In-n-Out Burger [California]

Oh hail king of burgers. I bow before your might, the glory of your patties, the joy of your special sauce, the freshness of your greens, the vivid shine of your reds, and the toasty bite of your perfect, beautiful buns.

Straight from Socal we have the In-n-out burger. For those of you unfortunate cretins who don't know what In-n-Out is (blasphemer!), it's the fast food joint that makes all other fast food joints look like hapless pieces of shit wrapped in week-old endometrial fluid from a coat-hangered fetus chillin in a pool of NYC subway sewage.

Good luck getting that image out of your head.

In-n-Out is an exclusive chain that limits itself to the West Coast. They serve burgers, fries, milkshakes, and soft drinks in all manner of fashion. They feature a "secret menu" that further elaborates on the regular offerings--triple, quadruple, quintuple patties, "animal" fries, "animal" burgers, extra this, or extra that. It's one hell of a joint.

Did I mention that it's delicious?

Taste:

The best burger I have had (followed by the Royal Red Robin at Red Robin. Can't really go wrong with egg on top of hamburger). Juicy, tasty, fresh, awesome texture...I run out of adjectives, so I'll just describe the ingredients for you.

The key to In-n-Out's success (in my opinion) lies with those fresh ingredients. Their lettuce has a crisp crunch to it. Their tomatoes are remarkably flavorful--much moreso than the crap you get at McD's. Of course, that's not to play down how well they can handle their patties--juicy, dripping, an absolutely delicious mess. In-n-Out is also one of the few burger joints that pays careful attention to toasting their buns. This I think, adds a great deal to their texture, and the overall experience. Not only do you not get caught up in a soggy bun, but there's that delectable crunch that you get with every bite.

The sauce they use is an orange thing, perhaps a combination of mayonnaise, ketchup, and thousand island dressing. It's a very nice, subtle solution that seals all the ingredients together quite pleasurably.

And here's a picture of animal fries:

So they put their special sauce on some fries (same sauce as their hamburgers), cheese, and lots of grilled, diced onions. Your girlfriend may not kiss you after eating this, but your mouth will love you forever. Their fries are made fresh (you can see some poor schmuck in the back cutting up potatoes), and the taste shows it. Each fry is crisp. Not a limp one; none overdone with oil either. I never thought there were such things as "good" fries till In-n-Out before.

Reflections:

Would do again. Many times. This alone is reason to go to California, and I know many people who will support me in saying that. An awesome, awesome experience. Here's a little tidbit too:

Every drink cup at In-n-Out gets a Bible verse! Fascinating huh. Them Christians! They be getting into our foods!

Pig Kidney [Taiwan]

What's up with these countries and the shitholes of the body? Liver, intestine, kidney…the list goes on. The most common explanation I've heard (and I tend to agree) is that these cultures have only recently been able to not waste valuable protein sources like vital organs. Western cultures have an abundance of food not found in other countries, and given the "acquired taste" of some of these organs, they just lost their popularity as simpler meats grew more accessible.

Whatev. On to taste.

Taste:

Kidney, like liver, has a very, very distinct aroma and taste. It might be a tad bitter (maybe a figment of my imagination). It's funny how our expectations of certain things can alter how we experience them.

In any case, I won't try to describe the aroma. Like liver, it is best called "unique" and "pungent." And also like liver, it is also very much an acquired taste.

The texture of kidney is a very interesting thing. You'll notice that there is a crosshatched cut pattern on the meat. Apparently, kidney is so easy to overcook into inedible toughness that cooks score the meat so that it cooks easier. The result is a meat that has a small, soft "snap" to it when bitten--there is relatively little give in the meat as you bite into it before a piece breaks off. It's an interesting texture, and altogether not at all unpleasant.

Reflections:

Not terrible, but not my cup of tea. I've had kidney on several occasions, and have never really gone to take that second piece from the lazy susan. The meat was prepared well as far as I can tell, but it's just too much of an acquired taste. Rather, it's too much of a foreign taste for my American taste buds. Not a bad experience though...

