Mochi

Making mochi is one of those experiences that brings you straight back to your childhood of playing with play dough. Not only does mochi taste like a chewy ball of comfort that gives a satisfying mouth feel every time you sink your gum into it, it's also super easy and fun to make.

Ingredients:
1 cup of mochi flour
1/4 cup of white sugar (some other recipes call for more sugar, I prefer subtle sweetness)
1 cup of water
Optional flavoring: here I used matcha powder (1/2 cup because I'm a matcha fanatic)

Instruction:

1. Mix all the dry ingredients together

Phở

Phở Hà Nội là "rau thơm tươi, hồ tiêu bắc, giọt chanh cốm gắt, lại điểm thêm một chút cà cuống, thoảng nhẹ như một nghi ngờ." - Thạch Lam

         Having grown up in the old quarters of Hanoi, I have a sentimental tie with phở. I could eat phở in sickness and in health, morning noon or night. Phở had never been a big deal to me because it had always been there, available, waiting to be devoured. I used to take for granted the fact that a short stroll down the street would lead me to 49 Bát Đàn, a place known for nonexistent customer service and debatably the best phở in Hanoi. Being away from home awoke my yearning for the comforting slurps of umami-packed morning soup. The Cheerios I have for breakfast here, can't even compare.

Express Sushi

Spicy tuna tartare on rice-cake

Today I went to Whole Foods and found a piece of beautiful sushi-grade tuna that has a radiant reddish sheen to it. So I decided to whip up a quick healthy appetizer/light lunch using the tuna and some home ingredients.

Stay hungry. Stay foolish: The making of a foodie

Photo: Cháo quẩy (Congee w/ Youtiao)

When I was 5, according to my mom, I only spoke babbled French in feeble attempts to tag along her side to the delegates’ dinners at the French Embassy in Hanoi, where the “pretty food” was always on display. Those swanky hors d'œuvres, staring back into the eyes of a bewildered young child with an irrepressible allure, were in stark contrast with Mrs Tám's run-on-the-mill pavement congee served in chipped-edged ceramics. But of course, bite-sized quail egg blinis may get insipid as time lends me some whim but good congee never gets old. I harbor ceaseless cravings for that humble concoction of rich broth and crunchy dough in cháo sườn whenever I’m away from home, whether it be Sydney, London or half way around the world in college.

Unfortunately cooking opportunities don’t come often for me while in college. I caved in to flavorless dorm food while sporadic episodes of Iron Chef were my only bond with the culinary culture. The only thing I miss more than eating good food is cooking itself. I once dragged my best friend around the entire dorm for hours scavenging for kitchen utensils and containers to create something out of inherent dining hall ingredients – a dish which I coined a fanciful name “balsamic-seared mushroom in buerre blanc”. All stemmed from the fear that the salad bar mushrooms would mourn over their wasteful lives for being flavorly squandered when eaten raw. (Really, the mushroom’s texture and aroma are substantially elevated when cooked.)

I was not born a passionate cook, I was lured and shoved into being one. During my highschool years in Sydney, I worked at a trattoria after school to scrape up a few bucks for my art supplies. I never knew what goes on top of a pizza was not just ‘cheese’ but mozzarella, and there are more types of ‘formaggio’ than I could ever imagine. Manual labor has never been more stimulating, from spin tossing the pizza dough to kneading fettucini, I was the captain of my cuisine boat sailing away from the once monotonous life.

Back in Hanoi. One fine day in the midst of SATs prep and math psets, I emailed Bobby Chinn and casually requested a position in his kitchen, purely because I loved food. Next thing I knew, I was in a jet black apron swiping plates for one of the first haute-cuisine restauranteurs in Vietnam. It was like first time biking on culinary training wheels – truffles, balsamic oil, saffron – exotic delicacies that was for the first time within my reach, and in abundance too. The experience for me was no less surreal than a coffee internship for NASA. Bobby Chinn, like most celebrity chefs, was charismatic at the bar and temperamental in the kitchen. I finally learned the ins and outs of all of the items on his menu, after having witnessed the 1 millionth egg being tossed up the ceiling due to his tantrums.

