Lazy Susan Roulette

I knew long before I even left for Asia that great food was in my future when our Chinese guide and translator, JX, emailed me to ask, “Do you like roast ducks?” The answer, of course, was “yes.” And for the next three weeks, I couldn’t wait to board the plane.

The highlight of the 2004 trip (for work) was the three days I spent in Shanghai with my mom, DV, and JX. JX, I learned not only had an appetite to match mine, but also the same bizarre interest in new, interesting foods. Of course, we were on his turf, so I was getting to truly experience the new and interesting, while he happily showed us the ropes.

I decided right off the bat that I didn’t care what came across my plate—I was going to try it...at least twice. Luckily I didn’t have to read a menu or worry about what type of cuisine to have, as all of our meals were either orchestrated by our hosts or planned by JX. So they led, and I followed.

The meals with our hosts were outrageous. Both meals involved roughly eight to 10 Chinese men, JX, myself and my mother. JX tried to keep up with everyone so as to give us a Cliff’s Notes version of what people were talking about, all while trying to eat. Meanwhile, food was being brought out in various stages. Bowl after bowl and platter after platter of food would be placed on an enormous lazy susan, so as too ease sharing between so many people. The dishes were enormous and plentiful; I believe fresh dishes were coming out for the duration of the meal (about three hours). Our hosts in both instances were pleased that we were eating so heartily (myself more than my mom) and even encouraged me to keep eating, even when I was clearly at capacity and ready to prostrate myself in my hotel room. More, more, more.

More of what, you ask? Herewith I include a list of every item placed on the lazy susan (as taken from my notes) at both meals:

Meal No. 1
-goose liver
-crunchy, marinated sheets of squid
-shredded tofu
-sweet and sour pork
-barbecued park
-sauteed greenleaf
-deep-fried crepe with sesame pork
-cold tofu slices
-a dish of mushy small shrimp in soy sauce
-Peking duck
-tofu in coconut broth
-pork spring rolls
-cole slaw (the vinegary kind)

Meal No. 2
-more sheets of squid
-green vegetable with squid
-fish in a sizzling hot pot
-barbecued duck
-tofu in broth
-soup of bamboo stalks and pork
-small shrimps (heads still on)
-some kind of strange yellow vegetable
-fish pieces
-dumplings with more green vegetable
-beef in lettuce
-and yet even more green vegetable
-watermelon
-chicken soup

Stay tuned for more on this trip in future posts.

—AK

Triple Cream Dream

The DC food media love to hype up new restaurants to the point of extreme oversaturation. And when that happens, our inclination is avoid the subjects of such abundance praise.

Of course, there are exceptions.

While AC scoffed at the notion of trying out the new outpost of California-based Cowgirl Creamery after weeks of incessant hype, I was intrigued and went there with a friend.

I love cheese, and because I know very little about all the varieties, I went into this shopping excursion with an extremely open mind and pretty much ready to buy anything the proprietors said I might like.

Upon walking in, I was already intrigued by a few wrapped wedges of cheese, jarred preserves and jams, and lovely varieties of crackers, olive oil, and other cheese companions placed near the front counter.

But the real action was taking place in the back, where a couple of women, dressed in their chef gear, were offering tastes of just about anything, and ringing things up like mad. At one counter, one of the cheesemongers enthusiastically offered, “would you like to try our homemade cottage cheese?!”

Normally, I would make the throw-up pantomime when the words “cottage cheese” are uttered. Thanks to a few college friends who would pile a generous scoop of it on top of canned peaches or Jell-O as part at the dining hall, my opinion of cottage cheese has always been rather low. Plus I never liked the texture and tanginess of it. But again, with an open mind, I tried it, and it was insanely creamy and only had a slight bit of tang. This stuff would KILL in a lasagna.

Interest piqued, I moved over to where several customers were hovering over massive wedges and wheels of cheese. I decided that I didn’t want something so novel that I wouldn't be able to eat it in large quantities. I enjoy the bries and the camemberts and the blues indiscriminately, so I wanted something accessible like my favorites, but also something with a different flavor or texture. I explained my needs to the cheesemonger, and she replied, “Oh, you’ll want our Mt. Tam; it’s our signature cheese, and it’s a triple cream.” Well, I am down for anything that is “signature.” To me, that means “nothing tastes quite like it because we make it right here.” I tried some, and after it instantaneously melted in my mouth (think brie without the pungent taste and way way creamier—just a clean, fresh, cheese), I picked up a wedge. Even the once-skeptical AC said it was the best cheese he'd ever tasted, and he reserves such superlatives for very special situations.

