The Piglet School of Thought: A Meatball Syllabus

In general, I subscribe to the piglet school of thought that more is always less gooder than a lot more. This occasionally leads to minor discomfort, and, more often than not, retreating back to the homestead to beach myself on our couch. And this attitude not only informs portion size, but also spicing. I’m always giving the pepper mill an extra twist or three, telling the Thai restaurant to make our delivery order 3 out of 4 stars spicy (do not ever do this), and asking for banana peppers on top of pepper relish on top of pickled jalapenos for my foot long at Subway.

But last weekend, Café Monti’s spaghetti and meatballs reminded me that simple meals can be just as delicious as meals that deploy the whole spice rack. We’ve been working our way through Café Monti’s menu for the past several weeks, and there are many items that are probably more noteworthy than their spaghetti and meatballs: Austrian goulash with bread dumplings, jaegerschnitzel with spaetzle and red cabbage, and eggplant parmigiana. We'll write about those items, as well as their amazing desserts on another occasion. Today, it’s spaghetti and meatballs.

Being a big fan of high weirdness, I wouldn’t normally order something as staid as spaghetti and meatballs. But La Piazza and Faccia Luna’s own contributions to the meatball canon had me wondering how Café Monti might compare. Both La Piazza and Faccia Luna mix a fair amount of herbs, chopped onions, and minced garlic into their meatballs, so I was expecting Café Monti to do the same. Instead, Café Monti offered a relatively Spartan presentation. The meatballs were garnished with a sprinkling of fresh parsley and a little parmesan, and contentedly idling in Café Monti’s mildly sweet and tart tomato sauce. Slice one of their meatballs in half and their greatness reveals itself: no herbs, onions, or garlic, but rather an abundance of meaty juiciness reflected in the sheen of the knife. Most meatballs that I’ve had are relatively dry inside, which not only makes the meat bland but reduces the ability of any herb and onion embellishments to truly perform. In these instances, it’s all up to the tomato sauce to make everything come alive, but too often that’s simply not enough.

The only underachieving component of Café Monti’s spaghetti and meatballs was the somewhat less than al dente pasta. But it was satisfactory enough, and could ultimately be forgiven as the delivery system for their superlative meatballs. -AC

The Right Rice Part 2: Rice Pudding

Generally, I'm not a fan of rice pudding, mainly because of the added texture. Also, most of the time, the rice is al dente, not creamy like I need it to be. But, as I mentioned in a previous post, I thought, due to the small grains and inherent creamy deliciousness of sushi rice, it would make for killer rice pudding. And I was right.

One of the things that befalls me when I'm planning on making something new is that I forget to take inventory of what I have and don't have before going out to procure ingredients. That usually results in either overbuying baking powder, or forgetting eggs, or some combination thereof. In this case, I forgot to buy milk. Generally, we are soy people, except we require dairy in our coffee and tea, and we love yogurt. So, the result was, unhealthfully enough, that I would be using half-and-half. That's right, folks, I made rice pudding with half-and-half, and it was amazing. Sure, I was thinking the whole time how I will need to do a few extra RPMs on the bike this week, but it really was heaven. Even AC approved, and he is rather particular about his rice pudding.

And in case you're interested in committing a similar crime against your arteries, just take this painfully easy recipe, and substitute milk for half-and-half (truth be told, next time I will probably use equal parts milk and half-and-half). Other modifications included adding a bit of almond extract and cooking the pudding a couple minutes longer for extra-extra thickness. And that's it, really delicious, not-so-good-for-you rice pudding. Enjoy.

And speaking of doing wonderful things with limited means/supplies and a whole heck of a lot of creativity, I urge you to check out my friend Sarah's new video blog, The Pink of Perfection, which teaches us how to live a luxe life on little.

