Deciphering the Carbonara Conspiracy

My love affair with pasta began at a very young age: I believe I was around 7 or 8. In fact, I remember it quite vividly.

During one of my shopping excursions with my mom, we stopped for an afternoon snack at a department store café. Having always been an adventurous eater, I look through the menu, and spot something which seemed incredibly exotic to me at the time- Fetuccine Carbonara. I asked my mom if I could try it, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow at my request. After all, the only kind of pasta I have had before that was children’s-party-variety “Spaghetti Bolognese”, prepared Filipino-style with slices of hotdog in a sweetish tomato sauce. I remember her being supportive though, and watched me intently as I had my first bite of the creamy, flat noodles tossed with bits of mushroom and ham. Needless to say, I was hooked on everything pasta from then on.

But, as my maturing palate made me crave for food that is “bigger, better, more authentic”, I soon discover that my beloved Carbonara is not what it claims to be. Real Carbonara has no ham, no mushrooms and (gasp!) no cream. A traditional Carbonara from Lazio (where Rome is located) in Italy is made simply of the following ingredients: whole eggs or egg yolks, olive oil, guanciale (unsmoked bacon made from pork jowl or cheek) and Pecorino Romano cheese. (Guanciale and pecorino are easily available in the Lazio region, but when these are unavailable, acceptable substitutes would be pancetta (salt-cured pork belly) and parmesan cheese.) I also just discovered that fetuccine pasta is not a suitable match for this kind of sauce because it is too delicate. Italians are very strict in using only spaghetti or bucatini (sometimes penne) for Carbonara.

Recently, I chanced upon fellow food blogger Miguel’s Facebook page and he expressed his frustration on the lack of authentic Spaghetti Carbonara in Manila. He was surprised to discover that even in the better Italian restaurants, their Carbonara is prepared with cream. This made me wonder: Why is it that such a simple recipe (it practically contains just four ingredients) has been bastardized to such horrendous proportions that the “wrong” version is often believed to be the standard one?

I ask a chef friend about this, and he suggests that it could be brought about by foreign cooks adapting to what is available to them. During earlier times in the UK, for instance, cream is more accessible than poultry products, hence the switch. In my research over the net, angry purists blame greedy restaurant owners for using pricier ingredients in lieu of Carbonara’s otherwise regular cupboard fare to justify the additional zeroes in their prices. Being a guilty conspirator in the practice of “creamed” Carbonara, the reason could be as simple as this: Carbonara is easier to make with cream. A cream sauce can conveniently be prepared a bit earlier and re-heated when ready to serve. The traditional Carbonara, however, should definitely be cooked ala minute, very quickly, or else it could easily turn into an omelette.

I will not feign snobbery and say that putting cream in Carbonara is bad. In fact, give me a well-prepared cream-sauce Carbonara and I would be happy to eat it. I just think that, if you are a restaurant serving what you claim is authentic Italian cuisine, you must prepare Carbonara the same way they do it in Lazio.

As homage and “Oh-My-God-I’m-So-Sorry” to the pasta dish that started it all for me, I would like to share a recipe of Spaghetti Carbonara, done the traditional way. This is based on a couple of recipes I have gathered- all approved by some kind of Italian organization that protects the authenticity of their food- and tweaked according to availability of ingredients and personal taste.



Spaghetti alla Carbonara

Ingredients:
250 g. Spaghetti
1 clove garlic, peeled
2 teaspoons olive oil
200 g. pancetta, cut into cubes
2 whole eggs and 1 egg yolk, beaten
100 g. parmesan, grated
Salt and pepper for seasoning

Procedure:
- In a big pot of boiling water with salt, cook the spaghetti for 7-8 minutes, or until al dente. When done, remove from the water, draining the pasta water into a bowl and set aside to be used later.
- Mix in 2/3 of the grated parmesan into the egg mixture and season with a pinch of salt.
- In a separate pan over medium heat, cook the cubes of pancetta in the olive oil. Include the garlic, and remove before it turns brown. (Note: This will impart a subtle garlic flavor to the oil which will not overpower the dish. If you do not care much for garlic, you can skip the garlic part all together.)
- When pancetta has been nicely toasted, dump the spaghetti into the pan. Mix the spaghetti and pancetta mixture quickly, and then remove the pan from the fire. Stir in the egg and cheese mixture continuously until it acquires a beautiful, creamy consistency. If the sauce is a bit dry (or “tight”, as chefs call it), add a few spoonfuls of the pasta water.
- Move the pasta into a big serving bowl and season with some fragrant, freshly-crushed black pepper and top with the remaining parmesan cheese.
- Serve immediately.