I also wanted something made with raw cow’s milk. Why? I don’t know, it just sounded like a good idea at the time, so I bought some Constant Bliss purely on the nice lady's recommendation. Constant Bliss, which is from a farm in the Pacific Northwest somewhere, is a bit firmer than the Mt. Tan, tastes a tiny bit sharp, but was also very creamy and fresh. Both cheeses paired nicely with the Mitica Fig Jam I picked up.

Check out Cowgirl Creamery:

919 F Street NW
Washington, DC
(202) 393-6880

All in the Details

We apologize for the long delay, as AC and I have been struggling to get back into the habit of regularly posting after our recent wedding and lavish honeymoon at the Greenbrier resort in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia.

We have many things to write about, as we have resumed our culinary adventures since then. But first, I want to share with you some special details from our time away from the real world.

Ostensibly, we chose the Greenbrier so that we might enjoy just a slice of what the landed gentry types get to soak up on a regular basis. What we got was much more than that.

Certainly, the activities (falconry, sporting clay shooting, and a sulfur soak in the spa), the outstanding meals, and the unparalleled politeness of the staff (every single staff member asked us how we were—every single one), put us square in the midst of the high life. But it was the little extras in the main dining room that took the whole experience to a level of greatness we have never experienced.

The crudité: Before placing our orders, we were brought a simple porcelain dish with some celery, cauliflower, endive, and carrot, accompanied by a ramekin of ranch dressing. Contrasted with the hickory smoked pork tenderloin, fancy steaks, seared fish, and foie gras we enjoyed night after night, it almost seems silly to serve such a bare bones appetizer. But in fact, the fresh veggies and dip were a welcome entrée into a rich two-hour dinner, and the offering conveyed the very traditions and hospitality for which we traveled four hours to enjoy.

The iced tea: There was nothing outrageous about the iced tea at the Greenbrier. It wasn’t infused with herbs, or sweetened, just garnished with a big wedge of lemon. At times, the iced tea, which we've seen referred to elsewhere as the "table wine of the south," seemed like the only soft drink on offer. Even at the daily 4 p.m. teatime, it seemed that people were enjoying just as much of the iced variety as they were the milk and sugar version. We got to the point that after lunch at Draper’s Café, the in-hotel luncheonette, we would get our refill of the tea, settle our bill, then take our teas up to our room to enjoy them while we decompressed in front of the television. And at dinner, it was a refreshing counterpoint to the pinot we gulped down each night.

The saucer and doily: Whether it was the iced tea, the freshly squeezed juices, or even ice water, it came in a tall glass on a saucer with a doily. Even water! We loved this special touch because, to us, it feels like the best water/juice/tea on the face of the planet was brought to us. No other glass of sweet, delicious nectar compares to this one right here, and because we are such special guests, we shall enjoy the best of everything at the Greenbrier. Reality check: The lovely doily/saucer combo prevented water rings on the tablecloths.

The finger bowl: With the bill after each breakfast and dinner service, we were brought a small silver bowl, lined with a thin filter emblazoned with the Greenbrier logo, and filled with warm lemon-scented water. The first time I was bestowed with the dainty thing, AC and I had NO idea what to do with it. AC suggested it was for “washing our hands,” so I did. I scooped some warm water into one hand (hard to do with such a small bowl), and rubbed my hands together as if they were under a faucet. I felt like a complete dolt doing this, but someone had taken the trouble to offer the bowl to me, so I was going to use it in whatever way seemed most prudent. At breakfast the following day, I took the liberty of asking how to properly use it. Our waitress said, “just dip your fingertips in it” in a delightful drawl. Luckily, we found out that we were not alone in our confusion. The waitress shared with us a story from the previous evening wherein a young girl thought it was consommé, and was ready to start slurping away at this seemingly superfluous "soup course".

Melba toasts: Thanks to the Greenbrier, I acquired an addiction to Melba toasts, those small, thin toasts used mainly for hors d’oeuvres. During dinner and lunch, a staffer walks around with a big breadbasket ready to take diners’ requests (soda bread and cornbread were also available). This takes place throughout dinner, so many, many pieces of bread can be had. I went for the Melbas because I figured they were a bit lighter than other breads; I wanted to save room for the ample entrees, salads, and appetizers. But the problem is this: I got like five or six of them each time. I would take the real butter (fashioned in the shape of the Greenbrier logo), smear it all over these little things, and munch away. Things only get worse when the breadmaster comes around again. I think, “Well, I’m getting the foie gras, and they only give you a couple of brioches, so I’ll need more toasts.” And then more toasts, and more. We’re talking toasted bread and pure butter, and a lot of it. And the foie gras is still being prepared! I would like to tell you all that there was a point at which I stopped eating the Melba toasts. But I can’t. The good news is I’ve been off Melbas for over a month, and I’m doing fine.

—AK