Squirm

I know the video is small, but it’s the best I had since a still photo really wouldn’t do this story justice. Do read on to understand.

The building was certainly unassuming enough. Just another windowless, hole-in-the-wall nestled in a corner under a white sign with blue lettering in the heart of Los Angeles’s Koreatown beckoning for those in the know to stop by for a meal.

If one was truly in the know, one might be aware that this was one of the oldest Korean restaurants in Los Angeles. And then one might give it a second glance. If one was observant, one might notice the name ‘Masan Restaurant’ spelled out in English underneath the same name written in a much larger Korean font. If one was a little intuitive, one might reason that unlike the neighboring restaurants whose signs bore no English at all, that this restaurant may well have become sought out by those other than the immediate Korean speaking community. And again one might give it a second glance. Most others would simply pass by, on their way to stuff their faces with all-you-can-eat Korean BBQ, not knowing the jewel they were overlooking.

Nothing against all-you-can-eat Korean BBQ, but that is another blog for another day.

Inside Masan patrons are given menus and sat at tables with doorbells on the wall. The table doorbell is quite possibly the best restaurant invention since the fork. Ready for your order to be taken? Ring the doorbell. Need another beer? Ring the doorbell. Ready for the check? Ding-dong. But at Masan, once you ring that doorbell, you better be ready to point to your order as English is spoken at a minimum here. If you are lucky, you speak Korean and have nothing to worry about. If you’re even luckier, you’ve gone with someone else who speaks it and all you have to do is sit back and enjoy.

Upon figuring out that continually pressing the doorbell is not nearly as much fun for your server as it is for you, one is left with only two real options. Option 1; go look at the fish tanks in the front of the restaurant. Or Option 2; look at the menu. Seeing as how the menu is in front of you and the fish tanks are a full 8 paces away, a glance at the menu is usually the logical progression.

Next up in this progression is to look around the room, back down at the menu, around the room again and then back to the menu. You see, all dishes at Masan are priced above $20. While this is Los Angeles and overpriced menus are nothing out of the norm, one cannot help but feel a little confusion when coupling these kinds of prices with Masan’s ambiance that is created by fluorescent lighting and Korean beer posters.

But Masan is full of the unexpected.

It was mentioned a couple of paragraphs up that Masan is best navigated with a Korean speaker. I was lucky enough to have such a speaker in my group. But as was mentioned even earlier, English is on the sign in front for a reason. Without it, non-Korean speakers would not flock here. But it is and they do. And while the servers may not know much English, they do understand at least 3 words. And those words are, “Live octopus, please.”

I knew what I was getting myself into, for I had been searching out a place to try this dish for over a year. However, the extent to which I was getting into it caught me completely off guard.
I was not expecting an entire octopus as depicted in the movie “Old Boy”. I was expecting a couple of tentacles served still moving and possibly on a bed of rice.

Nope and nope.

Imagine an average size plate completely covered with gray and white tentacles chopped up and squirming around (think chopped up slugs). That’s what we got.

The best way to relate to what was going on before me was to think of earthworms. I’m sure most all of us as children either ripped apart a worm, or watched an older brother do so, just to watch the multiple parts wiggle around as if living separate lives. The main difference was that those earthworms never made it to the dinner table. These tentacles were also much thicker than the quintessential fishing bait…and they had suction cups. The main similarity was that these guys, like the mutilated earth worms, did not want to be around curious humans and were going to fight ‘til the bitter end.

Moving like inch worms, a few tentacles wasted no time making a break for it by inching their way off the plate. In a moment of complete and utter sadism, I found it quite entertaining to let them get to the cusp of freedom at the edge of the table before seizing them between my chopsticks and returning them to the pile where they would await their dismal fate.