It all seems simple enough, and it really is. I do need to stress the importance of mixing the egg mixture continuously to attain the creamy texture of the sauce. I myself began to panic when I noticed some parts starting to come together like an omelette, and I remember going “f_ck, f_ck, f_ck” under my breath. DO NOT PANIC. Just keep stirring, and the minute the sauce is creamy, it’s done. Buon Appetito!

Ramen Dreams are Made of These...

Ramen is not extraordinary in the local foodscape.  In fact, you can go to any supermarket or convenience store and grab yourself a pack of instant noodles.  This has become such a staple in the average Filipino's diet, that we do not think much of it- nothing more than a hangover helper at the wake of a long night or a quick snack during a break at the office.

However, I join the long line of Manila's food bloggers who can't help but sing this bowl of soup praises.  Ramen in Japan is nothing short of an art form- centuries old recipes passed on from generation to generation, each bowl distinct in flavor and characteristics.  In the movie "Ramen Girl" starring the late Brittany Murphy, it illustrates how mastering the preparation of ramen not only takes samurai-level cooking skills, but engaging that ability to harness your deepest and most authentic emotions in order to make the perfect bowl of soup.  Intense, I know, but when it comes to the Japanese and their food, they do not kid around.



In Makati, we are lucky enough to get piping- hot, authentic ramen from Ukkokei Ramen Ron.  Not having been to Japan (except for those three-hour stopovers at Narita where I get to stuff my face with tempura udon and sushi), I judge the ramen's authenticity based on the fan base (hard-core food lovers and Japanese expats) and the serious-looking Japanese ramen master behind the see-through kitchen.  



The menu is deliberately limited, serving a selection of ramen and a few short order dishes.  For the ramen, you can have either of three soup bases- shio (salt-seasoned), shoyu (with soy sauce), or miso (thickened with miso paste).  Toppings are mostly pork, seafood and vegetables, not much else.  

On my first try, I opted for a shoyu ramen, wanting to try something basic.  That already was quite exceptional, with the aromatic and flavorful broth and firm noodles.  

However, what got me hooked is the same ramen that has Manila's foodies going gaga- the Tantanmen.  This particular ramen's distinct taste is inspired by a noodle dish from the the Szechuan province of China called dandanmien.  Apparently, Tantanmen also uses some Chinese ingredients which truly sets it apart from the usual ramen.

Ukkokei's Tantanmen is the first I have ever tried, and like many others, I was immediately smitten.  I was captivated by the lingering aroma of sesame upon first whiff. Having a sip of the creamy broth, the miso paste adds a substantial richness to the soup, the flavors of which are a complex mixture of spicy, tangy and garlicky.  The little bits of ground pork make this dish even more hearty, as you slurp long strands of perfectly-cooked noodles from the ladle.  This dish is heart-stopping, wet dream-inducing delicious.  And I do not exaggerate, judging from the number of people I know who try to arrive at exactly 6pm in order to partake of one of the ten bowls of Tantanmen a day that Ukkokei serves.



Taking my cue from other Ukkokei fans, I top my Tantanmen with aji tamago- or soy-seasoned soft boiled eggs.  As if the ramen dish is not rich enough, the addition of the aji tamago takes your dining experience from sublime to decadent.  

If you are looking for a light, refreshing meal, Tantanmen is not the ramen for you.  The thick, rich broth with it's complex flavors and spices is not for the faint of heart.  But, i suggest that you do give it a shot.  Maybe you'll like it, maybe you won't.  Honestly, I almost wish that you wouldn't.  That just means more Tantanmen for me.

Ukkokei Ramen Ron
G/F Tesoro Bldg.
Pasay Road, Makati City
Tel. no. (632) 856 4588

Rant Alert: An Ugly Jacket in "Civilized Society"

A certain wine and food organization's wine fair is one event I was looking forward to since I attended the first one a year ago.  I look back fondly at the time spent with good friends, chatting and laughing over a decent meal and tasting some really good wines.  It was so much fun and left quite a good impression on me that when I was invited to this year's wine fair, I told more friends to join me and promised that they would have a good time.  Even Matt, who was not present at last year's event, I convinced to join because I said it will be a great party (which he is always a big fan of) and we get to hangout with some friends of ours whom we haven't seen in a while.  So, tickets were bought, and we were all set.

