Forays Into Thai

I am an equal opportunity eater; in my cook book, open immigration is a plus. I have never met a cuisine I have not liked and as my cooking has developed, there has been no one vein to my adventures. I have, at different times, experimented with Moroccan, Lebanese, Ethiopian, Greek, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Latin American, most European styles, and Southern food (which feels foreign to me).

I have never, until now, tried making Thai. Though I love Thai food dearly, it felt, somehow, as though there were some invisible barrier to cooking it. I thought there were perhaps too many exotic spices (false) or sauces (not really) or ingredients (maybe for SOME dishes). In short, I felt about making Thai food the way many people feel about making any food at all.

I decided to reject that notion. I believe in brotherhood through brunch, sisterhood through supper. Without experimenting with Thai food, how could I welcome Thailand into the family of nations the fusion of which informs my cooking?

Now, I would LOVE to make phat kee mao (drunken noodles) or phat see ew (or however you transliterate those sweet, stir fried noodles) but I can't find the wide rice noodles (help, D.C. friends!). I did discover thin rice noodles -- perfect for phat thai.

Phat thai is an extremely simple dish in terms of ingredients. Other than the noodles, which apparently are found in many grocery stores, the only exotic is the fish sauce (if you've made certain Japanese or any Thai you probably already have some on hand). I had some boneless chicken breasts already, and in an effort to make the whole thing more colorful and more wholesome, I decided I would throw in some broccoli and a red bell pepper. I wanted to use chopped peanuts, but Giant was out (I know!!!) and I forgot I had some. Whoops.

Vamping off the noodle package directions, this is how I went about fashioning my first attempt at Thai:

Pad Thai

3/4 of a package of thin rice noodles (about 8 oz.)
4 T. fish sauce
1 T. brown sugar
1 t. paprika
3 eggs
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (VEGGIES -- use tofu instead)
2 scallions, sliced finely
2 heads of broccoli cut into small pieces
1/2 red bell pepper, sliced thinly

Small handful of chopped peanuts

half a can of bean sprouts (just throw away the other half, unless you make a lot of asian dishes. Blech)
garlic
salt and pepper

1) Place the noodles in warm water, spreading them out as much as possible, and allow them to soak for 30-40 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together the brown sugar, fish sauce, and paprika.

2) Meanwhile, split the breasts lengthwise into cutlets using a sharp knife (a process called "butterflying") and slice thinly. Saute on medium in oil (I always just use olive oil; I'm sure it would be more authentic with something else) and garlic and season with salt and pepper. Cook through until no pink remains, but no further, then remove from pan.

3) Scramble the eggs in the bottom of the pan until done. Then, add pepper, broccoli, chicken and the (well-drained) noodles and stir fry over medium. After a minute or two add the fish sauce mixture and about a half cup of water. Continue stir frying, adding more water if need be. This is the tricky part, because underdone, rice noodles are inedible and overdone they're a sticky mass of noodles -- there's a window of perfection that I hit, but totally on accident.

4) When noodles are cooked through (lots of taste-testing required) but before they get too sticky, remove everything from the heat to a serving bowl and toss well. Top with chopped peanuts, scallions, and bean sprouts (which, despite their tinged look, actually have some health benefits -- Vitamin C most notably).

Enjoy!

Wherein I Eat Awesome Stuff in Atlanta

I was in Atlanta recently, visiting JHK and taking the LSAT -- it's a long story. WHILE I was there, I indulged in three particularly sumptuous meals, photographic proof of which I now will present.

1) Dinner on Friday night at Murphy's

I've now visited Atlanta thrice, and each time I have found myself at Murphy's -- but before this visit, only for brunch. (GET THE SHRIMP AND GRITS, DAMNIT. SO GOOD). This dinner menu, like Napoleon Bonaparte, is short -- but fully prepared to conquer my appetite and unify my taste buds into a single regime under its rule.

Awkward simile? Maybe.

