A while back, Layne Mosler of Taxi Gourmet approached J.O. and me with her newest project: a series of self-guided food tours, written by local experts and sold through a mobile app used to explore good food throughout the world.

I signed on because Layne’s approach to food is very much like my own: Go to a new place, find the special bites that you can only take in that place, and make good on life. I’m not linguistically skilled enough to hop into a cab in Argentina and ask where the best sausage sandwich is, but I’m happy to know someone out there is doing so on a regular basis.

Rama Food is free to download from the Apple App Store; however, each tour is sold for a price set by its author. An Android version is slated to follow.

The app’s goal is to immerse readers in the food and the culture of its subject, while showcasing some of the best dishes in town. I’ve contributed two tours as part of Rama Food’s initial release: a NYC BBQ tour and a double Chinatown tour. The former will point you to the city’s best smoked beef ribs, pork ribs, burnt ends, pulled pork and brisket – a difficult task, given how inconsistent barbecue menus can be around here. The latter will take you on a 6-stop tour of regional Chinese cuisine, with tips on how to make the trip from Manhattan to Queens quick and stress-free.

All things considered: If you’re a regular Chowhound or a seriously dedicated New York eater, you might find that my tours don’t add a ton to your own experience. However, if you’re a reader of this blog, a casual fan of good food, or a traveler wanting to make the most of your meals, then by all means check out Rama Food and purchase one of my tours. You should check out J.O.’s tour of Little India in Queens while you’re at it.

Once downloaded, each tour is fully functional without 3G or wifi access, which is great for those of you who hate waiting for things to load while you’re making your way to the next bite. So try this out, and let me know what you think! I’ll be making changes and additions as I get feedback from readers, so the more I hear from you, the better. This could be really cool, and I want to make the experience worthwhile.

“These food malls are like chucky cheeses for us.”
“You are right. I definitely peed in the ball pit at Savor Fusion.”
“Omg”

Who said what isn’t nearly as important as the analogy. I’ve been to the row of Chinese food stands on Maple and Main twice now, barely scratching the surface. Like the Golden Mall, the New World Mall, and every other Flushing food court I’ve encountered, it’s a setting ripe with possibilities, most of them distinguishable by aroma.

The court’s names – “Maple Snacks”, “Savor Fusion” or “Savoy Fusion” depending on which set of window print catches your eye first – hint at a disheveled clamor of cuisines but belie something of a handpicked showcase of regional cooking. The menus tilt on a snacking tip. The court’s manager and his wife can be found strolling from stall to stall during the weekday lunch hour, leading the cooks in a warm welcome to anyone looking to nosh.

I was first drawn to Savor Fusion when Joey D. announced the return of a wonderful dan dan mian at Chengdu Snack, the court’s Sichuan star. As my group set to noshing, my appetite quickly fixated on the back corner of the court, where a stall translating its name to the phrase “Steam Dumplings” continues the proud Chinese tradition of describing holy foods in the most perfunctory terms available to the English language.

From what I know of Mandarin, these translations don’t land far off the mark in terms of spirit. Chinese dumplings, the festive food made available to pretty much anyone at any time with a passing fancy for hunger, are a bite-sized celebration of what makes every day special. When they’re done well, words are an afterthought, and life is good.

The boiled dumplings at Steam Dumplings, then, come a shock to anyone used to ordering a batch of shuiijao or guotie as an appetizer or side dish to the main attraction. In this court, the plates of dumplings boiled to order at Steam Dumplings are worth the trip to Flushing entirely on their own. Each dumpling takes the form of a small, ridged dome, more rounded than the typical Chinatown potsticker. The dumpling skins, formed from leavened wheat dough, are thick but not dense, with a sturdy, accomplished chew. The wider shapes and substantial skin are no accident; they’re needed to hold in the small rush of juices packed into every bite by way of unmitigated genius.