College means Domino’s, americanized sushi rolls and a slowly devolving palate. When the closest thing to ‘cooking’ is microwaving mac n cheese then dwelling on beautiful food memories is the only thing that keeps the foodie in me alive.

When the Occidental meets the Oriental

On a Wednesday evening, while being on the verge of passing out after Art History: Rococo Architecture, I decided to pay Ming Tsai a visit in an attempt to cut the string of boredom. Even on a weekday, a walk-in for Blue Ginger is still a hit-or-miss, which proves Ming and Polly Tsai’s brilliant tactic on dominating the fining dining scene of this predominantly white suburban demographic. Although Ming is known for his adept plays at the amalgamation of different East-West elements, I am very picky when it comes to fusion food. Having virtually experienced the best of both worlds, I expect the magic after a merger that can elevate the taste of both.


The interior shows touches of Asian flares looming from the yellow lanterns that blended in the minimalism touch of Charles O’Neil’s metal art to Vietnamese waterscapes. As I sat myself down in the private dining area close to the open kitchen bar, I was brought to a submergence of pleasant suburban tranquility as the restaurant begins to wake up with the clacking of kitchenwares. I kicked start my palate with a cranberry mocktail. The drink, though unmemorable, siding with nonchalant conversations provides a smooth transition onto my first course of the meal. (woah, no amuse bouche?)


And it was one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. The Hawaiian Bigeye Tuna Poke w/ Crispy Sushi Rice Cake and Peppercress-Tosaka Salad (USD 15) worked wonders with the palate. And to this day, it remains to be the dish that anchored Blue Ginger onto my culinary map. The tuna sashimi is so pristinely cut into tartare perfection, marinated in perfect balance of tangy and tart. But the hook, I must say, is the crispy rice. Pure genius! Who would’ve known how wondrous the taste of bouncy tuna mingling with the delicate crunch locked inside every bite.

Unfortunately, such wonderful start has proven close to impossible to live up to, the quality night begins to oscillate between spectrums. My dining companion had the Colossal Shrimp & Vegetable Tempura w/ Yuzu-Dashi Aioli (USD 15). The shrimp, being a top quality of its kind, has no flaw to detect when it comes to the sea-crisp texture. But the sauce is uninspiring at best. I don’t know whether it is because of my heritage but the dipping sauce is straight out of Vietnamese Cooking 101.


It was suggested by the wait staff that the butterfish and lobster are 2 of Ming Tsai’s signature dishes. So we decided to go with those. First off, the close winner of the night (I’m still hooked on the Poke) is the Sake-Miso Marinated Alaskan Butterfish Wasabi Oil, Soy-Lime Syrup w/ Vegetarian Soba Noodle Sushi (USD 36). I fail to think of a better way to cook a delicate piece of butterfish than the classic – Misoyaki. The fish is usually wrapped in marinate of miso and sake mixture for up to 1 day before executed. Ming Tsai’s butterfish literally melted into the taste buds as it reaches the palate. The sauce goes well together with this fish which, nevertheless, single-handedly immortalized this dish The Soba Maki is cute, very innovative, nothing else to say other than that.


But the biggest disappointment of the night which abruptly drops the bar of this restaurant is the Garlic-Black Pepper Lobster with Lemongrass Fried Rice w/ Pea Tendril Salad with Soy-Ginger Vinaigrette (USD 41). To be honest, I’ve had better lobster boiled in an over-sized pot in a grad dorm at MIT. The lemongrass fried rice, stuffed inside the lobster skull, was irrelevant and over-spiced (I believe there is a fine line between flavorful and over-flavored). The sauce tasted like pure melted salt while the lobter, in the midst of spice chaos, the lobster flesh tasted like lobster – unaccompanied, unmarinated. There is no greater sin than marring the perfection of a lobster.


Towards the end of the night, I attempted to rescue my demising fondness for the restaurant by ordering desserts. My pre-dessert was some vanilla float that was too mainstream and ‘american’ for me to have any substantial recollection.


