Munchies Paradise

It’s amazing how little coverage Aji Ichiban has received in the local food media. The Rockville location of this Hong Kong based chain of snack emporiums is just two doors down from Bob’s Noodle 66, and according to the cashier, it’s been there for about three years already. Aji Ichiban used to figure prominently in our Chinatown jaunts back when we lived in New York, as this self proclaimed “Munchies Paradise” offers dozens of bins of Chinese-style high weirdness. So if you’ve been putting off that schlep out to Bob’s Noodle 66, Aji Ichiban’s proximity to Bob's easily transforms your expedition into a twofer.

While some of their candied and pickled fruit oddities can be found at Chinese supermarkets like Kam Sam, Aji Ichiban not only has the most extensive array of such snacks, but also offers samples of just about everything. And that’s extremely helpful since much of their bounty, though interesting in concept, is likely repulsive to the Western palate. Nevertheless, if you’re interested in experiencing the extremes of sweet, sour, and salty, then a little bag of goodies goes a long way. I once bought a small bag of their preserved ginger root that had been candied and pickled, and the intense spice of the ginger was so powerful that it took me about 6 months to finish gnawing away at a mere handful of roots.


Of course, Aji Ichiban does offer a number of gummies and other less off-putting candies that are appealing to the Western palate.



Directly opposite these appealing and colorfully wrapped candies, however, is a veritable oceanic atrocity exhbition featuring bins of Hokkaido shredded squid, dried Isoyaki eel, and crispy spicy codfish, among others. That’s just in case you forgot where you were for a moment.

Among Aji Ichiban’s less daunting treats, we’re big fans of their answer to the Peanut M&M: chocolate covered sunflower seeds in colorful candy shells just like Mars’ finest.

The strawberry plum is a dried plum that has somehow been so fused with the essence of strawberry, that I actually had to pull it apart to determine that it was, in fact, a plum. It's easily the sweetest and juiciest of all of the dried fruit snacks that we tried.

The wrinkled skin of the sweet and sour peach yields to a tender interior with the perfect ratio of sweet to sour. Just be mindful of the pit.

Interestingly enough, though the olive is most often associated with Mediterranean cuisine, Aji Ichiban offers a half-dozen varieties of candied dried olives.

The jumbo-sized “preserved spicy olives” are a deep chili red with a crunchy interior that has a nice bit of sweetness and mellow heat.

The licorice olives are greenish brown and smaller. The licorice and the olive taste combine more for a sweet and sour effect than anything approaching licorice.

By now, you can probably tell that the genius of Chinese snack makers is their ability to start with a standard item like a peach or a plum and somehow transmogrify it into something that offers almost no hint of its original state.

And lest you think that Aji Ichiban’s oddities only appeal to a narrow swath of humanity, their website proclaims:

Aji Ichiban is also recognized by many political leaders as one of the best munchies paradise. Their honored visits to our retail stores is yet another proof of our popularity.

Check out Aji Ichiban at:

309 N. Washington St.

Rockville, MD

(301) 610-7798

—AC

Taiwanese Burger in Paradise

AC and I have discovered that a great meal isn’t necessarily measured by the experience of eating entrées. One can eat amply and, in some cases, more interestingly by sampling a variety of appetizers than just one seemingly adventurous entrée.

We had one such experience this past weekend at Bob’s Noodle 66 in Rockville during our daylong eatfest just north of the District. We had read that Rockville is now the official Chinatown of the DC area, offering an astounding variety of Asian restaurants in the city’s seemingly infinite stretch of Rockville Pike. And indeed, in every strip mall of every block there was an Asian food mart, noodle joint, or some other manner of Asian food purveyor.

At Bob’s, we sat down, completely famished after a 45-minute drive from Northern Virginia, and went straight for the appetizers menu, which featured a couple dozen of some of the strangest things we’ve seen on a Chinese menu (and we’ve certainly seen our share), including Spicy Pig Ear Slice and Five-flavor Squid. We weren’t up for the slice or the squid, but we did go for a couple things that seized our imaginations. We went for the Taiwanese Hamburger, the Rice Sausage, and on the rice/noodle list, the Taiwanese Dry Noodle (as opposed to noodle soups, of which there are at least 20).