While the rogue tentacles were easy to pick up, due to them having exhausted most of their energy on their plight for freedom, the others knew what was in store and reserved their energy for the final battle. If chopsticks weren’t tricky enough to use, try using them on something that really doesn’t want them used on it in the first place. The tentacles would contract making themselves appear very small. Perhaps the tentacles had the anti-survivor of the fittest mentality; they thought that the big guys would go first. And they were right. However, some of the smallest tentacles, once trapped between two skinny pieces of wood, elongated and thrashed wildly to avoid what was now the inevitable…or at least what this opposing thumbed mammal thought would be the inevitable. You see the fight does not culminate once the tentacle has been grasped between chopsticks, rather it continues until gastric juices finally win out deep inside the stomach (and even then I think there is probably still a “Toxic Avenger” like tentacle in my stomach waiting for the just right moment to rise again). Once in the mouth, tentacles hold onto anything and everything they can to prevent becoming part of the food chain. Immediately, the first tentacle I placed in my mouth sucked onto the inside of my cheek and refused to let go. Not knowing how to react, I fought back, trying all the while not to think of the leaches scene in “Stand By Me.”

Alas, the invertebrate was no match for years of training put in by my molars which had honed their destructive skills on much tougher competition like beef jerky…and public school lunches.

Eating food that doesn’t go down without a fight is one way to thoroughly appreciate a meal. It creates a sense of primal accomplishment by making a person feel as if the playing field was a little more even during this dining experience (I'm pretty sure no one is holding out for free-range octopus after eating a plate of the stuff). One’s pride may even swell a little knowing that yet again the two legger was victorious. Try getting that feeling with an apple Danish.

For those who consider the true sign of a more advanced creature to be an intelligent brain opposed to brute mouth strength, Masan supplies sesame oil. When doused with oil those suction cups don’t stand a chance.

In the end, the three of us cleaned the plate. The octopus and 2 large beers came out to a total of $38 which wasn’t too bad. But considering we followed that up with 6 tacos, 2 tostadas, al pastor nachos and pitcher of beer from a taco stand down the street, for only $25, live octopus isn’t the most economical choice to fill your belly. While it is a worthwhile cultural experience to have, I compare it to being on the plane that crashed in the Hudson; it’s a lot of fun to say you did it, but you don’t really care to do it again.

Oh, but how did they taste you may ask? Imagine having the flu and hocking up a cold, aggressive loogie that you just can’t seem to spit out of your mouth. That about sums it up.

Try it for yourself at Masan Restaurant located at 2851 W. Olympic Ave.

It Is Not Wrong to Be In Love With The Sardine

Eric B and Rakim may have said it best in their song, ‘Paid In Full,’

“Fish, which is my favorite dish
But without no money it's still a wish.”

But fear no more as these bad boys pictured cost only about $1.19 per pound (only they come with the meat still on the skeleton)!

These are fresh sardines. Many may remember sardines as stinky, oily fish in a can that less than comforting old-timers used to munch on back in the day. Well, they are. But they were not always that way. Before that creepy old man who talks to himself outside the liquor store while dropping them in his toothless mouth got his hands on them, they were part of much larger schools swimming around in the ocean.

Today, fresh sardines can be found on many restaurant menus and cost a lot more than the canned version. But that is when they are prepared for you. Preparing them yourself results is a cheap, healthy and satisfying meal.

Contrary to popular belief, sardines do not stink. Like any fresh fish, if they smell, then they are old and should be avoided. They are, however, oily. Not as oily as those that get come from a can full o’ oil, but oily in the good way that makes them packed full of Omega 3 fatty acids which help to lower cholesterol and blood pressure. They also contain iron, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium, zinc, copper B vitamins and calcium. In fact, 3oz of sardines contain the same amount of calcium as an 8oz glass of milk!

In addition to the goodness they contain, it’s also what they do not contain that makes them even healthier. Since they are small and low on the food chain, sardines contain a very small amount of harmful toxins, like mercury and lead, that are found in significant amounts in larger fish like the popular tilapia, mackerel and tuna just to name a few.

Yet another benefit with sardines is they are currently not in danger of being over fished. Thus, you can eat them with a clean conscious. The same can’t be said for that mercury-laden tuna you dig on either at the local sushi bar or from a can.

So in these tough economic times, why not explore new horizons while doing your body some good and keeping some money in your pocket by trying the simple recipe for sardines listed below.

Oh, and if you are still looking for a restaurant that serves the old-school sardines in a can, might I guide you to the best salad bar in the world located at The Old Country Club Steakhouse, in Roxboro, NC. There, next to the homemade dressings and fresh bacon bits you will find a jar full of sardines just waiting to be the piece de resistance on an already fantastic salad.


