Ho Yuen Kee Vancouver

Like LA and San Francisco to the South Vancouver is a West coast hot spot for Chinese food. LA may have more variety and regional cuisines but Vancouver holds it's own with neighborhood restaurants, dim sum palaces and Asian food courts.
Sitting alone in a brightly lit (way too brightly lit) room where I was the only white face I looked around and ordered what nearly everyone seemed to be having -- dungeness crab on sticky rice. Chinese comfort food at its best and a dish I rarely see -- if ever, in LA or San Francisco surprisingly.
Another delicious Vancouver visit.

Au Pied De Cochon, Montreal

 I love everything about Montreal's racous shrine to animal fats, Au Pied De Cochon. The cooking may be serious but everything else is a bawdy ridiculous edible party brought to you by my new culinary hero, the bold, the daring, the fat centric devil may care Martin Picard.
A veritable temple to fois gras, there are croquettes, crepes, burgers, tarts and even poutine -- Montreal's classic dish of french fries, cheese curds and gravy -- featuring the controversial, creamy fattened liver.
Vegetarians beware. Picard's homage to traditional Quebec specialties rests heavily on his love for meat, in enormous portions. Duck, bison, goose, deer, horse (yikes) and of course the namesake pig are all featured in super rich dishes ideal to keep a lumberjack or trapper warm in cold Canadian winters and to assure he won't have to plan for a long retirement.
The menu is short on description but the wait staff, all seemingly truly delighted to be part of this pork fueled rave, are happy to describe any dish. I literally saw stars dancing in our waitress' eye as she gushed about the "meat pie" filled dumplings -- a play on Montreal's Christmas favorite tourtière.
"Every bite is like Christmas," Carol, our waitress, beamed. "Like my grandmother made when I was a little girl."
How do you say no to that?
We quickly ordered 6 dumplings.
Sure enough. Meat and cloves and wine and butter. It's a mouthful of Christmas and a most unusual dumpling served with house-made ketchup sauce. Delicious.
We wanted to try everything but Carol kept us in check. "Too much, too much," she declared. "The leg, dumplings and salad. Is already a lot."
We had no idea how right she was until the pig's trotter stuffed with foil gras, the restaurant's signature and perhaps most publicized dish arrived at the table swimming in a sea of creamy mushroom sauce and snowy beach of cheesy curd potato purée.

"Since I have been here," Carol explained. "Only one has ever eater it all."

That dish could easily feed four or even six sensible people. My willing friend and I were spurred on by the delicious hearty sauce and super tender meat which I later learned from a friendly line cook had been removed from the foot boned, roasted, re-stuffed and cooked sort of sous vide for more than 12 hours and then crisped in the restaurant's beautiful brick oven.

Oh and that salad? Pork cheeks, lardons, radishes and sunflower sprouts grown on the dining room window sill. A spicy, herby, fatty salad.

I suppose one could say that PDC is a lot of show. In another famous dish duck is cooked inside a can (instead of a sous vide bag) which is ceremoniously opened table side. Our dessert of peach preserves and most ginger spice cake topped with crème anglais and maple caramel sauce was given the same "canned" treatment. But this kitchen does not rely on gimmicks. This is real food, with sophisticated  voluptuous flavors expertly prepared and served with an undying sense of pride . . . and fun.

There is no other restaurant like it. I can't wait to come back. I think I am in love with Martin Picard.

Olive Et Gourmando, Montreal

Even in the rain Old Montreal has the feeling of a secret Christmas wonderland. The winding cobblestone streets give way to fanciful shops, elegantly rustic restaurants and not so secret treasures like Olive Et Gourmando.

Honestly it's just a little coffee shop. A little coffee shop where everything is homemade by bakers who believe that turning flour and butter into a reason to get up in the morning is a noble task. That joy in every little bite should be savored and not rushed. That sweet ricotta on crispy baguette toast or a flaky chocolate croissant may just be the highest form of expression. 

