Wednesday, November 26, 2008
White Castle casserole
White Castle sliders are heavenly. So is anything oven-baked, as I've zestfully attempted many times before, with bacon, cheese and eggs (like a bacon quiche). But I haven't been so ridiculous and comical as to try to combine the two. But now that someone has made a casserole with White Castle sliders with bacon and cheese in a quiche-like bake --with great success I must add -- I think I may just be inspired enough to give it a try soon...
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Serious faux pas at Let's Burger
I have yet another chance to revisit Let's Burger, the burger joint inside The Village at Sanlitun. The food was, as I expected, quite good -- I had an order of its crispy fries and a grilled chicken salad -- the latter I actually found to be quite fantastic. The smoky grilled chicken was augmented with what I believe to be a welcoming honey glaze, and was roughly cut and served over a bed of beautiful greens. The greens were fresh and tossed with just the right amount of sweet Russian dressing. At less than forty yuan, it was a steal.
Food experience aside, I witnessed two horrifying incidents inside the open kitchen that would likely kill any desire to go back. I sat at the Robuchon-like dining bar, which had a full and uninhibited view of the kitchen area; I was sat directly opposite the washing station. This area was between a bun toasting station and the pantry, where coffee was brewed and wines poured. This was also the area where I witnessed both faux pas of the evening. The person responsible for toasting all the hamburger buns was standing on the opposite side of the dining bar, just half a meter to my left. He was very good at his job -- he would diligently take out the buns from the plastic wrapper (four buns in a wrapper), meticulously place the buns in their upright positions and carefully slice open the buns, and feed the bun into the conveyor-belt toaster. And that was all that he needed to do all night: slice the buns, place them onto toaster, and hand off the toasted bun to the hamburger dresser. He was so good at his routine that each repetition was nearly identical to the last, so mechanical and perfectly executed as to leave no room for error or criticism. That was the case until, of course, when disaster struck: when he was opening one of the plastic wrappers, some mysterious force was exerted out of nowhere, in such a disastrous direction that one of the buns, instead of staying inside the wrapper or on the cutting table, decided to roll over and into the washing liquid in the sink, at the washing station nearby. It was obvious that he was verily horrified by the unscripted event, but with no time for second thoughts whatsoever, he picked up the bun from the sink and placed it right back on the slicing table. I couldn't tell if it was contaminated with detergent, but by then its top was visibly wet, as evidenced by the wet gloss on top of that naughty bun, as juxtaposed against the three others from the same wrapper that had no such wet gloss. Just as I was hoping that he would give a second thought and decide to throw the bun away, he picked up his knife, and after slicing open the bun, quickly put the bun into the toaster. With the disaster seemingly evaporating into thin air (and the fouled wetness toasting away) and truth that only he and I would know, he briefly looked up, and most certainly had to find my bewildered eyes fixated on his! He looked away, as if nothing happened, and less a minute later, the bun that had earlier found itself touching the washing liquid in the sink was getting bused to the diner at the other side of the restaurant.
Another incident happened a few minutes later, when a tournant was cutting carrots right in front of me. He was also very good at his job...holding and using the knife properly, and making mechanical cuts so precise that, had anyone seen the final result without looking at the process, would have concluded that it was the work of an industrial mandoline. But human mandolines made mistakes: a piece of carrot would eventually fall onto the ground. Like any other diner, I hoped that he would pick up and throw away that fallen piece of vegetable --which he did. Like any other diner, I was also hoping that he would then go about to wash his hands before going back to his station to work on his vegetables --and horrors! his hands were, merely seconds after touching the floor and with no side trip to the tap, now fiddling with other pieces of vegetables. What would happen if those vegetables were not slated for cooking at all but were tossed in a salad?