*Warning: While these fish are tasty, I would not recommend eating 1.2 pounds of them at one sitting as I did. Not that they are bad, but considering the average fish portion is just 4oz, 1.2 lbs is a whole lot of fish to eat.


Grilled Sardines with Lemon

12 fresh sardines (about 2 to 3 ounces each)
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
fine sea salt
teaspoon black pepper
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice


De-bone and rinse sardines. Pat dry with paper towels. Spread sardines on a plate and drizzle with about 1 Tbl of olive oil. Sprinkle with sea salt and pepper.

Heat grill pan over moderately high heat until hot. Grill sardines (may require cooking in two batches) turning over once, until just cooked through about 4 to 5 minutes total per batch. Remove fish from pan and put on a clean plate.
Stir together lemon juice and 2 tablespoons oil. Drizzle mixture over sardines and eat.

All Over But The Angioplasty

After months of talk and speculation, Baconfest: Dine on Swine in ’09 commenced in an inconspicuous apartment in Atwater Village on Saturday 2/21. The following is an account of that night.



Outside, chants rang out like a steamship attempting to gain speed on concrete. A prayer gathering of sorts was in full ritual and was making itself known. Unfortunately, the group’s grunts were in vain for it appeared they were the only other illuminated window on the block. It was Saturday night after all. And Atwater Village was out to party.

And that was fine. Party on, Atwater Village.

However, the other action on the block belonged to a group of 11 which resisted the tempting fruits offered by Atwater Village on a Saturday night and gathered in apartment B. For doing so they would be rewarded on this particular evening. And they knew that.

Some arrived to apartment B brimming over with wonder and excitement. While others arrived using brave faces to hide their apprehension. All arrived committed to the task ahead of them.

Earlier in the week the participants had been instructed to come prepared to eat or to not come at all. Whether or not any of the 11 was intimidated by the instructions is unknown as well as irrelevant. For no one backed down and all receiving the message arrived on time (or at least close enough to on time given the group’s low expectations on promptness).

Of the 11 gathered in apartment B, only 9 were to participate in the eating of the bacon. Since no one had ever participated in such an event as this before, no one could be sure of any possible side effects that ingesting copious amounts of bacon might have on one’s physical and/or mental state. Therefore, 2 witnesses were required should the other 9 fall victim to any form of bacon intoxication previously un-experienced by anyone in the group. It helped that these witnesses were vegetarians. Thus, the probability of them falling victim to bacon intoxication was nearly half that of their more carnivorous brethren.

Never doubt the power of bacon.

One of said witnesses dwelled full-time in apartment B. To hold Baconfest in apartment B was a brilliant plan thought of by one of the original 5. For who would think to crash a pig party at a vegetarian’s place? No one, that’s who.

And no one did. Bacon sizzled and drinks flowed while the 9 indulged with little worry of interruption. The night was filled with many laughs and possibly a few tears. Ladies barked for joy and men begged for mercy. There was plenty of overindulgence and a fair amount of satisfaction. And yes, there was some doubt at times. But no one had gone into this alone. All would finish, or none would finish. And all did finish.

The details of that night may never become public knowledge. Even those who participated may never clearly comprehend exactly what went down. But 5 hours after the soirée began, the door of apartment B opened and the participants trickled out as inconspicuously as they had entered. The chanting had stopped and the chilly night air was refreshing. Almost purifying.

It was getting late. A few more lights were now on, and it was obvious that Atwater Village would be soon calling it a night. But before Atwater Village would close down the social gathering places and stumble home with a bag full of tacos, the participants would be gone and apartment B would once again become animal flesh free.

BACONFEST MENU

Pre-dinner hors d’oeuvres

Brie stuffed with brown sugar, walnuts and bacon in puff pastry

Scallion peanut butter canapés with bacon

Deep fried bacon with chipotle-lime aioli


Dinner

Course 1 – Almond stuff dates wrapped in bacon with a garlic-butter sauce

Course 2 – Celery root soup with bacon, Granny Smith apples and celery

Course 3 – Grilled pear salad with bacon, walnuts, Gorgonzola and ruby port vinaigrette with crackers wrapped in bacon

Course 4 – Cantaloupe sorbet with candied bacon

Course 5 – Chicken breasts stuffed with caramelized shallots, bacon, sage and Parmesan, topped with fried sage

Course 6 – Pan seared sea scallops over bacon lentils with a cider reduction and Mascarpone cream sauce

Course 7 – Peanut butter and bacon chocolate truffles

Dying Delicacy Or Appetizing Amphibian ?