The night of the event arrives and it started out nice enough.  Matt and I arrived and we did a quick round to greet the people we knew at the event, both suppliers and the organizations members and officers.  Good friends and lovely couple- Weinmeister and Mrs. Weinmeister- introduce their charming sons to us, and we decided, of course, to join their table.  I set my black pocketbook down on the seat beside Weinmeister (I assume it was his since his camera bag was on it) since it was decided that we will be sitting there.

We all return to the business of tasting wines, chatting, laughing, having a great time.  Soon, our friends Sanju, Cutie and Mark arrive and everyone is getting into a party vibe.  I was truly happy to see my husband and friends enjoying themselves, having their fill of the wines being offered, feasting on artisanal cheese and the lechon at one supplier's booth.  

Weinmeister approaches us at one point and tells us that they will begin dinner as the two boys are already hungry.  He tells us that if we are ready we can place our orders as well so we can all eat together.  As we figure out our seating arrangements, Sanju points out that there was a jacket hanging at the back of one of the chairs.  We ask Mr. and Mrs. Weinmeister to whom it belongs to, and they both say they do not know.  Somebody suggests that the jacket be moved.  So Sanju does just that.  

Within seconds, the angry owner of the jacket approaches us, this Austrian fellow.  I knew who he was, having met him at other wine and food events, the last of which was the organization's luncheon at La Tienda.  I don't know a lot about him, I never really felt the need to.  Anyway, he starts his tirade about not liking the fact that his things were being moved around.  "This is civilized society, we do not do these things", he said in a huff.  

He claims that his one jacket was placed there to reserve four seats, and then widens his eyes like giant saucers and focuses his glare at me.  I glare back, and point out to him that my one bag was also there to reserve our seats.  He says he did not see my bag there.  At fthis point, my blood was boiling and it took all the strength in my body to stop me from clawing at his big, bulging eyeballs.  "I will not fight with you, (name concealed)", I tell him curtly,  then turn around and leave.

We find seats at the next table, and we refused to let his angry stares ruin our evening.  As we chat up the friendly Australian and American and their dates, we try to brush the incident of the ugly jacket and its owner off our sleeves and enjoy the rest of the evening.  And that we did with gusto.

What was funny, though, was that Austrian guy was doing his rounds, apparently trying to get the rest of "civilized society" to gang up against poor little me.  Really funny, since a good number of the people he spoke to are friends of mine, some I have been wining and dining with for almost a decade.  

I heard that he was wondering who invited me.  The fact is, I was invited by, not one, not two, but THREE different members.  I was surprised that he did not notice I was the only female invited to that La Tienda luncheon, after which I was given an open invitation to attend the ones that are yet to come.  Unfortunately for him, his "friends" seem to like me.  I doubt if any one who knew me in that room had something against me.  Which, unsurprisingly, I cannot say the same about him.  He has only made an enemy of me for less than 24 hours and so many people are only too happy to dish out dirt about him left and right, including a big guy in the food industry.  People do not seem to like this guy, to put it mildly.

He talks about "civilized society" and yet he goes about his business disrespecting people, when things could have been handled in a more reasonable manner.  To begin with, why did he pounce on me?  I did not TOUCH his jacket, and I will never even dream of touching that eye-searing monstrosity (a feeble attempt at being fashionably eccentric) with a ten-foot pole.  Why did he not snap at Sanju?  Is it because he can't pick fights with men, so he starts one with the Asian chick?  Not so "civilized" behavior, even a truck driver from the boondocks will tell you that.

My opinion about this Austrian guy does not in any way reflect how I feel about the organization (or Austrians, for that matter).  The reason why I started coming to their events is because I have always liked the people in it- fun-loving, gracious gentlemen (and ladies) who share my  love for good food and wine.  I have met so many wonderful people within the society, people that I look up to and emulate, and many I have been lucky enough to call my friends.  Its disappointing to realize that there really are people like him in these organizations.  That's why it saddens me when the little time I get to spend in the company if it's more gracious and genuinely accommodating members is sullied by the presence of a man who seems to have a different concept of what the group is about.  That, or he's just really a prick.  

Anyway, the night was not completely lost.  As I mentioned,  we still had a grand time, and our little party moved to the bar after.  Some of the younger suppliers even followed, and celebrated a good showing at the wine fair with some cocktails and burgers.  The bar was packed, and the vibe was amazing.  Life could not be better.  And not even a petty little Austrian man with a bad attitude can ruin it for me.  