I settle in, surrounded by locals and bite into the cafe's signature breakfast sandwich labeled "in your face." With siracha, chorizo, and layered chilis, this deceptively simple sandwich screams my name while all around me gentle French sounds waft through the pastry-scented air. Though decidedly un-European (much of Montreal's cuisine and culture harkens back to it's French roots) this sandwich is delicious. So spicy you try to stop but so addictive you keep going. A perfect wake-up.

Olive Et Gourmando is exactly the kind of place everyone wishes were in her neighborhood. A charming spot for morning coffee and friends behind the counter.

My only complaint? O&G doesn't open until 9. Instead of a daily start it's a day's off treat. 

Maybe that's the way real treasures should be.

Belly and Snout: Filipino Stoner Treats

 I don't like hot dogs and I cannot under any circumstances tolerate American cheese. But still I couldn't resist the draw of the oddest of edible oddities, the bizarre fusion that is Belly and Snout. Obviously inspired by Korean taco master  Roy Choi, B&S doesn't exactly have the same kind of chef cred. None the less they are putting homemade Filipino style meats in tacos, on tater tots, and tucked into grilled cheese.

Longanisa grilled cheese combines house made sausage -- really tasty -- with plain old white bread, pickled vegetables and the dreaded bright orange American.  An immigrant sandwich.

First American cheese and then hot dogs. Topped with peanut braised oxtail, sisig (crisped pork flavored with bright vinegar), pork adobo (the beloved Filipino national stew), and plenty of bacon, garlic cream, and fried eggs the hot dogs themselves are inconsequential. They are the least interesting part of the hot dog combos but overall -- I don't know how -- it kind of works.

Though my friend loved the grilled cheese, more successful to me were the tacos. Truly delicious pork or chicken adobo topped with cilantro, onions, jalapeño slices, mayonnaise, sesame (peanuts on the pork) and radishes all wrapped up in a flour tortilla for $2. With one bite I could picture the lines of late night zombies counting their change for a late night snack.

I might have been in my elementary school cafeteria the last time I had a tater tot. Back then they just came with ketchup. At Belly and Snout they are topped -- just like the hot dogs with pork, pork, ad more pork -- including the excellent house made longanisa. The whole thing is crazy and somehow satisfying.

Sitting in the back eating area (I can't call it a dining room) with the TV blaring travel channel food shows I can't help but think if I were a drinker or stoner I'd probably see more of Belly and Snout instead of late night shame filled Del Taco runs popular in my reckless youth. As it is B&S is a curiosity I had to try once and might think of from time to time when caution take flight and fast food looms heavy.

Beta 5: Bring Some Home From Vancouver

 Hidden away in a Vancouver industrial park is Beta 5. A strange and wonderful chocolate and pastry shop.

Co-Owner and pastry chef Adam Chandler served his time in luxury hotels and European capitols before taking the lessons he learned in Belgium and turning them into chocolates infused and filled with flavors like caramelized banana (spectacular), bay leaf (shockingly delicious), fisherman's friend (yes, the cough drop) and real farmer's market cherries.

Not content to fill small boxes with chocolate jewels Beta 5 branched out to ice creams, chocolate bars and a nothing less than kooky assortment of cream puffs in flavors like Vietnamese coffee, blueberry lavender and apple pie. Baked extra long the delicate shells have an almost cookie crumble exterior giving way to layers of dough and creamy filling. Wow.

Cafe Medina

I like Cafe Medina. There is always a wait and yet when I am in Vancouver I make a point of going for breakfast. Not just because the vaguely Middle Eastern/ North African spiced dishes feature some of my favorite flavors (sumac, harissa, chili)  but because Cafe Medina is fun, just plain fun.
Despite the constant onslaught, the servers are cheerful and the bartender -- as a solo diner I almost always sit at the bar to eat -- perfectly chatty.
I don't generally reach across a table to meet new people but every time I've eaten at Cafe Medina the person next to me has struck up a conversation and turned out to be interesting, good company.
The menu is interesting too. You can get standard egg dishes or more elaborate concoctions like breakfast paella, boulettes (lamb meatballs and eggs in spicy tomato sauce), or their take on cassoulet with garlic sausage, smoked bacon, red wine and tomatoes. I've never even tried the signature waffles though they top just about every table.
I love the fresh juices and house made sodas (rose hip and bergamot, citrus buttermilk anyone?). The coffee is delicious (I don't even understand how it is so good).
Everything is good -- maybe not exceptional or nuanced but it doesn't matter. Cafe Medina might just be the perfect breakfast place. If I lived closer I'd be a regular.