My choice of dessert is the Tahitian Vanilla Crème Brulée and Cookies w/ Lime Leaf-Coconut Macaroon & Almond Shortbread (USD 12). At this point, I felt the urge to give Michele Fadden - the pastry chef - a hug for reviving my (then) dead passion for crème brulee. The smooth creaminess wrapping gentle sweet caramel streams through my tongue as my whole body shook in utter ecstasy. It was the dessert that I described afterward as so good I could cry.


By then, I believe inconsistency is indeed the consistent theme throughout the 3 courses. There are dishes that range from heart-melting to heart-wrenching. But overall, Ming Tsai is still a gifted chef and restaurateur that at least manages to create original east-west fusion.

Rating: (as 4 being sheer perfection, 1 being good)

Food: 2
Service: 2.5. Wait staff knows the food well and can handle a DSLR.
Location: 3. This is biased since the place is 10 minutes walk from my school.
Value: 1. USD 150 for 2 is fairly high for restaurant at that level.

The month of November

Photo: Doorknob.

There is something uneventful and slow about this time of year. The air is biting but not cold enough for teeth to clench. Browning leaves clutch onto the emaciated branches refusing to let the wind take them on a little tango. Although I have stopped counting my age, it is hard not to feel uneasy around this month with the ominous notion of my teenage years fleeting away before I could make a statement in this world.

Yes, age is a vexing perception. Inevitably.

At the comfort of one’s own foie

Photo: "A dollop of foie gras". I don't like flash but sometimes it can do wonders.

“It is quite unbelievable". I uttered at loss of words as my brain numb the other senses to concentrate on the electrifying sensation occurring at my taste buds. Such reaction I have is characterized by the ones around me as “getting doped on food crack”. No way any joint that I’ve tried at MIT fraternities was able to stir up such fanatical endorphines uproar. “Mon dieu!”, I, then too was at loss of breath, quivered and sunk into a blissful coma.

Nothing is more serene than a late morning on the sun-drenched porch with a copy of E.E Cummings and a jar of Rougié’s Foie Gras de Canard Entier en Gelée à l’Armagnac freshly flown from Paris. It took me a good 30 minutes to battle the hermetically sealed jar whereas what felt like 3 seconds for the ephemeral rapture to melt into thin air.

Golden crisp brioche from Hanoi Hilton Bakery topped by a slide of pristine, unsmeared foie exuding sheer beautiful vulnerablity. After the first bite, I gathered that such ethereal richness is not to be wasted on the interference of bread. So I paired it with the classic choice – Château d'Yquem Sauternes 1995. Miraculously, the sweet notes of the wine roam around the earthy richness of foie silking down creating a whole new flavor with subtle bitterness that clings to your throat. The chemistry between the two components is simply sublime.

I round up the palate with a piece of charred fig with the hope of milking out every possible indulgence from the foie’s intense buttery essence. The savory was prolonged until brunch reluctantly ends.

Wild, wild East

Admittedly, my first visit to Bobby Chinn back in 2006 marked my attention to the fine dining scene in Hanoi. I was intensely engrossed in the realm ever since. For years to come, Bobby Chinn had been my utmost role model. In fact, one my proudest achievements is getting to work in his kitchen – which at that time was considered to be the stepping stone towards the many chapters of haute cuisine wisdom.

I admired Bobby Chinn, maybe I still do, but less as a chef and more as a personality. He blends his charm into every nooks and crannies of his restaurant. I guess it it the unprecedented nuance of a well-crafted ambiance that was made this place a success. The food, to be honest, not so much.

By ‘well-crafted’ I meant that this place is very much precisely taken care of. From the moment I set foot into the restaurant, I was greeted by trails of rose petals. Back then the place didn’t have as much exposure as now so the wait at the bar wasn’t mandatory. Inside displayed old temple interior (attempt to evoke serenity, maybe?), hanging silk drapes and dry flowers. The walls exhibited works of contemporary Vietnamese artists – a very efficient way to add class and artsiness to the place. Music is tastefully selected, Bob Marley and Matthew Shafer was played during my stay. Everything else from the witty menu to the petals inside the toilet shows how tasteful and meticulously designed this place is – all touches provided decent social lubricants as one’s conversation may start with “have you gone to the loo?”.