After these two incidents I could bear to see no more. I promptly finished my meal and left. I am sure many kitchens are like that (I have, to be quite honest, witnessed a few), but this is the first time that I have seen a serious kitchen offense (two, no less) played out, without redress, in an open kitchen. When the proprietor decides to open the kitchen, the reason has to be simple: to key the diners in for a show. It's supposed to be a window to a scripted fairy tale, and not supposed to be a window to the reality of commercial cooking. As a gut check, we all know that live shows would, from time to time, find themselves in an unscripted situation, but any reasonably good director would have a scripted solution to an unscripted situation -- how about: (a) throw away any dirty food, and (b) wash hands after having touched, or even the remote possibility of being perceived to have touched, something dirty? I am prepared to see the dark side if I demand to walk into a closeted kitchen, but I am not prepared to see what I don't want to see if the open kitchen is there for all to see. And when disaster happens, the staff should well know how to go to Plan B. But there was no Plan B; there was only Plan A. Let's Burger still has good food, especially its crispy fries, an outstanding selection of potato dips, a juicy cheeseburger to die for and an excellent grilled chicken salad I mentioned earlier in this post. But for all its greatness, the massive offenses that I witnessed first hand would give me serious second thoughts before I dare to ever venture inside again.
Food experience aside, I witnessed two horrifying incidents inside the open kitchen that would likely kill any desire to go back. I sat at the Robuchon-like dining bar, which had a full and uninhibited view of the kitchen area; I was sat directly opposite the washing station. This area was between a bun toasting station and the pantry, where coffee was brewed and wines poured. This was also the area where I witnessed both faux pas of the evening. The person responsible for toasting all the hamburger buns was standing on the opposite side of the dining bar, just half a meter to my left. He was very good at his job -- he would diligently take out the buns from the plastic wrapper (four buns in a wrapper), meticulously place the buns in their upright positions and carefully slice open the buns, and feed the bun into the conveyor-belt toaster. And that was all that he needed to do all night: slice the buns, place them onto toaster, and hand off the toasted bun to the hamburger dresser. He was so good at his routine that each repetition was nearly identical to the last, so mechanical and perfectly executed as to leave no room for error or criticism. That was the case until, of course, when disaster struck: when he was opening one of the plastic wrappers, some mysterious force was exerted out of nowhere, in such a disastrous direction that one of the buns, instead of staying inside the wrapper or on the cutting table, decided to roll over and into the washing liquid in the sink, at the washing station nearby. It was obvious that he was verily horrified by the unscripted event, but with no time for second thoughts whatsoever, he picked up the bun from the sink and placed it right back on the slicing table. I couldn't tell if it was contaminated with detergent, but by then its top was visibly wet, as evidenced by the wet gloss on top of that naughty bun, as juxtaposed against the three others from the same wrapper that had no such wet gloss. Just as I was hoping that he would give a second thought and decide to throw the bun away, he picked up his knife, and after slicing open the bun, quickly put the bun into the toaster. With the disaster seemingly evaporating into thin air (and the fouled wetness toasting away) and truth that only he and I would know, he briefly looked up, and most certainly had to find my bewildered eyes fixated on his! He looked away, as if nothing happened, and less a minute later, the bun that had earlier found itself touching the washing liquid in the sink was getting bused to the diner at the other side of the restaurant.
Another incident happened a few minutes later, when a tournant was cutting carrots right in front of me. He was also very good at his job...holding and using the knife properly, and making mechanical cuts so precise that, had anyone seen the final result without looking at the process, would have concluded that it was the work of an industrial mandoline. But human mandolines made mistakes: a piece of carrot would eventually fall onto the ground. Like any other diner, I hoped that he would pick up and throw away that fallen piece of vegetable --which he did. Like any other diner, I was also hoping that he would then go about to wash his hands before going back to his station to work on his vegetables --and horrors! his hands were, merely seconds after touching the floor and with no side trip to the tap, now fiddling with other pieces of vegetables. What would happen if those vegetables were not slated for cooking at all but were tossed in a salad?