Ask For Luigi

Ask just about anyone or read any magazine article or blog post and you are likely to hear "Ask For Luigi." What's a good new restaurant? Where is the best Italian? Where should we have dinner?

Even the name of the tiny restaurant, according to chef owner JC Poirier, is an answer. A guide to ask for a friend, knowing you will be treated well when you, essentially, know someone on the inside.

It's hard not to know people quickly at Ask for Luigi. The 34 seats are terminally full with a line waiting at the door. Seats are close and wait staff literally shimmies from table to table holding platters of fresh pasta, appetizers and wine.

Everyone feels happy and relieved by the time a table opens and it shows. The dining room is cheerful and loud and every plate is met with delight.

I'm always fascinated by places this small. The night I visited there was a man at the front of house (the manager I assume) and 4 waitresses. In the open kitchen I saw the Chef de Cuisine and 3 line cooks. A fifth cook was tucked away in a back space prepping for the next day's lunch. To make money with so few seats and so large a staff a restaurant has to be highly efficient and chose dishes wisely so food comes out quickly and tables turn over to bring in the next group of waiting diners.
Prep work is the star at Ask For Luigi. Fresh pastas are ready to boil, sauces are simple or made earlier in the service, meatballs are par-cooked and turned in tasty red sauce as they are ordered. These aren't dishes wrapped in chef's egos or elaborate technique. This is, as AFL's manager says "pasta for the people."

The food is inventive and somewhat unexpected (I had a dish of rye flour penne with guanciale, broccoli rabe and egg yolk) but in attitude Ask For Luigi may be the most authentic Italian restaurant I've dined in outside of Italy itself.
At heart, though crammed with tourists, dating couples, foodies and bloggers, this is a neighborhood trattoria. You can stop in for a quick bite (minus the waiting time) on any night. The food will be good, ingredients fresh, and the staff friendly.

Montreal Bagels: Two Grand Old Names

 Something I would't know where to find even in New York . . . a 24 hour bagel shop. Could I be dreaming?
Arriving into Montreal late on a rainy night I headed right for Fairmount Bagels as the sesame seed rings were coming out of the wood burning oven. These are not the giant doughy delicious New York variety I grew up with but something altogether different. First off Montreal bagels are small, or a reasonable serving size compared to their Southern cousins. As my friend Marc described, there is a greater crust to dough ratio making them almost more like a soft pretzel or a bialy. And they are sweet. Fairmount's have a faint taste of honey which made the sesame seeds literally sing in every bite.

 Fairmount is the oldest bagel shop in Montreal and there was a line at their flagship shop close to midnight when I came by.

 St Viateur is the youngster by comparison, baking and boiling in Montreal since the 1950s. In addition to their 24 hour a day bakery (about a block from Fairmount) St Viateur has four cafes across the city. So I was able to try their sesame bagel (Montreal's favorite) with lox and a mountain of cream cheese. St Viateur's bagels are just a tiny bit dryer and slightly less sweet than Fairmont's. Delicious toasted.
Across Montreal the best bagel is debated in endless blogs and articles and breakfast tables. Though there are other bakers the serious food city seems to split between Fairmount and St Viateur.
Fairmount's garlic bagel was not for me and their pumpernickel lacked the dark flavor I come to expect in New York but their sesame hot from the oven barely made it to the car.
The bagel debate may rage on in Montreal, but I've picked a side.

I Love DiPalo's

 I had to visit one more time before leaving New York. I went to do some cheese shopping to bring a little gift home to James butI happened to walk in just as the day's porchetta was coming out. I couldn't resist. Though DiPalo's wasn't making sandwiches that day the DiPalo daughter at the counter quickly grabbed a fresh baked rosetta roll and piled the still warm meat on top.
"That's the perfect roll for porchetta," her uncle (or father) looked on approvingly and said.
""It's crusty and hollow." He explained.
He was right. That simple sandwich, no condiments or cheese or veggies, was the best lunch I had in all of New York.

