The Girl Who Ate Everything

National Mechanics

To those of you who live in Philadelphia, if you wanna see a bunch of food bloggers talk about BLOGGORIZING, then come to National Mechanics this Sunday for the 215 Festival's Food Bloggers Brunch from 11 a.m to 2 p.m. I'll be there, hidden among a group of food bloggers who are actually Philadelphia-based (Fries With That Shake, Foodaphilia, Meal Ticket, Mac & Cheese, Phoodie, and Unbreaded). You can see how awkward I am in real life yeeeeaaaaaaaah!

This entry originally took place on September 13. Here's part 1, in case you missed it. Not that you would since you read this blog all the time! Haha! HaaaaaaaI'mwatchingyou.

New Amsterdam Market

James and I started our day at the New Amsterdam Market by the South Street Seaport. But Ed already blogged about it, so I don't have to.

I've only been to the market for work-related purposes, i.e. to take photos, but it's worth checking out if you like farmers' markets and want to try some local food vendors (mostly those specializing in making loaves of carbs). I love the idea of having more food markets in New York City, but my lack of need for fresh produce (that will inevitably go bad in my kitchen) means I don't support them much in the ways of money exchange. Hopefully this mention will bring them other customers who will actually buy stuff.

I didn't take advantage of the samples at the market, but I had a good reason: I wanted to save stomach space for lunch. And not explode.

YAY.

And then there was Shake Shack. The salt and fat-laden beef patty of my dreams. I've already expounded upon my Shake Shack love, so I don't think I have to repeat it.

Big Gay Ice Cream Truck

If you want to try something from the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck, today's your last day; New York City's favorite gay ice cream man Doug Quint is closing for the season tonight. [cue dramatic rolling of single tear down cheek]

Mm, there be salt.

If you get just one thing, I'd recommend The Salty Pimp. It may look like a typical chocolate dipped cone, but...what's that peeking out? Is that a glob of dulce de leche?

BLOOP.

Yes.

This post originally took place on September 19.

M&T

It's been weeks since I ate at Qingdao cuisine-specialized M&T Restaurant with Tristan, Grace, and Bram, but if I concentrate hard enough, I can still taste the garlic. What a magic night that was. "The Night My Mouth Became Saturated with Odiferous Sulphur Compounds."

"Pasta"?

Take a look at the Qingdao cold pasta with special sauce. That yellow mound on top? Raw garlic mash. And what's under it? I'm not really sure. But the New York Times calls it "jelly-like grass noodles." I call it "sort of flavorless cold translucent jelly slabs."

Mixed.

But that's where the garlic comes in, along with black vinegar, cilantro, and shredded cucumber and carrot. Mix it together and now the jelly flops tastes like "all of the above," making for a refreshing dish—the sort of refreshing that punches you in the face if you're not used to the flavors (I wasn't).

This entry originally took place on...SUNDAY! Not a month ago! Or two weeks ago! Or even a week ago! Fan-freakin-tastic! This sort of thing might not happen again for a while.

Engeline's. Inside, there be pork.

"Okay, I think we have enough pork."

What. What did she say? When I showed Francine the list of dishes we wanted to order during our dinner at Engeline's Restaurant, I didn't expect her to put a stop to our pork fest. If anything, I thought she'd say something like, "Oh, you forgot about [insert awesome pork dish here], ADD IT TO THE LIST." But as the omnivorous Filipino at our dinner party, she was more familiar with the dangers of overdosing on Filipino meat dishes than the rest of us. Apparently, Filipinos are prone to hyperuricemia and gout. Whooops.

It was a good thing Francine gave us a limit to our order though since we ended up with enough food to feed everyone—Diana, Olia, John, Claire, Veronica, Francine, and me—to 125% stomach capacity. There were few leftovers. Witness the carnage.

Pork bits.

Under Francine's suggestion, we started with sizzling sisig, little cubes of pork belly and crunchy bits of pig ear marinated in lemon and hot pepper, mixed with diced onion and scallion, served on a hot plate with a raw egg that cooks as you mix everything together.