The fillings available each have a distinct personality. The local Chowhound favorite, “three treasures,” is a melange of pork, shrimp and leek, listed in English as “three mixed meat.” I’m partial to the pork-and-cabbage dumplings, complicated by a bit of ginger and more flavorful and juicy than any pork and cabbage dumpling I’ve nibbled on elsewhere. At Steam Dumplings, small variations carry big payoffs; pork-and-celery dumplings retain the vibrant notes of fresh celery, while our one dalliance with “Chinese vegetable” turned up a fearless pinch of dill. Vegetable dumplings, available as an off-menu order, pay full respect with a payload of egg, freshly chopped vegetables and herbs.

In short: Everything is highly recommended. Unless you happen to be vegan, in which case the ball pit is over there.

Steam Dumplings will pan-fry any order by request. It’s a worthy option, especially when it comes to the stall’s lamb dumplings, which find enrichment in crunchy bottoms when fried. The flavor of the lamb filling is sweet and uncompromising. The marriage of juices, golden-browned edges, and steamed bodies is intoxicating enough to inspire this lurid sentence, yet short-lived enough to justify this lurid sentence. At 33.33 cents a piece, they’re mandatory.

It’s unclear to me whether the cooks at Steam Dumplings hail from Hebei or Hubei. My conversation with the proprietors of Savor Fusion suggests the former, a region sandwiched between Shaanxi and Shandong in the Northern reaches of China, where the local dumpling is probably less an exoticized delicacy and more a general expression of competence.

Ultimately, the dumplings that draw my appetite from Brooklyn to Queens can be summarized in perfunctory English as “a common food” – not just in Hebei, but throughout Northern China. While the description might not capture the giddy thrill of my amusement park dining, it’s a perfect fit for how Steam Dumplings holds court: one stall in a gauntlet of Chinese cooks, each branding its own everyday specials on a mislabeled street corner in downtown Flushing.

Savor Fusion Food Court
42-01 Main St.
Queens, NY
718.886.6966

The bakers’ “crusty bread” ($4.95) – a heavy loaf with a deeply toasted, beautifully cracked crown and taught, rustic belly – is my new high water mark for the daily slice. Referred to by Russians as “serii” (grey), this type of dark bread is a meeting point between German and Russian traditions. The body of the bread is satisfyingly dense. Its flavor is low on rye, slightly sour, slightly salty and subtly aromatic – as if fresh black tea had been baked into the dough. Taken with high-fat, sweet cream butter and a cup of tea, it’s sustenance of a kind sorely lacking on American breakfast tables.

Brighton Bazaar
1007 Brighton Beach Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11235
718.769.1700

A good egg tart, thanks to its price and a lifespan of about eight seconds, can also inspire cravings where none exist. When Max proposed, on a recent trip to Flushing, that we cap a lengthy food crawl with egg tarts from the unassuming New Flushing Bakery, suggestion and imperative sprung together into one overstuffed paper sack.

My favorite is the Portugese-style tart ($1.25 for one, $3.75 for four). Fresh out of the oven, it’s almost too delicate to hold. After a few minutes, its texture is perfect: Edges are toasty and browned, puff pastry flakes and dissolves in the same bite, and a light, creamy filling quivers at the touch. A hint of almond rounds out the flavors of the tart, which is an edible seminar on the subtleties of good baking.

New Flushing Bakery
135-45 Roosevelt Ave.
Flushing, NY 11354
718.539.6363

Ramen Misoya, a Japanese brand that pulls strands of miso ramen from their Japanese locales, opened a New York branch at the peak of last Autumn. Of the three types of blended miso broths on offer – kome, shiro, and nama – kome is the most distinctly tasty, especially when ordered spicy. I find myself, however, coming back to the shiro (listed as “white miso, Kyoto style”) on repeat visits. The broth, slightly sweet and unassumingly rich, shimmers on the surface. A pork-chicken-miso blend with hints of garlic and ginger, it’s a cozy departure from more robust pork broths – flavorful without too much intensity, filling without too much weight.

The seal to the deal is Misoya’s choice of topping for its “shiro basic”: a large pinch of bean sprouts, a tablespoon of heartily marinated ground pork, a nice afterthought of cabbage, and two magnificent cubes of fried tofu. When the ramen arrives, the bottom of each cube has already soaked up more broth than it can handle, but the delicate construction holds together. Each bite of tofu is firm. Each crisp, unexposed edge is a delightful precursor to a warming respite.

