Light Snacks Will Be Served

The Quest Continues

 

I’ve been searching for something for a year now.

Picking my way through this humid haystack of a city for something rare and true and honest and delicious and air-conditioned. I’ve been looking for a dope Izakaya joint. A Japanese spot where drinking and eating come together in an unpretentious setting. But yet the cooking has the grace and balance you might find in the sort of Japanese restaurant that costs far more. I’d like to think these sorts of restaurants exist everywhere the salaryman cuts a check (but I also know it's a lot to ask for outside of Japan).

Yet I hold onto the hope that there’s one in Bangkok, somewhere, lurking in the shadows. It’s cloaked in Mild Seven smoke, steeped in fry and grill scent, with a soundtrack of staccato chatter that gets looser and louder as the sochu vanishes.

Last night, I thought I’d found what I’d been looking for. Myself, my wife, and another seeker wandered up to a Japanese joint on Soi 11 called Shunbo Sumibiyaki.

First encouraging sign: They wanted nothing to do with us. Small Japanese restaurants sometimes bristle at the sight of otherness, and while this might upset a tender soul, it’s actually a good thing. The same rule goes for the best Thai street food spots. 

A rule to eat by, in Asia: If you feel unwelcome, you probably ought to eat there.

“Aaharn Mot Leew!” said the waitress, implying that every single piece of food in the restaurant has been consumed. It was 8 pm. The room was full of Japanese men eating dinner. The restaurant closes at one. The grill was crowded with cuts of meat. I giggled.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Soong, sam chuamoong glap ti nii…” (come back in two, three hours)  said the waitress with a sigh, as I smiled that annoyed smile you smile when you know that’s the only thing that might get you your way in this land.

An hour later, posted up at another, lesser Japanese on the street, my friend placed a call in his smooth Thai and reserved a table. He said he was copping a Japanese accent. I didn’t catch it.

When we entered the waitress looked confused, then realized the only solution was to seat us. So we sat and ate a parade of delicious dishes, and a few ordinary ones. What looked like a humorless tuna salad with a mustard and kewpie mayo dressing made me smile: hiding beneath were incredibly crispy, tiny whitebait. The ultimate crouton (see above photo).

 

We ate Kurobota pork ribs, that hung neatly from the bone like laundry on a line, and a slab of saba fish, blow-torched tableside. The smell of burning fish skin filled the air, sake was drunk, and a pot of daikon and fish cake bubbled in a bath of dashi.

I’ll return to Shunbo for the cooking, but it’s still missing something. The room is a little too slick, a shade too dark, and the food has a bit of forced refinement. Still, it’s good, and if you live in Bangkok, it’s worth a try.

Me, I’ll keep looking.

 

Shunbo is located at 33/5 Sukhamvit Soi 11, almost directly opposite Bed Supperclub. But, if you're hanging around Bed Supperclub, you're probably not eating at Shunbo. Oh, and if you know anywhere that fits my vague criteria for Izakaya (cheerful, intimate, unpretentious, delicious) drop me a line. 

Bye Taiwan, Hello Trang

Here's my last taste from Taiwan. Off to Trang now, a town in Southern Thailand that has some fascinating food traditions. And a great night market to boot. If you've got any suggestions, give me a shout. 

 

Whither, Fancy Chinese Food?

I'm working on a piece at the moment that explores the confines of Chinese fine dining, and the directions that it might take. The truth is that there isn't all that much creativity in the Chinese fine dining realm, and while many detractors say 'so what', I say, why not?

There is plenty of room for exploration within the form - so why, do you think, it remains relatively static? Maybe it doesn't, and I've got it all wrong. 

This is an interesting topic that touches on culture and education as well as cooking. What if Chinese fine dining broke off its shark fin and abalone shackels? Do you have any favorite chefs that are pushing the envelope? What are they cooking, and where?

All of this pondering is the result of one meal, at one very good - maybe even great - modern Chinese restaurant in Taipei. You'll hear about that later. But in the meantime, if anybody out there would like to weigh in, I'm all ears.  

The Persian Noodleman of Taipei

Check out my latest installment at The Atlantic Food about Davod, above, who can't quite remember what that sign is supposed to say. Thanks to Davod for an enjoyable afternoon, and a delicious bowl of noodles. You're a brave man, Sir, and I respect and admire your determination and undying love of beef noodles. 