While on a recent trip home to North Carolina, I was stunned to see a collection of flours like none other in the local Food Lion. Here in Los Angeles, when I go to buy flour, my choices are limited to a very small selection. So you can imagine my delight when I counted over 10 brands of flour to choose from!

Why does flour excite me so? Because I am on a crusade to make the best biscuit ever known to mankind. While I do enjoy the exotic treats my local L.A. grocery stores provide, like dragon fruit and tamarind pulp, either of which would be near impossible to find in a southern grocery store, they are lacking in the basics needed to make good southern food; in particularly biscuits. And there before me seemed to be the Mecca of biscuit flours (I’ve come to expect a wider pork product selection then anywhere else in the land, but never anticipated an abundance of flour).
I snatched up about 20lbs of flour and headed home for a biscuit-making extravaganza that would ultimately turn my mother’s kitchen into what would look like a winter wonderland (luckily she was out of town and therefore could not ground me for making such a mess).

But this blog is not about making biscuits. It is about what I ate while making biscuits. While I do love biscuits (There is little better than a warm flaky biscuit just out of the oven with a pat of butter (or, of course, a few strips of bacon or fried chicken and melted cheese {see previous blogs below}), I’ve been making about two batches a week and have grown a little numb to them for the time being. Thus it was necessary for me to pick up another item to nibble on for lunch.

After forcing myself away from the pork section of the store, I stumbled across the delicacy known as frog legs and knew they must be prepared.

If you’ve never had frog legs, it is true, they do taste a lot like chicken. And they are as every bit as simple to fry up as fowl.

But what alarmed me upon closer inspection of the package was that these frog legs were not yanked from a local creek, but rather were shipped from China??? Now seriously, Food Lion, is there some shortage of local frogs and local frog killers that you must have them shipped in from the other side of the world? I would like to think not. Shame on you Food Lion (but please keep up the good work with the flour and swine)!

Nevertheless, I ate them and they were very good. But my conscious really did ache ever so slightly (but that pain was replaced with overwhelming joy when I shortly thereafter nailed the master biscuit recipe! {And you can hang up any ideas that that recipe will EVER be appearing here.}).

But to my chagrin, said conscious again took a beating when I read an article released only 2 days prior claiming that frogs are rapidly disappearing due to human consumption.

We can blame the dwindling population on, well, the Frogs. Not the one’s on our plate, but the ones in Europe. For it is the French that consume the most frog legs in a given year and we will label them the bad guys (yet again. {Hmm, should we call heretofore call refer to them as ‘Freedom Legs?’}) for doing so. However, the US is a close second while Indonesia leads the world in frog leg exports.

Almost 11,000 tons of frog meat is consumed annually. That’s about 200 million – 1 billion frogs! In fact, Indonesia quit exporting frog legs after the country was so overrun by the flies and mosquitoes that were left to multiply exponentially without their #1 predator.

Years ago when I heard Chilean Sea Bass was dwindling away, I quit eating it (yes, that does make me a better person than you). It wasn’t easy due to it being the daily special on every Applebee’s & Cheesecake Factory menu between here and the moon. Yet I have successfully stayed away from that delicious fish for many years now…and so should you. I can make no such promise to the frog. While I will stay away from all frogs that had to buy a transpacific ticket just to get here, frogs that are killed by a good ol’ boy with a frog gigger are still fair game.

In the meantime, should you find yourself with your own dead frog on the end of a sharp homemade weapon, try this recipe for a crunchy treat. There are many gourmet recipes for frog legs, this is not one of them. But it is good eatin’ nonetheless.


Fried Frog Legs
Serves 4

8 pair frog legs
1 cup veg oil
1/2 cup flour
3 cups buttermilk
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp garlic, crushed
1/2 tsp ground cayenne pepper
salt and pepper
1 dash oregano
1 dash rosemary

Frog legs from the store should be already skinned. If using fresh frog, skin legs and parboil for 3 min in one part lemon juice or white vinegar to four parts water before continuing. Cover with buttermilk and garlic in a mixing bowl, refrigerate for 1 hour. Pat dry, season with paprika, onion powder, cayenne and S&P. Add oregano and rosemary to the flour. Heat oil in a skillet. Lightly flour the frog legs and fry until golden brown.