Rice Ball Covered in Peanut Powder [Taiwan]

Doesn't get much more straightforward than this. Congealed rice covered in ground peanuts.

Taste:

Imagine it and you've pretty much got it. Chewy, tasteless rice and yummy, sweet peanut powder.

Reflections:

Great dessert. Nice chew.

Razor Clams [Taiwan]

I'm only writing this one down because I saw it on food network and food network is awesome. They really are shaped like that, though the mussel has popped off its shell so it no longer resembles what it is in the wild (unlike "normal" clams, who tend to stick in their shells).

Taste:

The taste is virtually identical to that of your normal clam. The difference is in texture: where clams have different textures depending on what area you're working on (ranging from tough to tender to mushy guts), razor clams are consistently tender throughout. Or rather, they are consistently meaty throughout, lacking that gutty taste that clams have.

Reflections:

Clams perfected. No other way to put it. None of the downfalls of your average clam. No weird guts; no awkward tastes. Consistent and pleasant throughout. Delicioussss..

Whole Squid [Taiwan]

Emphasis on the "whole." Everyone has had calamari before, but this is the first time I've ever had the whole squid—gooey guts, head, and all. What most people eat (calamari rings) comes from the area between the eyes and the tail fin. Here, the restaurant gave us the whole deal. Times six.

Taste:

Kinda like squid. I started eating from the back—the tail fin end. The first bite was nothing extravagant, and tasted exactly like the rings I've had back home. One exception: an extra long piece of cartilage that slipped out with that bite, spanning the entirety of its main body. Ah yes. Mollusks and their cartilage. So I extracted that messy bit from my teeth and proceeded to take a second bite. This time, I tasted more than calamari. Bitterness. A slight mushiness. Those would be guts. All those things that let a squid keep on swimming. I was able to finish off the rest of it—head and tentacles—in the third bite. More bitter mushiness. More guts. Slightly awkward chewing of tentacles. Stuff stuck in teeth. But wait! That's not all! Two hard objects: circular, black things most assuredly unchewable. Corneas? I spit them out. Meh.

Reflections:

So now I know why squid is prepared in rings. The guts just aren't worth it. There's no real squiddiness to them that can't be tasted through the meat—just bitterness. All in all, whole squid was a disappointment. There's no reason to have the whole squid if you're not a fan of squid guts, and I can't imagine anyone who is.

Pig Liver [Taiwan]

Liver! Yay! If they ever run out of reasons to justify evolution, they can always fall back on the taste of related organs. Common ancestry by taste! Okay that was a stretch; I apologize to the scientists out there. Seriously though, there are remarkable similarities between the Chicken Liver Yakitori I had in Japan and the liver I'm talking about here. If you haven't read that entry, you should. I'll be referencing it for taste…

Taste:

So I've used the ambiguous "sweet soy sauce" line way too many times in describing Asian cuisine, but as I am lacking in culinary expertise, I'm going to have to use it again. Sweet soy sauce is what you taste as the piece enters your mouth. My tongue thought it was tasting a thinly sliced and fried beef jig at first. But then I bit down, and the texture just didn't fit—first, the meat was crazy tender. Then it started melting in my mouth with that hard-boiled-egg feel reminiscent of Chicken Liver. In fact, the texture it was exactly like the chicken liver once my teeth got past the outside of the piece. The only difference in that comparison was the aroma—Chicken Liver Yakitori was much stronger than this Pig Liver dish. However, I'm not sure if that's a result of the cooking style or the nature of the animal.

Reflections:

Surprisingly good. I really like the texture of liver—it's the aroma that sets me off. This type of Pig Liver (preparation?) takes out that aroma, and leaves you with a delicious sauce and a nice texture. Cool stuff.