I'm going to attempt to upgrade this blog to the latest version of Movable Type due to recent episodes in "My Website Got Hacked, Oh Shit." This might work. Or I might want to kill myself.

.....We'll see! Haha! If this blog looks like poop later tonight, you'll know why. Cross your fingers for me. Thanks.

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HOLY SHIT DID THIS WORK?!??!?!

Each of the three lobster roll-eating experience I've had in my life has been memorable for different reasons. First was my dinner at Pearl Oyster Bar over three years ago with Kathy. Our newly lobster roll-enriched palates were ready to bow down and offer sacrificial goats to the perfectly buttered and toasted squishy buns overflowing with mounds of fresh mayo-bound lobster chunks. It was damn good. Even on our college student budgets, we thought it was worth the $22 price tag...as a very occasional treat. So occasional that we have yet to go back, thus preserving that experience as "one of the best sandwiches we would ever ingest."

Second was at Mary's Fish Camp, again with Kathy, but that's where the similarities end. Instead of a heavenly buttered bun laden with lobster chunks blessed by the sea, we got an anemic roll lacking in butter, and lobster chunks missing whatever magical flavor was present at Pearl Oyster Bar. Even the shoestring fries were disappointing, which is quite a feat considering that fried carbs with a high ratio of crispy surface area-to-innards are almost guaranteed to be delicious. Except at Mary's Fish Camp.

Luke's Lobster.

Third was last week at Luke's Lobster, a three-week-old counter-service seafood joint in the East Village featuring seafood from Maine, which, of course, includes lobster rolls. The tiny space paired with a line out the door meant there were no seats left for me, Christine, and her boyfriend Adam, so we got our dinner to go and carried it down the block to Tompkin's Square Park.

And that's why the soundtrack to our cold, tree-obscured-moonlit dinner was the rustling of scurrying rats and the mostly incomprehensible conversations of the homeless men around the chess tables we repurposed as a dining area. Not that I'd say either factor negatively affected our dinner—it was just a memorably atypical environment. "Remember that time we sat near that trashcan and all those rats popped out? And then we ate lobster rolls? Yeaaaah."

This post originally took place on October 3.

Each trip I've taken to Philadelphia has followed the same routine. Alex picks me up at the Bolt Bus stop, gives me a sorely needed warm embrace, and then we gaily saunter to Capogiro where we proceed to fill our digestive tracts with gelato.

But that's when I arrive in Philly at 10 p.m. on a Friday night. During my last visit, I arrived at 4:30 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon; we skipped the gelato and went straight to Alex's apartment so I could plop down my bags and hang out Alex-style, which involved collectively oogling over photos of autumnal gourds in Martha Stewart Living, covering his mattress in more layers of fluffy bedding than I've ever felt on a sleeping surface before, and learning about the Chinese chicken feet-market on Planet Money.

Standard Tap

And then at some point, it became dinner. Alex and I met up with his friend Chris at Standard Tap, one of the top places to try on my Philly burger list.

BURGER!

Alas, it didn't live up to expectations. Not that it was bad—it just left me wanting something better. The components of grilled 7-ounce patty with cheese, sautéed mushrooms, semi-grilled onions, lettuce, and tomato came together fine—nothing stood out as memorably great or bad. The meat wasn't particularly juicy, not dry. The flavor wasn't bland, nor cast any rays of bovine sunshine into my mouth. It's a good burger, just not one I would go out of my way for.

This post originally took place on October 4. Here's part 1!

Veggie burger.

The next morning at National Mechanics, I started my day with their veggie burger...

Hay guys.

...While I had this somewhat awkward vantage point. Because I was there for the 215 Festival's Food Bloggers Brunch! Alex and Mel came to support me (how I love them so) as I sat at the front of the dining room with E, Taylor, Drew, Collin, and Ben while we answered various questions about the food bloggin-life. Many thanks to Jessica, moderator of the panel, for inviting me even though I'm not based in Philadelphia. I always find a way to slip through the cracks. Oh yes. [HEY LIFE: THANKS FOR LETTING ME SLIP THROUGH THE CRACKS] And many thanks to the young woman who came up to me afterward to complement me on my Iceland photos. :)