The Girl Who Ate Everything

First things first (because first things can't be second, or third, or some higher number): I've been sick for the past three days at home and I am slightly grumpy. And while the sickness is waning to the point that I can probably go to work tomorrow, I still feel a bit woozy and for some reason I am sweating more than usually, especially when you consider that all I've done today is sit and type with minimal physical movement. And that is probably too much information. But that's what you get when you read this blog. And hell, it's not like you don't sweat either. I just can't tell if I'm sweating because I'm sick or if it's due to a combination of weird allergies/grumpiness/stress. All of the above, possibly.

My head needs to deflate. This will all make sense soon. I think. Why my head is about to implode. I tend to have these internal battles where I want to do what's right even though I know it'll probably make me feel bad but as long as I don't show that I feel like crap it's okay this is a run on sentence.

Okay, here's some stuff I ate nearly four weeks ago.

Where pizzas are born

So where was I on April 7th? Getting totally drunk...on pizza at the Gothamist-Slice Pizza Party at Fornino. Not alcohol, silly. Ha! Ha ha! Huh.

I wasn't expecting to see anyone I knew (aside from my co-workers) when I walked through the crowded restaurant. Hot. Sweaty. Full of pizza. And humans. And sweat. Oh my god, it was hot. At that point I damned my sweater and jacket. So what a relief it was when I came across...

Mm, mayo!

Check out my latest Chile post on Serious Eats: Snapshots from Chile: Hot Dogs and Sandwiches at Rapa Nui. Warning: if mayonnaise gives you nightmares, you probably shouldn't read it.

Let the cutting begin.

"It'll be fine in the end," is what I half-heartedly told myself all through the horror that was last Friday. Seeing as Tristan's birthday cake was ultimately cut by the birthday boy and shared amongst friends, the day had turned out fine. Or at least just inched itself off Tristan's list of "Candidates for 'Worst Day of My Life.'" I hope.

But it was one of those days during which time somehow managed to speed up and slow down at the same time, when seemingly everything that could go wrong did go wrong, aside from anyone dying, and even that was a close call. While Tristan summed up his Day of Doom rather neatly in his livejournal, I'll recount the day much less succinctly. With photos.

Cassava chips made by Arico

Why am I updating in the middle of the day at work? Because right now I'm finishing off the final shard-like dregs of a bag of Arico Cassava Chips and they possess all kinds of crack-like addictive qualities. They beat potato chips by a light year for being less greasy, crispier, and lighter than their more well-known foe.

[shovels a handful of broken crunchy tuber bits into mouth]

I bought this bag of Sea Salt Mist cassava chips (seasoned with just the right amount of salt) at my local awesome grocery store, Ramsey Farms, but you can also get them at Whole Foods and, I would assume, other health-minded grocery stores. Not that these chips are necessarily healthy, but perhaps less deathly than potato chips.

[another shovel]

Or maybe these chips aren't that mindblowingly tasty and I'm just really hungry, but you tell me: are you a fan of cassava chips? Is my reaction normal? Is anything I do normal?

There's food inside!

(If you don't know anything about Momofuku Ko, you might want to catch up with these posts on Grub Street. Or in one sentence, it's David Chang's newest, omakase-style restaurant that is known for being nearly impossible to get a reservation at—aside from having awesome food—although I do know at least 8 people who've already eaten there. I've been hearing and reading about it so much in the past few months that I can't gauge how much the non-NYC-food crazed crowd knows about it.)

First, to get the most oft-ask questions out of the way.

Q: How did you get reservations?

A: I didn't—a friend did. And thus is the laziest way to get into Ko.

Q: How was it?

A: Much more filling than I thought it would be, but then I hadn't realized going into it that it consisted of 15 courses. More or less.

Okay, you probably need more back story that that.

Update (6/5/08): Ed Levine Eats is now Serious Eats: NY. Please read it for all your New York fooding needs! Ed still posts there of course, but now there are lots of contributors and fun stuff, which you wouldn't care about if you don't live in NYC, but PRETEND YOU DO, OK? Cool.

Hey guys, it's food!!! No way! And some books.

I don't mean to keep things so quiet around here—if I had more time (that is, if each day consisted of at least 28 hours) I'd love to post more—but if you want more boppy food musings, check out these recent posts I wrote for Ed Levine Eats:

New Yeah Shanghai Deluxe
Inside Momofuku Ko's Bathroom
Fried Chicken and Tofu at Forte Baden Baden
Tiny's Giant Sandwich Shop

My posts outside this site read more like "boppy in mild restraints," but that might be a good thing. I encourage you to comment on my posts, even if you don't have a Serious Eats account. Obviously, you must create one. YOU WOULD IF YOU LOVED ME.

Now I shall continue hacking/coughing and working.

HOT DOG!

San Antonio Bakery #2

A standard hot dog doesn't do much for me. Meat log wrapped in bread? Doesn't it sound like it's missing something?

Yes. Yes it is. It's missing avocado mashings, diced tomatoes and onions, and a loopy squiggle of mayonnaise. Make it yourself or go to your nearby purveyor of Chilean-style hot dogs. In my case, I went to San Antonio Bakery #2 in Astoria, Queens with Olivia, Tristan, and John because I probably wouldn't go through the trouble of making it on my own, even if involves little more effort than making a standard, non-condiment-laden hot dog.