/sεn/ /hi/ /mi/ /fən/ (Eel and Rice Noodle) [Taiwan]

Move aside vacuum packed imported eel. The real shit is here. So if you've had eel, you've probably had the Japanese version—somewhat doused in teriyaki, sealed up in some plastic jig, and unsealed upon serving on top of rice (sushi or a don-type meal). The Taiwanese version is slightly different—steamed instead of panned (not quite sure on this, but the textures suggest so). Anyway, the tastes are much more subtle in this version, for better or for worse.

Taste:

Very simple. /mi/ /fən/ is a thin rice-based noodle that is virtually tasteless (they make Italian spaghetti noodles a party in the mouth in comparison). Eel, in comparison to fish, is also quite tasteless. Aroma-less and taste-less, this dish would be horrendously bland if not for the sweet soy-based sauce that they douse everything in. It's a weaker form of the vacuum packed, sushi version if you're looking for a reference.

Texture is the key that separates the eel from the rest of its water-dwelling friends. Somewhere between fish and chicken in toughness, the eel also has a unique, meaty crunch given by its thin, edible endoskeleton. Actually, this texture matches the /mi/ /fən/ quite well.

Reflections:

Another yum dish. I think I've been eating too much of the Japanese version though—this sauce lacked potency. Being so used to the Japanese unagi made this eel bland in comparison. Ah well.

Mos Burger [Taiwan]

Three words: rice hamburger buns. This is a Japanese chain that I happened upon in Taiwan. I guess the best way to describe it is to call it the lovechild between American backyard barbecues and traditional Asian flavors. Unfortunately, I did not get to try their flagship burger—the octopus patty—but I did try several others (pictures below). Oh and their mascot is a big octopus. Pretty damn cute.


Taste:

An Asian burger. The burger I had was a combination of pork, seaweed, and strange Asian vegetables. Strange, unnamable, innumerable Asian vegetables. Bun aside, the burger tasted mostly of pork, and the aroma of seaweed. Those Asian vegetables had a light taste—just a bit of salt to add to the pork, and gave the burger a crunch with each bite.

So about that rice bun…remarkably straightforward taste—rice, but chewier. You can still feel each granule as the bun falls to pieces in your mouth, but the texture is definitely a bit firmer than the rice you eat out of the bowl. I think it’s a great balance between great rice and rice that can maintain the shape of a bun.

My sister tells me that the seafood patty tastes pretty much as advertised—like seafood and shrimp. I only had a bite, so my judgment is a bit lacking.

Reflections:

The burger I had was a little disappointing. The flavors just didn’t match to me. I preferred my sisters—hers was much simpler actually: just seafood, no strange vegetables to mix things up. Mos Burger is a thing to try again I think. Definitely that octopus burger…

Here are some of their other burgers:

/әa/ /tzεn/ (Oysters Fried) [Taiwan]

That’s Taiwanese in the phonetics up there. This here is supposed to be one of the classic Taiwanese dishes. Several ingredients here: eggs, starch, oysters (hidden in the egg), and a mysterious sweet orange sauce, probably of some relation to ketchup. Everything is fried together in one of those giant woks, sauce added after it’s all cooked to perfection. Think of it as an omelet. But with oysters. And gooey starch.

Taste:

Quite good. This Taiwanese original has a one-of-a-kind kind of taste, and when you think about it, the combination of flavors is absolutely insane. My first bite was filled with a sweet, savory taste with a texture similar to scrambled eggs—similar but not identical. The sheer amount of starch sets the texture off from complete similarity. As one would expect, the aroma is that of oysters. Of course, if you happen to bite into an oyster, the taste will be of oysters as well.

Reflections:

It’s kind of messy to be honest. Not something you want to eat standing up—definitely a plate and spoon affair. Still, it’s a delicious experience. Cheap one too, for less than 3 dollars a plate.

Pig's Blood Tofu [Taiwan]

Ah pig’s blood. We meet again. I remember fondly the last time I experienced you…around ten years ago, when a family friend thought I would enjoy a Pig’s Blood Cake (gelatinized pig’s blood). I did not enjoy it. I did not enjoy it at all. In fact I almost puked.