Anyways, I resisted the urge to get shrimp and grits AGAIN (it's on the dinner menu too) and instead opted for classic dry-rubbed ribs. I don't get ribs often, but I think ribs such as these are my death-row-last-meal meal. They were so fall-off-the-bone, finger-lickin', bone-suckin', tender and flaky delicious that it was struggle to set a few aside for later. When you can't even keep the meat on the bone if you tried, that's when you know you've found a good ribs joint -- and Murphy's is, at that.

Here too I tried the mussels, which were good but nothing to blog about (oops). However, nestled next to the dish of mussels marinara were thick-cut handmade fries, which were pretty much worth it right there. Moist without being greasy, salty without overpowering the flavor of the potato, they were pretty much just how I like 'em. Another win for Murphy's. I'll be back.

2) Breakfast before the LSAT (at the ungodly and inhuman hour of about 6:30)

I'm not sure I need much commentary for this photo, except to say that if I did well on the LSAT (I find out Nov. 1), it's thanks to this breakfast of champs -- cheerios, leftover ribs, and macaroni and cheese.

3) Dinner Saturday night at Bistro Niko

My experiences with French restaurants are more than limited -- I think I've been to ONE in my life, on Key Biscayne in Miami, where I tried escargo. I know almost nothing about the cuisine, except that they eat frog legs.

SO I DID.

That's right; I tried frog legs. And you know what? Duh duh duh...

They tasted like chicken.

Except they tasted like the best, most tender, flavorful, and wonderful chicken you've EVER HAD. These were lightly breaded and pan fried with lemon juice and a little tomato with spices, and once I got past the fact I was eating something that looked VERY much like a frog leg, I could focus on how tasty it was. If you, my dear readers, think you have it in you, I highly recommend trying frog legs sometime.

For my main course, I had skate wing. For those unaware, skate is a cartilaginous fish, like sharks or manta ray, in fact, very much like a manta ray. Skate is a very tender white fish, markedly un-fishy tasting/smelling, and when cooked, flakes cleanly into large chunks. The skate I ate (hahaha) was pan-fried with lemon juice, white wine, and capers -- EXACTLY the same way MB an I cooked it during my only other experience with skate. It's an easy fish to cook, as the meat is thin and of uniform depth, but the tricky part (MB and I struggled with this) is separating the flesh from the cartilage structure under the wing without making a mess of the fish. Apparently, the trick is to be careful.

In my mind, as much as I love staples and favorites, there's nothing quite as exciting as trying the new and/or exotic; I give Bistro Niko two or three thumbs way up for presenting both in an excellent and perfectly executed fashion.

Next time on Hungry Sam: What I made for dinner tonight.

Things I've Thought About Today

1) I sometimes eat apple cores.

It's not that I like them; frankly, I don't really like or dislike the core. But there's nothing worse than finishing a sweet, crunchy, juicy, delicious apple and not only being covered in sticky apple juice but having trash on your hands. My solution, then, has really been to just eat the trash. I eat it before finishing the rest of the apple though; I don't want my last apple bites to be the stupid core.

2) I'm wicked good at the puzzles on the back of cereal boxes.

It's almost like they're made for children.

3) How do you make frozen yogurt?

I would like to make some frozen yogurt. I know I could just google it, and I will, but I'm sharing the food-oriented thoughts I've had today. And today, while eating frozen yogurt (Sweetflow: Gross name; decent frozen yogurt) I thought to myself, "how does this work?"

4) The Waffle House makes a DAMN fine waffle.

I did a 24 mile ride with the Bad Movie Club this morning. After the ride, we decided to ensure that no weight would be lost through our exercise by eating at the Waffle House, a sketchier, Southern-er IHOP. However, for about $3, I had a pretty damn fine pecan buttermilk waffle. SCORE. I would have a picture, but I was too hungry to think pre-waffle.

That is all.

New Job, New Neighborhood, New Lunches!

Creating and accepting change is tough, but infinitely more so if one's net movement is ultimately backwards. I am extremely fortunate to have recently taken a step forward: I have just found, applied for, been offered, accepted, and started at the American Association of University Women as Grassroots Advocacy Coordinator.

