Wanted Dead and Alive

I don't what it is about a certain kind of Chinese restaurant, usually the fancier one, that insists you meet your meal before they cook it. Well, I do know, actually. They want you to see their product is fresh—so fresh it’s alive. And while I have no allusions that when I eat meat, poultry, and seafood those animals were living at some point and then killed for human consumption, I don’t necessarily want to get up close and personal with what I’m going to eat 30 minutes later. I would like to be, in a way, purposefully ignorant, have the wool pull my eyes somewhat, and be deceive a little.

But then the food comes out all hot and steamy, looking gloriously tasty and most tempting, and my baser instincts take over. All to easily, I send my conscience packing as I reach for that juicy morsel without a moment of remorse.



While I was in Vancouver, my generous host took a group of us to San Sui Wah Seafood Restaurant where their specialty is Alaska King Crab prepared in a wonderfully light and lovely garlicky sauce. The crab legs are steamed and bathed in a clear broth infused and imbue with loads of fresh, sweet garlic.

The table encouraged the before and after shots. So not only am I guilty, I also have proof of my disgrace. But, oh, what a delicious shame it was!


Sun Sui Wah Seafood Restaurant
Vancouver: 3888 Main St., B.C. Canada
1-866-872-8822 (toll free)
Richmond: 102, 4940 No. 3 Rd., B.C. Canada
1-866-683-8208 (toll free)
www.sunsuiwah.com

Note: I ate at the Vancouver location twice, both times were excellent. I can also recommend their fried squab and fried mantou (bread) dusted with sugar and dipped in condensed milk.

Sunday in Vancouver

In the beginning of March, I found myself in Vancouver—the University of British Columbia to be exact. I was last in Canada many, many years ago on a road trip up to Toronto and across to Quebec, but Vancouver is a very different place than those eastern cities with a distinct relaxed vibe all its own. I loved the place despite the cold and wet I endured while I was there; it snowed twice, rained once, and was overcast in general.

Sunday was my free day to roam, and I kicked off the morning with a quick boat ride across False Creek to Granville Island, which isn't an island, but is still called one. Once the water taxi docked, it was only a short climb up the ramp to the Public Market, the main attraction on the island. Considered one of the best public markets in North America, it lived up to its billing with many food stalls, produce stands, and assorted shops to catch your eye.



The mounds of berries on display were like little eruptions of color blooming on the table. I don't know what is it about berries sold around the Western Canadian and American border, but they appear to be larger than your average berry or at least the berries I find here in Los Angeles. I had a similar experience in Pike Market in Seattle—raspberries were the size of half my thumb.



Looking at all the food around me only drove my hunger, which hadn't been fed all morning. By the time I'd settled on a bagel with lox and cream cheese for breakfast, although it was closer to lunch, I was practically gagging for anything to eat. And when H.L. said Siegel's Bagels are considered by many to be the best, I was even more keen for one.

Much to my delight, the bagel didn't disappoint. It was wonderfully dense, but not hard, and deliciously chewy and not spongy. The last time I had bagel this good was when I was still living on the East Coast and making regular trips to New York City. If the bagel is spot-on, then a poppy seed bagel with smoked salmon and cream cheese is hands down, bar-none my favorite breakfast sandwich.

There's just something about a fresh bagel still warm from its water bath and wood fire oven, slathered with cream cheese, topped with lox, and sprinkled with capers and red onion that is truly divine, a creation from food heaven. The firm texture of the bread plays against the soft, giving qualities of the cream cheese and smoked salmon and the salty, sharp taste of capers and onion; it's a mouth-feel experience that is beyond words. With every bite of my bagel sandwich, I sank deeper and deeper into a reverie that as of late was lost to me. The last time I had a real bagel, not the bloated blobs they've sadly become, was over 5 years ago—what a happy return.



The walk around the market was followed by a round of beers at Granville Island Brewing. On tap for the beer sampler 4-set: English Bay Pale Ale, Gastown Amber Ale, Kitsiliano Maple Cream Ale, and some sort of Stout, the limited release for the season. In general, my palate prefers a lighter brew, so I naturally liked the Pale Ale and Maple Cream Ale best; yet, the Stout was also interesting and vaguely appealing. It had a pronounced warm coffee flavor with hints of chocolate, so that I could be drinking a peculiar, cold sudsy mocha espresso if I closed my eyes and used my imagination. Maybe I could grow to like it if I drank more.

I left Granville Island lightly buzzing, but there were no worries 'cause H.L. and I boarded a bus for Chinatown where I ate a chicken steamed bun that absorbed any remaining alcohol in my system, giving me clear head and a very full stomach once again.