The amuse bouche is an interesting part of the dining experience here. Every once in a while, if you’re lucky (when there’re enough salmon bones left-over to scrape off the flesh), the chef’s complimentary dish – Salmon tartare in truffle oil wrapped in jícama – may be the best thing you have that night. The salmon, perfectly marinated and generously soaked in truffle oil, is wrapped in a salami-thin slice of fresh-crunchy yam. It is pure beauty. Other times, it would be random bits and pieces like teeny crab-cake on a clam shell or pre-dessert freebie, Chocolate mousse in dark chocolate taco, which I thought was better than some of the main dessert itself.

Like the eminent (and insanely overpriced) Grapes in Pitaschio crusted Goat Cheese (USD 8 for 3 grapes) that made Bobby Chinn’s name, the Pan Roasted Salmon on Wasabi Mashed Potatoes, Vegetables, Ginger Demi Glace (USD 20) is undoubtedly worthy of its reputation. Of course, Bobby Chinn himself knew the hook is in the spicy and creamy side dish as he mentioned in his book “Wild wild east” that it was constructed out of pure fortuity when some wasabi got mixed up in his potatoes. Err, riiiight.


Unlike his other very overrated signature dishes (ahem, Smoked Zealand Rack of Lamb w/ Apple Risotto, Red Wine Lamb Jus Reduction – USD 30, ahem), his less exposed Blackened Barramundi on Braised Banana Blossoms with a Turmeric Balsamic Vinaigrette (USD 17) is a hidden gem. Original plate décor of balsamic patterns and turmeric dots, coated in a crunchy flavorful layer of cumin. It makes a very decent, fun eat. Better than most of other pricey options.



My personal favorite is probably the Green Tea Smoked Duck w/ Black Sticky Rice, Baby Bok Choy & Pomegranate Jus (USD 20). The broth is duck bones stewed for 2 days, duck perfectly cooked, sliced and presented. The rice has exotic textures and flavors that one doesn’t experience with run-on-the-mill white rice. Overall, the only dish that I thought was worth its price.

I learnt to blow-torch my first crème brulee in the Bobby Chinn kitchen, and he did use real vanilla beans in the cream. On the other hand, the sinful Molten Chocolate Cake is very simply made with even simpler ingredients. But hey, who says good food has to be costly made, as long as the product is not so overcharged.


Food:1
Service 1. Wait staff didn’t know the menu well.
Ambiance: 3
Value: 0. An NYC price tag on a Hanoi standard.

Le ‘Iron Chef’ dans la maison

Trung learns to cook from watching TV. Which is pretty legit considering how much he knows about haute cuisine. Without having any proper training in the realm, Trung was met with dubiety against virtually every food stunts he delivers. But from time to time, he would attempt to recreate world-renown recipes from master chefs and come up with surprisingly palate-pleasing versions of his own. Among which, is his signature dish Olive-oil-poached Chilean Sea Bass in Mango sauce.

Sea bass is perhaps one of my favorite white fish closely after Misoyaki (grilled miso in sake) Butterfish (commonly known as black cod) and Mom’s crunchy pan-fried snapper. It is quite impossible to ruin a piece of seabass because the fish doesn’t get dry when overcooked like halibut, or has a funky flavor when undercooked like baramundi. The beautiful texture of Chilean Seabass is especially smooth and velvety due to its high oil content locked deep inside the flesh, which makes savouring the fish, flake after flake, an unbelievably indulging act.

In his quest to secure that priceless texture and flavor, Trung implemented a technique from Aaron Sanchez where he ovens a glass baking pan filled with a whole bottle of pure olive oil (Ouch!). When dropped into the pool of olive oil, the marinated flank of fish starts to heat up as the oil does, then it sizzles, oozing in a precious flavor blend of olive and bass. After 2-3 minutes, the fish is ready to be plated.


It was quite extraordinary. Soaked immediately in high heat, the seabass was thoroughly cooked without a slight chance for flavor to escape. The inner texture of the fish was preserved and not dehydrated by the heat. The sauce, well, balances well with the marinate.

*Note: I did the plating and photography but those irrelevant cilantro leaves were his idea. Food styling failed. At least the fish tasted good.