The clear star of this production was the Taiwanese Hamburger. The “burger” portion was actually a slab of sweet, spicy marinated fatty pork. In fact, our waitress warned us before we committed to the item that the pork was indeed “fatty.” We nodded in agreement, affirming our choice. The meat, delicious and, of course, fatty, was housed in a fluffy steamed bun and accompanied by a sauce of chopped pickled mustard greens and cilantro—one of the most refreshing and delightful condiments in existence. It was somewhat sweet, extremely sour, and bursting with cool crispness, owing to the cilantro. And a dusting of peanut powder added a bit of sweetness and crunch.

The Taiwanese Dry Noodle was equally delicious. Linguine-style flat noodles were mixed with a spicy ground pork sauce, more fatty pork, bean sprouts, chives, and a “marinated egg,” which reminded us of the Thousand Year Old Egg we’ve had at other Chinese restaurants. The Thousand Year Old Egg is pickled and has a bit of tartness, while this egg tasted like a regular hard-boiled egg with only a hint of spice. The dish was a true original and, for me at least, is the chinese version of Bolognese—the ultimate comfort food.

The experiment for the day was the Rice Sausage, which is described in the menu as “pig intestine with sweet rice and peanuts. Special sauce on the side.” This was truly one of the weirdest things we’ve tried anywhere. The sausage came sliced in rounds. While the innards of the sausage were largely vegetarian, the plate came to us with a faint musk of the intestine, a bit disarming at first. The filling was a faintly sweet sushi-style rice (small grains, sticky, creamy, my favorite), flecked with boiled peanuts that we guess were probably marinated in the favored five-spice mixture often found in Chinese food. The “special sauce” was, in my view, nothing special; it tasted like a sweeter version of soy sauce, perhaps hoisin or a close relative.

AC and I were hard-pressed to come up with a conclusion as to how we felt about the dish. There was little taste overall, as the rice, peanuts and snap of the sausage casing contributed more to a textural experience than a flavorful adventure. Still, it was interesting, and for those of you who enjoy experiencing specialty items simply because of a strange name such as Rice Sausage (or Spicy Pig Ear Slice, if you will) or a singular ingredient that seems intriguing, you should most definitely try Rice Sausage.

Though it wasn’t the tastiest thing on earth, the papaya shake was a cold, refreshing palate cleanser that offered us a much-needed respite from the sweet marinades and salty sauces we were shoveling down our gullets. One important note: When ordering one of their shakes, the waiters will ask if you’d like “bubbles,” which are large tapioca balls often found in Japanese tea drinks. We suggest you steer clear of the bubbles, which, though wonderful in Asian milk tea drinks, are not conducive to the enjoyment of a thick yogurty fruit beverage.

All said, Bob’s Noodle 66 is tops on our list. Who knows, maybe our next adventure will include their celebrated Duck Tongue with Basil or one of the handful of dishes featuring dried bean curd. AC—you game?

Experiment at Bob’s Noodle 66 at:

305 N. Washington Street
Rockville, MD
(301) 315-6668

—AK

An Argentine Bakery Binge

Along with dulce de leche, choripan has to be considered one of Argentina’s great contributions to world cuisine: grilled chorizo on a grilled baguette. It just doesn’t get any more elemental than that. Unfortunately, our trip to El Patio, an Argentine bakery and cafe, came at the very end of our whirlwind tour of Rockville’s culinary delights. Since El Patio was our fifth destination that day, we opted to get a number of baked goods that we could take home to enjoy later, instead of made-to-order items like choripan.

El Patio offers a tempting array of empanadas, tartas (Argentina’s take on quiche), and tortillas (Spanish style omelettes usually eaten at room temperature).

In contrast to the meal-sized empanadas served at Julia’s Empanadas, El Patio’s empanadas are more akin to cocktail hour treats.

The carne empanada was pleasing enough, it’s flaky pasty concealing ground beef mixed with bits of hard-boiled egg, onions, and red peppers. Sadly, no olive seemed to be hidden amongst its contents.