Vancouver has two Chinatowns—folks who know better please correct me if I'm wrong. I had dinner twice in the newer Chinatown, which I believe is in Richmond, but on Sunday I walked the older Chinatown in Downtown Vancouver. The place is mostly smaller dim sum restaurants and shops selling Asian groceries and dried goods.

After our stroll through Chinatown, it was back across town and over the Granville Bridge to Broadway Ave. We walked a stretch of the street lined with small stores selling all kinds of cute things, window-shopping until dinner.

Dinner was in the neighborhood at a Malaysian restaurant called Banana Leaf. Now it's no secret that I have high standards—notoriously high if you ask some friends—for what I deem good Malaysian food, and my level for edible Malaysian food is only marginally lower. Banana Leaf was all over the place on my tight sliding scale. While it's an award wining, "best of" restaurant, it failed me on a few dishes.

Both the Sambal Tiger Prawns and Assam Curry Fish were too sweet for me not to let it go. Separately, the prawn dish wasn’t anywhere near hot and spicy, although the menu indicated it would be, and the fish curry wasn’t sour when the name itself means so—assam is sour in Malay.



As for the Char Kuey Teow, the noodles weren’t scorched, so it lacked a desired smoky, charred flavor essential to the character of the dish. I liked the Papaya and Pineapple Green Salad with Green Salad with Crushed Peanuts, although it was the least Malaysian dish at our table. It was a well-balanced plate of sour, citrus dressing over slightly bitter field greens. The Tofu Goreng was fine, but what's not to like about fried food.



Dinner was followed by more talk and drinks a few shops down the street at a small Indian inspired tea house. H.L. had a cup of chai tea, which I also tasted because they were giving away samples at the counter. It was a warm, milky blend of strong black tea, smoky spices, and heaps of sugar. I ordered a mango and cardamon lassi which was about as thick as a liquid can get before it becomes a solid. I'm use to thinner lassi, but I couldn't find fault with the taste. The yogurt base was rich, the mango fresh, and the cardamon deepened the flavors of both.

Afterwards, I said good-bye to H.L. and went back to my hotel to wait for H. and his wife B. to pick me up for a nightcap. I ended the evening in Yaletown at Rodney's Oyster House—saving the best for last—where the three of us share 3-dozen oysters on the half-shell and a bottle of British Columbia Chardonnay. While we tried a few varieties of oyster, we all agreed that the winner of the night were the Fanny Bays, a sweet, mid-size oyster from waters right off the nearby coast.

Much has been written in Food Literature about the joy and wonder that is the oyster. From personal experience, I can confirm every word as true. There are few earthly pleasure as glorious as eating a raw oyster. It is a union of taste and sensation that is sublime, pure sweetness on the tongue and fresh coolness down the throat—the essence of the ocean made into flesh. I had my first one when I was eight and have loved them with a faint obsession ever since.

So my apologizes for not having a picture from Rodney's, but sometimes you just can't stop to think to take a picture. Trust me when I say they were good, incredibly so, and exceptionally fresh. Not only did these oysters make my trip to Vancouver, but they make me want to come back again for another visit, and soon.


Siegel's Bagel
1689 Johnston St.
Vancouver, B.C.
(604) 685-5670

Granville Island Brewing
1441 Cartwright St.
Vancouver, B.C. V6H 3R7
(604) 687-BREW (2739)

Banana Leaf
820 West Broadway
Vancouver, B.C. V5Z 1J8
(604) 731-6333
Note: 3 Locations in Vancouver

Rodney's Oyster House
405-1228 Hamilton St.
Vancouver, B.C. V6B 2S8
(604) 609-0080
Note: Website lists a Toronto location

Prime Rib Dinner

I don't do it often enough, but when I do I thoroughly enjoy myself, which is to pull out all the stops, spend all afternoon in the kitchen, and cook a serious meal that I've considered and planned in advance. But an opportunity presented itself a few weeks ago when my dad was in town and felt the need for some good American beef.

Now prime rib is almost as fool proof a roast as you can get. It's one of the best cuts around, and while you pay top dollar for it, it has a wonderfully rich lushness that is oh-so rewarding when you sink your teeth in—I invariably sigh with pleasure at my first bite of flesh. It's so flavorful in a basic cooked state that your only job to season it well, salt and pepper will do, and then not overcook it and you're guaranteed to be golden.

This time around I massaged a coriander spice rub into the flesh as a seasoning for the roast. I like to target the medium range for my prime rib, so that it has a soft pink colored center, although some would say I'm overcooking it and lean more to a medium-rare, brighter pink core—to each her own. But I do feel that medium-well is as good as burning it and you've destroyed the juicy tenderness that you paid dearly for in the first place.

While I don't use a meat thermometer because I'm thus far too cheap to invest in one, I've done enough rib roasts in my oven to know that approximately 20 minutes at 325˚ degrees for each 1/2 pound gives me the result I desire. Then I let the meat rest covered with foil for at least 30 minutes before carving it up and serving with horseradish—a must for me. Prime rib and horseradish are pair like peanut butter and jelly; the two just go so well together that you can't have one without the other.