I am incredibly happy with this move -- I get to continue advocating and working on women's issues and gender equality, which is awesome; I get to work with an energetic, committed, and passionate grassroots -- the AAUW members -- all over the country; I get to work with my coworkers, whom I would tend to describe as "bad-ass"; and, in the context of Hungry Sam, I now work in a new neighborhood where new lunch options abound.

Over the next several months, I will explore these many and varied options, ranging from fast food and buffet Indian to sandwich shops, sit down grills, and seafood. While not quite the epicurean paradise that is Dupont, site of my former employ, the Farragut area nonetheless has a great deal going for it.

In a quick teaser, both for me and for you, I ate lunch out for the first time at the new job on Friday, hitting up Naan and Beyond, a takeout Indian food joint with an ever-changing menu and an excellent array of options. I tried the Lamb Tikka sandwich, which is basically a gyro-style roll-up with naan instead of pita. AWESOME. The chunks of lamb were tender and plentiful; the veggies were fresh and tasty, and the mint yogurt sauce (not actually raita) was superb. Most of all, naan is SO MUCH BETTER THAN PITA. It just is; don't ask me why. Here's a quick pic:

Will I be back? You bet your tuchus I will. Delicious, fast Indian food, one block away from work, and CHEAP (we snagged two big sandwiches and three samosas plus fixins for less than $20).

Thoughts on the Yom Kippur Fast

This weekend, we Jews observed Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, which marks the end of the Days of Awe, by fasting. Jews don't fast as a matter of course; it is, generally speaking, a cornerstone of our worldview that we are commanded to enjoy the works of creation.

Fasting, however, can be an enlightening experience. There are as many reasons and explanations for fasting as there are Jews who choose to "practice self-denial," as the commandment goes. For me, fasting helps to put food in context and drive home its role as the primary medium through which I interact with the substance of the world around me.

On a basic level, it underscores the notions of emptiness and hunger. It reminds me of the comfort in which I live, and that not all are so fortunate. Fasting prepares me to think seriously about what it means to not-have. Just as Hungry Sam is an expression of the joy and wonder with which I experience food, fasting provides me the opportunity to contemplate the absence of that joy and of the other joys (both real and illusory) begotten by my random fortune to be a middle-class American.

Going deeper, fasting acts as a clear and omnipresent distraction as I sit in synagogue and attempt to commune with my deeper self -- for the purpose of Yom Kippur is not to fast for its own sake, the purpose is to atone, to speak with God and ask forgiveness and to prepare oneself to speak with our fellow humans and ask for forgiveness. Ok, so fasting is a distraction, but I choose to experience it as a surmountable challenge that helps to prepare me for inner dialogue. That hunger forces me to confront my physical self at the same time as I seek to transcend it.

Some Jews wish one another an "easy fast." We could have a short argument over the existence of such a thing. But in my opinion, when food is ever-present for the minority of which I am a part, where comfort is the norm and ease the default goal, I think a difficult fast can go a long way toward changing the paradigm for one day of reflection and growth.

A Wholly Incomplete Discussion of Buffalo Wings

Having attended the University of Rochester, and having lived in upstate New York, then, for just less than five years, I know a little about chicken wings. On Sunday, I had a pleasant and surprising wing experience I wish to relate. Read on.

FIRST: a brief message to my readers in the upstate New York region.

Hi friends. I'm going to talk about wings for a moment. I need you to basically pretend I'm not. I've spent far too many hours arguing the merits of Anchor Bar v. Duff's (2008); I grew too many gray hairs advocating for On The Rocks over The Distillery. I can't take it. I know you all have an opinion; the good Lord knows I do too. But all I wish to do here is mention and extoll the virtues of the wings I've discovered at one particularly place in DC. There is in the text hereafter no implication whatsoever that these wings are in any way better than Nathaniel's or Mark's or any of the other wonderful options available in the Upstate. Thanks!