—AK

Chinese Chili Mac

While Szechuan cooking easily answers the American chili mac (you know, spaghetti, chili, and onions all mixed together) with dan dan noodles, A&J Restaurant offers its own Chinese chili mac variation: “noodles with ground pork and bean paste sauce.” Dan dan noodles, at least the ones that I’ve had at places like Formosa Cafe, are thin noodles swimming in a bowl of molten chili oil, topped with ground pork, and flecked with scallions. A&J’s noodle dish is somewhat more exotic, but a chili mac, nonetheless.

A&J specializes in northern Chinese cooking, which others have described as more bread and noodle focused than the rice centric Chinese meals with which most Americans are familiar. The DC area is blessed with two A&J locations in Annandale, VA and Rockville, MD, just two lonely outposts of the sprawling A&J empire: A&J apparently has roughly a dozen or so restaurants scattered throughout the world.

While A&J has garnered a fair amount of praise from the Washingtonian and the Washington Post, among others, until recently, I had yet to discover any one item that was truly revelatory. I really wanted to like A&J, as it offers an abundance of cheap eats oddities, particularly small plates and dim sum, like the “steamed spareribs with spiced rice powder” and  the “Chinese sesame biscuit with sliced beef.” Unfortunately, the rice powder lent the spare ribs an unsettling texture, and the sesame biscuit was stale and stuffed with dry, tired beef. Even their version of sesame noodles, hot and spicy and topped with peanut powder, was disappointing- not especially spicy and hardly enough peanut and sesame presence to satisfy.

But the noodles, themselves, captured my imagination. A&J offers its customers the choice of thin or thick noodles, and I, being somewhat of a piglet, always opted for the thick noodles. The thick noodles are wide like Japanese udon, and so pliant and doughy that they must be homemade. I couldn’t stop thinking about them, and so I was drawn back to A&J despite my earlier disappointment. This time, I decided to try their “noodles with ground pork and bean paste sauce.” As I’ve found in numerous ethnic restaurants, the tersely worded listing on the menu barely described the actual reality of the dish.

The ground pork was cooked in a bean paste sauce that lent it an appealing reddish hue, and was not too sweet and only mildly spicy. And much to my surprise, the substantial mound of pork and noodles turned out to be flanked by a pile of cucumber shreds and another pile of fresh bean sprouts. The cucumber shreds may have had a touch of rice wine vinegar, but seemed otherwise untreated, as were the bean sprouts. But here’s how A&J presented the cucumber in an ingenious format for this dish: they shredded it lengthwise into long, thin, noodle-like pieces of cucumber. This enabled me to easily wrap both the noodles and the cucumber around my fork, spear a few bean sprouts with the exposed tines and coat the bound parcel in ground pork. Awesome. The combination of the two crisp, refreshing vegetables was a perfect counterpoint to the savory ground pork, and the thick noodles were the perfect starchy bond to bring all of the elements together.

Okay, so my chili mac definition is a bit expansive, but if you squint long enough at this dish it morphs into Hard Times’ three-way chili mac with Cincinnati. I swear. Or maybe I’m just an insane person.

Though most of A&J’s menu features small plates, this dish is a kingly portion, practically enough for two to share, and a bargain at only $5.95. -AC

Pan Gravy or Cream Gravy? Both.

AC and I love Southern food, and whenever we find an opportunity to grub some collard greens, pork chops, or succotash, we're there. And we're ready. However, my particular weakness in this department is chicken-fried steak (hereafter referred to as CFS). And therefore, when we moved back here from New York, it was quite a relief that Southside 815 restaurant, a mighty excellent CFS purveyor, was just a two-minute drive from our apartment.

My love affair with CFS really began in the fall of 2002, when I brought AC to Dallas (my hometown) for the first time. It was our mission to hit up all the great country-food places and barbecue joints we could, and in the process, I tasted two of the best CFSs I've ever tasted. In fact, that week, I ate three chicken-fried steaks—two with pan gravy at the now-defunct but universally lauded Gennie's Bishop Grill and one with cream gravy at Celebration. Both equally fabulous. I'm certain my cholesterol reached its peak that week.