So I face you again, friend pig’s blood, though you are less potent this time around. My grandparents tell me that this dish is made using pig’s blood mixed into tofu mix. The result is what you see here.

Taste:

Nowhere near as unpleasant as I thought it was going to be. The best way to describe this dish? Awkward tasting tofu. Tofu with a strange aftertaste. I think it might be described as a very slight metallic aftertaste. Ultimately, it tastes overwhelmingly of tofu, and had I not known the name of the dish, I probably wouldn’t have noticed that hint of whatever.

Reflections:

Just goes to say: some things are worth another try. While this wasn’t unpleasant, it wasn’t anything special either. That hint of whatever that makes the difference between Pig’s Blood Tofu and just Tofu just isn’t that noticeable. I think I’ll just have to try Pig’s Blood again in some other, more pungent form.

Mango Ice [Taiwan]

Perfection on a platter. Three beautiful ingredients: mango, sweet condensed milk, and shaved ice. Pure genius.

Taste:

Good.

Reflections:

MORE.

And for your viewing pleasure, here it is in two more vantage points:

Yoshinoya Beef Bowl [Japan]

There are very few chains in Japan. I think it’s a thing of Japanese culture—perfection takes precedence over ambition. Yoshinoya though, is a bit of an exception.

For a cheap price (about three US dollars) you get a bowl of rice, sauced with something simple, covered in a meat of your choice. Shown above is Beef-Don. This sort of thing is probably the closest one can get to Japanese fast food. And as with most Japanese versions of American products, they do it better.

Taste:

So simple. Three ingredients: rice, teriyaki-ish sauce, and slices of beef. The Japanese have long since perfected the art of rice making, and the difference can be tasted once you step off the plane and into any restaurant. It’s a beautiful thing that even their cheap, fast food gigs hold themselves up to that perfect standard.

The sauce is something that most Asians would consider familiar tasting. It’s a thing of soy, beef, and savory sweetness. I suspect that they throw the rice into the same wok that they cook and spice the meat in, since that beefy taste is found throughout the rice.

The beef is sliced thin, usually something done to hide the cut of the meat. A tough flank is inconsequential when the meat is too thin to chew more than once. They probably do choose the cheapest cut of the cow—there’s no reason not to when their slices are so thin. Not that I mind though: there’s plenty of protein in their beef bowl, slicing makes the beef tender enough, and I’m not expecting filet mignon when I pay $3.25.

Reflections:

Brilliant. Such a simple thing for such a low price. I would pay for it again. In fact I probably will, since the chain exists outside of Japan...

Fried Chicken Cartilage [Japan]

I never knew there was an aversion toward eating cartilage and tendons until my friend’s girlfriend shirked in disgust when I pointed out tendons in the Chinese meatballs that we were eating. So this dish isn’t that big of a deal to me.

I will say though, that I’ve never seen cartilage actually isolated and cooked separately before. Tendons yes, but cartilage no. In fact, isolated, the cartilage really looks like chicken popcorn or whatnot. My Japanese hosts who brought us to this restaurant described the dish as “between two bones.” Between two bones indeed.

Taste:

Fried chicken. Because it is fried chicken. Texture’s the game here. Think soft and crunchy at the same time. Or even better: the tip of the last drumstick you had, that last bite at the edge of the bone. That’s cartilage.

Reflections:

So damn straightforward it’s hardly worth an entry, hence why this isn't getting that "exotic" tag. It was a pleasant eat though. Crispy outside with a nice crunch interior. Like popcorn but better. And tastier. Yum.

Chicken Liver Yakitori [Japan]

One would think that the understandings in modern biology would put people off to organs like the liver, kidney, and intestines. Shit holes of the body. Then again, it also makes sense that all three organs (in my experience) are also the most aromatic. That’s the draw I suppose.

The Yakitori (Japanese shish-kabob) shown here may not have its skewer, but rest assured, it is still very much Yakitori. Unskewered before I could snap my photo.

