Swine Flu and Tofu

I met Pierre and BK during my stint in Japan, 2005. It was our first week there and on one of several field trips required to get our foreign asses registered, my roommate Dave and I ended up across a table from these white boys over ...some kind of food, don't remember what, but you can bet it was Japanese and I was avoiding pork. After some talk we learned that these two kids lived in the room directly above us. This circumstance led to some interesting communication practices later in the semester.

Surely, mayhem ensued during our foursome's adventures in Tokyo and surrounding areas. When it all came to a close that December, Dave and I returned to earth and Pierre and BK remained in the future. Today, they are only occasional visitors to Philly, but when they are here, we always eat well. It's the effect of spending so much time together in one of the world's greatest food countries. But for today, I suggested Chinese; Han Dynasty in Old City, based on their out of this world pork belly, my favorite cut.



When I hopped in the back of Pierre's 2004 Ford Focus ZX3 hatchback (which resembles him as a dog would its owner), I discovered that there were prizes for me stashed in the piles of life items strewn about the car. Firstly, Pierre handed me a Blue Scholars CD, a group he always raves about, but warning me that it might not work (it didn't work, if you're reading this, thanks for nothing you son of a bitch). The next prize I found myself. Due to undeniable appropriateness, it was promptly granted to me. What I received was swine flu. Not quite the all-bark no-bite pandemic that just swept areas of the globe last year, but a plush reflection of it. Pierre works for Giant Microbes, a CT company that makes stuffed animals, if in your mind the 'animal' category includes botulism, HPV, and bad breath. I'm guessing the little cute swine flu cell plushie was a hot item in the wake of the disease. I just love that it's actually pink. What are the odds of that?



After being un-promptly seated by the inept lanky white kid who inexplicably still works at Han Dynasty, we ordered the pork belly, the cumin lamb, hot beef tripe, and something new to me; Ma Po Tofu. It reminded me of Korean jigae in texture, though not so much in flavor. Though there was pork in this dish, it was dissolved, all stewed in with super soft tofu and a striking blend of a few flavors that are unmistakably Sichuan. Speaking of stand-out flavors, I got hit with a Sichuan peppercorn real bad somewhere through the tripe. It numbed my mouth right around when the owner walked over to tell us that we had ordered all his favorite dishes. Whether or not it was a fluke decision, it struck up some pretty entertaining conversation.

We wrapped up our meal with a little grub to spare, which the out of towners kindly left me so that I could crave it late at night, eat it, and spend the next 20 minutes in blissful agony from my mouth being on fire.

O Sandwiches' BBQ Pork Banh Mi

I just ate the first half of this, thankfully without the tangy zip of Miracle Whip. O Sandwiches brings a level of finesse to banh mi that you don't always find in a lot of South Philly sandwich joints, particularly when it comes to the preparation of the meat. I've often been turned off when my teeth hit a chicken knuckle, or something inexplicable in the middle of my sandwich. It leads me to expect one in each subsequent bite and I slow down, chewing ever so slowly and using the various components of my mouth to sift through their present contents. This takes a fair amount of concentration, so whoever I'm with begins to notice that, though I may be staring intently and slowly moving my jaw in an interested fashion, I'm not actually listening.

That's never a problem at O Sandwiches, where the meat is finely chopped and packed in neatly underneath a liberal serving of carrot and radish pickles, cilantro and hot green peppers that I always forget to tell them to hold. I like hot food, I'm not a bitch, but those little bastards always do a number on my esophagus. You can judge my age by the pile of Tums wrapper bits on my desk, a collection that grows with my fits of pained desperation.

I'll leave you with that as I eat the rest of this thing.

Try harder

So where the hell have I been for the past month? The short answer is, working on this


My band, Sunny Ali & the Kid, just independently dropped our first EP. It's available on our website sunnyaliandthekid.com

Below this item on my list of excuses are an increase in other work, preparation for my brother's wedding, a new found affinity for the ukulele and a whole season of Big Love that I completely missed.

I know I messed up. All I can promise is that I'll

Try harder.

Enjoy.

Korean BBQ Pork Belly at Bobo's

Bobo's was at the top of my list before I ever went there. If there's one international pork adventure I wish I'd snatched up when I had the chance, it's the BBQ pork belly I missed out on in Seoul in 2005. I've been to a handful of Korean BBQ places in the US, including a higher end New York joint, and nothing has come close to what I had at Bobo's, an unassuming restaurant that has lived right across the street from my favorite Brazilian joint for quite some time, unbeknownst to me. I will have to make it out the Northeast twice as frequently since discovering it.