We also tried the choclo empanada which was braided pastry purse stuffed with corn and onions in a light, barely discernable sauce. The menu promised bechamel sauce, so while I was disappointed at the choclo empanada’s relatively dry interior, El Patio deserves credit for offering an empanada variation that I’ve not seen anywhere else.

Among the savories, the espinaca tortillla was the clear stand-out. Each hefty slab is densely packed with spinach with only the barest amount of egg to hold everything together. We were actually grateful for the veggie interlude which included not just spinach, but also bits of tomato, green pepper, and onion. In addition to a few whole cloves of garlic, the tortilla had a strong spice presence that may have been cumin.

The pastries are understandably dulce de leche centric. Though the puff pastry looked a bit tired and dilapidated, we figured that a combination of dulce de leche and buttery pastry could overcome any physical shortcomings. But this pastry was every bit as unremarkable as it appears.

I was more excited about the shell-shaped meringues appealingly glued together with dulce de leche and topped off with a cherry. But it’s exceedingly difficult to handle this meringue sandwich without getting it all over the place. In fact, I assumed my hunched piglet stance over our kitchen sink, the better to catch the errant bits of meringue shrapnel flying off from my dessert induced frenzy. It seems that I do some of my best eating over our kitchen sink. Although I wanted it to work, the meringue was a bit bland, and its porous texture seemed to have absorbed the faintest essence of other items in the refrigerated case.

Despite the fact that most of our selections were underwhelming, we still only tried a small sampling of El Patio’s bounty. In addition to their rendition of choripan, I remain curious about their sandwiches de miga, described as “tea sandwiches made with Argentine specialty crumb bread.”

—AC

Land of Enchanting Pancakes

Editor's Note: Every once in a while, we will feature a guest columnist who has such a noteworthy food experience, that we must force them to lend the experience to Suburban Tasteland. In this first case, it is my mother, DV, who recently traveled to New Mexico and had the best pancakes ever. She shared the following account of her experience via email:

As you know very well, breakfast is just not my favorite meal. It simply is too much work and too early in the morning. I would rather have an additional 50 winks and pick up a venti chai at Starbucks. But, I have come across something that is actually worth hauling out of the sack for. Of course in your case, it happens to be a rather long haul, since this restaurant is in Pecos, New Mexico, which is not far from Santa Fe. What they do with pancakes, which I don’t actually like a lot anyway, is simply amazing. These babies come off the grill about 1½ to 1¾ inches high. These cakes would put Aunt Jemima into a jealous rage. The best part is that you can order them with blueberries or pinon (pine nuts). I opted for both with a tub of butter and real maple syrup. These fluffy little devils, of course, are not standalone items. They come with the usual brace of eggs and the obligatory strips of bacon.

While I did not try the eggs rancheros, I am told they are wonderful. And of course, when you order, you are posed the question of the ages—“red or green?” This only refers to the color of chili sauce you want with the eggs. The waitress assured me that there was no material difference except color, but people seem to have rather strong preferences anyway. Breakfast is served with tortillas, not toast.

The venue in Pecos is a place called Frankie's Casanova. The restaurant is housed in an old trading post built in the 1920s and is very well preserved. By the way, the desserts (a far better notion than breakfast in my estimation) looked remarkable. These delights were on a small table and for some reason looked like they had been brought in for a church social. No calories were spared here.

The bar is named for the owner’s brother, who owned the bar down the dusty highway. The bar has been shuttered since Frankie was shot and killed in a gunfight in the bar. His brother thought that the new restaurant was a fitting tribute. As you can tell, the Wild West lives on. Try ’em if you ever get anywhere near Pecos.

Visit Frankie's Casanova at:

Corner Hwy 50 and Hwy 63
Pecos, NM
(505) 757-3322

—DV

Our Kind of Excess

Despite the fact that the D.C. area abounds with international culinary riches, its status as an international city is seriously undermined by its dearth of gelaterias. Fortunately, the proprietors of Dolcezza (formerly Isee Icy) are doing their part to fill this void. Dolcezza specializes in Argentine gelato, which differentiates itself from Italian gelato in that it uses no eggs and more cream. That means that their gelato is lighter and less substantive than the denser version with which most folks are familiar.