To accompany the prime rib, I made three very traditional side dishes: mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, and ginger glazed carrots. Originally, I wanted to make buttermilk mashed potatoes, thinking I could use up the buttermilk I bought few days before to make red velvet cake; but, alas, when I reach for the carton to douse my boiled Yukon Gold, the milk was already passed it used by date, so I had to fall back on whole milk, instead, with the usual suspects of salt, white pepper, and nutmeg. I use white pepper, as oppose to black, for cosmetic reasons, because I like to keep the mound of white fluffiness free and clear of black flecks.

As for the creamed spinach, it was the first time I ever made the dish and have since come to believe it a mixed blessing now that I actually know what can go into it. The recipe I decided on attempting called for whole milk and heavy cream, along with butter, but I blanched at all that butterfat and stopped short of the heavy cream. It tasted just as creamy with only milk and butter, and still very indulgent in my opinion.

I couldn't resist the orange and yellow carrots I saw at a local farmers market the morning of the dinner, so they became a last minute addition to the meal. Fresh ginger added liveliness to the dish that offset the mellow creaminess of the spinach and potatoes dishes. My dad actually liked this side best, so I was happy I took a chance and tried something new and different. I was just going to be boring and boil the carrots until I stumbled upon the recipe with an online internet search.

Now if I could pat myself on the back for a moment and say I thought I managed a successful meal. I didn't burn anything and I was able to time the dishes so that everything was ready to eat together—not something I always to do well. And as icing on the metaphorical cake, I got lucky and picked a wine at the supermarket that went exceptionally well with the meal. It was bold and spicy Australian Cab (Rosemount) that stood up well against the rich meatiness of the prime rib. It was a pleasure to drink; but then again, after two generous glasses almost anything tastes good and goes down easy.



Note the recipes are for more people than I had for dinner, so I adjusted portions accordingly and approximated everything down to in fractions for smaller servings.


CORIANDER-CRUSTED STANDING RIB ROAST

SERVES: 12

INGREDIENTS

1/3 cup coriander seeds
2 1/2 tablespoons kosher salt
1 1/2 tablespoons cracked black peppercorns
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Finely grated zest of 1 orange
One 7-pound beef rib roast, at room temperature
1/2 cup fresh orange juice

DIRECTIONS

Preheat the oven to 375°. In a spice grinder or mortar, coarsely grind the coriander with the salt and peppercorns. Transfer the spice mixture to a bowl and stir in the olive oil and orange zest to make a paste. Spread the spice paste all over the roast and set it, fat side up, on a rack in a large roasting pan. Pour the orange juice into the pan.

Roast the meat for 25 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 325° and roast for about 2 hours and 20 minutes longer, or until an instant-read thermometer inserted in the center of the roast registers 125° for rare to medium rare. Transfer the roast to a carving board, cover loosely with foil and let rest for at least 15 minutes before carving into 1/2 -inch-thick slices.

MAKE AHEAD: The recipe can be prepared through Step 1 up to 4 hours ahead; let stand at room temperature.

Food & Wine, December 1999


CREAMED SPINACH

3 lb baby spinach
1 1/4 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 small onion, finely chopped
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Cook spinach in 2 batches in 1 inch of boiling salted water in an 8-quart pot, stirring constantly, until wilted, 1 to 2 minutes. Drain in a colander and rinse under cold running water until cool. Squeeze small handfuls of spinach to remove as much moisture as possible, then coarsely chop.

Heat milk and cream in a small saucepan over moderate heat, stirring, until warm. Meanwhile, cook onion in butter in a 3-quart heavy saucepan over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 4 minutes. Whisk in flour and cook roux, whisking, 3 minutes. Add warm milk mixture in a fast stream, whisking constantly to prevent lumps, and simmer, whisking, until thickened, 3 to 4 minutes. Stir in nutmeg, spinach, and salt and pepper to taste and cook, stirring, until heated through.

Cooks' note: Creamed spinach can be made 1 day ahead and cooled completely, uncovered, then chilled, covered. Reheat over moderately low heat until hot.

Makes 10 servings.
Gourmet, December 2004


CARROTS WITH GINGER

2 pounds carrots, peeled, cut diagonally into 1/4-inch-thick rounds
1 cup freshly squeezed orange juice
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
2 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons grated peeled fresh ginger
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

Place carrots, orange juice, butter, sugar and ginger in large skillet over medium-high heat. Bring to boil; cover and cook 3 minutes. Uncover and simmer until liquid glazes carrots, about 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Sprinkle with chopped parsley.

Makes 6 servings.
Bon Appétit, November 1999