Another NY Pork Store: Love At First Sight

 It'd be easy to walk by G Esposito and Son's, except maybe for the giant chef pig that guards the doorway. But stepping in is like walking back in time to when Brooklyn was New York's "real" little Italy.
"Yoo next? What can I get cha, sweethaaart?"
There is no hurry here. The countermen greet every customer like a regular with old jokes, gentle chiding and continuing commentary on the choices available. I might have walked onto the set of the Sopranos. I love it here.
I am almost overwhelmed by the choices. Esposito's makes a variety of cheeses, dried salamis and sausages but they are famous for their housemade Italian sausage, made to order sandwiches (in a shop with no menu board or evidence that sandwiches are on offer) and more recently ready-made Italian favorites like eggplant parmesan, filled pastas, and meat filled aranchini, trying to keep up with the quickly changing and gentrifying neighborhood.
A fixture in Carrol Gardens for nearly 90 years Espositos is an old time "Jersey" pork store a moniker from when Jersey produced the best pork in the area and people cooked at home. I want everything but I have come on a mission to bring authentic New York Italian sausage home to James.
I take the thin coiled sausage of their "plain" flavor (they don't have the broccoli rabe variety I was dreaming of -- I had to go to Faicco's for that) and because I can't resist and I know James will love it half a dozen fennel flavored links. That's more than enough to pack the plane but I go on. My man behind the counter offers up a spicy house cured salami.
"It's dry," he offers. "Kind of like a spicy pepperoni."
I take that and a neatly tied dried Soprasata.
"I like spicy," I explain. "But my husband (a convenient explanation for James -- boyfriend just never seems to do it) not as much."
"My kind of girl," he declares, laughing and packing my goods.
I head towards the subway smiling and carrying a heavy bag.

Italian In Baltimore

My mother made apple strudel. It wasn't delicate pastry. It wasn't beautiful. She didn't make many dishes but my mother made apple strudel for holiday dinners and family events and a couple years ago when she passed away I wanted apple strudel after the service.
I checked the internet and called around and found of all places an Italian bakery, Piedigrotta, that opened long after I lived in the city that reviews declared made a flaky delicious apple strudel.
In heavily accented English and out of practice Italian (Italish? Englian??) we negotiated the platters and arranged for my niece to pick them up. I never went in or met the woman on the phone -- until now.
Hoping the train down for the day my niece Jess picked me up (along with her husband Eric and daughter Juniper) and we went straight to Piedigrotta. Finally. I couldn't believe my eyes.
On the outskirts of Baltimore's campy and cozy Little Italy stood a dream bakery and more. Sure you might see the desserts and gelato first -- that's straight ahead. But turn to your left and be overwhelmed by an enormous array of ready made savories including delicate gnocchi, risottos, vegetables, flatbreads and more to eat at the nearby tables or take home to the family. An enormous selection. We were headed to my brother's where Baltimore favorites pit beef and polish sausage were already on the menu but -- being dedicated food tourists -- we had to try.
"Do you make all of these yourself?' I asked Signora Iannaccone.
"Dis all me" She said smiling. " You no like you come tell me."
I loved it all already. We took home platters (filled to the brim -- I'm sure more than usual for the measly $8 each we paid) of gnocchi, mushroom ravioli, and a stellar pizza rustica -- an Easter holiday savory pie filled with eggs and cheese and cured meats.
La Signora quickly started slicing an egg bread studded with candied lemon and offered us a plate across the counter.

Were we going to have something to eat there, she inquired as she strolled towards the pastry case.
After asking her favorite treat La Signora quickly described nearly every pastry and cookie in the case but she stopped lovingly at a puff pastry creation she called "diplomatica."
"Dis is deh real Italian Napoleon," she declared.