Bacon Fest '09

On February 21, 2009 a festival to end all festivals will be held in Los Angeles. If all goes well, it will become an annual occurrence. I am talking about Bacon Fest '09.

Now, don't book your tickets to L.A. just yet. For one, Bacon Fest is very exclusive (and you can't get in). For another, Bacon Fest is less like a festival and more like a dinner I'm preparing for a few friends. (But seriously, what looks better on a t-shirt: "Dinner at my house" or "BACON FEST '09?")

It all started with a harmless email sent from a fellow bacon lover to a small group of other bacon lovers. The email was sent to praise the ingeniousness of a new invention called Baconaise. A bacon flavored mayo that this dear blogger has yet to try.

Who would've ever guessed that this simple email would have started an exchange of fried pork anecdotes that would last for months? While light and airy at first, the emailers (heretofore known as the Bacon 5, or B5 for short) began to take on a demanding tone. You see, it was just too much to talk about the tasty meat day in and day out; the B5 wanted to be fed bacon. And lots of it. That is when the B5 demanded yours truly prepare a bacon tasting menu.

I have been working on this menu for the last several weeks and have discovered gazillions of bacon recipes. I have found battered deep-fried bacon, bacon bowls, bacon wrapped pork, pig candy, bacon cupcakes, sausage rolled into a bacon like burrito and many more. All of them appear exquisite, but alas I can only make so many. That is where I need your help, dear bloggies. I need help whittling down my choices. Do you have a favorite bacon recipe? You wanna share it? Leave a comment and tell me more! I'll even exchange ideas with you. If you give me enough good ideas then you, yes you, will receive a hard to come by invite to Bacon Fest '09! After the fest, all recipes will be posted here (and yes, with credit given where credit is due).

Until then, I will leave you with a recipe for making your very own bacon.


Bacon

2.5 lb of pork belly, with skin on
2.5 tbl kosher salt (oh, the irony)
1.5 tbl sugar
1 tbl black peppercorns
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp chili powder
2 cloves garlic

(Quite frankly, along with the salt you can use about anything you want for the rub).

Rinse pork and dry thoroughly with paper towels. Grind spices and garlic and rub all over both sides of meat. Seal meat in a 1 gallon size resealable plastic bag and place in refrigerator for 7 days. Flip the mat over every other day. After 7 days, remove the meat from the bag and wash thoroughly in cold water. Pat dry with paper towels. Heat oven to 200 degrees. Place meat on a sheet tray and cook until the center of the meat reads 150 degrees on a thermometer, about 2 hours. Transfer bacon to a work surface and slice off the skin and allow to cool to room temperature. Pat dry, wrap bacon in wax paper and refrigerate until chilled through. The bacon is now ready to be sliced and fried. Bacon will hold for about 10 days in the fridge and 3 months in the freezer.

Stuff It

Sometimes words simply mess things up.



Southern Stuffing

1 1-pound loaf crusty country-style white bread
1/4 cup olive oil
4 tsp chopped fresh thyme
1 large garlic clove, minced


6 Tbl (3/4 stick) butter
1 1/2 cups finely chopped onion
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced celery
1 cup finely chopped red bell pepper
1 lb. peeled shrimp, chopped in half or thirds, depending on the size
1/2 lb. sliced bacon, chopped
1 lb. collard greens, coarsely torn
1 3/4 cups low-salt chicken broth, divided
1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley


Preheat oven to 375°F.
Cut bread into 1” cubes. Toss with olive oil, garlic, thyme, salt and pepper and spread on a sheet tray. Bake until golden, about 15-20 minutes. Stir at midway point. Put cooked bread in a large bowl.

Over med-high heat, melt butter and sauté onion, celery and red pepper until soft, about 10 min. Add shrimp and sauté until just pink. Transfer to a bowl. Sauté bacon until crisp. Transfer bacon to bowl with vegetables. Pour off all but 1 tbl fat from skillet. Add greens and broth to skillet, cover and sauté until greens are just soft, about 5 min. Drain liquid and add greens to shrimp. Add parsley.