Taste:

Think of this as everything in a chicken concentrated in the yolk of a hard boiled egg, disguised as a nasty looking piece of meat. It tastes like Yakitori—barbecued somesuch sauced with a light teriyaki jig. The texture really does resemble the yolk of a hard boiled egg, but the similarity is only a slight resemblance: there’s no question that you’re eating liver.

Aroma is what sets this apart. Pungency only begins to describe it. Liver has a very distinct aroma, and it tends to smash into the senses like no other. It’s the reason why the French adore their foie gras I suppose. Anyway, it’s an aroma that can only be described as “liver,” and I don’t really have the words to describe it.

Reflections:

Liver is an acquired taste. I imagine much of its allure comes from people seeking for the ultimate aromatic experience—there is really nothing like it. Yakitori doesn’t necessarily bring out the aromas. Rather, it just adds that barbecue crunch to the whole deal. Needless to say, I’m not a fan, at least not yet. The odor is a bit too much for me.

Chicken Gizzard Yakitori [Japan]

What is a gizzard you ask? Bird stomach! Trust me, it sounds nastier than it actually is.

The fancy change in nomenclature actually makes some sense anatomically. As seed eaters, a conventional stomach just won’t suffice for your average feathered friend. Instead, birds ingest grit (rocks) along with their normal fare to aid in the breakdown of hard shells, and have evolved specially designed stomachs to facilitate the process. The result is a particularly hardy alimentary system—especially around the gizzard itself. The result is a particularly unique texture.

Yakitori if you were wondering, is Japanese charcoal barbecue. Japanese shish-kabob if you will: the most primitive of cooking techniques rehashed for modern enjoyment.

Taste:

Like chicken. Mostly because it is chicken. This here is a thing of texture, and I for one, can’t figure out what’s the ho-hum about gizzards. People have told me how wonderful they’re supposed to taste; how unique their textures are. I suppose their textures are unique.

Crunchy meat. Awkwardly crunchy meat. That’s the best I can do. Gizzards are relatively tough, and make no attempt at being tender. They do have a grittiness that is probably the result of…well, grit. A strange experience overall.

Reflections:

Well it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good either. I’d take normal chicken over gizzards any day.

Chicken Sashimi [Japan]

Salmonella anybody?

Yes, it’s raw. Very, very raw. Too raw even for salmonella. So raw that you can hear your chicken’s last clucks echoing from that not-too-distant kitchen. Cluck…cluck…cluck…

This isn’t a dish to be enjoyed anywhere. To be perfectly honest with you, I would never eat such a thing in the States—food isn’t taken seriously enough back at home. Actually, I take that back: food that costs less than forty bucks a plate isn’t taken seriously back at home. I guess I just wouldn’t trust a chef with Chicken Sashimi unless I was at some 5-star gig and dropping a hefty bundle per plate. Not that I would dish out forty for Chicken Sashimi…

Compare that to the mom and pop Tokyo Yakitori joint where I had this little masterpiece—something that was quite reasonably priced (I don’t recall the price exactly, but I do remember it being palatable). The Japanese take their products quite seriously, where each piece of whatever is not just another consumer item but a reflection of the producer’s technique and talent. You get that feeling a lot, talking to Japanese people and watching them interact. But I digress. This post is for the sashimi.

Taste:

So what you see in that saucer is quite simple: a very, very light soy sauce, thinly sliced seaweed, and horseradish wasabi. The chicken looks pretty much like what you’d find in your supermarket. Nothing remarkable there.

I expected an aroma of chicken, but I found little to nothing of anything. In fact, the piece had barely any scent at all. I expected some gaminess (a la chicken farm), but I couldn’t find a hint of bird. In fact, chicken sashimi is mostly reminiscent of salmon sashimi. Or if you can imagine it, the fattiest, oiliest piece of salmon sashimi you’ve ever tasted. Unlike salmon, a meat that can have some slight textural variations in the chew, chicken has a remarkably consistent texture throughout. I think that this may be more a reflection of the butcherer’s talent than the meat itself.