Best Tacos Ever

I don’t like using superlatives, simply because I myself don’t like being told what to do. When somebody says that something is “the best”- According to whom? You? Who died and made you the expert? Anyway, it annoys me, so I try not to do it. I prefer to say things like, “it’s my favorite cava” or “it’s the best pizza I have tried in Manila”. Things like that. But for me to dub something as “the best, period”, I don’t think I would be able to live with myself. I have a very low tolerance for arrogance, even if it is me.

But I will have to break my own rules with this one. This one I loved so much that I was thinking about it constantly for days. Even while I was eating it, I was already wondering how I could possibly deal with the mediocrity that is everything else after that. That is how amazing this dish was.

After a long day at the Kennedy Space Center, we (Me, Matt and Carlos) were famished and ready for a good meal. Carlos- his silver bimmer equipped with its powerful engine and some speeding-ticket-evading gadget- was zooming through the freeway toward, what he claimed, were the best tacos we would ever try. After our arepas experience, I knew that I could trust him on this one. I happily napped as the dimming Florida landscape whizzed by, knowing that when I awaken I would be having some delicious grub.



We arrived 45 minutes later at Tacos Del Rio- the same spot where we had our arepas a couple of weeks before. It was a small joint, seating 15 at the most. We placed our orders at the counter, which Carlos expertly did in rapid Spanish. As usual, I just told him I would have whatever he was having.



We ordered some Mexican beers called Modelo Especial- a premium pilsner made by the same company which produces Corona. Nice and crisp, perfectly-balanced, this beer was just too drinkable. I’m not much of a beer drinker, but this is one pilsner I can literally drink all day. Just give me two coconut trees, a hammock in between, and I’m set.



When our food arrived, we headed towards the gleaming salsa station to top our tacos with whatever condiments we wanted. On the left side were the mild salsas- including some guacamole, refried beans and sour cream- while on the right side were the hot salsas in different shades of green and red. In between were an assortment of fresh vegetables and herbs- diced onions, tomatoes, lettuce, cilantro, the works. After some instructions from Carlos, we dove in.





I had a combination of three tacos topped with various meats- lengua (ox tongue), beef and pastor. All the meats are sliced and marinated the night before, and then quickly cooked on the griddle before being served. All except for the pastor- or spit-roasted porkloin- which is roasted in the morning on a shawarma-like contraption, and then cut into strips upon being ordered. These are put on top of soft corn tortilla, made in-house, everyday. All the salsas are also made fresh, everyday, and you could tell. I topped my tacos with some guacamole, sour cream, cilantro, and some of the spicy salsa verde.

On first bite, all of my preconceived ideas about Mexican food just flew out the window. The flavors and textures were so different from what I have been used to. First of all, there is no dominant spice- there was no pungent cumin or chili powder that jumps out. It was a perfectly-balanced medley of fresh herbs, taut and crisp vegetables, and the smokiness from the meats. The tortilla is a unique character on its own- its texture is something that I have never experience before. The freshly-ground corn imparts a fine graininess that adds bite to what is otherwise deemed merely as a wrapper.

And let’s talk about the heat. Mexican chilies seem to hit you a different way. It does not come at you up front- it attacks later on, almost predatorily, when you least expect it. Matt was an unlucky victim of this, thinking that he was up to the challenge being quite the hot sauce lover. He piled on the spicy salsa with the menacing orange tinge, since his first bite was bearable. Little did he know that the heat slowly creeps up at you, and not in your mouth, where you expect it to hit. You start feeling this searing heat coming from your neck, climbing up all the way to the top of your head. What you get is the uncontrollable urge to dunk your head into a tub of ice.



After Matt got some relief from washing his face in the bathroom with cold water, Carlos recommended that we try their dessert- a tequila-flavored flan. That, too, was delicious- the tequila added a flavor dimension that was not overbearing- just a subtle zing that you get in the end with alcohol. It was so good I ordered it again the second time we ate there, but alas, they were out of it.



I love it when food surprises me. This just goes to show that it pays to have an open mind when it comes to food, and to avoid pigeon-holing foods and flavors. Have I stuck to my profile of Mexican food (heavy on the cumin and cilantro), then I would not have appreciated the fresh and bright flavors of authentic tacos.

As we finish off our beers, I look at Carlos (Matt is still shell-shocked from the salsa and is, therefore, unintelligible) with concern, brows furrowed, and ask,” How do we come back from this?” He lets out a hearty laugh then stops, looks at me sympathetically, and says, “You don’t.”



Tacos Del Rio
9785C Orange Blossom Trail
Orlando, FL
Tel. no. (407)601 1542
http://www.tacosdelrio.com/

OBB crashes a Table for Three

Thank you to my dear friend- food blogger Sanj- for the feature on One Big Bite and yours truly in what is undisputedly one of Manila's most respected food blogs, Table for Three, Please. Hopefully, people would still follow their blog despite my corrupting it with my nonsense.

