The Girl Who Ate Everything

Note: This post originally took place on October 19.

I've never really understood why people in New York City have a tendency to go apeshit over weekend brunch. Not to say that pancakes, waffles, and ten variations of eggs aren't delicious, but it never struck me as anything worth fawning over.

Dim sum, on the other hand, is worth the pain that comes with dragging my sleepy weekend butt out of bed. The Chinese version of weekend brunch, it is one of the greatest meals ever invented. Great because people just keep bringing you little plates of food—many in the form of the almighty DUMPLING—and you can stuff yourself for $10 or less, downing pots of complimentary tea the whole time. The more people you have, the more stuff you can eat, so find your dim sum entourage for optimal gluttony. The only downside may that you may not know what the hell you're eating if you're not familiar with dim sum or speak Chinese, but that's part of the fun. IT'S AN ADVENTURE!!!, goddammit.

Yeah, this place is happening...

The entourage for this meal at 88 Palace, located in the dingy East Broadway Mall, was Serious Eats-derived. We decided to gather once a month (October being the inaugural meal) to review a dim sum restaurant for Seriuos Eats: New York. Unbeknownst to me, I was the reviewer, but I got help from Gordon and the others as far as identifying what the hell we ate. Aside from me, the full group consisted of Kåre, Diana, Kathy, Zach and his wife Sarah, Alaina and her husband Anil, Gordon, and Ezra (I'm sorry if Sarah also has a website and I can't find it). The vegetarians and vegans had to find other activities as dim sum is quite non-vegetarian friendly. :'(

I've already written about the meal on SE:NY (Kathy has more photos), so I'll just show you my favorites.

Note: This entry originally took place on October 20 and 21. Also: WOOHOO, OBAMA WON! But I knew he would. Seriously. Now it's time for American to suck less.

While I possess the ability to cook (that is, I have limbs and meager knowledge of knife skills and how long to leave something on the stove before it becomes inedible), I don't usually exercise this ability to make something tasty or special. My priority when I cook is "sustenance," followed by "not hazardous to my health." Over the past week I cooked ramen packets for three of my meals, throwing in chopped kale or cabbage to pretend that my meal was mildly nutritious and not swathed in sodium.

Green means it's good for you, right? Okay.

Thankfully, I never cooked while Kåre was here (I don't torture weegies)—Olivia did! The night that we were to see Lykke Li at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, she brought over some green beans and, using the eggs and rice I already had, made...green beans, scrambled eggs, and rice. She seasoned the green beans with soy sauce and sesame oil, aka, MAGIC SAUCE, and I sprinkled some random chili powder on top of my green beans. Tasty, simple, not deathly, and even vegetarian friendly, not that any of us were vegetarian.

Coming soon, to my mouth.

1. I'm going to Philadelphia this weekend to visit the almighty Alex and eat loads of food. If you don't hear from me for a while, that's why. On that note, if you live in Philly and wanna meet up for gelato or something equally delicious, let me know!

I feel like a winner

2. I got blurbed in the November issue of Australia's Home Beautiful magazine! What does my blog have to do with Australia or beautiful homes? Nothing! In what universe is this a top food blog? I don't know! But I don't care; I am just happy that anyone reads this thing. So thank you very much, people at Home Beautiful, for mentioning me alongside the lovely Grab Your Fork (I've met Helen; she's awesome!) and Stone Soup.

Note: This entry originally took place on October 22.

While I tend to plan meals in advance, I hadn't thought of anything for the Wednesday night after my violin lesson. (I'm no Andrew Bird; it's a beginner class for adults and I'm pretty sure every time I squeak, somewhere in the world an adorable kitten drops dead because that's just how the world equalizes itself.) Kåre met me outside my class's building at 8:30 p.m. Where would we go from there?

Guess what's inside? TOFUS.

KOREATOWN. FOR THE LATE NIGHT TOFUS. It was just by chance that we passed BCD Tofu House while trolling down 32nd Street, and the only reason it registered in my head was because my friend Lauren recommended it to me. Since Kåre had never eaten Korean tofu soup before, I had no choice but to expose him to the glories of burning hot, spicy broth laden with feather-light soy milk curds.