But while Argentine gelato may not quite sate our gelato jones in the same way the Italian version does, they make up for it with their adventurous palate and extensive use of dulce de leche.

In fact, if you find yourself unable to choose among their twentysomething flavors, you can’t go wrong by opting for one of the usually several flavors that are generously ribboned with dulce de leche. In fact, our favorite flavor, “Banana Split,” is banana gelato with a swirl of  dulce de leche. I’m usually repulsed by anything banana-flavored, since that often means an artificial flavor that’s one step removed from a stick of Juicy Fruit. But Dolcezza’s banana split has the cleanest, most refreshingly natural banana flavor of any ice cream or gelato that I’ve ever had. And the inclusion of dulce de leche takes it from merely wonderful to heavenly.

Dolcezza’s “Mascarpone” flavor is similarly ambrosial, the gelato equivalent of the lightest, airiest raspberry cheesecake. And Dolcezza earns extra points with us for being fearless in its experimentation. “Olive Oil” sounds like a miserable flavor for gelato, but, in fact, they’ve managed to accentuate the natural fruitiness of olive oil, while stripping away all bitterness.

Unfortunately, their mix of passionfruit and milk chocolate doesn’t quite gel, but we’re glad that they're willing to let the public in on some of their more unusual experiments. In fact, they publish a blog that offers the backstory behind some of the more noteworthy flavors in their ever evolving repertoire.

And if you’re not tempted by their gelato, there’s always the prominent display of dulce de leche filled churros near the cash register. They’ll quickly heat them up for you, so that they’re still nicely warmed by the time you sit down. The churros are perfectly crunchy on the outside, while the inside is soft and eggy with a decadent vein of dulce de leche running down the middle. It may be excessive to fill fried dough with dulce de leche, but it’s our kind of excess.

Check out Dolcezza in Georgetown at:
1560 Wisconsin Ave., N.W.
Washington, D.C.
(202) 333-4646

—AC

There's Always Room for Kvas

You might think that after gorging ourselves on imam bayildi at Taverna Cretekou’s Sunday buffet, and chasing our galaktaboureko with some Croation chocolate from Plava Laguna that we’d be ready to finally beach ourselves for the remainder of the afternoon. But after checking out the Bosnian grocer, my father suggested that we roll past a new commercial outpost on the edge of Old Town to see if Russian Gourmet had finally opened for business.

As we walked up to the door, we could see workers on ladders fussing with light fixtures, while others were busily stocking shelves. But we barged in nonetheless and became their very first customers.

Russian Gourmet is actually a burgeoning chain of Russian specialty shops. Their website lists several locations in Virginia and Maryland, and we’d previously schlepped out to their location in Mclean for piroshkys and homemade eggplant salad. So we were stoked that all of our favorite Russian treats would now be a mere five minutes drive from our homestead.

We only scored a few items that weekend, as the store had only had about half its inventory stocked.

My father insisted that we split a cake that was half poppyseed and half chocolate. The cake was somewhat like a babka, and the cake itself had an egginess that was reminiscent of challah, although it was a bit dry. Fortunately, the chocolate and the poppyseed only met in the middle, and were otherwise given reign over their own halves of the cake. I’m a huge fan of poppyseeds, but the poppyseed mix in this cake had an earthiness of taste at the expense of sweetness. The chocolate half of the cake was unremarkable. Perhaps one is supposed to alternate bites of earthy poppyseed with sweet chocolate to arrive at the happy medium the bakers may have intended.

I also walked off with a bottle of Georgia’s Natural Pomegranate Juice. That’s Georgia, as in Tbilisi, not Savannah. And Georgian pride abounds in this humble juice as the label boasts, “Consists of premium fresh sun-ripe pomegranates to preserve the distinctive Georgian taste.” If a fruit juice could ever be described as “manly,” then this is it. The juice is the deepest shade of dark red, and, at first, its robust smell is almost beet-like. It tastes of maximum tartness with only the faintest hint of sweetness. In fact, it may be the closest a fruit juice can get to tasting like a vegetable juice without actually being vegetable juice.