To read, please click on the link below:

http://www.tableforthreeplease.com/2011/02/on-table-chinkee-clemente-koppe.html

A Love Letter to My Constant Dining Companion

Dear Matt,

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I remember a couple of weekends ago, we were lying in bed one afternoon- jetlagged, a bit bored, thinking of something to do to amuse ourselves with minimum physical effort. You said you loved me, and I asked why. Around twenty times. And you gave me around twenty different answers. When you asked me the same thing, I could only come up with weak, uninspired reasons on why I think you’re the most amazing man in the world. You pretend to be offended, but forgive me soon enough. Its sometimes difficult for me to express my feelings, coming from a family that loves each other to pieces but rarely articulates it. Anyway, you know that, that’s why you sometimes say that it is highly possible I was a German Nazi general in my past life.

But, it is Valentine’s Day, and during these times of economic recession, one must find creative ways to express love. So, here is my list of Reasons Why I Love You.

I love you, because…

… You’re kind and good, even when sometimes people or situations make it hard. Behind all the snarky remarks and constant teasing is a genuine and sensitive man who has solid values and is very protective of the ones he cares about. When caught in a dilemma, you always follow your conscience. That’s hard to find these days, and I admire that about you. But, in no way are you a pushover, which brings us to the next thing.

… You’re strong, in every sense of the word. Yes, I tease you about your “Heidi Klum” arms, but you know I’m well aware that you have the physical strength of a silverback gorilla. I remember early in our relationship, we were having a tickling match, and you effortlessly gripped one hand around both of my wrists, pinning me down defenselessly. That was hot.

Aside from the physical, you’re also strong-willed. You stand by your beliefs to the point that you can be stubborn, but you are never arrogant. I can also be strong and defiant, so I appreciate the challenge. People have the misconception that we fight a lot. No, we argue. There’s a difference. And how sad it is to be in a relationship where two people would rather not discuss their discrepancies just because they do not want the hassle of a “discussion”. Thank you for always wanting to fix things, even when the process is not always easy. I truly love you for that.

… You’re incredibly good-looking. Come on, it had to be said. It’s really not a bad deal to wake up next to a man with nice bone structure and freakishly-long lashes. Any woman who says it does not matter is either a liar or a lesbian. Of course it’s just a bonus. But still, lucky me, I guess.

… You always smell good. Ok, this is shallow. So shoot me.

… You always make an effort. With everything you do and everything about us. From the start you made sure you had a good relationship with my family since you knew how important they are to me. You never disrespected my parents, and you always made sure to make things right when you do something (unintentionally, of course) to displease them.

From the beginning, you were the rock of this relationship. You made sure that things worked out, from the minute you decided to stay in the country. That was quite a commitment, I truly appreciate that. I really have you to thank for believing in what we had, even when there were times that I didn’t.

… You are ridiculously funny. I really enjoy your humor, which is both devilish and self-deprecating. That’s why I suppose we’re almost never bored, because we always manage to find something to laugh about, even if it’s at ourselves.

… You’re so supportive of me and everything that I do. Even when I’m an emotional mess, you are always there to give me the pep talk (or the slightly verbally-abusive wake-up call, whichever is appropriate) I need to get me out of a funk. I do appreciate that I can rely on you during those times when I just cannot be strong anymore. You never question, you never judge. You’re just there. Thank you also for believing in me and my capabilities. You have become that reliable voice in my head telling me to be strong, pushing me to do my best.

… I know that, after being presented with this cheap-ass excuse for a Valentine’s Day gift, you will still bring me to Antonio’s for lunch and wine this weekend. That’s just how awesome you are.

I hope you liked my gift, babe. You know it wasn’t easy. You were always the one who was more generous with the “I love you’s” and the “Hab dich Lieb’s”, but I just want to gently remind you that I love and cherish you always.



Love, Chi

Quick Bites: Arepas

After a night of drinking in Orlando, we were all struck with the munchies and looking for a quick bite before heading home. Matt and I were with A & J, and we were accompanied by J’s cousin Carlos, his girlfriend Deyra, and their friends. Carlos and company, like J, have Hispanic roots, and luckily they know where to go for some Latin-flavored midnight snacks.