Ramen Misoya
129 Second Ave.
New York, NY 10003
212.677.4825

“You’ve never had xiaolongbao? They’re the bomb.”

Typically, when “the bomb” is used is a predicate, I expect disproportionate amounts of irony or gravity. Not so in this instance: When Boykji drops “the bomb,” the delivery mechanism tends to be an oversized grin. The target tends to be my stomach.

Since we first shared a steamer of pork soup dumplings at Oakland’s Shanghai Restaurant, I’ve gone on to drop the xiaolongbomb wherever it seems the obvious choice. But the more food enthusiasts become aware of this humble yet refined Chinese delicacy, the more I come across conversations that leave the binary charm of “the bomb” and enter the tedious tabulation of “best soup dumpling” comparisons.

It’s not that I don’t believe in culinary standards. It’s just that after eating xiaolongbao at locally and internationally revered outposts like Arcadia’s Din Tai Fung and Queens’ Nan Xiang Xiaolongbao, I’ve learned that xiaolongbao in this country are either “the bomb” or “not the bomb.” Anyone who pays attention to the details of what she’s eating will be able to pick a side immediately. Anyone who can describe the finer points of soup dumpling structure is capable of expressing his preferences without being dogmatic about how to measure a bite of food.

At the end of the day, most Americans who talk about xiaolongbao – present conversationalist included – have never been to Shanghai. And even in Shanghai, soup dumplings don’t play by one set of rules. This attitude is what allows me to declare that the soup dumplings at Manhattan Chinatown’ 456 Shanghai are just as enjoyable as the soup dumplings I’ve had at Nan Xiang Xiaolongbao, Din Tai Fung, Shanghai Restaurant, and any other restaurant in America that consistently drops the bomb. I happen to gravitate towards small, thin-skinned and delicate xiaolongbao – more at the dumpling end than the bun end of the scale – and 456 churns out steamers of this type without pause.

My stance on shengjianbao is even less militant. My experience with these pan-fried, juice-filled pork buns is extremely limited, but that hasn’t stopped me from relishing 456′s enormous plates of “tiny fried buns with pork” (absurdly priced at $4.95 for eight bao the size of McDonald’s hamburgers).

While more dense than I’d like, they’re as good as 456′s soup dumplings. The bottom of each bun is anointed with a golden brown ring, the body of the bun pleasing upon service but completely lifeless when left to cool. One bite releases a small stream of fatty pork juices, and the mildly flavored nugget of meat inside is satisfying. If this bao isn’t the type to end an argument, it’s still the kind of food that sparks conversations, and a welcome start to any meal.

As it turns out, the megaton player at 456 Shanghai is neither bun nor dumpling. It’s “Ningbo Fried Two Delights,” a platter of filleted yellow fish, deep fried in wrappers made of tofu skin, then presented in a circle anchored by breaded, fried pork chops. The fried tofu skin matches hefty crunch with meaty chew, while the fish locked inside remains delicately tender, as if freshly steamed. As with xiaolongbao, attention to detail in this dish belies the simplicity of its enjoyment; it’s refined, not ornate.

Highlighted by former Times dining critic Sam Sifton, 456′s eggplant in garlic sauce is more obviously a knockout of flavor and texture: slightly crisp edges, succulent flesh, and a seasoning job that brightens the taste buds with a skillful balance of sweet, spicy, and savory flavors. It’s an undeniable crowd pleaser, not to be left off a group order.

From the restaurant’s mix-and-match starch menu, rice cakes with seafood is a nice counterpoint to 456′s bolder offerings. The oval-shaped cakes are wok-fried with bits of green and a generous spread of scallops, squid, shrimp, turning out a clean-tasting bowl of seafood with smoky undertones. This combination would be too redundant to enjoy on one’s own (I would prefer a stronger sautee), but when shared with friends alongside more heavily seasoned selections it’s an appreciable addition to the table.