And there’s always room for Kvas. Kvas tastes like fermented raisin wheat bread and actually has a very low alcohol content, usually not more than two percent. Indeed, it turns out that Kvas is actually made from fermented fruit and Russian black bread. I have no idea how Kvas is meant to be enjoyed. Like, do Russians just kick back on the couch for a leisurely afternoon of channel surfing accompanied by a bubbly glass of Kvas? Or is it only enjoyed on special occasions? Despite its awfulness, Kvas has somehow captured my affections. I’ve been trying to teach myself how to properly appreciate it, but so far my efforts have been unsuccessful. But the more it repulses me, the more I want to love it. Perhaps by my fifth glass, my sense of taste will have finally assimilated to Kvas.

Check out Russian Gourmet’s latest location in Alexandria at 907 Slaters Lane.
—AC

The Power and the Glory of Kebab

Each weekend night on a very busy corner in Crystal City, area cab drivers along with droves of South Asians and their families pile into Kabob Palace. Naturally, this is the sort of scene that immediately inspires AC and myself to see what the fuss is all about.

We made our inaugural visit to Kabob Palace when it was just a cab stand, a small take-away with about a dozen tables, all of which we typically found occupied during the late dinner rush on a Friday night. While diners wait in line to place their orders, they can while away a few minutes checking out the case of raw skewered meats, all of which are painstakingly arrayed in one of the most glorious displays of unrepentant carnivorousness in the D.C. area.  Moving up the line, watch as one of the countermen takes a freshly kneaded loaf of dough and sticks it to the side of the clay oven, removing a fully realized naan barely ten minutes later, steaming and blistery. As you can imagine, Kabob Palace quickly became a mainstay in our weekend repertoire.

That’s why we were pleasantly surprised about a year ago to see that Kabob Palace had expanded and added a full-service restaurant about three doors down, as a supplement to the cab stand. Service can be spotty, and on almost every visit, the waitstaff have had to inform us that at least one item we ordered is not available, or, in the case of their mantu, the item we desire will require an excessive amount of time to prepare. Nevertheless, having been to the newer location several times, we have now identified our favorite selections and, thankfully, these items seem to be consistently available.

First off, meat is essential. In our opinion, Palace Combo #9 is king. It includes a skewer of kubideh, which are cylinders of ground lamb, liberally spiced and very juicy, and a skewer of lamb kebab, nicely charred on the outside, dusted with sumac, and tender and juicy inside. The meat comes with a small cup of their cold, refreshing herbed yogurt sauce, which is an appropriate dipping sauce for the meat and bread. As the restaurant delights in serving large portions, we always share the combo so we can leave room for their amazing vegetable sides.

Kebab Palace offers a choice of spinach or chickpeas with each of its kebab combos. We always opt for the spinach dish, which we find is a close cousin to saag paneer, the standard spinach and cheese side found at a lot of Indian restaurants. Though this version is more hardy, less of a puree, than saag. It’s flecked with onion, herbs, and spices, and is the perfect accompaniment to the meat. The chickpeas are a bit oily for our taste, but they're unique in that they seem to have been slightly sweetened with cinammon.

But the star vegetable in our view is the okra do piaza, which may very well represent the most complex and delicious preparation of okra we have ever tasted (pickled okra is a close second). The okra is sautéed within an inch of its life, as it is almost crispy, but it still retains its fleshy innards, though none of the sliminess that seems to be okra's natural textural tendency. It’s cooked with ample onion and red pepper and a lot of spices. But it's the mustard seed that launches this dish into the spicing stratosphere. Between you and me, I probably eat more than half of it each time we share this dish. Sadly, the okra is not offered as one of the complimentary sides for the meat platters and must be ordered separately.

As with every South Asian meal, bread is a key component. The naan is among the best we’ve had. It’s always presented to us piping hot, doughy, and crispy in all the right places. And we always get a few of those odd bread bubbles that occur in the oven when air gets trapped inside the bread—we love that. But what we love the most is creating our own little sandwich with the bread: a bit of kubideh, a generous helping of yogurt sauce, all wrapped in soft, hot naan. It’s heaven. The best part is that this whole meal, including a drink or two, will run two people about $30 with tax and tip.

Eat more than your share at Kabob Palace:

2315 S. Eads Street
Arlington, VA
(703) 486-3535

—AK