We headed out to the more industrial side of town, where- at 3AM- everything was pitch black save for street lamps and the head lights of oncoming traffic. Later on, I discovered that the spot where we ate was actually across a BMW dealership, and that it was on one of the busiest streets in Orlando. But, being completely unfamiliar with the area, everything looked dark and a bit daunting.

Carlos wanted to bring us to his favorite taco joint, but unfortunately they were closed for the night. Instead, we just went to a food truck which was parked nearby. “Cool! A taco truck”, the silly chinita exclaimed. Carlos answers, “Nope. We’re having arepas.” Fine, I think to myself. Tacos, arepas, same thing. Of course, I soon discovered, that they are indeed two completely different things.

An arepa is a dish made of ground corn dough popular in Columbia and Venezuela. The dough is shaped into a disc and either baked, grilled or fried, and then topped or stuffed with meat, seafood, salad, tomatoes or cheese.



We walked towards the truck and tentatively weave through the crowd. I look at the menu on the side of the truck and tell Carlos that I’m having whatever he’s having. I was thinking that this could be the last time I’m having an arepa in a very long time, so I might as well make it count. While we patiently wait in line, I watch the spunky Latinas, probably inebriated after a night of drinking, make fiery exchanges in Spanish. A particular one catches my eye, really pretty and loud. A 200-pound Rosario Dawson. I subtly tell A to take a look, but she averts her eyes to the ground and whispers, “Dude, I’m trying not to make eye contact.” Probably a good idea.

It was below 30 degrees and it started to drizzle, so A and I ran back to the van and let the boys wait for the food. Carlos came back, minus Matt and J, and he said that they walked a few meters to the Chimichurri burger stand. We drove closer to the burger stand and prepared to devour our arepas wrapped in aluminum foil.




Mine, like Carlos, was stuffed with shredded beef, shrimp and yellow cheese. “Oh, it’s like a donner kebab”, the silly chinita mutters under her breath. Exasperated, Carlos says, “Nope. Totally different”. I finally take a bite and then discovered what Carlos meant. It surely is not a taco, and it most definitely is not a donner kebab. The arepa, slightly crunchy from the grill, has a slightly chewy, lightly grainy, consistency that is unlike any pita or leavened bread I have ever tasted. The subtle maize flavor perfectly borders the essence from the meat, the fresh zest of the salsa verde and garlic sauce, and the mild creaminess of the yellow cheese. The shrimps, just quickly heated on the grill, pop like cherry tomatoes in my mouth when I bite into them. “It’s (expletive deleted) delicious”, I say over and over again.

A few days after, I am already craving for arepas again. Matt and J go out with the boys, and they bring some arepas home for me and A. I was a bit skeptical, thinking that I might have been a bit tipsy the first time around and I could have overrated it. Everything tastes good at 3 AM after a night of wine and beer, the silly chinita thinks to herself. I take a bite.

Nope. It’s really good.

Thanks to A & J for the photos.


Arepas truck (near Tacos del Rio,
Right across the BMW showroom)
Orange Blossom Trail
Orlando, FL

Modern Japanese in Orlando

Matt and I were invited by Tito A and Tita B to spend the holidays with them in Orlando, Florida. It was going to be six weeks of relaxation in what is, literally, America’s playground. Orlando is famously known to be the home of the grand Disney parks and resorts, Shamu at Sea World, a wide assortment of water parks, and of course, the glorious Florida sun. Being the food-crazed person that I am, I was excited to sample the gamut of delectable dishes the southern US has to offer more than anything. I was not expecting the variety that bigger cities have, but I opened myself to the possibility of being pleasantly- surprised.

Luckily, there was plenty of interesting food haunts in the Dr. Phillips area where we stayed. One of them which we went to more than once was Dragonfly- a cool, lounge-y place that describes itself as a “modern izakaya”. An izakaya is defined as “a casual place for after-work drinking” or “a Japanese drinking establishment which also serves food to accompany the drinks”. Anthony Bourdain’s tv feature on Japan’s bountiful culinary landscape gave me a visual of an izakaya- a variety of meats on a stick roasting on the robata grill, while salarymen, hunched over their sake or beer, muse over the long day at work, either by their lonesome or as a rowdy group.

But walking into Dragonfly with Matt, A and J, you know immediately that this is not the izakaya of the Japanese middle-class. The crowd during dinner is Orlando’s young and well-heeled (Tiger Woods owns a home nearby), where the women are Pilates-skinny and they like to show it. The hidden speakers provide the hip soundtrack of chilled-out electronica as the cute receptionist walks you to the bar or directly to your table. I recommend ordering a cocktail while you ponder over the menu- I recall having a delicious cucumber martini at one point.

