Playing Catch-Up: Ramen in Tokyo

Less than 24 hours before the earth underneath Japan decided to burp, fart, and sneeze at the same time, I had the opportunity to slurp down what was easily the best bowl of ramen I have ever had.  Behold, the Shinjuku Ramenologues.  Buen provecho.

Free Wiener Wares! (My First Ever Giveaway)

Long before there were food trucks bedazzled with bottle caps, there was the singular gas-powered mobile mecca that spread the good word of wieners, the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.  Currently on the road, it will be making a brief stop in Center City (15th and Market) next Wednesday, July 20, where local artist/hot dog hot shot Hawk Krall will be serving up an assortment of franken-franks of his own creation starting at 11:30 A.M.  In conjunction with this, I'm offering my readers the opportunity to win a bag of goodies that includes:

• T-shirts
• Coupons for Oscar Mayer Selects
• Mini Grill
• Apron
• Grilling Accessories
• Wiener Whistle

To select a winner, I'm going to try a little trivia (please answer in the comments).  The first person that can tell me both the names of the super troopers that pulled the Wienermobile over AND the name of the Texas town where it happened wins.  So get commenting already. Your wiener whistle awaits.

Update: With the first and only response (which means nobody's reading this goddamn thing anymore), Brooklyn-before-Brooklyn-was-cool resident Matthew Imberman takes home the grand prize.  Congratulations!

The Second Annual Pathmark Lobster Special Home Cooking Event

I hate fireworks.  I know that may knock me down a few degrees on the bromometer, but sudden loud noises and the potential for being someone with an awkward handshake after a short fuse mishap keeps me as far away from the rocket's red glare as possible.  So, I've begun a new 4th of July tradition, cooking lobsters.  Last year, I tried my hand at grilling them, and although successful, I wasn't too impressed at the way they turned out.  This year, we are also contending with a very curious and very needy two-year old, so we needed to take the shells out of the equation.  Enter the lobster roll.  Boil and shuck the lobsters the night before, and defer the fruits of your labor until lunchtime the next day.  Mine was a simple preparation, a spoonful of mayonnaise for roughly a pound of meat, a squeeze of lemon, and some salt and pepper.  Not being able to find New England style split-top buns (the ones that look like a piece of Wonder bread folded in half), I opted for Martin's potato rolls, which were buttered and griddled to give them some reinforcement.  Served with corn on the cob, the lobster roll beats the shit out of donning a bib and fighting with your food while being judged by a full dining room.  Buen provecho.

Failure Sounds Like the Crunch of a Lightly Fried Tortilla

View more videos at: http://www.thefeast.com/.

Let us all remind ourselves of the definition of insanity: doing the same goddamn thing over and over again and expecting a different result.  Without getting my head checked, my mental illness and yen for defeat was confrimed as I undertook the Drinker's Taco Challenge for a second time, thinking hard shells and chicken would have been much easier to choke down than the previous choice of soft shells filled with beans.  After the inevitable failure, however, I now realize that no matter how you take your tacos, this is a sucker's bet.  Oh well.  At least I'm a handsome sucker.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This? Shanghai Edition

In Shanghai, the Colonel's face is literally everywhere. Peppered in between wet markets and high end retail stores, the unmistakable smell of fried chicken even cuts through the malodorous fog of the diesel fueling the country's endless growth spurt.  Typically, "Why Did I Eat This?" is a result of marketing, but I had a different reason this time around.  I read that Yum! Brands—the fast food behemoth whose weapons in the war against health also include Taco Bell and Pizza Hut—pushed into emerging markets by catering to local tastes, and I was curious to see how these local tastes were interpreted as fast food.  But I fucked up (typical).  Instead of seeing how the classically good KFC meal of a two-piece, mashed potatoes, and a biscuit stacked up to the American version, I wound up ordering the New Orleans Chicken sandwich, a non-breaded breast filet doused in not-very-hot sauce on a sesame seed bun (who orders non-fried chicken at a fried chicken joint?).  As expected, the sandwich was pretty terrible, although the amount of mayo they put on it kind of made up for things.  The videos give you the whole story (if you turn up the volume), plus an awkward interaction with a deaf Chinese panhandler, who, had he not been deaf, would have panhandled himself a faceful of high fructose corn syrup.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

