Dec 2008

Cơm Chiên – Vietnamese Fried Rice

This recipe is the perfect use for day-old rice that’s chilling out in the fridge. Whereas the cơm chiên I grew up with included little dried shrimps (tôm khô), this recipe excludes them because I never did like their taste or texture. In their place I’ve added peas and carrots for bold colors and nutrients, of course.

  • 4 cups cooked and chilled day-old rice
  • 2 tablespoons butter or vegetable oil
  • 1 egg, well beaten
  • 4 cloves of garlic
  • 1 cup frozen peas
  • 1 cup of chopped carrots
  • 4 links of Chinese sausage (lạp xưởng)
  • Salt
  • Black pepper
  • Fish Sauce (optional)

Prepare vegetables and sausage

Begin by setting out the peas on the counter to defrost. Slice the Chinese sausages into bite-sized pieces. I prefer to cut them at a slight bias, resulting in thin, but good-sized pieces. Next, coarsely chop the garlic cloves and set them aside. Lastly, chop the carrots into bite-sized pieces and lightly steam them in the microwave—carrots tend to take longer than the other ingredients to cook through.

Prepare egg

Add about 2 teaspoons of oil or butter to a frying pan and swirl to coat the pan lightly. Add the beaten egg and tilt the pan to make a thin egg pancake. Cook until set, about 1 minute, and then turn it out onto a plate. Once it has cooled, roll up the egg pancake into a cylinder and cut it crosswise into thin ribbons with a knife.

Prepare rice

Crumble the rice with your fingers to break up any big lumps.

Make fried rice

Add the remaining oil or butter to the pan along with the garlic and cook until sizzling and fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes. Scatter the sausage and carrots in the pan and cook, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the rice and cook, tossing now and then, until heated through, 3 to 5 minutes. I cook my rice a bit longer because I prefer it with crunchy clumps.

Add the fish sauce, salt and pepper to taste. Next, add peas to the rice and toss. Add the egg ribbons, and cook, tossing well, for 1 more minute. Serve hot or warm.

Dec 2008

Din Tai Fung – Arcadia

Pretty much ever since we got to L.A., The Gastronomer and I have been hearing great things about Din Tai Fung Dumpling House, an establishment owned by a Taiwanese family that also operates celebrated restaurants in Shanghai, Japan, and Hong Kong. We both love dumplings (in my case, perhaps love is not a strong enough word—I’m obsessed), and these were rumored to be the best in the area. Reviewers claimed that they would happily drive an hour or more across the metropolitan area just to feast on Din Tai Fung’s soup-filled delights. Even though The Gastronomer and I did not possess a car, we began to plan a journey to Arcadia by bus.

Fortunately, The Gastronomer’s Mom recently hooked us up with our own set of wheels, and now getting to Arcadia is a snap. We visited Din Tai Fung one Saturday for a late lunch. The dining room wasn’t tremendously large, but it was certainly well-appointed and a happening place. We perused the menu while we waited for a table. Obviously, we had to try the classic pork dumplings, but what should be our second dumpling choice? The Gastronomer considered adventurously trying the fish dumplings. She asked the hostess for her opinion, and the look she got back made it clear that fish was not a good idea. It was suggested that we order the pork and shrimp shiu mai instead. We were glad we did.

While we waited for our food, we studied up on the proper way to eat Din Tai Fung dumplings. I tried following the directions for a few dumplings, and also tried just popping the whole thing in my mouth at once. They were awesome both ways.

As explained in the instructions shown above, the dumplings were served with a vinegar dipping sauce with freshly julienned ginger. I’m used to dipping my dumplings in soy sauce, which was also provided, but this was better.

The dumplings were wonderful. The Pork Dumplings ($7.25) were round and filled with broth, while the Pork and Shrimp Shiu Mai ($9) each had a whole shrimp inserted into their open tops. We couldn’t decide which variety was our favorite, but The Gastronomer particularly loved the plump and juicy shrimp atop the shiu mai. As we never made it to Shanghai during our Asian travels, this was my first experience with soup-filled dumplings, and I can’t say for certain how Din Tai Fung’s stack up. However, I preferred them to any of the Northern Chinese-style dumplings that I ate in Hong Kong, Xi’an, and Beijing, which were amazing to begin with. The wrappers weren’t too chewy, the meat was seasoned just right, the sweet broth added an extra burst of flavor and warmth, and the ginger dipping sauce really brought everything together. What a treat.