The decors are neo-Japanese with a contemporary use of bamboo, dark wood, granite and glass. The lighting is expectedly subdued at the bar, but the dining area is well-lit, which encourages family dining. During the few dinners we had there, I spotted a couple of tables with children, who were thankfully at their best behavior.

The food in Dragonfly ranged from the traditional to the “inspired”- from their grilled items that were simply seasoned and perfectly- cooked over charcoal, to the sushi rolls that contained cream cheese or octopus. The unanimous favorite was the Miso Yaki Black Cod with Wild Mushrooms and Chrysanthemum Leaves. The naturally-oily fish is literally like butter, complimented by the sweet miso sauce and earthy mushrooms. A perfect dish. So perfect I failed to immortalize it with a photo and even J’s photo of it I cannot save.



Being an izakaya, we had to try items from the robata menu, or what is more commonly-known as yakitori. The meat and vegetables are austerely seasoned with salt and pepper, and then grilled. You can eat them as is, or dip them in Dragonfly’s trio of sauces- teriyaki, spicy miso and orange yuzu. Aside from the chicken wings and bacon-wrapped enoki mushrooms, the stand-out would have to be- surprise, surprise- the wagyu rib-eye. Soft and juicy and smoky, you chew a little bit slower to savor the decadent meat macerating in your mouth.



Dragonfly introduced me to Orlando’s love affair with the sushi roll. It is literally everywhere- from grocery store chains to Polynesian-inspired hotel lobbies. And purists beware, because Dragonfly (as well as a few other sushi places we checked out) have a taste for the outlandish. Some of my favorites are the Cobra Kai (red onion, snow crab, tempura flakes, lemon slices, Loch Duarte salmon, garlic-shiso pesto, balsamic) and the Salmon Skin (toasted smoked salmon skin, kaiware (sprouted daikon radish seeds), scallions and roe). For those who care for more traditional sushi and sashimi, their sushi bar offers beautiful fresh seafood.



After dinner, and if the weather allows it, you can relax at the outdoor patio where they have a full bar and a DJ on weekends. We got to sample some of their craft beersand cocktails, and they also had some top-shelf Japanese whiskey.

Thanks to A & J for the photos.

Dragonfly
800 W. Sand Lake Rd.
Orlando, FL
Tel. no. (407) 3703359
http://dragonflysushi.com/orlando

Vino Argentino: A Crash Course on Living the Sweet Life

The book came in the mail a couple of months ago. Thanks to things I like to call “real world problems”, I neither had the time nor the clearness of mind to give a book the focus it deserves. But the beautiful cover beckons and entices, and once in a while I would flip through the pages and look at the pretty pictures. Soon I was reading chapter after chapter, finding immediate escape from the stresses of daily life to a country that is both exotic and magical. Before I knew it was happening, I was longing to hop on a plane to Argentina.

Laura Catena’s book about Argentina’s wine culture, Vino Argentino, is not only “a guide to the wines and wine country of Argentina”, but also gives you a taste of the Argentine version of La Dolce Vita. And who could be better than the raven-haired daughter of Argentina’s legendary winemaker, Nicolas Catena, to walk us through it? Despite a prolific career in medicine (Laura holds degrees in both Harvard and Stanford), the lure of wine-making proved to be irresistible as she started her own range of wines under the Luca label. Now, she works closely with her father in the family business in Mendoza, overlooking all the Catena vineyards and wineries.

The book takes you through Argentina’s wine regions, giving you the usual information regarding its geographical location and terroir (the environmental elements that influence a wine’s characteristics), and at the same time featuring some of the local wine heroes and color. Amazingly, the combination of forthright prose, vibrant story-telling, and the most striking collection of photography I have seen in quite a while, transports you to the Argentina that Catena enviously calls home. Aside from satisfying the wine geek’s curiosity about the ins-and-outs of Argentine winemaking, the book also discloses an insider look on the country’s food scene, cool hangouts and cozy B & B’s. If you love pairing your Malbec with delicious food (as you should), Catena also shares some well-loved recipes you will normally find on tables all over Mendoza and the Uco Valley- Empanadas Saltenas, Carbonada (“a classic meat and vegetable stew), and Rib-eye Steak with Chimichurri and Patagonian Potatoes have caught this carnivore’s eye.

As wine critic, Dr. Jay Miller, imparts in the book’s foreword, “anyone heading to Argentina, and particularly to wine country, should be carrying a copy” of Vino Argentino. Not only does it educate, but it gently nudges you to kick back a little and enjoy life and the often-unappreciated beauty that it brings. Could I be stretching it a little? Maybe. But, who cares? I’m still on vacation.