Menu

I went for the curry; he went for the dumplings.

I have one, just one more entry to write about Kåre's visit to New York City, and...it's not done yet. The problem with having a weekend chock full of delicious, inexpensive, fat and starch-laden fooding around Philadelphia is that there's less time to latch myself onto my computer. Which is probably a good thing.

For now, I'm just taking this little break to say that I don't mean to neglect you. That's my not-crazy way of saying, "OH MY GOD, I FEEL SO EMPTY AND MEANINGLESS WHEN I DON'T BOMBARD YOU WITH FOOD PORN."

It's also my way of bringing up random things that have been rotting in the back of my mind for ages, like Facebook. Every now and then I get friend requests from people I don't know. Half of the time, these people identify themselves as TGWAE readers, which is cool! Yes, I like you because you aren't appalled by me for whatever reason, and that's quite a feat. The other half of the time, these people don't say anything. Are they blog readers? Are they random people who know me through another random person? Do they even eat food? I don't know, but I don't ask, so I have this graveyard of requests that I don't mean to ignore, but I don't know what choice I have because I DUNNO WHO YOU ARE AND I CAN'T READ YOUR MIND, I'm sorry. If you fall into the latter camp you should virtually poke me to let me know.

Knife-sliced noodles!

My most recent review on Serious Eats is for Super Taste, one of those hole-in-the-wall hand-pulled noodle restaurants on Eldridge Street. I also got my mom (aka "Mama Lee") to translate the menu from Lan Zhou, which I reviewed before. It was only after Kathy found out how much the English menu sucked that I was like, "Wait, doesn't my mom know Chinese or something?" I keep forgetting about that.

Lindemans Framboise

For those who haven't noticed my lack of alcohol consumption, I lack alcohol consumption. I don't like beer, nor wine, nor other spirits, not most dark chocolates, nor coffee; the bitter flavor is nearly unbearable and usually results in me making a disgusted face normally restricted to five-year olds. That doesn't mean I won't try them—I've had all of the above in tasting portions for the sake of figuring out whether or not I like them, and so far, I haven't. Attempting to cancel out the bitterness with sugar doesn't usually work; they just clash and result in a new, even more nauseating flavor, kind of like when you try to mask the smell of poop with perfume and end up with the most noxious, gag-inducing, flowery poopy smell. (You know what I mean? It's terrible.)

But today Tristan helped me choose a framboise lambic beer when we were at the Whole Foods beer store in Bowery. It is officially the first beer I don't hate. Or almost like, if not for the $6 price tag. It tastes like raspberry soda that isn't overly sweet with just the slightest hint of beer-ness, so little that I can overlook it.

I'm not going to go out and buy a case of it—I usually only drink water—but I would recommend it if you're like me and don't like drinking but have a beer-loving friend who is determined to find you a beer you will glug down on your own free will.

Moooving...uh, not with this truck.

Another reason that I haven't been focused on update my site lately is because I'm planning to move out of my apartment at the end of the month. Never having had to find a place to live, pack up, and go in a span of two weeks, I kind of have no freakin' clue what I'm doing. Many times I've though, "Jesus christ, I don't really want to move," or, "Hell, I'll just go home," but I really ought to make this work and, for once in my life, not be a lazy sack of crap.

So, why am I moving? I love Tristan to death (and vice versa, perhaps), but we've run into the cliché of how living with your best friend can ruin your friendship. Not that our friendship is ruined, but we obviously don't want to reach that point. After a few weeks of hm-ing and haw-ing, we've decided that moving out would be best for the both of us so we can stay best friends. (He didn't ask me to leave; I initiated the decision.)

However, I still want to live in the same neighborhood, preferably for even less than what I'm paying now, although I can hover around $800. It's a long shot, but I figured I'd ask...