Reflections:

I bit into this morsel with a bit of fear. Salmonella sucks to have, or so I hear. I didn’t really expect to have a second. But I did. And a third and a fourth, until I sat staring at an empty bowl, looking at my sister’s for more. It must have been that oily quality, or that really wonderful texture. And maybe (or was it just my imagination?) just a hint of chicken aroma. Whatever it was, I think this may be my most favorite exotic food. Too bad I’ll probably never be able to have it again.

Mochi Cream [Japan]

I've never seen a more beautiful green ball. Mochi Cream is a Japanese chain that sells mochi balls of all sorts of flavors. The stores sell them direct from a freezer hidden someplace below the counter, and tell you pretty specifically not to eat them immediately, allowing 10 minutes for the mochi to defrost. It's quite a waiting period, staring at that delicious little ball, holding yourself back from oral satisfaction...

Taste:

I guess I forgot to explain what exactly mochi is. Traditionally, it's really anything wrapped in a congealed rice wrapper, usually formed into a ball, and almost always served as some sort of dessert. Traditional mochi has a red bean, green bean, or mashed lotus seed center. Now Mochi Cream takes the idea and puts its own spin on things, injecting a cream just inside of the rice wrapper in an attempt to pair whatever inner flavor might be hidden within. Here's the dissected version of the Green Tea flavor at Mochi Cream:

The rice wrapper is pretty much tasteless in all mochi--the taste comes from what lies within. The cream at Mochi Cream is nothing spectacular--simple cream, with slightly more substance than your Cool Whip. The green on the inside is (I think) a green tea cream of some sort. As with most things Japanese, the best part of this dessert comes in the itty bitty details: in this case, the green powder you see covering the congealed rice skin. It wasn't anything complicated either, just a simple green tea flavoring agent that spread that taste throughout the mochi ball. Yet, the slight graininess of that agent paired perfectly with the chewy, goopy texture of the mochi skin. An excellent partnership.

Reflections:

As an aside, I'll also mention that I tried two other flavors: their milk tea and cafe au lait. Both of which were quite good, but both weren't quite as good as the green tea. They were and tasted of pretty much what one would expect out of a coffee and milk tea flavored anything. That powder on the green tea ball was what made it for me.

Of course, that's not to say that the others weren't good. Au contraire, Mochi Cream was a delicious experience, one that I'd hope to chance upon again in the future.

Miso Ramen [Japan]

Ah yes. The mother of all Ramens. The real deal. Its descendents have been my breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the past 4 and will be my sole sustenance next 4 years. Ok so you can't compare the actual Japanese ramen with the instant american kind. They're different enough to be considered different foods. Both of which though, are undeniably delicious. Well I take that back. Instant ramen is only delicious because you only eat it when you're dying of hunger, and at that point, anything tastes delicious.

Taste:

Intense. Instead of the lightly flavored, watery soup stock you might find in most Japanese soup noodles, the Miso Ramen uses a robust Miso soup as stock. Meats in the soup add to the strong Miso aroma, and the vegetables offer that welcome change in texture from meat to noodle.

Speaking of noodles, the real clincher in this dish is the texture of the noodle. The only way I know how to fully describe it is the Taiwanese phrase, "Q, Q." Roughly translated, "Q, Q" refers to chewiness. These noodles have that perfect balance between hard to chew and goopy. Instant ramen noodles just can't achieve that balance. Moreover, these noodles just taste better. Plain and simple.

My only real qualm with the Miso Ramen was that its flavors were a bit too strong. As I neared the end of the bowl, I found myself really aching for a glass of water. I found out later though, that the restaurant was known to season generously, and offered stock to dilute the soup down. A stupidity on my part I suppose.

Reflections:

Think to your last bowl of ramen. Think about those flavors. Now improve everything by a magnitude of 15. Now you've got a taste of what the real deal is all about. Good stuff. Too bad it's a world away.