Place mixture in freezer for 5-10 minutes to rapidly cool. Or let come to room temperature naturally.

Add shrimp mix to bread along with remaining ¾ cup broth. Stir and put into a greased 13x9-baking dish. Cover with foil and cook for 25 minutes. Remove foil and cook until top starts to brown, about 25 minutes longer.

Reunited And It Feels So Good

On January 1, 2009 I ate French fries. This may not seem extraordinary to you, but to me it was like Christmas all over again. You see these were the first fries to cross my lips in nearly five months.

After thinking I might have a heart problem, I decided to quit eating fries for the rest of the year. That day was August 15, 2008. A few months later when I learned I had the cholesterol of a koala, I decided to keep my promise just to see if I could do it.

It was not easy, because I absolutely love fries! I feel that a hot fry is divine. A warm fry is still pretty darn good. A luke-warm fry can be overlooked, as long as there is plenty of ketchup. But a cold fry is a disgrace. And I forced myself to do without any of them for what seemed like an eternity. I mean I could eat fries every day of the week. On several occasions I actually have. But despite the pain and a few near misses, I succeeded in my goal to finish the year fry free. But now the year had been over for nearly 13 hours and I wanted my fries.

Because these were to be very special fries I had to choose them carefully. I couldn’t risk some hung-over fry cook half-assing my French fries. I needed a name I could trust. That name was McDonald, Ronald McDonald.

McDonald’s fries are hot, crispy on the outside and soft in the inside; the three requirements for any French-fry to be worthy of time in your mouth. For those of you who are rolling your eyes in disagreement, I have two words: Shut It.

McDonald’s fries are not the best fries I’ve ever had, that honor belongs to Fergburger in Qweenstown, New Zealand. Nor are they the best fries for sopping up Heinz ketchup (anything else is just a waste of tomatoes), that is what one does with Bojangles’ season fries that are salty enough to give a dolphin high blood pressure. And fries cooked in the ever so trendy duck fat have no equal when it comes to richness. However, McDonald’s fries are the most consistent on the market.

Even some of my favorite fry makers have off days. When I eat fries that are a bit overdone or the oil in the fryer is a couple of uses too old, it leaves me feeling a little cheated at the end of my meal. Not Ronald. His fries are always perfect and I knew my risk of disappointment was nil. One can’t be sure the sun will rise in the morning, but one can sleep well knowing McDonald’s fries will taste the same as they did the last time, every time.
My recent obsession with French fries led me to attempt to learn of their origins. After hours of research I know only one thing: people everywhere like them.
While France, Belgium and even Spain like to lay claim to the fried potato, it is Thomas Jefferson who gets the credit for popularizing the fry in the US. After returning from a stint as the Minister of France in 1789, the US President-to-be brought back a recipe for his chefs called “potatoes fried in the French manner.” But even this is a mystery as it is debunked by several fry researchers (dare call them, “fry-sci’s?”).

Cooking French Fries seems simple enough: cut potatoes, drop in oil, salt and eat. And truthfully, that’s all there really is to it. But if that’s true, why then do all French fries taste differently? And to that I say... I haven’t the slightest idea.
Whether you call them chips, papas fritas, pommes, frytki or картофель фри, here’s a method to make great fried potatoes every time.



Heat oven to 200.
Heat oil in fryer or pot to 325. (True bad-asses use horse fat).
Slice an old Russet potato into wedges or fries. (Older potatoes have less moisture resulting in a lighter and fluffier fry).
Place fries in a bowl of ice water while cutting remaining potatoes.
Drain fries and dry off extra water with paper towels. (Water breaks down cooking oil making burning more likely).
Add fries to hot oil in batches. Adding too many at once will drastically lower the oil temperature and leave you with a greasy, soggy mess.
Cook fries for until tender and barely golden, about 4-5 min.
Remove fries from oil and drain on a rack or paper.
Cook remaining batches.
After final batch is removed from the oil, increase the temperature to 375-385. Once at temperature, add fries, again in batches, and cook until golden-brown and crispy, about 2-3 min.
Remove from oil, salt and place on rack in 200-degree oven to hold until ready to serve.