Getting back to the virtues of Southside, the restaurant does many things right, but the CFS is top notch. The portion is substantial with its delicate crispy crust poking out in all directions and topped with a light cream gravy (not enough, methinks). And while it certainly stands on its own, it is my opinion that a great CFS is only as good as its accompanying side dishes, because the experience depends entirely on what you can combine with each bite of meat 'n' crust. At Southside, one can substitute, which is critical, as I'm not crazy about their default greens. I go with the mashed potatoes (skins on) and the succotash stew. With the vinegary vegetables, the starchy potatoes, and the foundation of a hardy steak, the meal is unstoppable.

If you have the occasion to enjoy CFS or anything else (also try the pulled pork and the Dixie Chicken Sandwich) at Southside, you must save room for the homemade butterscotch sundae.

—AK

Krupuk or Belinjo Nuts?

Despite granting Satay Sarinah the honor of perennial inclusion among the Washingtonian’s 100 Best Bargains, the Washingtonian’s actual reviews for Satay Sarinah, two of which are archived online, are perfunctory at best. The reviews read more like a dull recitation of items on the menu with very little
description, and no mention of some of Sarinah’s more exotic offerings.

For instance, it’s not every day that I commit to ordering the whole fish anywhere, so if I’m going to stuff myself stupid, I’d like to know a little more about something other than that the reviewer thought it was “very good.”

So despite knowing very little about what to expect from Satay Sarinah aside from the imprimatur of the Washingtonian’s 100 Best Bargains designation, we decided to make it our Saturday destination.

After perusing the menu, I had to restrain myself from over-ordering. Sadly, we will have to wait until next time to try items like belinjo nut crackers, “belinjo nuts, crushed and packed into slightly bitter and salted chips,” or the chicken topped with “candle nut sauce.” So it will be at least another few weeks before I can truthfully proclaim myself a belinjo nut enthusiast.

Being homemade pickles fanatics, we opted to start with the Indonesian pickles appetizer. The pickling is on the light side and not too spicy, bathing the shredded vegetables (carrots, cucumber, tiny cauliflower florets, and baby corn) in a thin, yellowish brine. For those so inclined, the Indonesian pickles could serve as a surprisingly refreshing starter salad to offset the heavier entrees.

We opted to share the Nasi Rames platter to sample as many of the restaurant’s high points as possible. The platter included steamed Jasmine rice in the center surrounded by all the elements of a feast: rich and mildly sweet yellow curry chicken, green beans with flecks of red chili pepper, a chicken and beef satay, krupuk, and an egg. The krupuk, which are white, crispy fried rice crackers, are shaped like fallen leaves, and have a robust shrimp flavoring. They tend to be included in many Indonesian platters, though I’m not entirely sure how to properly deploy them aside from bulldozing stray bits of food. The beef satay was outstanding, sweet and spicy, nicely charred and underscoring the choice of the proprietors to tout their satay abilities in the name of the restaurant. The biggest surprise turned out to be the egg, which was hardboiled, then deep fried in a thin batter and topped with menacing chili sauce. It was a pity that we had to share just one between the two of us.

I also ordered a side of rice rolls, which are actually gelatinous cubes of mashed, long-boiled rice. The owner was kind enough to provide a bowl of their peanut sauce to accompany the rice rolls, which she explained was the condiment of choice for this odd rice permutation.

We also tried the Bogor fried chicken, which is hardly Indonesia’s answer to the Colonel’s eleven herbs and spices. Rather, the chicken is deeply marinated and fried with only the thinnest coating. The six chicken pieces arrive the color of mahogany. And though the chicken is savory enough to stand on its own, a side container holding a thick mixture of soy and chili sauce adds a welcome wetness and sweetness to the chicken.

