This bowl of shaved ice holds a warm, chewy surprise.
PLEASE NOTE THIS RESTAURANT IS CLOSED
Along with the cold Korean soup naeng-myun, Taiwanese shaved ice is one of my favorite ways to cool off when humidity starts to make me overheat. Ice Fire Land, a hotpot shaved ice hybrid owned by Timothy Chuang, used to be my favorite place to get a bowl of this refreshing sweet treat. Chuang has changed the name of his restaurant to Taipei 101, for Taiwan’s gleaming office tower. Hotpot’s been replaced by an ambitious menu of Taiwanese fare, but the shaved is still there on a separate menu.
I was glad to know that I could still get shaved ice when I walked in yesterday. “Pudding, pineapple,condensed milk,” I said pausing to ask Mr. Chuang, which of the many balls tapioca, taro,or yam were the chewy ones. “They’re all chewy,” he said, so I settled on yam. (more…)
Mào dòu, edamame’s more flavorful Taiwanese cousin.
If you’ve ever spent much time in an izakaya then you’re familiar with edamame. At its most basic the popular Japanese drinking snack consists of nutty tasting immature soybean pods briefly boiled in salt water. They’re fun to eat—just squeeze the fuzzy pod and pop out the smooth beans—and much better for you than pretzels.
Once I was enjoying a bowl in a certain Midtown izakaya and they had a incredible shrimp flavor. Boiling the beans with shrimp shells is a nice touch, but the most interesting treatment of edamame I’ve had was a Taiwanese version known as mào dòu. Tossed with sesame oil, cracked pepper, garlic, and just a hint of star anise they are absolutely wonderful. Best of all, mào dòu is easy to make at home just boil the beans briefly, shock them in cold water, and toss with your mào dòu fixins.
Those mào dòu fixins need not be limited to the ones I’ve mentioned either. Come to think of it a má là version with palate tingling Sichuan peppercorn and fiery dried chilies would be quite nice.
Taiwanese fish fry with peanuts and chili peppers is a great beer snack.
“This we call funny fish,” my Taiwanese-American college buddy Rick’s father said as he plopped down a bowl of small fried dish interspersed with peanuts and dried hot peppers. “It’s good with beer.” At the time I was not nearly as adventurous an eater as I am now, but the Taiwanese fish fry was way better than any chips or pretzels. Salty, crunchy, spicy, and nutty, and very, very good with an ice cold Budweiser.
Years later I found myself snacking on it at Mingle Beer House an ill-fated Flushing beer bar. Mingle is no more but I’m glad that I can still find what I like to think of Taiwanese beer nuts at most any Chinese supermarket. Best of all there are variations some with a bit of sweetness in addition to the spice. For those who’d like to try to making this crave-inducing snack at home there’s a pretty easy-looking recipe over at Eating China.
Evidence of the ‘secret’ or double menu in full effect.
Years ago food writer Calvin Trillin wrote of his frustration with the so-called secret or double menu at Chinese restaurants. Sometimes this menu intended for Chinese eyes only is listed on slips of paper lining the wall, and sometimes it’s a separate menu all together. In these days of increasingly adventurous eaters who feel compelled to document their every bite, it’s increasingly rarer. In my stamping grounds of downtown Flushing, it is for the most part nonexistent. And when there is a mysterious menu it is usually a menu written only in Chinese.
Yesterday I had the pleasure of being on Arun Venugopal’s WNYC radio show Micropolis to discuss the “Mystery of the Chinese Double Menu.” Take a listen here. Not only did the show afford me an opportunity to rave about duck testicles on NPR it reminded me that I need to revisit Flushing’s Main Street Imperial Taiwanese Gourmet. This reminder came courtesy of Andrew Coe, the author of “Chop Suey: A Cultural History of Chinese Food in the United States,” who discussed a dish called “chive flowers with fly heads,” that does not appear on Main Street Imperial’s English menu. Coe says the dish is one of the restaurant’s most popular, and contains no insect heads whatsoever. “Fly heads” is a metaphor for the black beans in what Venugopal describes as “a smoky, spectacular pile of minced pork, liberally garnished with chives, red chilies and fermented black beans.” When it comes to Taiwanese rest assured that stinky tofu is no metaphor, it is indeed quite pungent.
So here’s what I want to know. Do you still encounter the so-called double menu in Chinese restaurants? And when you do, how do you handle it? Tell me in the comments or hit me on the Twitter, @JoeDiStefano.