Where does a one-legged waitress work?  The same place that my fat ass can't resist ordering country-fried steak and eggs for breakfast: IHOP.  Lowlights of this disaster include:

- The grey leather of overcooked and low quality beef.
- The congealed chalkiness of country gravy subjected to an overdesigned air conditioning system.
- The watery and undercooked hash browns that weren't quite browned.
- The general taste of failure

Stick to the pancakes, but not the ones with all the shit on them, because those are crappy too.  Buen provecho.

Elderly Aspirations: Prime Rib Night at the Windrift in Avalon, New Jersey

I've given up on the idea of being famous when I grow up.  Instead, I have refocused my sights on retirement in Avalon, NJ, where Mrs. Gastro and I can enjoy Prime Rib Mondays followed by endless goblet-sized snifters of somewhere-between-well-and-top shelf whiskey on the rocks, all the while listening to the musical stylings of Jim Bannach, the piano man's piano man. Buen provecho.

Pain is Temporary, Indigestion Lasts a Few Days

View more videos at: http://www.thefeast.com.

"Torture motherfucker" - The Wu-Tang Clan

Hoping to hallucinate a la Homer in what is now an ancient Simpsons episode (and one of the last ones before it started to suck), I stopped by Jake's Sandwich Board with The Feast to try their Ghost Pepper Steak, a cheesesteak topped with 20 drops of a sauce whose main component is 1 Million Scoville Pepper Extract.  I managed to get through most of it (I was three bites shy of finishing), but it was a pain unlike anything I've felt before, and it was even worse once it worked its way through me (gross).  If you like to push the spicy food envelope and/or you have something to prove, you should definitely give it a shot, but make sure you watch the video above to see what it will do to you.  Moving forward, I'll probably just stick to their goddamn delicious roast pork sandwich.  I've had all the discomfort I can take for the rest of 2011.  Buen provecho.

The Best $48.33 (Plus $10 tip) I Ever Spent

My life is essentially complete.  I've got Mrs. Gastro, Baby Gastro (plus another on the way. Yikes!), a phone with a touchscreen that allows me to instantly tell people what I'm thinking (because they care), and a full head of hair that has yet to turn grey.  Shit's pretty damn good, but there's an itch that repeatedly needs scratching, one that only gets the claws sporadically because of geography and other excuses that simply translate to lazy.  Call it chasing the dragon, but I have yet to find a proxy for Lobo, our local Tex-Mex in Brooklyn, where Mrs. Gastro and I would suck back margaritas even faster than we'd devour the complimentary chips and salsa.  We've tried all the greatest hits in the area (Distrito, Cantina Feliz, Xochitl, etc.), and while they are truly great, the oxymoron of high-end Mexican leaves the wallet much lighter than it should be after getting messed up on tequila and refried beans, and the whole point of having a local spot is the fact that it's truly local.  Our closest place, Mi Pueblo in Mt. Airy, sucks the big one (sorry, Mi Pueblo).  Avenida's nice on a special occasion, but it's too much cash for daily degustation.  I could fill the void in Chestnut Hill (investors, I have an amazing business plan if you're interested), but in the meantime, I just want a goddamn margarita and a bowl of chips without having to break the bank.  Enter Plaza Azteca, literally hiding in plain sight across from the Plymouth Meeting Mall.  Purists would shy away from it, but for us purists who also have children, this is the kind of place where you get all the kid-friendly benefits of a chain (plenty of space, high chairs, other like-minded idiots who thought having kids would be a great idea, staff that distracts said kids while you drink more than you should on a Tuesday) without too much of a chainy feel.  The food is good, and the service is even better.  Plus, it's cheap as fuck, especially when you go during happy hour.  For $48.33 plus tip, we both enjoyed tableside guacamole, chips and salsa, fish tacos, fajitas, rice, and beans, and I enjoyed a margarita and a giant beer.  Our only problem now (or at least after Baby Gastro #2 shows up) is figuring out who's going to drive home.  Like I said, my life is essentially complete.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