And that's what bothers me; it wouldn't exactly drain the energies of hot dogs places to splodge on those extra bits of tastiness that most hot dogs lack. Spoon on some avocado mush and squeeze on the mayo; booya, your hot dog just became awesomer! Or better yet, spoon on the mayo in giant heaps. Things just can't help but taste better when smothered with emulsified egg yolks and oil.

It's a Diana!

1. Vote for my friend Diana on Artists Wanted! And by that, I mean give her five stars. Or whatever you want to give her, but I think five is appropriate. Anything that could help her take more photos is a good thing.

I would say that Tristan is the one on the left, and I'm the banana-wielder.

2. I'm moving to Brooklyn on June 1, more specially to an apartment off the Hewes Street stop on the J/M line (just two stops out of Manhattan), and most importantly with Tristan as my roommate. Actually, it's more like me as Tristan's roommate—on Tuesday he scoped out apartments, Wednesday morning he picked one and paid the deposit and first month's rent, and on Thursday we signed the lease. It happened hella fast.

Why did it have to happen so fast? He found out he had to move out of his current apartment by the end of the month just this past Monday night. Not a whole lot of notice, but maybe it's good to be under pressure so you get your butt in gear. I was first in line as his pick for a roommate, and BOOYA, that's that.

I've been warned about the potential horrors that come with living with a best friend (and, just to clarify, that's all our relationship is), but I think we'll be fine/not at each other's throats. The apartment is quite nice—two bedrooms, decent bathroom, kitchen area, and a separate living room. Now I don't have to commute!

Of course, the downside is that I'll be out $750+ when before I didn't have to pay any rent. If I start to eat out less in June, now you know why. :\ But perhaps I'll cook more! And then this blog will be really boring!!! Please don't leave me. Please.

I should be more excited about moving, but I'm mostly thinking about what a pain in it ass it is to move. The excitement will come once I'm settled in and not sleeping on an air mattress.

Mm...hot?

The Devilish Ramen at Noodle Village sounded too intriguing to pass up. Nothing screams, "EAT ME!" quite like the ultimate embodiment of evil. ...In noodle form.

According to John, the receiver of the noodles with Devil-like qualities, the ramen was disappointingly not mucus membrane-scorching enough, despite the menu's warning that it was "very spicy." Lies, all lies! It seems that the redness of the soup was just a ruse, causing you to expect sweat-filled, tear-inducing pain where there was none. He ended up mixing in the complimentary hot sauce and chili paste that came on every table, but it shouldn't have needed the extra kick. It should've made him cry tears of burning.

Overall, it seemed like the noodles were tasty enough, but did not contain delicious evil like the name would suggest.

Fried chicken tends to taste awesome, no matter what form it takes. Even McDonald's chicken nuggets can rate highly on the scale of deliciousness. Yup, those nubs of reformed chicken mash have the capacity to hit the spot sometimes. Maybe more so if you're drunk.

Mm, crispy chicken nugs.

El Castillo de Jagua's chicharrones de pollo sin hueso, large, super-crispified, non-uniform chunks of battered boneless dark chicken meat, are now one of my most favorite foods ever. Kind of. They lose a few points for lack of juiciness (some sort of dipping sauce could help with that), and being so easy to eat that I shove too many into my stomach and then feel like a bloated bag of meat and the essence of fried, but it's worth the pain, even knowing that the rest of your night will be punctuated with the need to expel silent fried chicken-flavored burps.

THIS MIGHT JUST BE THE RED BULL I JUST CONSUMED TALKING BUT HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT A PIZZA CRAWL GOING TO FOUR PIZZA PLACES IN ONE DAY? I THINK IT SOUNDS DELICIOUS.

I wish I received emails laced with screaming insanity like that more often. Alas, it was one part of a unique email conversation I had with Charlie (who you may remember as our favorite Disneyland Paris overlord) during his last weekend of senior paper writing-hell, hence the Red Bull, which I assume is not part of Charlie's regular diet. Look at what college does to people! Just look!!! Aside from turn students into Red Bull users, four years of higher learning also gives them the power to serve as my tour guide for an awesome one-day food tour of New Haven. If they go to Yale, at least. (I heard a college education also has other results...like prolonged debt and a general feeling of unprepared-ness for entering the real world.)

There are few things in this world that would give me the will to voluntarily hurl myself down I-95 at 70mph in a death pod car, Charlie's pizza tour being one of them. I didn't really have any requests aside from, "FEED ME," and asking him when I should show up.

Modern Apizza

At around 1 p.m., I safely exited the confines of my butt-rest for the previous two hours, got a quick look at Charlie's dorm room that, with its 0.005% visible floorspace, looked like it had been the site of a vicious ransacking (upon Charlie's request, I restrained myself from capturing the explosion of laundry and books on camera), and then followed Charlie as we headed to Modern Apizza for a late lunch.

Sally's Apizza

"Sally's pizza is sooo good," insisted Charlie. "You just have to wait in line and endure crappy service to get it. ...Also, the inside of the restaurant is kind of gross."

Man, how could I not be excited to visit the legendary Sally's Apizza after hearing Charlie's description of its nonexistent charm? Actually, that is part of the excitement; for food to be so awesome that it's worth eating even if you're going to be served by people who give half a shit.

First hurdle: the line.

I'm moving to Brooklyn tomorrow morning, so it may be a while before I properly blog again or am able to contact people online. We haven't ordered Internet at the apartment yet. I don't know how I'll live.

BE RIGHT BACK, hopefully.