Now that's out of the way, I will provide context. On Saturday night, I was faced with an extremely concerning situation: I had yet to find an acceptable location to watch the Patriots' home opener the following day. The food wasn't really a concern; I had brunch plans with RLK, JB, and Suburban Sweetheart (@Ulah Bistro, a staple in my brunch rotation). Having food was a plus, however; we ARE talking about a three-hour football game, but in finding a sports bar, the keys were a) must be showing the game, b) must be showing the game WITH volume, c) reasonably close to U street so I wouldn't miss kick-off, and d) must not be a Colts bar (as in a place where Colts fans assemble. Oy.)

I made a series of calls and did my research through Yelp and elsewhere, and settled on Buffalo Billiards. I'd been before, so I knew the venue was pretty huge with plenty of TVs; it didn't seem that it would be overrun with fans of another team; and I'd had a decent time in the past, so I figured, what the hell.

GREAT DECISION. Though the volume for my game was lower than I would have wished (too many others being played concurrently), the beer was cheap, the Pats won, I made friends (Go 'Skins!) and, as it turned out, the chicken wings were EXCELLENT.

Let me back up. Chicken wings aren't a staple in my diet -- I would die of cholesterol poisoning. They are a treat, like a cigar or a scotch, and as such, I treat them similarly -- as an experience. I'm not being over the top; I'm serious. Wings make me think of football. They bring me back to the best wings I've ever had, and the people I shared them with. Good wings remind me of half-priced appetizer nights with my best friends in college, of visiting Rochester, of a perfect Patriots season (16-0-0!).

For all this to happen, for a wave of nostalgia and contentment to crest and break and wash over and through me, a certain threshold of quality needs to be attained in my wing. It needs to be BIG; it needs to be tender and juicy. Wings need to have sharp, spicy, Buffalo sauce-flavor throughout, not solely on the exterior. They shouldn't have crusty skin and the sauce shouldn't be syrupy. A lot can go wrong in a wing -- and nothing did with the wings at Buffalo Billiards. They were solid, respectable, tasty, and cheap (10 wings for $5.50/20 for $9/30 for $12.50).

I personally believe that solid, respectable, tasty, and cheap are about the best accolades possible for a wing outside upstate New York, so Buffalo Billiards: Hungry Sam Salutes You.

The one picture I could take before my wings were...unphotographable:

Shana Tova Sandwich

Shana Tova, Happy New Year, readers! Today (well, last night) marks the holiday of Rosh Hashanah and the beginning of the year 5771 in the Jewish calendar!

Like many other holidays, Rosh Hashanah (literally "Head of the Year") has a couple of traditional foods (though not as many as some other Jewish holidays). We still tend to serve challah, but in a different form -- rather than being braided, the dough is wrapped in a large circular bun shape and it often will have raisins.

The other traditional "food" is pretty vague; if I had to define it, the food is "something sweet" to symbolize our hope for a sweet new year (very deep, I know). In American Reform Judaism, "something sweet" normally means apple dipped in honey. There's a song.

Now, in modern American culture, pretty much EVERYTHING is sweet, so I suppose the notion of eating something sweet just isn't that special. This, however, was not always the case, and as with all rituals, it is the underlying sacred meaning and interpretation of otherwise mundane or profane actions/objects that gives it power.

I go into all of this just to provide the cultural milieu in which I crafted the following sandwich.

I took two slices of fresh rye bread (with caraway seeds), added a thick slice of maple-smoked vermont cheddar, some avocado, two macintosh apple slices, and toasted this in the broiler for a few minutes. Then I added as much of the mango walnut chicken salad I made last night as I could and closed the sandwich. THEN I ATE IT. (With a delicious Imperial Pumpkin Ale from Weyerbacher Brewery in Easton, PA. God, there are some awesome breweries in PA.)

It looked like THIS!

It was a great sandwich, and eating it outside in what has felt like perhaps one of the first true days of autumn was a special way to spend my Rosh Hashanah afternoon.

B'teavon!