I have wanted to do the Drinker's Pub taco challenge for some time now, but much like going on a diet, at what point do you decide that it's a good idea to do so?  The answer, as expected, is after a few half-priced beers and an unsuccessful quest for a pickleback shot* in Center City.  Thinking that a place like Drinker's would definitely have them, my brother-in-law and I stumbled into their Chestnut Street outpost just as happy hour was ending.  This was supposed to be a brief final stop before catching the regional rail back to Philly's outskirts, but the disappointment of having to do a SoCo and lime shot instead of a pickleback coupled with the giant pitcher of beer that was waiting for me upon my return from the bathroom fueled my competitive spirit stupidity and convinced me that I could eat 33 tacos in 13 minutes.  I love me some tacos, but this was sheer torture, and I'm a little pissed about the fact that I may have been had.  In my drunken stupor, I went with the recommendation to do soft bean tacos in lieu of crunchy chicken tacos.  The latter would have gone down much easier, but the waitress pushed for me to do soft bean, knowing that 13 minutes is barely enough time for a large mammal to take down 33 tacos, let alone my fat ass.  Not surprisingly, amid the cheers and jeers of a packed house and a diminutive Mexican holding up a timer, I barely made it through half of the tacos when the 13th minute ticked by.  Had I been allowed to eat the tacos as I ordered them, I think the story would have had a much happier ending.  Instead, I left Drinker's with my head down, picturing the tacos that remained singing a taunting yet melodic rendition of Busta Rhymes' "Light Ya Ass on Fire."  You won this round, Drinker's Pub, but I shall return.  Buen provecho.

Piss poor video footage of my piss poor decision-making can be seen here (turn up the speakers) and here.

*For the uninitiated, the pickleback (or is it pickelback?) involves a shot of whiskey chased by a shot of pickle juice.  Trust me, it's delicious.

Why Did I Eat This?

With the firm knowledge that every food item produced behind the counter at Dunkin' Donuts comes from a microwave (or a similarly designed cooking box), I should really know better than to get excited about the prospect of a "fried egg" in their Big 'n' Toasty breakfast sandwich.  Unfortunately, curiosity and stupidity are two innate qualities that continue to make me powerless against appetizing pictures of a sandwich most likely prepared in a test kitchen and not in a metal cube, and so here we are discussing the disgusting.

Sandwiched between to giant slices of Texas toast, the "fried egg" was a scrambled egg white with a yellow circle in the middle, presumably the yolk, but probably just some strategically placed food coloring.  The cherrywood smoked bacon was the same shitty bacon they put on all the rest of their sandwiches.  It does the trick, but it gets lost in the size of this sandwich.  The Texas toast dwarfs the rest of the ingredients, and its size makes it so dry that you have to scald your throat gulping coffee so that you don't choke.  This sandwich ruined my Saturday morning, so if you find yourself in the Dunkin' drive-thru on any day of the week, I would stick to coffee and donuts.  Buen provecho.

After 45 Courses, a Winner is Crowned, or, I Had Dinner with Questlove Last Night

Last night, I had the distinguished honor of judging my first cookoff.  While I fully expected my first judges' panel to be for something more along the lines of a Rotary Club Chili Cookoff, this one was certainly more A-list, and I found myself seated among Philly food folks Drew Lazor and Audrey Claire Taichman, as well as Sasha Grey and the host, Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson.  Inwardly, I thought to myself, "How the fuck did I wind up here?"  Outwardly, I donned my Hill-side tie and (hopefully) held my own with my winning smile and freshly trimmed beard.

The event was intimate, probably no more than 50 people, creating an excellent opportunity to network and/or make jackass comments to Mr. Thompson like, "With a name like Jazzy Jeff, he should probably be on time." (Turns out Jazzy had babysitter issues)  Being on the panel, I got to taste and judge five courses from nine different chefs, including Scott Schroeder from SPTR and Kenny Bush from Bistrot la Minette (Kenny came in first, winning the opportunity to cook backstage at The Roots Picnic).  I haven't eaten that much since the Pastrami Challenge, and while certainly fun, such caloric excess is challenging to say the least.