Anyone out there want to be my roommate starting December 1? Or need a roommate? And lives in the Williamsburg area (I currently live on the south side)? Where monthly rent is $800 or less? Preferably you're a girl, but it doesn't really matter to me. I'm rather clean and quiet, I'm not at home at during the day, I don't drink or smoke, don't watch TV, don't throw parties (generally don't mind if other people do), and my god I SOUND LIKE THE MOST BORING PERSON EVER but apparently this makes me easy to live with. I keep my emotional drama to myself and I don't have a significant other who will crash at the apartment every other night. One thing that is important to me though is knowing that my friends can stay over for a night (or seven) without any protest. Every so often. Not that often. I mean, mostly Alex. and that's like once a month. And he's awesome!

I rarely cook, but I'll eat anything.

Preferably I'd just live on my own, but that's kinda like...you know...out of my price range. That's what I get for living in New York City. Something inside me died when Alex told me how much it cost to get an apartment in Philly.

So, if anyone out there needs a roommate and wants to live in Williamsburg or if anyone is looking for a roommate, please contact me a roboppy@gmail.com. I'm trolling Craigslist for good stuff, but I welcome all other suggestions.

Note: This entry originally took place on October 23. Sweet jesus, I'm slow.

A life without tonkatsu (or pork katsu) is not worth living.

..Okay, that's a little extreme. I guess it's still worth living; it just won't be as awesome as one with katsu.

Out of all the different kinds of pounded, breaded, and deep fried pork that I've eaten in my life, the Japanese version is my favorite—it's the juiciest, most tender, and has the lightest, panko-based crust. When Kåre said that he had never eaten katsu before, my mission became clear: FEED KÅRE KATSU!

Ladies only

I took him to the katsu-centric Katsu-Hama in Midtown where we met up with Diana, Olivia, Amy, and Marcine. I liked that their menu featured sets for men, women, and children. Women can get the men's or ladies' set, but men can only get the men's (as it seems to say on the menu; Louanne says you men can order whatever your hearts desire!). I suppose it wouldn't be good for a menu to contribute to women's oppression.

UPDATE: I won't find out for sure until next week if I'm moving in—I may have gotten too excited when I wrote this in the wee hours of the morning. But next week WE SHALL SEE!!

Just wanted to give a heads up that I appear to have found a very awesome place in my neighborhood with awesome people for a more expensive, but still reasonable price. (I'll just eat cheaper food! Ok!) And it's even closer to the subway station. WIN!!!

Thanks for your help! So many of you seemed ready to jump at my roommate-needing side, except you live in the wrong cities. YOU CAN'T ESCAPE, I CAN STILL SLEEP ON YOUR COUCH, HAHAHAHA...I kid, I kid. I think.

Macarons, yay!

Mitzy has been generously donating delicious macarons and other goodies to me and the Serious Eats office for the past few months as her "macaron taste testers." (Adam refers to her as our macaron dealer.) What a hard task she had given us. Oh yes.

Back in September when I wrote about why her macarons are the best in the city you couldn't actually buy them, but New Yorkers can finally get them this Sunday at the Brooklyn Flea Market! Mitzy (and helper Kathy) will be at the market, which runs from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., selling and giving out free samples. I plan on stopping by too. Support Mitzy; this city needs better macarons and she's one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet.

Address

Brooklyn Flea (at Bishop Loughlin Memorial High School)
357 Clermont Ave
Brooklyn, NY 11238

Note: This entry originally took place on November 7.

Welcome to Philadelphia!

Um.

Here's a parking lot!

As I have no sense of Philadelphia's geography and only had a google map print-out to guide me as I got off the Bolt Bus (which I highly recommend taking), I had no idea where I was. At 10 p.m. on a Friday night, the 30th Street Station felt like it was at the edge of civilization, where the roads were wide, clean (coming from the perspective of a New Yorker, at least), and alarmingly quiet. People walked by every now and then, but their presence felt out of place. I waited on a bench in the 30th Street subway station for Alex to rescue me...and help me carry my bags.

There's more than this. Oh yes.