For dessert, I opted for the Es Telur, described on the menu as “mixed tropical fruits including rambutan, young coconut, jackfruit, and grass jelly topped with shaved ice, pandan syrup, and coconut milk.” The bowl arrived with a heap of shaved ice, topped with pinkish pandan syrup. The waitress advised to mix everything up for optimum effect, and so I discovered a layer of yellow tropical fruit, brownish grass jelly cubes, and coconut milk buried beneath the shaved ice. Asian desserts largely seem to be textural sensations, and Es Telur is a fascinating blend of crunchy, flowery (the pandan syryup) sweetness, gummy blandness (the grass jelly), and rubbery fruit (lycheelike rambutan, jackfruit, and young coconut). I happen to love it, but it is definitely an acquired taste. AK will have no part of these Asian ice desserts ever since I subjected her to Ice Kachang in New York.

Make sure to order one of their sweet and potent Indonesian iced coffees to accompany dessert. -AC

The Right Rice

I have found my rice passion: sushi rice. Here's why:

1. I've burned my fair share of pots of rice. But this stuff, it doesn't burn. It just won't.

2. The grains are small, and when it's cooked just right (about 15 minutes), it comes out so fluffy and a bit sticky. And I love rice that seems to cook itself in to a giant monolithic rice pallet.

3. It's great with anything. Mexican, stir fry, and it just dawned on me that it's probably amazing for rice pudding. I'll get back to you on that.

—AK

PS: I get my sushi rice at the trusty Cash Grocer natural foods store in Old Town Alexandria.

White Trash Shepherd's Pie

I love the Discovery Health channel. I can learn all about Siamese twins and people born with two sets of DNA all in the space of a Saturday afternoon.

Today, it was all about the Duggars, a religious family of 16 (now 18) in Arkansas. It was both fantastic and also totally infuriating. These kids are seemingly perfect: They dress alike, obediently do their chores, and are home schooled. Even the oldest says of dating, "i want to find someone who will love and care for me, not just get carried away with their emotions (read: just wants me for a hook-up)." The freak-show aspect of the documentary included showing the family driving around town in a small tour bus, attending a convention for religious homeschoolers, conducting church services in their home with another family of 10, taking turns to use the house's two bathrooms, and—the best—shopping for groceries.

The eight oldest children and parents (mom's pregnant with No. 15 in this taping) remove two bench seats from the minivan to accommodate the groceries and then pile in and head to Sam's. Five or six shopping carts  ("We're going to need a flat of peas, too.") and $800 later, the Duggars head back home to stock the pantry. Ah, the pantry. If their "pantry" was in my house, I might call it an "enormous walk-in closet" or a "spare bedroom." This thing was insane. It was stocked immaculately with flat after flat of canned goods and hundreds of other packaged goods, probably full of trans fats and preservatives. Though I got a glimpse into their culinary lifestyle, I still wasn't sure what kind of things they ate on a regular basis. Certainly, a family that huge had to have a few mainstays that Momma serves up when there's a time crunch.

And then I learned all about "One of Daddy's Favorites!": tater tot casserole (or TTC).

Now, I'm the last person to dis the frozen treats—mini pizza bagels, hot pockets—they all have their place. But for cryin' out loud, God did not invent tots for the purpose of a casserole. But I soldiered on through the rest of the show, as the narrator promised to share the recipe. Here goes (keep in mind this is for a family of 16): three 2lb bags of tots, two pounds ground turkey (?), two cans cream of mushroom, two cans cream of chicken, and two cans evaporated milk. Layer meat at the bottom of the pan, mix the soup and milk together, pour the soup and milk mixture on top of the meat, and bake for an hour at 350. Easy. (Oh, and really disgusting and terribly unhealthy for an army of growing children.)

Still curious about this atrocity of a casserole, I Googled it, and found that this is not just a Duggar anomaly; it's celebrated on numerous recipe sites, many with varying ingredients. Some include sour cream. Some throw in Worcestershire sauce. Others like corn flakes (!). I've enjoyed trashy casserole after trashy casserole and loved 'em, but TTC takes the idea of a quick dinner to a very dangerous place. —AK