After these two incidents I could bear to see no more. I promptly finished my meal and left. I am sure many kitchens are like that (I have, to be quite honest, witnessed a few), but this is the first time that I have seen a serious kitchen offense (two, no less) played out, without redress, in an open kitchen. When the proprietor decides to open the kitchen, the reason has to be simple: to key the diners in for a show. It's supposed to be a window to a scripted fairy tale, and not supposed to be a window to the reality of commercial cooking. As a gut check, we all know that live shows would, from time to time, find themselves in an unscripted situation, but any reasonably good director would have a scripted solution to an unscripted situation -- how about: (a) throw away any dirty food, and (b) wash hands after having touched, or even the remote possibility of being perceived to have touched, something dirty? I am prepared to see the dark side if I demand to walk into a closeted kitchen, but I am not prepared to see what I don't want to see if the open kitchen is there for all to see. And when disaster happens, the staff should well know how to go to Plan B. But there was no Plan B; there was only Plan A. Let's Burger still has good food, especially its crispy fries, an outstanding selection of potato dips, a juicy cheeseburger to die for and an excellent grilled chicken salad I mentioned earlier in this post. But for all its greatness, the massive offenses that I witnessed first hand would give me serious second thoughts before I dare to ever venture inside again.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Table 1280
I haven't given much thought on museum dining, but after having recently checked out Table 1280 at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, Georgia, I have found a renewed interest on this sub-genre. Table 1280 serves up elegant, contemporary American cuisine in a hip, contemporary setting. Designed by Renzo Piano, the restaurant has comfortable seating, plenty of sunlight cozying up the interior space through ceiling-to-floor windows, and a precision-meets-elegance aura that fits snugly inside the Richard Meier-designed Museum.
The burger came perfectly cooked to my requirements and laid out in the same sort of geometric elegance that befalls Meier's architecture. Sitting right by the ultra-wide windows, I had an unobstructed view of the High's interior courtyard, and could feel the nurturing, warm hands of the late-autumn sun. My seat was so comfortable that I almost forgot I had a couple of important exhibits to catch (treasures from not only the Louvre but also the V&A).
Due to a tight traveling schedule, I wasn't able to check out Table 1280's elegant bar, which seems to offer an impressive wine list and a hideout for spending time with friends. Nevertheless, I was verily impressed by its delicious food, comfortable environment, and the way in which Piano's inrerior blends perfectly with Meier's exteriors. For any one of those reasons above, I would readily recommend Table 1280. But for all of those reasons, I would even rank Table 1280 on par with some of the great museum dining establishments I've come to love: Seventeen Seventeen, the superior restaurant inside the Dallas Museum of Art; the easy-going Pentimento at the LACMA in Los Angeles; the jaw-droppingly pompous but undeniably impressive The Modern at New York's MOMA; and amazingly hard-to-book but cozy Map Cafe inside the Museum of pre-Colombian Art in Cusco, Peru. Perhaps I'll do a post on these restaurants one day.
The burger came perfectly cooked to my requirements and laid out in the same sort of geometric elegance that befalls Meier's architecture. Sitting right by the ultra-wide windows, I had an unobstructed view of the High's interior courtyard, and could feel the nurturing, warm hands of the late-autumn sun. My seat was so comfortable that I almost forgot I had a couple of important exhibits to catch (treasures from not only the Louvre but also the V&A).
Due to a tight traveling schedule, I wasn't able to check out Table 1280's elegant bar, which seems to offer an impressive wine list and a hideout for spending time with friends. Nevertheless, I was verily impressed by its delicious food, comfortable environment, and the way in which Piano's inrerior blends perfectly with Meier's exteriors. For any one of those reasons above, I would readily recommend Table 1280. But for all of those reasons, I would even rank Table 1280 on par with some of the great museum dining establishments I've come to love: Seventeen Seventeen, the superior restaurant inside the Dallas Museum of Art; the easy-going Pentimento at the LACMA in Los Angeles; the jaw-droppingly pompous but undeniably impressive The Modern at New York's MOMA; and amazingly hard-to-book but cozy Map Cafe inside the Museum of pre-Colombian Art in Cusco, Peru. Perhaps I'll do a post on these restaurants one day.
Burgers in Korea
As I research more about burgers, I found this awesome post on burgers in Korea by Daniel Gray, the man behind Seoul Eats, a great blog for chowhounds in search for a good plate in Korea. Don't miss the post and the blog!
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