Vino Argentino: An Insider’s Guide to the Wines and Wine Country of Argentina by Laura Catena, Photographs by: Sara Remington (Chronicle Books)

Moo, Pare...

The day after our Halloween party at the bar was like a scene out of a 1980’s Bill Murray movie. Matt and I are lying completely static in bed, half-empty glasses of water on both night tables, the floor strewn with our outfits from the night before- my dark angel costume and his all-black attire- which still reek of cigarettes and spilt beer. We got home at 6 AM after a drunken food spree at the 24-hour Yellow Cab Pizza joint (Which is pure evil, I tell you) in Ayala Ave., the latest we have come home in a very long time. From what I have described, I believe you can make a fair assessment as to our physical condition when we awoke after a few hours. Yes. Not good at all.

With our heads throbbing and our bodies completely drained of energy, we have one forgettable meal in the afternoon, and then proceed to drift in and out of consciousness the rest of the day. When I finally came to, it was dark once again. Still weak, but with my stomach rumbling in protest, I force myself into the shower to finally awaken my senses. I knew I needed a meal that will revitalize my weakened body, something piping hot, hearty and succulent- a dish that will not only fortify my buckling knees but also bring me back from my half-comatose state.

It was time for some Bulalo.

Freshly-showered and finally showing some signs of life, Matt and I drive to nearby R & J Bulalohan, Tapsihan,atbp. where the fork-tender beef shank in its flavorful broth is the star. We were lucky to find parking out front and spotted a four-seater near the kitchen door which we immediately grabbed. The quaint neighborhood eatery was filled with families and barkadas enjoying the long weekend.



After ordering, we amuse ourselves by reading the posters of autographs left by R & J’s famous guests. The little girl with the group in the next table was being coaxed to dance by her adoring parents, and it reminded me of those days when it was still acceptable for me to dance at the dinner table. Now, I am usually given coffee even when I didn’t ask for it. Go figure.



We ordered three dishes to share, which is more than enough but we figured we can always take the leftovers home. Our bowl of piping-hot Bulalo Special came first, accompanied by an order of plain rice. We ladle some of the flavorful broth into our bowls and savor the calming sensation it brought to our empty stomachs. The meat was a delightful combination of marshmallow-soft beef and gelatinous tendon which is enhanced by my chosen condiment of soy sauce, calamansi and red chili. Our shank had no marrow in it and we were quick to point it out to one of their friendly and attentive servers, and she immediately gave us a piece of bone filled with butter-yellow marrow. Another feature of this dish worth mentioning is the cabbage- barely cooked through, it is placed on top of the soup just before serving so it is lightly blanched.



The two other dishes were served together, which was perfect, since I did not want to lose my momentum. The Sisig Laman-loob ng Baka (or chopped beef innards cooked sisig-style) is a new favorite of mine. Flavored with onions, chili and garlic, this tasty mélange of chopped beef meat, liver and intestines is given another flavor dimension with the addition of a little bit of beef blood. Yes, it does sound a bit hard-core, but it really is not. The flavors are actually very familiar, not off-putting at all. After tasting this, I knew we needed another cup of rice.






Matt devoured the Crispy Tawilis (deep-fried freshwater sardine from Taal Lake in Batangas) which, as every bulalo purist knows, is a popular sidekick of bulalo. It reminded him of the Crispy Galunggong (deep-fried mackerel scad) we would always eat in copious amounts at the beach. Paired with its condiment of sliced tomatoes, fish sauce and red chili, the tawilis tasted fresh and was amazingly crisp.



Everyone has their favorite bulalo joint all over the metro- and in the neighboring towns and cities as well- but R & J is my top choice. Aside from being accessible (to me, at least), the bulalo is always perfectly cooked (soft meat and tendon, tasty broth, vegetables still crisp) and, so far, the other dishes that I have tried are just as good. I noticed two ladies sharing something battered and deep-fried with something that resembled Yang Chow fried rice and it looked promising as well. It seems to be an ideal place for a quick meal at any time of the day (24/7!), and you can be sure that the food is served hot, quick and delicious.

So, did I really feel strong and revitalized after having that delicious bulalo? Not really. It would have been a good story though.



R & J Bulalohan, Tapsihan, atbp.
Bonifacio Ave.
Manadluyong City
(From Mandaluyong Circle, make a right at Petron. R & J is right beside the gasoline station.)
Tel. no. (02) 5334811