As always, Alex was in top notch recuing form—he took me straight to famed gelateria Capogiro for my first bite of awesomeness during my weekend in Philly. Unlike 30th Street, Capogiro was crowded, more specifically, crowded with young people. People younger than me. I forgot that Philadelphia was full of universities and thus students who like to do things on Friday nights, like eat gelato.

I felt...old. And I'm only 23. It'll only get worst after this.

Note: This entry originally took place on November 8.

I know I just said that I don't understand the fervor behind brunch, but I think that's only when I'm in New York City where long wait times and high prices tend to go hand in hand with eggs Benedict.

In Philly, where it's a bit cheaper and the wait times are shorter (at least on a semi-rainy Saturday morning), I kind of get it now. At least if there's a "breakfast pizza" involved.

A Finer Diner

Alex, Dave (Alex's roommate), and I headed to Morning Glory Diner (the prices on the menu are out of date) due to a recommendation from one of Alex's friends. Although we had to wait a bit, there were plenty of seats outside to rest our bums on. You'll get a spot more quickly if you sit at the counter.

Space

Which we did. Sitting at the counter is better anyway since you get to see the cooking action.

Before I get any more messages from people asking if I found a new apartment, or saying, "I heard you got a new apartment!" I will embarrass myself and set the record straight: I am still looking for an apartment.

Unfortunately, I didn't get the dream apartment mentioned previously. It seemed like a good chance at first, and then over the last week I started to suspect I wouldn't get in. Which made the news much easier to swallow. That, and I've been in an oddly good mood for the past week, which I hope to drag on as long as possible.

Still, that doesn't mean my brain isn't silently buzzing with stress daggers as I sit here typing and not doing work. I have until December 21 (when Tristan's new roommates move in) to find a new living situation. I've contacted someone who was interested in being roommates with me, so we'll see how that goes soon. I'm pretty pessimistic about these things, besides that I don't want to be super broke—I've already paid one broker's fee this year, and I don't really want to pay another—BUT WHO KNOOOWS. In general, I already have enough good luck; I'm not sure I deserve any more.

Note: This entry originally took place on November 8. Also, happy gobble day!

Aside from the times they break down or take me to the opposite side of the city without warning, I love subways. At first it was because of their convenient regularity and the, "Ooh, I'm zooming underground!" thing, but after riding enough different subway systems, I became more fascinated with the ways metro systems are interpreted around the world (maps in particular, to see how the rest of the world makes New York City's map look like ass). Paris is still number one in my book, and New York City is a love/hate thing; when it doesn't work they way it's "supposed" to, I want to blow up things with lasers and throw rocks at people, but then I'm reminded that it runs 24/7 and I'm not allowed to complain.

Subway

Philadelphia's subway system seemed nice enough. I didn't have to wait long for a train and the car Alex and I rode in was clean. And I used a token! A TOKEN! HEEHEE!

COME INSIDE!

First stop was The Hacktory. Yeah, I know you can't eat that. It's a place where you go hack things. More specifically, build neat things. Perhaps with metal. And plastic. And electronic bits. Things that make blinky lights or blippy noises when you turn them on. I would be more specific if this weren't a food blog (besides that I'm just lazy), but I have almost no idea how to do any of that stuff, although I did practice my soldering technique some many weeks ago. And I suck at it. NYC Resistor is the New York City equivalent, in a way.

Note: This entry originally took place on November 9. Also, I found a new roommate, so I'm one step closer to getting a new apartment! Next step: finding the new apartment!

The Pink Rose

Another morning in Philly, another brunch down the hatch. Alex and I went to The Pink Rose per his friend's suggestion, where I planned on getting some sort of pastry to pad my stomach before getting a burger from Good Dog later in the afternoon. But the bakery's toasty interior and cheap breakfast menu lured us into their seats.

Eggs, tato, and biscuit

Alex went with a plate of scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes, and a biscuit accompanied by raspberry jam. Not a bad start to the day for only $4. We didn't think the biscuit look liked much at first, but man, we were wroooong.