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Last week I had an incredible experience. I didn’t feel like writing anything, so I didn’t.
It was kind of amazing.
I probably shouldn’t get used to it. Between the isolation and the monotony and the fact that we rarely get a 20-minute break between news stories that would have been considered earth shattering just a few years ago, it’s probably wise to channel that nervous energy somewhere. If I graduate from writing food newsletters and the occasional irritated social media rant to banging out 50-page manifestos on vintage typewriters, you’ll know it’s time for an intervention.
Speaking of which, how’s everybody’s doing out there? Still in food therapy mode? Binge-eating pre-processed junk? Reclaiming some old habits? I’m actually curious to hear how everybody’s feeding themselves these days, to the extent that a very, very small-scale internet newsletter with a self-selected audience can capture it.
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| Sooooo... how are you feeding yourself these days? |
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For our part, we’re not ready to rejoin the mainstream just yet. Having public health officials in the family tends to place one on the cautious end of the spectrum, and while the recent lull — to the extent it could be called one — has been nice, the numbers are starting to look a little ornery again. As usual, I’d love to be proven wrong. Hasn’t worked that way so far, but hey, fingers crossed.
Still, I’m making a concerted effort to spend just as much (if not more) at restaurants as we were before, even if it’s getting chucked in the back of the car rather than brought to the table. This false dichotomy where we’re told we can either stay home OR support restaurants is patently dishonest. We’re perfectly capable of doing both, thank you very much.
I dunno. Seems like we’re eating pretty well, if you ask me.
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Korean fried chicken with two sauces and banchan: (clockwise, from top left) kongnamul, mu, kimchi, yu choy
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Some of the best food I’ve had over the past six months has come from Chula Uptown, and I’m not even talking about the seafood, though their delivery service has been my go-to for cooking seafood at home.
Not gonna lie, I’m a little sad that the previously weekly Monday Night Dinners are now a monthly affair. It means the Chula crew is getting back to some semblance of normalcy, and for that I’m profoundly grateful. But geez... some of these dinners have been pure fire.
Literally so, in the case of this week’s offering.
Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, just some stupid freaking good K-chow, built around a centerpiece of fried chicken with a pair of sauces. I don’t know if it was providence or dumb luck that landed us a disproportionate share of thighs, but I’ll simply count my blessings and dip ‘em — into a fiery sweet gochujang or thick soy plowed with a truckload of garlic.
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Clockwise, from left: Kimchi fried rice, sundubu-jjigae, Korean fried chicken
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We got a set of simple banchan like blanched yu choy and spicy, salty kongnamul, along with a hefty platter of kimchi fried rice and a light and nimble bowl of sundubu-jjigae that came complete with sous vide egg, still in the shell, ready for cracking.
Between this and the mindblowing Filipino kamyan feast (is that like saying shrimp scampi or chai tea?) Chula did with Kevin Rosales back in July, that’s a couple of my favorite meals all year. And to hear some friends tell it, I missed a few of the best ones.
They’re easier to miss now that they’re only offered the first Monday of the month, but don’t snooze on these.
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Speaking of Kevin Rosales, he and Justin Jin Park have Deez Buns up and running and I think I audibly squealed when I realized I was in their delivery range.
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Sidebar: Can we purchase delivery offsets? Like carbon offsets, but for delivery service fees? I’m trying to pick up and circumvent the delivery services as much as possible, but some days I just can’t get out of the house and I figure a delivery order is better than no order. (Please correct me if I’m wrong, restaurant people.) Wherever possible, I’m chipping in extra cash to try to make up for the delivery fees the restaurants are being charged. Problem is, most delivery services won’t let you tip the restaurant directly. I wish it were easier to figure out ways to do that. I’d start dropping twenty-dollar bills in the mail, but for all I know they won’t get there until February :-/
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Aaaaaaaanyway, I might have written about this one already, but just in case I haven’t, I freaking love their Thai fried chicken sandwich, for the same reason the Vietnamese variant has always been my favorite over at Welcome Chicken + Donuts: sweet, caramelized fish sauce.