The Korean obsession with side dishes is right up my alley, especially when one of them is soju. Ben, our Korean boy, made sure the bottles of sweet rice vodka made it to our table before the food. Shortly after our first shot, tiny plates bearing cocktails of vegetables, pickles, and sauces began arriving. As we were sampling each little miracle, the main event arrived; a plate piled high with pork belly. A small drawback was that we were working with frozen meat here. The proprietor apologized for the inconvenience, but it turned to to be a non issue. She did the bulk of the grilling for us, and we tossed our condiments into the heat pit.



On my first lettuce bomb, I piled a slice of pork belly, an impossibly thin slice of pickled daikon, some grilled kimchi, a clove of garlic also from the grill, and another slice of pork belly for good measure, topped with a dab of sesame oil and sweet miso sauce. I balled it up and devoured it in one bite. As usual, I made it too big and had to sit there with my gaze fixed on nothing, concentrating hard to break down the food ball. In that 30 seconds or so, every flavor makes itself apparent, dances with the others, and slowly becomes lost in the euphoric feeling immediately following victory over the challenge of chewing one of these guys. It is one of the most satisfying flavor combinations I've ever had, whether pork is in the mix or not.



This pork belly was a little more rubbery than I prefer in barbecue, but the texture did its job of the being the meat in the situation. The other elements are soft or slightly crunchy, and make for perfect layers encasing the meat. Ben advised me that each lettuce bomb should comprise a different combination of side dishes, making each one a unique set of flavors. Turns out the simple combos each have a charm of their own. My personal simple favorite was pork belly, grilled kimchi, and sesame oil.

I was surprised as to how empty and quiet Bobo's was on this warm weeknight, and I'd love to see their business bumping a little more, so I'm giving my highest recommendation of 5 pig heads.

Hot Dry Sausage from Claudio

I cheated, once. It was Christmas of 2008, and I was spending it in a more Christian way than ever before; with a family of Catholics. Not that there was anything particularly Catholic about these Catholics. It was Christmas with the Hardys.

Joe Hardy is my old friend and, as some tabloids have suggested, my favorite. When we first met, I learned that he didn't like to be called anything other than 'Joe' by his friends and 'Joseph' by his elders, so naturally, I've called him 'Joey' for the past eight years.

Joey invited me to spend Christmas eve with his family, as I was to be trekking to my aunt's nearby the following day. My family has never been too big on Christmas, aside from it being an occasion for us to gather and irritate each other. Perhaps all other families in the world, including the Hardys, spent Christmas the same way. But there was a far more festive spirit in the air, and their varying gradations of British accents brought a sense of correctness to to the setting.

At the time, I lived right in Philadelphia's Italian Market. As a token of my regard for the Hardys and the ever-so-slight mutual loathing underlying the love that has kept me and Joey friends for so long, I decided to bring a token of my gratitude in the form of some hot dry sausage from Claudio. I felt it to be a fitting gift in that I would be unable to eat it, and so would have to ask them how it tasted, to which they would, bound by courtesy, tell me it was delicious. I would then spend my life obliviously believing that this tube of sodiumized animal meat tasted great, never knowing the true answer. This was my aim, but I thwarted it myself after a couple of drinks on that first night. In front of me sat a plate piled with slices of the links, and around me sat the Hardys, talking about most un-British things in their accents.

I was contemplating eating on of those little discs, hard. It went on for about ten minutes. I stared at it, sipping my drink, bending my eyebrows like hermetic kung fu master sizing up his newest pupil. Finally, I leaned forward and with an inward "Fuck it", I grabbed one and threw it into my mouth. This was immediately followed by my eyes darting around to make sure no one just notice the Muslim eating pork. It was, indeed the perfect crime, unless of course god was watching.

I forgot about this incident until just recently, when I was in Claudio buying olives and cheese. Along with a wedge of brie and some olives stuffed with almonds, mini jalapenos, gorgonzola, and anchovies (yes), I got a turd-looking sausage that I suddenly realized I'd purchased before.

Suddenly, there was an adventure more important than all the ones that came after it. The real first time I willingly ate pork; it had to be revisited. Arriving at home, I fixed myself a plate of cheese, olives, and...I couldn't do it. Not yet. I had to be in the perfect state of mind to recall everything I felt at the time. This was to be a jolt, and I had to prime myself for it. A day passed, then another, until the olives were gone and there was just a bit of cheese left. Finally, I was ready, and I fixed the originally intended plate, the only substitution mini dill pickles instead of olives. I threw a slice of sausage into my mouth.

