinky tofu, I wasn’t loving it. In fact, I was downright hating it. Ditto for The Astronomer.

It wasn’t love at first bite for stinky tofu and me, but I’m open to trying it again and again until we find common ground.

The Astronomer’s seafood and tofu hot pot was piled high with imitation crab meat, clams, bean curd, enoki mushrooms, green onions, tofu, pork, eggs, Taiwanese bok choy, shrimp, and octopus. The broth was identical to mine.

As we fished up the last bits from our hot pots, The Astronomer and I agreed that there’s a certain charm to individual hot pots, but a well-composed bowl of Vietnamese bo kho or Chinese beef noodle soup is less work and more satisfying.

Boiling Point
153 West Garvey Avenue
Monterey Park, CA 91754
Phone: 626-288-9876

Jun 2009

Providence – Los Angeles

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I knew I would love Chef Michael Cimarusti‘s cooking long before I set foot into Providence. His appearance on season two of After Hours with Daniel [Boulud] was brilliant. It’s rare that a guest chef outshines the legendary Boulud, but on this episode, Chef Cimarusti really did. His exuberant personality, refreshing levelheadedness, passion for ingredients, and commitment to sustainability was genuine and inspiring. Reading positive reviews can be persuasive, but actually witnessing the Chef in his element proved far more effective. Exciting things were happening inside Providence’s kitchen, and I wanted to experience them firsthand.

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With tasting menus starting at just under a hundred dollars, an evening at Providence is a special occasion splurge. The Astronomer’s 25th birthday, which serendipitously coincided with the restaurant’s 4th anniversary, provided the perfect opportunity to treat ourselves to a two-star Michelin feast.

Providence specializes in impeccably prepared seafood. As a nod to Chef Cimarusti’s chief source of inspiration, the restaurant’s logo is a fishing reel abstractly represented by circular scribbles, while the main dining room’s walls are accented with “barnacles.”

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In celebration of their anniversary, Providence temporarily reduced the prices of their tasting menus to 2005 levels. The Astronomer and I opted for the Full Tasting ($95). We were presented with complimentary glasses of Nicolas Feuillatte Brut M.V. upon wishing Providence a very happy anniversary. It pays to Twitter.

Our first amuse of the evening was a trio of “shots”—from left to right—mojito, gin and tonic, and greyhound. We were instructed to start with the gin and tonic, followed by the mojito, and finish with the greyhound.

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With a squeeze of lime, the jellied gin and tonic was a potent first shot. The mojito and greyhound were held together by the thinnest of membranes. One slip of the tongue and the cocktails burst in our mouths. Even though we’ve experienced liquefied orbs before, it was still a totally awesome sensation.

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Following the three shots were a trio of breads—from left to right—bacon brioche, focaccia, and white. Cold unsalted butter with a dish of coarse sea salt was served on a chilled platter alongside. The bacon brioche, with its salty bacon bits and smoky aroma, was hands-down our favorite. We requested another to share.

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Our second amuse of the evening contained four very different elements—clockwise starting from top left—smoked trout, a gougère, carrot soup, and a wasabi pea encrusted soy marshmallow. We were instructed to eat from left to right, only one bite or gulp each.

We began with a firm and fresh spoonful of smoked trout topped with a brunoise of pickled vegetables. Next, we moved on to the soy marshmallow. I was expecting a firm, tofu-like consistency as I plopped the cool cube into my mouth, but instead I experienced a most enjoyable mush, followed by the peas’ crunch and spice.

Up third was a bite-sized gougère. Unlike the gougères I devoured at The French Laundry and Church & State, this one was piped with an oozy cheesy. The unexpectedly warm and saucy center was a welcomed contrast to the simplicity of the first two bites. Lastly, we took a big gulp of chilled carrot soup topped with a dollop of curry whipped cream. The soup was smooth, sweet, and good.

With their playful contrasts in temperatures, textures, and flavors, the series of amuses did their job spectacularly. We were ready to begin our tasting menu.