In my opinion, Din Tai Fung is totally worth the hype, and also worth the price, which seems to be people’s only complaint about this place. Ever since living in Vietnam, my appetite for eating huge portions of meat at one sitting has decreased considerably (see Korean barbecue—I felt a bit ill after that meal), so twenty dumplings was just about right for us.

On our way out of Din Tai Fung, I spotted a newspaper article on the wall that described the restaurant’s history. Apparently the son of the Taiwanese founders immigrated to America many years ago, but his parents encouraged him to pursue non-restaurant careers because food service was too demanding and time-consuming. While he was toiling away as a garment inspector, he witnessed several impostor Din Tai Fung restaurants spring up in California, trying to take advantage of the Asian branches’ notoriety. Each of them produced an inferior product and eventually closed. Tired of seeing his family’s name tarnished, the son gave in and opened his own restaurant, a true Din Tai Fung Dumpling House. It seems like he’s making the dumplings right.

Din Tai Fung
1108 S. Baldwin Avenue
Arcadia, CA 91007
Phone: 626-574-7068

Dec 2008

Pizzeria Mozza – Los Angeles

Even though it’s been over two years since Pizzeria Mozza served its first artfully topped wood-fired pie, reservations at a decent hour are still as tough as nails to snag. Nancy Silverton, Mario Batali and Joseph Bastianich are the masterminds behind the pizzeria and its upscale sister restaurant Osteria Mozza, hence the immense popularity. There’s nothing like big names to get diners’ salivatory glands going. Myself included.

I’ve been jonesing to try Pizzeria Mozza ever since the New York Times‘ Frank Bruni professed his love back in May of 2007. I was unfamiliar with Nancy Silverton’s mad skills prior to moving to Los Angeles, but knew of Mario Batali from the Food Network and his New York City eateries Babbo and Otto. I admire how Batali has managed to achieve a certain level of culinary celebrity without sacrificing his credibility as a chef or the quality of his ventures. Bravo! I also like how he blasts tunes from his personal iPod at Babbo and still manages to keep all three stars.

The best seats in the house at Pizzeria Mozza are those facing the wood-fired oven, which The Astronomer and I were fortunately seated at. Throughout our meal, we were mesmerized by the cooks masterfully working the dough, carefully arranging the toppings, and cautiously firing each creation. If you find yourself sitting at the bar, make sure to chat it up with Caesar (bottom right)—he’s a cool cat and makes excellent recommendations.

While we waited for our pizzas to arrive, we munched on some fantastic bread sticks. I’ve read that the appetizers are great, but since it was a weeknight outing, we didn’t feel like making it a three course affair. No worries, we’ll be back.

The Astronomer ordered a pizza with Coach farm goat cheese, leeks, scallions and bacon ($15). The pie measured a foot in diameter and was cut into four generous slices. Although not on the menu description, the pizza also contained whole cloves of roasted garlic, which were sweet without a trace of bitterness. Yum! The crust was thin in the middle and bulbous around the perimeter. The crust was enjoyable, but for The Astronomer, it was the combination of toppings that made the pie spectacular.

I ordered the egg, guanciale, radicchio, escarole and bagna cauda ($14) because I’m a sucker for runny eggs atop pizza pies. The combination of ingredients challenged me—the radicchio was bitter, while the bagna cauda tasted of the sea. Unlike The Astronomer’s pizza, mine wasn’t as easy to love because the flavors were bold and competed with one another. Next time, I’m going for the fennel sausage, panna, red onion and scallions combo.

For dessert, we asked our man Caesar which one was his favorite. Without hesitation he recommended the butterscotch budino ($9), which so happens to be Frank Bruni’s favorite too.

Frank Bruni calls the butterscotch budino “a pudding to shame all other puddings,” and I agree with him wholeheartedly. The smooth butterscotch pudding is topped with whipped cream, a thin layer of sweet caramel and an ample sprinkling of sea salt. The double punch of sweet and salty made me squeal. Really! The pudding was served with two pine nut and rosemary cookies on the side. Good times.

Click here for Nancy Silverton’s Butterscotch Budino recipe.

Pizzeria Mozza
641 N Highland Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90036
Phone: 323-297-0101

Pizzeria Mozza on Urbanspoon

Pizzeria Mozza in Los Angeles