Forks in hand we four settled down to espressos (not the baby) and cakes. It seemed positively unpatriotic not to try the diplomatica with that kind of declaration. And we added a tiramisu cake -- made with soft layers of sponge instead of the usual lady fingers.
La signora's husband, Carminantonio Iannaccone -- by the way, is -- to his own account credited with the invention of tiramisu. The world's supposedly highest selling dessert.
Surpassing it's more familiar cousin, the diplomatica is everything pastry should be -- crisp, flaky, sweet but not cloying with a delicate ricotta pastry cream and tiny slivers of raw sugar adding crunch to spectaularly airy baked layers. After one bite I realize I don't care who invented it, I don't ever want to make it and I don't ever want to live without it.
What is this couple doing on a sleepy side street in Baltimore?

Low On Atmosphere, High On Flavor

 I can't resist the siren call of Chinatown. In any city.
In New York -- though the most authentic and probably best Asian food really shows up in Flushing, Queens -- Manhattan's ever growing Chinatown offers plenty of great cheap choices if you know where to look. Over my days in New York I walk the streets looking for those out of the way or sometimes known dive spots known for food not frills.

Walking in with a horde of Asian school kids pressing in for after school snacks and curious tourists I line up at the tiny front counter at Prosperity Dumpling and order Fujian wonton soup -- deep chicken rich stock with tiny thin skinned wontons that practically float down my throat. Prosperity's "dining room" -- a couple of stools and a counter  -- would make most high school locker rooms seem appetizing so I take my soup and sip as I stroll.

I actually go out of my way to find Taste of Northern China. I knew that the "restaurant's " name is not on their sign and that the entrance is not on the street with the their address, I still walked by it several times.

Barely a building -- more a vinyl tent attached to an open collection of appliances one might generously call a kitchen, Taste of Northern China has garnered a stellar reputation among eaters willing to saunter past the storage shed and grocery back room atmosphere to order at the tiny perch by the cash register.

 There are soups and huddled Chinese bent over styrofoam bowls but I am here for the skewers. Each about a dollar and quickly grilled by a friendly young girl then sprinkled with the house's spice blend -- cumin and chile and other tastes I can't identify. My favorite, a consensus among blogging visitors, is the fatty crispy lamb. Probably the tastiest dollar you can spend in Chinatown.

Elegant by comparison, the collection of mismatched chairs and cracked formica that is Tasty Handpulled Noodles stills seems inviting to tunnel-visioned diners and Chinese natives looking for big bowls of warming soups and chewy, stretchy deliciously fresh noodles. The broth may be a bit bland -- it's easily bolstered by the chili oil and chopped cilantro on nearly every table -- but when the winds blow fiercely through the city I long to settle at a table that needs to be wiped for steaming noodles and pan-fried dumplings.

New York Cheese Shopping

I didn't think about it but standing at the Whole Foods cheese counter I realized that traveling East brought an opportunity to taste a new range of local cheeses. Eager to share the region's wealth both the cheesemonger at Whole Foods and famed purveyor of Northeast regional cheese Saxelby Cheesemongers in Essex market offered tastes of their favorites from the Hudson Valley, Vermont, Pennsylvania and from the finishing caves in of all places Crown Heights Brooklyn.

 I tasted nutty Jersey girl from Cooperstown Cheese Company, Bonne Bouche from Vermont Creamery, sheep's milk Ewe's Blue from Black Sheep Cheese, award winning Tarentaisewrom Spring Brook Farm. . . and many more. But the real standout, the cheese I couldn't resist was Seven Sisters from Pennsylvania's Farm at Doe Run. Completely new to me it's a tremendously flavorful Jersey milk cheese that tastes like a cross between a familiar Alpine cheese like Gruyere and an aged gouda or parmesan. It's irresistible.

I'm taking a giant wedge home to James.

Shopping In New York's Little Italy

 It's been years since New York's Little Italy was the vibrant immigrant community featured in movies and memories. As rents have gone up more and more of the first generation Italians that were once the life blood of the area have moved out while upscale condos and even more -- do we really need them -- Chinese souvenir shops have moved in. Yet tourists still flock to Mulberry and Mott (between Canal and Spring) for a taste of what once was.
Despite what was probably an inevitable decline (Italian immigration slowed dramatically in the 1960's) and the Italian carnival/ Disneyland atmosphere prevalent today ("Hey bootiful -- we got pasta mangia mangia") I still love Little Italy. I love standing in the shops, loading up on fresh pasta and smoked mozzarella. I love hearing lilting strains of Italian on the street -- though these days it's mostly travelers from the boot in search of America's Italian Heritage.
Years ago full of Italian groceries and latterias, today few -- those that reinvented as Italian grocery stores not just homemade cheese shops -- remain. The big two, DiPalo's and Alleva, stock not only mozzarella and ricotta made in house but a variety of olive oils and Italian groceries.