Sashimi [Japan]

Ok so I have to apologize for this picture. I was so eager to start eating that I forgot to snap a photo of the whole dish. What you would have seen were pieces of salmon, scallop, yellowtail, tuna, and fatty tuna sashimi artfully arranged over thinly sliced turnips and other green garnishes. Now this next picture is of a Chirashi type dish:

Unfortunately, this picture suffers the same fault as the last--I started eating before I took the photo. Clockwise from the left: tuna, yellowtail, salmon, shrimp, salmon roe, and sea cucumber. I had this Chirashi at a sushi bar just outside of Tsukiji Fish Market, the largest Fish Market in the world. And just to be thorough, here are some pictures:

From the auction block...

To the forklift...

To fish head. Rolly polly fish head. And tuna steak.


Taste:

Now I'll be honest: I <3 raw food. I <3 sushi. And not that American California roll shit, or that Dragon Kamikaze Philadelphia Roll stuff either. I like hunks of meat, untouched except by the chef's knife.

That aside, it's very difficult to describe how sashimi tastes. The best of sashimi has a very, very light odor of fish. The enjoyment comes primarily from different textures. Your classic pieces of sashimi are tuna and salmon. Tuna has a slightly fishier aroma, and a much crisper texture. It's the sort of meat that crumbles into your mouth in delectable little chunks of deliciousness. Salmon on the other hand is a bit fattier, and some would say, tastier because of that fact. There's a little bit more chew in salmon--just enough to keep the flavors flowing throughout the mouth. Yellowtail is a mixture of the two: fattier than the tuna, but slightly less than the salmon.

Now shellfish I'll adress separately. Scallop and shrimp are the two shown in the pictures above. If you like any of the two cooked, eating them raw might blow your mind away. Their flavours are magnified; their textures made perfect. There's a slick quality in shellfish that's just fantastic. The shrimp especially, though it is just lightly cooked just till there's a hint of pink. Again, what makes this sashimi perfect is that slick, shellfish quality. Dang I'm drooling as I write this.

The salmon roe (orange spheres in the second photo) normally wouldn't warrant much mention. But these are fresh roe. Completely different from the American, imported and stored variety. "Normal" roe bursts in your mouth as you crack that epidermal layer, unleashing a slightly fishy aroma embedded in a salty yolky liquid. The fresh roe at Tsukiji lacked that salty taste, but instead bore a savory and sweet quality. It went pretty well with the Japanese style rice.

Reflections:

I'm all about the shellfish. It's difficult to find raw shellfish in the states, probably because it looks so unappetizing. Now that's one of the worst things about the States--people are inexorably drawn to food that is familiar. There's not much business in marketing the novel looking or novel tasting.

Anyways, the quality of Japanese sashimi really does trump that of the States. There was also something else--something that I couldn't quite put my pallate on...an aftertaste that differed. Perhaps a bit of variation in aroma. In any case, the change was welcome, and the experience, unforgettable.

Green Pea Mousse [Japan]

Yes you read that right. Apparently this place's trademark is Pea Mousse. What the hell were they thinking?

Taste:

Terrible. Unless you really like peas. Really, really, really like peas. So from what I gather they took a whole lot of peas, blended them into pulp, and folded that mixture in with heavy cream, and beated the shit out of the whole mixture to achieve a mousse. And I'll give them credit: it felt like mousse. The texture was absolutely spot-on. The taste though...

Ack. It pains me to think about it. Imagine the voices of millions of peas crying out at once, suddenly silenced by the whirr of a blender. Then imagine you eating their mashed bodies, still feeling a shell here, a shell there. And the ubiquitous taste of pea. Oh dear God. The peas...the green, mushy, peas...

Reflections:

No.