Neon Dream

I Write A Lot of Food Stories

But I'm mighty proud of this one, about eating my way through Taipei with one Wu'er Kaixi.

Food connects us with places and taps into memory, but it can also function the opposite way. Most of us living in self-imposed exile can counter that with a plane ride.

Anyways, thanks to Kaixi for many interesting evenings in Taipei, and for all of you who click the link and read it.

The most important line in the entire piece, IMO, is this: "one thing that does upset me is how desensitized the world is to the absurdities of China's domestic policy. There are things you should get used to, and there are things one should never accept."

If what happened in Tiananmen, and the political fallout that continues because of it today in China - with increasing internet restrictions, political and ethnic crackdowns, and a generally defensive stance by the CCCP - seems exaggerated, it's not. It's very real, it's not immutable and it changes so many people's lives. Occasionally, it deserves our attention.   

The Tapas of Taipei

I have nothing critical to say about the Taipei food scene, except that it was too hot in many instances to eat certain 'can't miss' dishes. When the mercury climbs close to the century mark (that's about 40C), I'm not in the mood for a great big bowl of beef noodles, in a greasy, soy-based stock. That, and the human crush of the night markets, coupled with soup steam and fry heat in Taipei's August sizzle, did occasionally border on torture. Especially in pants. 

But one style of eating made perfect sense during the season which the Fujianese across the Strait poetically call The Summer Tiger. And that's the late-night beer and seafood feast, at one of the city's ubiquitous Pijiu Wu. These are bar-slash-restaurants that specialize in sashimi, salty stir-fries, pickled seafood and little glasses of cold beer. As my guide for the night Monica told me, it's 'the tapas of Taipei.' And she should know; she runs the show at a popular tapas restaurant there.

Above is a dish of raw clams that have been pickled in rice wine, Chinese spices, and salt. They're cool and refresing, sweet and yet briny, and were utterly delicious.

 

Then we moved on to slices of juicy goose, lightly smoked, dipped in a vinegar-based chili sauce. Oh my. If you have the chance, don't miss this. For a second I felt a pang of guilt, as I nearly ate the entire plate... but you can't get this in Bangkok. And what followed just might be mankind's perfect accompaniment to brew:

Crunchy peanuts and crispy bits of battered squid (the mouth of the squid, I am told), dusted in lots of salt and white pepper, fried with leeks and few chilies.

The entire meal was light and fresh, perfectly designed for easy snacking with friends, sitting on low stools in a place somewhere in the darkness. We ate slowly, in a restaurant packed with young Taiwanese raising toasts, backlit by buzzing neon beer signs. Then I made my way home in the late evening breeze, and didn't even break a sweat. 

The restaurant in question is called (I think) Shun Xian Hai Cai Dian, and it is located on Bade Lu, Lane 300, in downtown Taipei. Call 2711-7189 if that doesn't get you there.

You Got To Roll Me

 

I’ve gambled for money, for pride, for a beer and occasionally for meals. I’m an Eagles fan, which means I’ve lost more football bets than I’d like to admit. But until two nights ago, I’d never, ever gambled for sausage. But we did – myself and my friends in Taipei - and by golly, we won.

Here’s how it works. A man with a tiny charcoal box, and some freshly made Taiwanese pork sausages, seasoned with five spice and not a small amount of sugar, sits outside Cashbox (Qian Gui), a well-known chain of karaoke bars. You approach the stand (which also sells individual sausages for 30NT, about a buck) and pay 100NT to roll the dice. Doubles are excluded, as are ones, and your total is tallied. We rolled a twelve – holler!   The sausage man frowned, took the rocks in his hand, shookshookshook and let ‘em dance around in the dish… And came he up short, with five. You see that face? That’s the look of defeat, of hitting rock sausage bottom, of surrendering your porky riches to a plain stranger.

 

We subtracted his sum from our own, and walked off with 7 hot sausages.

Call me the tumblin’ dice.  

不好意思! (Sorry about that)

It's been awhile.

In the past week I've been hammering out some stories about Taipei, which I found to be vast and vibrant, friendly and youthful, traditional and respectful and a whole lot of fun. I'll spend the next week or so riffing on the city, and the people I met there, and the food... 

The city has a lot going for it - nature is within easy reach, there's a delightful lack of traffic (well, by Bangkok standards, anyways), and its populated by people with a conspicuous delicateness. Of course there's a lot more to tell than that, so I best get down to telling. 

(Above, Taipei 101)