 Alleva calls itself the oldest Italian cheese shop in America (I'm not sure where a more than 100 year old cheese shop of any kind exists) and only recently (well 8 or 10 years back) gave into the public's demand for more than just cheese with meats and dry goods and delicious made to order sandwiches. Their ricotta -- triple drained, thick and creamy is worth the trip. I could easily sit on the stop and eat it with a spoon like ice cream. Now made for the shop at a dairy farm (longtime friends of the Alleva family) near Albany the lightly yellow ricotta (that's the extra butterfat) might be Alleva's best but not most popular item. Their fresh mozzarella floating in salty brine brings customers in the door. My favorite, scamorza con burro is a dry version with a creamy runny buttery center. Delicious.

 Just down the block on the other side of Piemonte Ravioli, a wonderland of both fresh and dried pastas is DiPalo's, Little Italy's remaining Italian Grocery Superstore.

 The DiPalo's are committed to providing not just the best homemade products and local breads but also the best Italy has to offer. They make frequent trips to stock the shop with new and interesting tastes and the small shop is packed to the gills with irresistible items for DiPalo's discerning an sizable clientele. Leaning on the marble counter one of the DiPalo brothers (two brothers and a sister now run the 90-some year old shop) handed me tastes of Italian cheese while he ladled out meatballs, Tuscan beans and my favorite DiPalo's antipasto salad -- olives (three colors today), artichokes, red peppers, cheese and salami. Standing at the counter I tasted (and bought) a wedge of Alta Badia (it was new to me), an Italian (from the Dolomites) raw milk cheese similar to a Gruyere but with a more earthy, nutty flavor. James is going to love it. I can't wait to bring some home for a special Little Italy inspired grilled cheese.

 I usually stroll right by the pastry shops -- not many of them are any good really -- but today I couldn't walk by La Bella Ferrara, another of Little Italy's centenarians. I don't know why I couldn't stay away. Maybe it was the sign announcing Sfingi and Zeppole, traditional desserts for St Joseph's day (Italy's Festa del Papà).

 La Bella Ferrara may very well make these pastries everyday -- I honestly don't know -- but wandering by on March 19th it just seemed right. I joined the throng at the counter for a single mini-sfingi (sfinge? sfinga?), a creampuff like shell filled with super sweet and -- okay I admit it -- super delicious -- ricotta cream dusted with powdered sugar by the young lady behind the counter.

 Future generations may prefer supermarkets and grocery deliveries but while it lasts I'll stroll Little Italy and carry my bags for a living taste of years gone by.

Russ and Daughters

No trip to New York, no matter how short, is complete without a stop at Russ and Daughters.
The great grandmother of the city's appetizing stores Russ and Daughters specializes in -- for lack of a better explanation -- food to eat with bagels. There are myriad varieties of lox and smoked salmon (I love the pastrami flavor), sturgeon, whitefish, herring, sable and more -- each one personally selected for optimum quality by the Russ family. And then there's the slicing. A nearly lost art, lox should be sliced by hand and thin. Thin enough -- it is said --  to read a newspaper through. In years past -- though some still may -- customers would line up behind their favorite slicer for lox with tremendous flavor and delicate texture that melted beautifully into each bite of bagel and cream cheese. For more than 100 years, starting from a Lower East Side pushcart, Russ and Daughters has been serving up the kind of Ashkenazi jewish specialties that non-jews have come to love, that New York does better than anywhere. Quite simply though other appetizing counters remain in the area (no where near the number that once peppered the jewish neighborhoods in the city) Russ and Daughters has survived and thrived because it is the best. The oldest, the last, and the best.

Valparaiso, Chile

Traveling again. The view from my hotel room window.