As an added bonus, I got to meet Top Cheftestant and 10 Arts Chef de Cuisine Jen Carroll, who will be cooking with steely blue-eyed Eric Ripert later this month.  Hopefully this won't be my last judges' panel, but if it is, I can at least check both "Meet ?uestlove" and "Eat fried PB&J" off the bucket list.  Buen provecho.

Meanwhile, Over on The Feast

Not that there's any excuse for my lack of posting, but you can check out what I've been doing in my spare time over at The Feast, NBC's new website dedicated to helping you find the best places to eat (that's me), shop, and play.  Buen provecho.

My Friends Are Cooler Than Your Friends: Paul Bergman of The Freshary

CNNGo totally scooped me on this, but it's still my duty to spread the gospel of Paul Bergman of The Freshary in Shanghai.  I met Paul a little over 10 years ago in college.  Typically, he would either be running to class or in the library, not preparing to take over the world, but to save it.  Starting with food, I think he's on the right track.  The Freshary sells certified organic baked goods and ice cream, and is the first to do so in China.  Their first store is also the only LEED Gold certified retail and food production space in China.

I sampled a vegan chocolate muffin and some soy vanilla ice cream (after Paul donned a lab coat and fixed the machine). If I could live on these two things alone, being vegan wouldn't be a challenge in the least.  The muffin, literally made from scratch (the flour is ground daily from seeds and wheat in house), had none of the shortcomings that typical vegan baked goods possess.  And not being an ice cream person, their soy ice cream is actually something I could scream for (yes I'm ending a sentence with a preposition. Deal with it).  Slightly savory, the vanilla soft serve is more comfort food than dessert (a very good thing), but it's not heavy at all. The Freshary also offers a black sesame-flavored ice cream, something that Paul spent 14 months perfecting.  Clearly, Paul is as passionate about perfection as he is about people, which can be difficult in the Chinese market.
Even with the steep learning curve, Paul has continued to pursue his vision, and will soon be opening a second store.  It's my hope that once they get the China operations off and running that they'll expand to the U.S. and move back, because he's one of the nicest and coolest people you'll ever meet, and sorely missed here in the states.  Buen provecho.

If you find yoursefl in Shanghai, The Freshary is located in the SML Center at 618 Xujiahui Road, B2 Level, T-13. You can get there by Subway Line 9, Dapuqiao Road Stop, Exit 3.

Excuse Me While I Kiss the Ground

View more videos at: http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com.

Here's a recount of my experience in Tokyo last week.  Stay tuned for the food portion of the trip, and please keep everyone still over there in your thoughts and prayers.  Buen provecho.

My Friends Are Cooler Than Your Friends: The Brothers Corsillo

The Hill-Side S/S '11 Preview from The Hill-Side on Vimeo.

As a self-styled wiener, I proudly admit to wearing L.L. Bean wrinkle-free shirts and Dockers on a near-daily basis, but when the time comes to get dressed up, I have Emil and Sandy Corsillo to thank for making me look like the folks in the video above (although typically 100-125 lbs. heavier depending on the season). My former roommates continue to evolve their Hill-Side brand, a brilliant line of neckwear that elevates your stock way above wiener levels.  Their latest collection features floral elements, a reminder that Spring will be springing soon, so all you Jack Torrance types, lose the axe in favor of the computer, and log on to Hickoree's Hard Goods to pick up some new neckwear. Your family will thank you.

My Chefs Are Cooler Than Your Chefs: Philly's Four Contenders and Two Write-Ins for People's Best New Chef Award

Yesterday on The Feast, I put up a list of places to check out in order to make an informed vote in Food & Wine/Eatocracy "People's Best New Chef" award.  Four of the handsome heads above were nominated, and the The Feast Philly editors and I decided to write in a couple more candidates, Marcie Turney of Barbuzzo and Matt Levin of Adsum, two more of our hometown heroes whose names have recently been tattooed into your dome piece by the press.  Buen provecho.
Give these peeps some props by voting your face off here.