Salted Sea Snail and Friends [Japan]

It's beautiful! It's delicious! It's snail! This was served in a long slew of little dishes in a hotel near the hot springs around Mt. Fuji. The white stuff of course is salt. The rectangular object on the right is some sort of combination of tendons, shrimp, and congealed rice. The left of course, is fish.

Taste:

I'll begin with the snail, since it's the most extravagant of the three. A sweet teriyaki sauce was lightly drizzled in to the shell, forming a savory combination with the salt bedding. The taste itself is quite pleasant as it first enters your mouth. There was no detectable "aroma of snail," though there was the tell-tale scent of the sea. Subtle though--nothing unpleasant. The texture was surprisingly consistent and homogenous throughout, unlike shellfish like mussels or somesuch. The dish was also surprisingly easy to chew, more resembling hardened dofu than the French Escargot kind of feeling that I expected.

The fish on the left side of the dish carried the same teriyaki-ish sauce as the snail, though the texture was of course dramatically different. In fact, it's difficult to describe a whole fish's texture in text--it's a complicated thing, with all those bones and meat involved. Chewy, crunchy, soft. It has it all.

The object on the right was not memorable, and my notes on it are sparse. If you've tried Chinese Dim Sum before, your imagination will probably suffice for how that one went.

Reflections:

I liked this meal. They provided us with a lot of little things to try in an idiot-proof way to try them, all packaged in a distinctly Japanese feel. There was a plate of fish later on that was pretty much a disaster, but aside from that, I have pleasant memories of this experience. Snail ain't nothing to be shying from.

Apple+Tomato / Spinach+Grapefruit / Orange+Carrot Italian Ice [Japan]

So here's an interesting treat from the Hilton Narita in Tokyo. From left to right: Apple+Tomato Ice, Spinach+Grapefruit Ice, and Orange+Carrot Ice.

This was an option in a rather eclectic breakfast buffet that tried quite hard to cater to both Japanese and Western tastes. I'm still not quite too sure who "Spinach+Grapefruit Ice" caters to, but I'm guessing it was a Japanese take on Western sorbets. Nice try guys, but please keep your vegetables out of my desserts.

Taste:

Not nearly as bad as it sounds. I tried a scoop of each flavor and was surprised at how tame the flavors were. In the Spinach+Grapefruit and Orange+Carrot, the fruit dominated the palate, leaving only a hint of vegetable as an after-aroma. The Apple-Tomato tasted primarily of apple, but with a slight citrus-y twang. Texture-wise, the dessert was identical to the melted-and-refrozen italian ice you'd find in the supermarket.

Reflections:

I was a bit disappointed by this. I wanted to be grossed out--to be bowled over by spinach-y flavor in a deceptively familiar icey medium. I got nothing. Just grapefruit ice with a weird aftertaste.

An Introduction

This cricket is hungry.

But he doesn't look that way.

He is hungry for novelty. Whatever might attract his eye. The foods appearing here aren't necessarily good foods, nor are they necessarily strange foods. These foods are stimulating: whatever attracts the eye.

I think of it this way: food is a battle. The eyes find one's adversaries, and the tongue, the nose, the stomach do engage in ligand-to-receptor combat. Equilibriums are pushed one way and another, and in the end we found ourselves victors--two satiated sides--one exiting peaceably through the nethers of human physiology and the other pushed into a quiet state of engorged contentment. Of course, some battles are more arduous than others...

The search for worthy opponents is not a simple matter of choosing the most vile. Mind you, the goal of this battle is to reach peace and satiety. Long, heart-stricken battles hardly fit the most ideal of situations.

I've had battles long before the creation of this blog. From the difficult and damnable Pig's Blood Cake to the tame and pleasantly sauteed Ox Heart, the enlightening Roasted Pigeon to the curious Soup of Snake, a listing of previous experiences would be quite difficult, given the limits of my organ-between-ears.

But let us then proceed to the present, where recency and a handy digital camera can supplicate a deficient brain for the most accurate of memories. Thus do I bid you good Noms from here to the thereafter.

And maybe I'll put away this atrocious writing style.