Even though I'd cut off most of the rind, this thing was damn chewy, almost unpleasantly so. I wondered if this was the stuff meant to be cooked before eating. Alas, it was the same sausage I had had before. While the hot and savory curing was quite tasty, it didn't attempt to cover up the smoky taste, surprisingly similar to what I've tasted in some bacon. The flavor was disproportionately strong for the size of slice that I had eaten, and at first it was a shock to my taste buds. It only reminded me that the first time I had eaten this stuff, I was so focused on my stealth that I barely tasted it. I worked that slice over and went around the plate eating a slice of cheese and a little pickle. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the flavors. It was a bit too much saltiness happening at once, particularly with an entirely new type of saltiness thrown into the mix. As I ate more sausage slices, I began to get used to the flavor. The texture, on the other hand, gave my jaw a proper work out, and by the time I was done it felt like I chewed a whole pack of Bubblicious for four hours.

Sausage is a good snack along with other cheese shop staples, but I'm glad it wasn't my first coherent adventure. Prosciutto eased me into pork with its relative lack of offensive qualities. I might venture to try sausage from different stores, but again, eating pork at home in my realm of comfort isn't something I'm inclined to do any time soon.

Peter Luger's Thick Cut Bacon

Now, that's more like it. Every standard bacon experience has been lacking something, a certain meatiness that you just don't get with ultra thin slices. I've learned that crispy bacon doesn't do it for me, and being the type for soggy, floppy bacon has left me famously disappointed. Bacon that I truly enjoyed was literally a birthday gift.

My mom asked me where in New York I wanted to eat for my birthday, and my answer spilled out instantly. Peter Luger is arguably the best steak house in the city, and I'd only heard tales of their butter like steak from my brother, far more of a meat connoisseur than myself. My mom obliged her baby boy and just a couple of days before my 26th, I was at a table with her, my meat-loving brother, my very-soon-to-be sister-in-law, and my oldest-friend Jes-hyphen-hyphen. One of three appetizers ordered had to be the bacon.

There's some dispute as to where the bacon they use at Peter Luger comes from. There is unanimous agreement, however, regarding what makes it amazing. It's the broiler. You can try it a million times, but simple fried bacon just won't have the same result. While it was the tenderness of smoked pork belly done BBQ style that originally endeared me to this cut, this thick cut bacon was the best example of anything I've had that reaches that rubbery consistency in preparation. There are few foods more fun to bite into. As this stuff gets cooked, the contrast between the fatty and meaty stripes begins to blur. They begin to distinguish themselves past your teach, when the fat begins to disintegrate quicker. It's overall a much meatier eat, sparing the slight level of greasiness.

And then there was the steak...but this is a pork blog. You didn't think I would go into it, did you?

Kraftwork's Bacon Krispy Treat

I prejudge bacon desserts. Ones I've come across always seem to pander to the eyes and not to the tongue, relying more on the novelty of the ingredient than the ingenuity of the combination. You haven't seen much about desserts on Adventures in Pork for this very reason. I want to taste pork and not merely be told that it is present in my food. I finally went to the right place.

Kraftwork just opened up less than a week ago, and Brian, being the gastropub aficionado he claims so loudly to be, was there for a beer in the blink of an eye. Later that very day, I got a message from my friend Sean (who's in a real nasty band called the Spooks), who works at Kraftwork, informing me that they do a bacon rice krispy treat. My curiosity was piqued. A couple of days later Brian, Justin and I headed up Girard Avenue.

Following a satisfying chicken sandwich, we were presented with the dessert in question. It appeared simple like a rice krispy treat should, its only flare a little chocolate garnish that upon closer inspection concealed little bits of bacon (not bacon bits, mind you). At this time, I got a phone call from my mom. Being a courteous co-diner, I remained seated at the bar as my mom and I took turns raising the decibel level of our conversation, a banal one regarding cell phone plans, in a muddle of Urdu and English. When I got off the phone, Brian and Justin were talking to the chef, who had just emerged from the kitchen.

I joined the conversation and naturally, things turned to pork. The chef described the make up of the treat I was about to bite into. He kept things simple; the same store bought marshmallows you'd get in the supermarket acted as an adhesive, but something quite different composed the body of this square. Not a single rice puff in there, just a lot of pork rinds.

Biting into it revealed both the saltiness and the sweetness I would have expected, but they complemented each other cleanly, like all rice krispy treats could do with a dose of breakfast meat. While you'd think that the fluffiness of marshmallow and the slight crispiness bacon would clash unpleasantly during the chewing process, it was as gooey as anything fresh out of your grandma's oven and didn't skimp on the bacon (wow, that sounds gross). Though pleasing, it required a self preparedness to dive into. I finished it in the standard four bite sequence, then took over a week to write about it. I know.

The bacon krispy treat opened me up to the prospect of desserts successfully infused with bacon. Not long after my meal at Kraftwork, my dear friend Jes read my mind and gave me a bag of assorted bacon chocolates for my birthday. This ain't over.