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The first official course of the evening was Japanese kanpachi sashimi with crispy rice crackers and flowering coriander. Beneath the two slices of fish was a neat pool of soy crème fraîche and endives prepared sous vide. Chef Cimarusti has an affinity for layering flavors and textures upon one another, which makes each and every dish interesting from top to bottom.

As our waiter listed off this dish’s components, I was a bit curious about the soy crème fraîche. Heeding my interest, our waiter went into the kitchen and brought out cubes of “soy salt” for me to smell and touch. Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty!

It must be emphasized that Providence is staffed by an army of astute, friendly, well-dressed, and very accommodating waiters. Service throughout the entire evening was flawless.

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Course number two was Santa Barbara sea urchin served in a farm fresh egg. Sea urchin and I haven’t hit it off very well in the past, but at Providence, we became very good friends. The uni was served warm in a sea of Champagne beurre blanc and fines herbes. The undisturbed yolk at the bottom of the egg provided a rich finish.

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After seeing Chef Cimarusti prepare salt-roasted Santa Barbara spot prawns on After Hours with Daniel, I couldn’t leave Providence without having those little guys in my belly. I requested these prawns in place of the lone meat course on the tasting menu. They are priced at $33 on the a la carte menu.

The prawns arrived on a rolling cart, drowning in a sea of 400 degree salt and rosemary sprigs. A kind French gentleman prepared the dish tableside, serving the prawns simply with French cold pressed olive oil and lemon wedges. The tails were tender and sweet, while the heads were juicy and succulent. The server was pleased to hear that I enjoyed the heads. He says that most people are grossed out by it.

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The fourth course of the evening was a perfectly seared Hokkaido sea scallop from Japan resting in a bath of Jurançon Sec. Fava beans, chanterelles and applewood smoked bacon rounded out the cast of flavors. It’s not difficult to find a well-prepared scallop around town, but only the best seafood restaurants can offer a plump and sweet beast of this caliber.

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The fifth and sixth courses were both flawless fish preparations. The John Dory (left) arrived first. The menu had originally listed halibut, but by the time this course rolled around, John Dory was being used instead. I have developed an irrational obsession with John Dory thanks to Gordon Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen. Hearing Ramsay call out an order for “Dory” never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Providence’s John Dory was sandwiched between burdock prepared two ways—fried up top and pickled on the bottom. The shiso and lemon were fine foils for the flaky white fish.

Following the John Dory was Arctic char with Japanese turnips, sweet peas, preserved Meyer lemon, and gingered carrot juice. The vibrantly pink Arctic char was prepared rare and flaked off in tender sheets. Its crisped skin was equally fabulous.

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The Astronomer and I were both taken aback when the roasted tenderloin of veal arrived, since we had requested the spot prawns in its place. The two pink rounds of free-range veal were accompanied by crushed King Edward potatoes, spring onions, hazelnuts, and a spring garlic confit. Hunks of meat proved too much for me at this point, so The Astronomer stepped it up and consumed all four slabs of veal. The incredibly smooth potatoes were all mine.

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Since I was almost out of precious gastro-real estate after the veal, we decided to skip the cheese course and go straight for sorbet. When sorbet courses are done right, they have a magical way of refreshing the palate and livening up the senses. This evening’s cucumber sorbet with kaffir lime, juniper berry, and yogurt (not pictured) was sublime. The julienne of cucumbers beneath the sorbet was a lovely touch, as was the essence of kaffir lime.

The last course was a miso cheesecake with black sesame crust, Masumoto peaches, and cassis sorbet. I loved that the cheesecake, with its silky consistency, leaned toward savory. The cassis sorbet, which tasted like a cross between raspberries and tamarind, was an out of sight pairing. I wish all desserts could be this bold and successful.

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And finally, a selection of mignardises—passion fruit and chocolate lollipop (left), hazelnut amaretto, vanilla jelly, lemon verbena salted caramel (right).

Providence offers the perfect combination of polished service, thoughtful food, and relaxed atmosphere. This is fine dining at its absolute best.

Providence
5955 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90038
Phone: 323-460-4170

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Providence in Los Angeles