Why Did I Eat This?

It should come as no surprise to the sue-happy consumer that Taco Bell's "Taco Meat Filling" contains less than 40% beef in its composition.  I understand the whole "truth in labeling" thing, but c'mon people, you're eating fast food.  You should already know that it is hyper-processed, pregnant with preservatives, and generally contains little to no "food" at all.  But who gives a shit?  It's cheap (and getting cheaper, even with commodity prices on the rise), fast, and convenient.  So what does my fat ass do with the news?  I immediately make a run for the border to try their latest offering (of course), a collaboration with Frito-Lay (that's a bit of a stretch) that is the textural masterpiece known as the Beefy Crunch Burrito.  Simply put, the sum of Flamin' Hot Fritos and their standard "beef" burrito is greater than the parts.  The sour cream eases the hot-for-hot's sake of the Fritos, and to repay the favor, they give the mushy little burrito some structural integrity.  Beef or no beef, these things are small enough and cheap enough that you may want to eat three or four, and I see nothing wrong with that.  Furthermore, for those of you in favor of this whole lawsuit, know this: if you fuck up Taco Bell for the rest of us, I will personally see to it that a laxative will somehow make its way into each and everyone of your meals until you meet your respective makers from a hopefully non-poop-related death (because I don't want you to think I'm making threats here, just promises of discomfort). Buen provecho.

My Bartender is Cooler Than Your Bartender: Ben Miosi of Fork and Barrel

When happy hour gets the best of me, my Friday night typically ends with a poorly chosen movie such as Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's latest kid-friendly fartfest, Tooth Fairy. As crappy as it was, however, the Rock's washed-up hockey player character said something that stuck with me as I sidled up to Fork and Barrel's upstairs bar on Saturday.  I won't go into detail, but the gist of it was that you may be at the top of your game, but sooner or later, somebody younger and hungrier will emerge in your rear view mirror and eventually overtake you.  In his case, it was a bad thing, but for the ever expanding population of beer geeks in Philadelphia, Fork and Barrel's arrival on the scene is a boon.  In this town of tremendous tap lists, Fork and Barrel pushes the envelope with the most obscure and interesting beers they can source, each one more complex than Google's search algorithm.  With names like Grado Plato Chocarrubica and Liepziger Porticus, even the names seem daunting, but our bartender, General Manager Ben Miosi, was more than happy to ensure our palates were pleased. Above, he gives us a brief monologue on what it takes to become a beer geek, his favorite beer, and his opinion of the home team craft brewers.  Buen provecho.

Fork and Barrel is located at 4213 Ridge Avenue in East Falls. The 1st floor features European food and European craft beer.  Upstairs, you've got casks, peanuts, and hot dogs.  Happy hour runs Tuesday-Friday from 4-6, when all drafts are $6. Like them on Facebook for updates on draft lists and special events. More excellent reviews here and here.

Pumpkin Ale for My Real Friends, Pumpkin Real for My Ale Friends

A very happy new year, dear readers.  In my quest to become a raging alcoholic beer nerd, I have invested a significant amount of time, brain cells, and money on craft beers with neat labels and myriad uses of the word "hops."  I regret none of this, but it's nice to have a bone thrown your way every now and again, so I'd like to give a nod to reader Matt for saving me a bottle of homebrewed pumpkin ale from a batch he and his friends made back in the fall.  Being raised in the good ol' U-S-of-A, I prefer my beers to be ozone-hole-burning cold and soda-pop-fizzy, and this was a great example of that. 

Typically, homebrews err on the side of flatness, making you feel like you're drinking a beer you poured last night but couldn't finish so you put it in the fridge for consumption today because you are too cheap to toss it out.  But this beer, surviving a week in the fridge, was extra cold and nicely carbonated.  You could taste the nutmeg, but it wasn't so overpowering as to remind you of the time you tried to hallucinate/poison yourself by eating a spice jar of it, and it had a malty finish.  Even Bob, a beer nerd before being a beer nerd was cool, gave it the seal of approval.  Buen provecho.