Is 456 Shanghai the bomb? Examined defensively, it certainly is not. Taken in stride, it’s good enough to make me play the Chinatown card. After all, I’m not one to turn down an excuse to eat soup dumplings or romanticize Doomsday.

456 Shanghai Cuisine
69 Mott St.
New York, NY 10013
212.964.0003

Pure Thai’s menu, especially its lunch menu, offers a variety of “snacks” that blend street food and home cooking under a chef’s meticulous hand. The results are so consistently flavorful that my favorite dish on a recent lunch visit was the Grilled Spicy Beef Salad ($7.50). A boldly flavored toss-up of romaine lettuce, watercress, cherry tomato, red onion and green apple, the salad is garnished with expertly grilled strips of beef, sprinkled with toasted rice and dried chilies, and dressed lightly in fish sauce and sweetened lime juice. The sharpness of each flavor, playing on contrast and riding the freshness of it all, is an astonishing encounter in a city of salad bars.

Pure Thai Cookhouse
(formerly Pure Thai Shophouse)
766 Ninth Ave.
New York NY 10019
212.581.0999

I’ve been too beleaguered by a nasty cold to spread the word properly over the past week, but in case you haven’t heard from the rest of the city: Real Cheap Eats NYC now has 22 more recommendations under $10. This season we’re keeping things relatively lean, with one recommendation per blogger (except for newcomer Chris Crowley, who’s joined our staff on behalf of the Bronx). If you’re a New Yorker or have any plans on being in the boroughs this season, check it out and start eating cheaply!

You can also keep up with Real Cheap Eats via Facebook, Twitter, our NYC blog, and our new Foursquare List. New stories from The Eaten Path are on the way… eventually… ]]> http://theeatenpath.com/index.php/2012/01/22/real-cheap-eats-nyc-the-winter-edition/feed/ 0 http://theeatenpath.com/index.php/2011/11/28/noodle-villageclay-pot-rice-bo-zai-fan-hot-pot-rice-with-pork-sausage-spare-ribs/ http://theeatenpath.com/index.php/2011/11/28/noodle-villageclay-pot-rice-bo-zai-fan-hot-pot-rice-with-pork-sausage-spare-ribs/#comments Mon, 28 Nov 2011 04:01:52 +0000 James Boo http://theeatenpath.com/index.php/?p=11132
First tastes are special. But the first taste of a favorite food – the first taste of a dish that gets everything right, lighting up an appetite unknown until that bite – is irreplaceable. It’s like watching the first scene of The Wire. The experience will always be enjoyable, but the thrill of being thrown into another world is simply impossible to repeat.

This is how I feel about bo zai fan, a Cantonese clay pot rice dish that recently became one of my most treasured meals. I had a sense of the dish already, having enjoyed it a few times at Chinatown’s A-Wah. But negative reports from the same Chowhounds who had put it on the map, along with a strong tip from Kathryn, led me to Noodle Village, where the dish is listed inconspicuously as “hot pot rice.” While A-Wah’s take is no Snot Boogie, the clay pot rice at Noodle Village is a real eye-opener.

The concept behind bo zai fan is extremely simple: Cooking and serving rice in a clay pot allows the bowl to transform the grains closest to its edges into a layer of crunchy, semi-caramelized delight. Noodle Village’s rendition ($9.50) arrives steaming, sizzling and topped with your choice of minced pork, pork spare ribs (my favorite), Chinese sausage, chicken, beef, or frog.

This moment, however, is mere prelude. Before diving in, mix the contents at the center of the pot, drizzling the sweet, extra thick soy sauce that arrives with your pot more liberally than common sense dictates. Inhale the intoxicating aroma as you learn forward to scoop up your rice and begin eating. Add more soy sauce as needed, as well as the occasional drizzle of chili oil if you desire an extra kick. And when you’re halfway through, scrape the crunchy, chewy layer from the bottom of the pot to cap the meal with a bite even better than the first. It may be unremarkable compared to the real deal in Hong Kong, but as long as I live one stop away from Chinatown, I’ll be chasing that moment at every opportunity.

Noodle Village
13 Mott St.
New York, NY 10013
212.233.0788