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Thai fried chicken bun with papaya salad, spicy mayo, scallions and fish sauce caramel, lookin' totally badass
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This is basically my ketracel-white. If I go too long without it, I start getting twitchy. That umami-heavy, slightly raunchy fermented fishy complexity all sugared up and reduced down to a salty, sweetly intense roundhouse kick of a sauce — so good. Dunk in a chunk of craggy fried chicken, add some pickled green papaya and spicy mayo, slap it on a jet black siopao bun and it’s a helluva lunch.
Lest you think my diet is limited to Asian-style fried chicken, though, I had another new (or new to me) sandwich from Country and Sergio over at New Wave Market that I’m a little in love with.
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It’s like a precious little mini-muffuletta, by which I mean it’s a normal sandwich rather than the dinner plate-sized monster you get at Central Grocery. It’s non-canonical, but honestly, IDGAF. There’s a turkey variant that I’m giving the side eye, only because I can’t imagine why you’d choose that over salami where muffulettas are concerned. But said salami is layered with prosciutto, provolone, a little smear of pesto and a damn fine (and finely minced) olive relish, all pungent and perky and perfect.
The key, though, is the bread, and Country just has a leg up on everybody here. It has that soft, spongy crumb of a classic muffuletta round, but there’s a bit of sophistication in that crust, with just a little crackle and bite to play off the sesame.
Great sandwich. Highly recommended.
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Corrections & Clarifications
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The previous newsletter included a dialogue with my wife, who did not complete ten years of medical training to be referred to as Ms. Doux. She is properly referred to as Dr. Doux.
We regret the error.
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I’m not going to pretend to understand how frustrating it must be to get off to a white hot start, nab yourself a JBF long list nod for Best New Restaurant and then have everything come to a screeching halt. As ups and downs go, that’s a helluva first year.
It's more than a little insane, really, that Vecina is barely over a year old. But that’s, what, nine in COVID years? So they should be eligible for the America’s Classics award any minute now.
Anyhoo, nobody will be surprised to learn that this place is as sharp as ever. The family and I plowed through some citrusy salmon tacos last weekend, plus some of the sweet pork belly variety capped with a dusting of crunchy crumbled peanuts.
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The steak is still all that.
One of the stories we kicked around back at the paper but never quite managed to squeeze in was how most of the city’s best steaks aren’t at steakhouses. I think of Giovanni’s Fiorentina over at Andreoli, Dom’s steak frites over at Hush, Gio’s tomahawk over at Virtù, just to name a few off the top of my head. If I took some time to think about it, I could probably name a dozen places I’d go for a steak before setting foot in a steakhouse.
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Point being that Vecina’s is one of the shining gems on that list. Damn, this thing is good — prime ribeye in a carne asada marinade, all smoky char and sizzling fat with just a touch of that tart, herbal twinge to cut through the richness. It doesn’t need the charred onions, it doesn’t need the habanero-spiked pommes puree, it doesn’t need the pickly escabeche, but I sure ain’t mad about ‘em. It takes a lot to get me to order a steak in a restaurant. That’s something I usually do on my own time at home. But this is one of the exceptions.
Also, the fellas are now slinging a tlayuda — their personal contempo spin on the classic Oaxacan dish, natch. Smeared with porky beans, manchego cheese, smoked chicken, pork cracklins, a little salady situation on top and some of Rene Andrade’s chiltepin, the anchor is the tortilla — pressed in house, charred on the grill and then fried to give it a crackling crunch.
It’s currently a special that may or may not migrate to the permanent menu, but I’ve already registered my vote. Either way, keep an eye out for it.
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Technology, Don't Fail Me Now
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I’ve been ironing out some delivery issues (thanks for the heads-up, those who wrote to let me know), and it’s unclear to me how many of these have been intercepted by spam filters. I’d tell you to check if you’re not receiving the emails, but... heh.
In any case, since Vol. II I’ve gone through a domain validation process that should help grease the skids a bit and decrease the likelihood that your email client will see these newsletters as junk. (Trying not to take that personally, yo.) But in case the first two snuck past you and this is the first you’ve received, here are a links to Volume I and Volume II.
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Gotta say, I’m enjoying this.
I do believe I’ll keep doing it for a while.
Eat well, everybody. And stay safe. Please.
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